Hello, hello, here we are again! I hope everyone who celebrates had a peaceful and stress-free Christmas and is thoroughly enjoying this weird little pocket before New Years Eve when time loses all meaning and no one knows what day it is. Which is what I'm going to use as my excuse for posting a day earlier than usual :P

On the future upload front, Chapters 9 and 10 are finished barring editing, but Chapter 11 is being... annoying, to say the least. Although I managed to write nearly 2,000 words yesterday, it was a scene right at the end of the book (such a tease, I know) so unless a miracle of inspiration strikes in the next two weeks, you might be waiting a bit longer for that one. On the plus side, I have some twists coming up that I think a lot of you are going to be very happy with. *crosses fingers and sweats in anxious author*

For now, enjoy some mildly psychotic motorcycle riding!


Chapter 8: Adrenaline

Ten minutes, a good deal of fumbling and a crash course on the basics of motorcycles later, I was sat astride the red bike with Jules quizzing me on everything I'd just learned.

"Alright, show me the clutch."

I let go of the left handlebar to point to the lever attached to it. This quickly proved to be a bad idea, as the whole thing listed sharply sideways and I had to frantically grab hold and push it back upright.

"How do I keep it up?" I complained once I was stable again.

Jules chuckled good-humouredly. "I promise it won't fall over once it's moving. Now, tell me this time just in case, where's your brake?"

"Behind my right foot," I recited dutifully, resisting the twitch in my toe that made me want to move it to the right spot; if I took my feet off the ground, I was all but guaranteed to end up toppling over.

"Nope." Jules shook her head firmly and reached for my right hand, curling my fingers around a small lever on that handlebar, just above the throttle. "You want this one."

I frowned, perturbed by her attitude. "But didn't you just say-"

"I did," she agreed, cutting me off, albeit very gently. "But the back brake's not got enough power for what you're going to want. The front one slows you down faster but helps you keep control. You can squeeze it down a bit at a time so you stop gradually, and believe it or not, that's the better plan while you're still learning. Once you actually know what you're doing, we'll start using the back brake."

"Wouldn't it be best to use both?" I asked, still feeling grumpy.

"Just focus on one thing at a time," Jules insisted, pressing down on my fingers so I squeezed the front brake lever. "Use this one for now, okay? Forget the back brake for a bit."

"Fine," I agreed reluctantly.

"Throttle?"

I obediently twisted the right grip, imagining the noise the engine would make; I hadn't turned it on yet, so there was no sound as of now.

"Good. Now, gearshift?"

"By my left leg." I tapped it gently with my calf.

"That's the one. Alright, you know your way around the bike, let's get you moving."

I gulped hard, terror gripping me suddenly. "Mm-hmm," was all I could squeak out, somewhat afraid I might go into hysterics if I tried to say anything else. It felt a little ridiculous; I'd wanted to do this, after all. And really, what was this compared with what I had already somehow managed to live through? Nothing should scare me after that. I should laugh in the face of any threat of impending death.

Somehow, none of that was registering with me right now. The vague images in my head of what riding the bike would be like felt a long way away from the reality. The road stretched out ahead of me, the walls of green on either side looking unpleasantly solid even as I stood still; I could only imagine what they would turn into once I was moving. At least there was something of a buffer on either side, a few feet of dirt before the first trunks. Not to mention the road itself was largely damp sand, with only a few puddles dotted here and there, thankfully devoid of mud. So at the very least, my clothes might make it through the day intact.

"Step one," Jules said, going into teacher mode. "Hand around the clutch and hold it down tight."

I obeyed, squeezing the lever tightly.

"Good. Now, this is really important," she went on, making sure she had my attention and holding my gaze with her tawny brown eyes. "You've got to hold on to that clutch like your life depends on it, okay? Like it's a live grenade. I've pulled the pin and handed it to you, and the only thing stopping it going off is the hold you've got on the spoon."

Well, that really helps put me at ease, I thought to myself sarcastically. Outwardly, I just nodded tightly and tightened my grip on the clutch.

Jules nodded back, approval all over her face, which made me feel just a little better – so far, I was doing good. "Want to try kick-starting it yourself?"

All my focus was on holding down the spoon on the grenade, but I had enough wherewithal left to give her a disbelieving look. "You really think I can stay upright if I take my foot off the floor?"

She chuckled good-humouredly. "Point taken. Don't worry, I can do it. Just don't let go of that clutch, okay?"

"I've got it," I promised.

Jules stepped back from her spot in front of me, round to the side where the ignition pedal was. Without warning, she stomped down hard on it, setting off a loud but short roar like the sound from an old-school lawn mower, the type that started by pulling on a cord. I almost lost my balance, unprepared for the sudden impact, but she quickly grabbed hold and kept me steady.

"It's okay, I've got you," she reassured me. "You okay? Still got hold of the clutch?"

"Yep," I gasped, resisting the urge to flex my stiff fingers.

"Let's try that again," Jules said, far too breezily for my liking. "Plant your feet nice and firm. I'll give you a countdown this time."

I didn't miss that she was also holding onto the back of the seat, just to be sure.

Four countdowns and four heavy kicks later, the engine finally caught, and the bike began to vibrate underneath me. My knuckles were white from the force which I was using to hold the clutch in; abruptly, it felt as if I were holding onto the reins of some large feral animal, growling away beneath me and ready to spring forward as soon as I gave it any quarter.

"There she is!" Jules crowed, stepping back a bit with a wide, excited grin of triumph. "Told you they would start. So, clutch is down, engine's on. Next step: give it gas."

"Just like a car," I realised, remembering my old Driver's Ed teacher in Phoenix using the same phrase; apparently, there really was more similarity between the vehicles than I had realised.

Jules seemed as pleased that I'd made the connection as she was with the results of her mechanical handiwork. "Exactly. Twist the throttle, just a little bit. And keep the clutch held in."

Like I was going to forget that part. I gave the right handle just the tiniest of twists, and the monster beneath me growled even louder – the beast was at the end of its tether now. The sound only made Jules smile wider.

"Step four: put it in gear. Remember how to do it?"

"Left foot," I confirmed.

She waved a hand in invitation. "Go for it, girl." When a few seconds passed and I hadn't moved, her smile slipped a little. "You sure you're okay? You look really scared."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"We don't have to do this today. You've already made a lot of progress, we can-"

"I can do it," I insisted, perhaps a little more sharply than was strictly necessary, and pushed the gearshift down into first with my leg before I could get myself any more worked up about it.

"Alright, Miss Independent," Jules chuckled. "Okay, time to ease off that clutch. Slowly, though, just a little at a time."

I looked at her like she'd gone mad. "I thought I wasn't supposed to let go of the grenade?"

She'd backed up another few steps, making me nervous again, but her expression was perfectly calm. "I really hope you don't try to drive the truck around with the clutch pressed to the floor. You won't go anywhere unless you let go of it, Bella. Just go slow and you'll be fine."

Taking a deep breath to try to settle my nerves — and failing miserably — I unlocked the death-grip I had on the clutch and began easing my fingers open.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" a furious velvet voice thundered in my ear.

I yelped and lost my grip on the clutch completely. The bike gave a sudden jerk, as if the animal I had been holding back had sensed weakness and decided to buck me off. It shunted forward half a foot, then collapsed sideways, taking me with it and pinning my leg to the ground as the engine sputtered to a stop.

"Bella!" Jules yanked the bike off me like it weighed nothing. "Are you okay? Did anything…"

"I'm okay," I panted, brushing myself off and glancing around reflexively. I wasn't really listening to Jules anymore.

"I told you so," the angelic voice murmured, clear as crystal and unmistakably smug.

A thrill that had absolutely nothing to do with the bike rushed through me. I barely noticed as Jules helped me up and began checking me over, my mind already occupied with figuring out what in the hell had happened. I'd already established that it wasn't déjà vu causing my hallucinations – the trip to the house had put paid to that theory very firmly – but here was more confirmation. I'd never been to this place in my life, never so much as touched a motorcycle, and yet there was his voice, still echoing in my ears with its unique, exquisite beauty, as sharp and present as that night in Port Angeles. But what else could it be? What tied that night to this moment?

Something was pounding in my ears, a surge of adrenaline flooding through me, just like when I'd been prepared to fight or run in a futile attempt to save McKayla. So maybe that was it – adrenaline plus danger. Or maybe it was just about being idiotic. My common sense had completely deserted me on both occasions, after all.

"Hey, Bella!" Jules snapped her fingers in front of my face, trying to get my attention. "You with me? Did you hit your head?"

"No, I don't think so." I gave it an experimental shake, and there was no pain or dizziness. "Is the bike alright? Did I break something?" That would scupper everything. If this was more than just a way to break my promise, if it was a shortcut to hearing the voice, then I needed to try again. Already he was fading away again, but that wouldn't matter if I could bring him back on command like this.

"It's fine," Jules assured me. "Like you said, it's the same as a car. You let the clutch out too fast and stalled. Just a bit more dramatic without the chassis as a buffer." She chuckled, and I couldn't help smiling back.

"Let me try again," I said eagerly, reaching for the handlebars.

She looked a little surprised. "Yeah? You ready for that?"

"Positive." I nodded decidedly. "Get straight back on the horse, right?"

Her answering grin was equal parts mischief, pleasure and pride, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "That's the spirit."

I had a go at the kick-start myself this time. It took even more attempts than Jules had needed, some of them not nearly as good, mostly because it was a more involved process from my angle; I couldn't seem to get enough force without jumping, but as I'd predicted, whenever my feet left the floor, the bike threatened to tip me into the dirt again. Jules stayed close enough to catch me if I needed her, and finally I had the engine roaring once more. I whooped in victory and she laughed, her fists shooting into the air. Beaming now, I kept my hold on the clutch firm as I revved the throttle, risking going a fraction of a degree further with it. The beast started snarling again, but I knew I had control of it now. When it sprang again, I would be ready.

"Take it slow," Jules reminded me as I started loosening my fingers once more.

To my delight, the other voice was back again, still fuming. "You really are trying to kill yourself, aren't you? Being a danger magnet isn't enough for you anymore – you have to court Death so brazenly?"

My smile didn't falter. The adrenaline still zinged through me, but I wasn't so scared now. Jules wouldn't let me get seriously hurt, and hearing the voice was worth any bumps or bruises I might suffer.

"Go home," the voice commanded. "Go back to Charlie and Beau."

"I will," I promised, a delayed response to Jules as well as an answer to him. That gave me just a moment of pause; it was one thing to hear voices, it was another entirely to acknowledge them by responding. I closed my hand and revved once more for good measure; he echoed the snarl of the engine perfectly, beautifully, and I knew I had to hold on to these memories, no matter what.

Keeping all my focus on the lever and braced for another intrusion so that it wouldn't catch me off guard again, I let go of it so slowly that I was barely moving my hand. Suddenly, the gears engaged, and the bike yanked me forward.

And just like that, I was flying.

It was like diving headfirst into a tornado, or sticking my head out of the window of an airplane. As I'd predicted, the trees appeared as a single entity, blurring together as I passed them too fast to see each one before it was gone. My hair was snatched back behind me, and I was pretty sure that I'd left my stomach somewhere further up the road. Once upon a time, this kind of speed would have scared me, made me have to close my eyes; now, with adrenaline coursing through me and the undeniable power of the bike beneath me, I felt only exhilaration. It was everything I had hoped it would be and more.

And to think, this was only first gear. I twisted the throttle for more gas, my fingers reaching for the clutch as my left leg twitched to hit the gearshift.

"Bella!" the sweet, furious voice barked abruptly in my ear. "Watch where you're going!"

No longer focused on ignoring it now that I was moving, the sudden intrusion jerked me out of the euphoria brought on by the speed and made me suddenly aware of my surroundings again. The road ahead of me was starting to turn to the left, and if I kept going straight, I was going to slam into that wall of greenery. We'd been so focused on starting the bike, we hadn't got to the lesson on turning.

"Brakes," I gasped quietly to myself, and, still stuck in the idea of treating things as being just like a car, I instinctively slammed down with my right foot, using the force I had always needed to bring the truck to a stop.

But this was not the truck, and the bike didn't stop. Remembering too late Jules' warnings about the brakes, I suddenly found myself seated upon a far less stable vehicle than I had been moments earlier. The whole thing shook violently, listing and twisting one way, then the other, as I tried vainly to wrestle it into submission. Far from avoiding the green wall, I was being pulled towards it. Panic took over, and I did the only thing that came to mind, twisting the handlebars in an attempt to turn away from certain disaster. This turned out to be the worst thing I could have done, because the way my weight shifted completely unbalanced the bike so that it and I were both suddenly horizontal. My legs were once again tangled with machinery, but this time the engine didn't cut off; instead the still spinning wheels dragged the bike across the ground, pulling me with it and mashing my face into wet sand and moss. With a loud metallic thunk, it hit something that I couldn't see and finally stopped.

My head was spinning, and I couldn't focus enough to make anything make sense. The growling engine blended with the snarling of the voice in my mind, and another sound… a third strange roaring coming from somewhere else, rapidly getting closer.

"Bella!" Jules yelled in a panic, and that third roar cut off; I realised belatedly that it must be her bike.

The weight on my legs was lifted away, and I rolled onto my back, gasping for breath and blinking up at the clouded sky above me. The rumbling from the other engine stopped and the growling in my ears gradually faded, too.

"Woah," I breathed. The fear of the last five minutes had vanished, leaving only joy behind. I had worked out how to generate my hallucinations whenever I wanted them – a combination of adrenaline, danger, and just a touch of stupidity. At least, that was what seemed to be the common threads so far. I would need to try it again to be absolutely certain.

"Bella!" Jules shouted again, falling to her knees next to me. "Bella, talk to me!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I told her, half-laughing as I took a quick inventory; all my limbs seemed to be attached, intact and working. "Let me try that again, I won't forget about the brakes this time."

"Yeah, no." She shook her head firmly, concern practically radiating off of her. "We're going to the hospital right now."

"No, I'm good," I insisted, sitting up to prove my point and ignoring the way my head started spinning when I did so.

She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at me. "Bella, you have a massive cut on your forehead that is absolutely gushing blood."

My hand flew to my head, and sure enough, there was something wet and sticky seeping through my hair, right where it met the skin of my forehead. When I pulled my hand back, there was red on my fingers; I quickly pressed my palm back over the gash, both in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding and so I didn't have to look at that nauseating redness. Thankfully, my nose was still full of the smell of moss and dirt, so the sickness and dizziness were kept somewhat at bay.

"I'm sorry, Jules," I blurted out instinctually.

"Are you actually apologising for bleeding?" Now her expression turned to one of confusion. "So you made a mistake on the bike, it's not the end of the world. Come on now, let's get back to the truck. Give me your keys, I'm not letting you drive in this condition."

She helped me up off the floor and I leaned into her, trying not to wobble and focusing on staying upright to battle back the twinges in my chest at the reminder of why I no longer needed to worry about bleeding in front of people – not to mention the memories attempting to force their way through to the forefront of my consciousness in response to her final words. "What about the bikes? We can't just leave them here."

"Alright, alright." Jules looked around us, then seemed to make a decision and gently eased me back onto the rock that my bike had slammed against. I appreciated the gesture; I was really starting to feel the loss of blood now, not to mention the smell of it battling to break into my awareness.

"Wait here for a minute," Jules went on. "And here…" She shrugged out of the flannel overshirt she was wearing, leaving her in just a thin tank top, wadding up the material and pressing it tightly to my head, guiding my hand to hold it tight and shushing my attempts at protests over ruining the fabric.

"You're going to freeze," I pointed out instead. The already wintry day was getting colder by the minute; I was starting to feel it, even through my jacket.

"Nah, it's not that bad," she assured me, already jogging towards where her bike stood abandoned on its kickstand a few feet away from us. "I'll be right back, you just stay there."

She practically leapt onto the bike, kick-starting it on the first try, and took off back down the road towards the truck with a spray of pebbles and sand. I watched her go, feeling a sense of admiration at the way she looked, leaning over the handlebars and guiding the machine with practiced precision. She knew what she was doing, and it showed; I could only imagine how ridiculous I had looked on my ride, while she had a sense of almost glamour in the flow of her hair behind her and the shift of her muscles as they worked the controls. I couldn't help feeling a little jealous.

Jules had to drive a lot further than I thought she would, to the point that I nearly couldn't see her when she finally reached the truck. The speed I'd been travelling had made it hard to judge the distance, and I was almost impressed with myself when I realised how far I'd come. I heard the echo of the engine cut off and watched the tiny figure of Jules load her bike into the truck bed before jogging round to the driver's seat. The truck was soon roaring, clearly being pushed to its limits, but I found I cared less with every passing second. My head was just starting to sting and my stomach was rolling. At the same time, I knew that we could stand to ease up on the sense of urgency. I had suffered enough head injuries in the past to know that cuts up there just bled more easily and heavily.

Clearly Jules didn't have the same level of experience, because she was in a rush as she returned to my side, leaving the truck's engine idling.

"You know, it really doesn't respond well when you let it run like that," I commented, nodding at the red beast and instantly regretting it. "At least, it makes some pretty concerning noises if it sits for too long."

"You are being way too casual about this," Jules grumbled, hooking her arm under mine and hauling me to my feet again. "Come on then, since you seem more worried about your car than your head."

"My head is fine," I griped, getting annoyed with her fussing; she was nearly as bad as my brother. "It's just blood. Nothing to get bent out of shape over."

"It's a lot of blood," Jules muttered to herself as she helped me into the passenger seat and shut the door on me, and I wasn't entirely sure I was meant to hear her.

I waited patiently as she heaved my bike into the back beside hers and tried not to think about how strange it was to be sitting in this seat with someone who wasn't Beau behind the wheel.

"Okay," Jules huffed when she was situated in the driver's seat. "Emergency Room, here we come."

"Hang on a minute," I protested, continuing my argument even as she put the truck into gear and turned around to head back up the road. "If you take me to the hospital in this state, Charlie's going to catch wind of it, and we're going to get a grilling that we really don't want to be subjected to." I gave myself a once over, cringing at the dirt plastered all over my jeans and trying not to imagine what my shirt might look like.

"Where else are we going to go?" Jules asked incredulously. "That cut definitely needs stitches, and I'm afraid you're going to bleed out if we try to drive anywhere else."

"I will not bleed out," I assured her, resisting the urge to roll my eyes – that probably wouldn't help. "Head wounds are just a bit more… enthusiastic than other cuts. We've got time to drop the bikes off at your house and stop in at my place so I can clean up a bit before we go. It just has to look like something I could have done with my usual inability to stay on my feet, that's all."

"Won't Charlie see you at the house? And Beau?"

"Beau was in the middle of a deep clean, so I might be able to sneak past while he's running the vacuum, and Charlie said he had to work when I left earlier." I shrugged, aiming for unconcerned. "We'll just have to hope he's gone when we get there."

Jules still looked uncertain. "I really think we should get you to a doctor sooner rather than later."

"We've got time," I repeated more forcefully. "I bleed easily, that's all. Please, Jules."

She certainly didn't look happy about it – in fact her face was twisted into a rare and unsettling frown – but she thankfully stopped arguing, apparently still loyal enough to not want to get me in trouble with my dad. I watched the view across the ocean again, able to really appreciate it now that I didn't have to focus on the road anymore, pressing the now undoubtedly unsavable shirt to my injury and breathing steadily through my mouth to keep my head clear as we headed back towards the Blacks' place.

Silently, I was celebrating. The motorcycle had done what I wanted it to, letting me break my promise and end that stupid bargain once and for all. Having succeeding in being reckless just for the sake of it made me feel just a bit less pitiful for clinging so tightly to whatever fleeting piece of him that I could find.

Which brought me, of course, to the unexpected and far more exciting revelation of the afternoon – I had stumbled upon the secret to generating the hallucinations. More tests would be needed to be absolutely certain, of course, and soon. The hospital couldn't take too long, and while it was probably too much to hope that we could get back out here today, tomorrow was another story. Those wonderful painless memories were within my reach.

Not to mention the sheer exhilaration of the ride. I'd had a fleeting thought as I flew down the road of when I had experienced that kind of speed before; though once terrifying to me, I had been beginning to enjoy our runs through the woods, racing past trees and undergrowth with my arms and legs wrapped around him as he surged across untold distances without a visible path, feeling that closeness, that freedom, that joy… I made myself stop thinking of it, the twinge from before resolving into a full-blown stab of pain that unfortunately made me openly wince.

"Doing alright over there?" Jules asked, spotting the movement.

"Fine," I insisted, beginning to feel like a broken record.

After another moment of quiet, she added, "I'm disconnecting your foot brake when I get home."

"Whatever makes you feel better," I said calmly. So long as I could still ride, I didn't much care what she did.

We managed to stash the bikes back in the garage without being spotted, although Jules insisted that I stay in the truck while she moved them on her own. By the time we made it back to my house, I was feeling a little more settled, and the blood was drying on my skin and Jules' shirt. She followed me in, ignoring my admittedly weak protests, but agreed to stay in the hall while I went upstairs to change. There was no sound of the vacuum, but Beau didn't immediately materialise, so I hurried up to the bathroom as quietly as I could.

The image in the mirror was just as horrific as I'd been afraid of; my hair was tangled with blood and mud, and the mess had dripped down my face in dark brown streaks that made tracks down my cheek and neck, all the way to my shirt. The darker colour actually helped me keep my composure – I could pretend that it was only mud that coated my skin, or at worst dark paint. Breathing through my mouth helped too.

I quickly washed everything off, ignoring the red tinge in the water, and changed into fresh clothes, stashing the dirty ones at the bottom of my laundry basket. I somehow kept my new clothes free of blood, mostly because I chose a button-down that didn't have to go over my head and kept Jules' now completely ruined flannel pressed to the cut as I dressed. It was certainly awkward to fasten everything one-handed, but I managed to end up looking somewhat presentable.

"Come on, Bella," Jules called from downstairs, sounding impatient.

I hurried out to the landing, shushing her frantically, but it was too late.

"Bella?" Beau's voice echoed from the back of the house; he must have been in his bedroom the whole time.

"Now you've done it," I complained at Jules as I came down the stairs. To her credit, she looked apologetic. I made a beeline for the door, but it was already too late.

"What's going on?" Beau asked, now much closer as he emerged from the living room. He took one look at me and his eyes popped wide open; he rushed to close the distance between us, frantic with worry. "Oh god, you're hurt! What happened?"

"I'm fine," I told him. This was as good a time as any to try out the story I'd thought up to explain the injury. "I wasn't looking where I was going in the garage, tripped over some tools and hit my head."

Beau sighed heavily in exasperation. "Honestly, Bell, you know clumsy doesn't have to be a personality trait. Let me see."

He reached for the shirt I was holding to my head and I took a half-step back instinctively. He frowned, suspicion flickering in his eyes, so I knew I had to have a good excuse to throw him off the scent. Luckily, there was an easy one at hand. "Beau, I'm bleeding. The last thing we need is you passing out right now. Believe me, I'm barely managing."

Mercifully, he didn't press the issue, but he did drop back into frustration. "Well then, what are you doing here? Why didn't you go to the hospital?"

"I was trying to take her," Jules piped up. "But she insisted on stopping here to clean up first."

I followed her lead with an ease that was effortless and pretty convincing, if I did say so myself. "Believe me, I looked a lot worse five minutes ago." Which wasn't technically a lie, I reasoned. Stay as close to the truth as possible – that was the key to a successful Swan bluff.

"Alright, you've got yourself looking pretty again," Beau huffed, his voice thick with sarcasm but still radiating worry. "Can we get you to a doctor now?"

"Jules can take me," I protested, but Beau was shaking his head before I had finished my sentence.

"Dad will give me the dressing down of a lifetime if he hears I knew you were hurt and didn't go with you. Keys, please." His eyes went wide again, this time with horror as a thought seemed to occur to him. "Please tell me you were at least smart enough not to drive yourself back here."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not, Jules drove. Have a little faith in me, Beau, honestly."

To my annoyance, Jules handed over the keys without protest, but followed us out into the truck. She made an odd face as Beau pulled away, wrinkling her nose like there was a foul smell in the cab. I sniffed as subtly as I could, but didn't pick up anything untoward – just the usual scent of worn leather and the coppery tinge of the blood on my head. Beau didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary either, focused on driving and continuing the battering that the truck's engine had been subjected to all afternoon at this point by pushing it just a bit harder than it should have been going, even edging up past the speed limit, which my perpetually law-abiding brother almost never did.

About halfway to the hospital, I looked over at Jules – mostly to avoid the continual concerned glances Beau kept flashing at me – and realised she was still wearing only a tank top. No one had turned the heat on, and even inside the cab, it was decidedly frigid; this shirt was thinner than the one I'd been wearing before.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked her. "You could have borrowed one of my jackets."

"It's really not that bad," she assured me. "I feel fine."

"Well, I'm freezing," I grumbled, reaching out to twist the dial on the dash. The vents immediately started blasting warm air, and I felt better almost instantly.

"You're probably going into shock," Beau said sullenly, pressing down on the accelerator even more firmly and making the truck whine in protest.

"It will take even longer to get me medical attention if you make us break down on the side of the road," I pointed out, very reasonably, I thought. He muttered something I couldn't quite hear, though the irritation was unmistakable, but eased up on the poor beast.

I distracted myself from his foul mood to check on Jules. She really didn't seem to be bothered by the cold, yet it was getting much warmer now that the heater was on, so that wasn't so much of a problem. She was sitting back in the seat looking relatively relaxed, certainly not huddling for warmth like I was. As I looked at her, I couldn't help noticing how much she had matured, even just in the last few weeks. She looked older than sixteen, maybe even older than me – not forty, of course, but not like a teenager either. The muscles I had noticed earlier were prominent even as she sat still; nothing like Quil's bulging arms and chest ready to burst out of his shirt, but a subtler, more lean musculature that was nonetheless unmistakably present. Her smooth, coppery skin stretched across it, and I found myself marvelling at the colour, so much nicer than my own sickly pale whiteness.

Jules caught me looking and raised one eyebrow, looking a little uncomfortable. "What are you staring at?"

"You," I said without thinking. "I was just realising, you're kind of beautiful, Jules."

Her look turned disbelieving, and she chuckled. "How hard did you hit your head, exactly?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, would you just take the compliment?"

She shook her head, but at least she was smiling again; I liked that much better. "Alright. Thank you, kind of."

"You're kind of welcome," I joked, ignoring my brother's gaze that I could feel burning a hole in the back of my head.

It seemed like we were at the hospital forever. In the end, as I'd predicted, Beau couldn't stand to stay with me once the blood was exposed, so he waited outside the little curtained cubicle in the ER and Jules held my hand while I got seven stitches in my forehead from the kindly Dr Snow. I spent the time trying not to think about the last time I'd gotten stitches or how a certain someone had lamented not being able to be with me through the ordeal. At least it didn't hurt, apart from the prick of the needles as the doctor administered the local anaesthetic.

By the time I was released, it was getting late, so Beau dropped me off at home before driving Jules back out to La Push. He told me to go to bed and take it easy, but Charlie was already home and I felt bad about making him wait for dinner, so I started throwing together a quick meal instead. My father believed my tale about a fall in the garage easily, though he frowned and told me to make sure Jules tidied up after herself in the future. I congratulated myself on a story well spun, although it probably wasn't surprising that he fell for it; it wouldn't have been the first time my chronic clumsiness had landed me in the ER.

Beau kept eyeing me all night, and he paid me a visit in my room on his way back from brushing his teeth before bed.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, genuine worry foremost in his tone now that the panic from earlier had calmed. "I don't need to keep coming in to wake you up every few hours, do I?"

I shook my head, and the fact that it didn't start spinning was definitely progress. "No, Dr Snow said I don't have a concussion or anything. You're safe to sleep through the night." I fidgeted as a thought occurred to me. "You know, as much as you can, what with me… well…"

We never talked about my nightmares, and it was awkward bringing them up now. But he knew what I was getting at. He moved to sit on the end of my bed, his eyes softening in understanding; I quickly set aside my journal, where I had been writing up the afternoon's events, more to keep up the new routine I had established than anything else.

"You don't have to feel guilty about that, Bell," Beau assured me gently. "I just hate that you're struggling so much."

"It's been better recently," I told him honestly. "I think hanging out with Jules is really helping." That much was true, and if he believed it, he might be more inclined to leave us be. Those suspicious looks from earlier were still on my mind, and I knew I had damage control to do if I was going to keep my secrets.

He smiled. "That is good. I'm glad you have someone that makes you happy, Bell."

I didn't correct him. The truth was, I did feel happier when I was with Jules, but it was a shallow, frail kind of happiness – one that evaporated quickly after she was gone. If I needed proof of that, I had to look no further than that very night; no matter how joyful the day, the nightmare returned unerringly, irresistibly, tearing me open in its wake. And yet, tonight was not as bad as before. Just like after my first brush with insanity back in Port Angeles, this night was easier to bear than the others. In fact, it was even easier than that last time; the hole did not hurt as much at the edges, the nothingness was not so frightening, and I was wrapped up, all throughout the dream and into its aftermath, with the thought of tomorrow. I knew I would see Jules again soon – I knew this blind searching would not last, that the nightmare would end. I knew she would close the gaping wound, if only temporarily.

Not to mention, I would hear him again tomorrow.

For the next week, every moment I could manage was spent out on the road at the edge of La Push, practicing, flying, hallucinating. Mostly at Jules' insistence – and after a pointed inquiry from Beau – we spent a few afternoons on homework again, and I found myself increasingly frustrated with the way real life would keep intruding on my pleasant little bubble. In the woods, astride my growling beast with the voice of an angel in my ear, it was like I was in another world entirely.

The cut from that first ride was far from the only injury, but it was also by far the worst, and I managed to not end up needing stitches again. However, there was more than one night when I returned late and limping having sat in the Forks Hospital Emergency Room for longer than I wanted to, and while my father was miraculously oblivious – usually too caught up with whatever sport was playing that night to pay too close attention to me, and too happy that the zombie still hadn't returned to ride me too hard for staying out so long – I knew I was not keeping it hidden from my brother. Before I could think of a good way to calm his suspicions that wasn't just lying through my teeth when he inevitably called me out, a particularly nasty spill off the bike resulted in another trip to the ER on the Wednesday following my first ride. Before Jules could get me home, Dr Gerandy had already put in a call to Charlie, letting him know that he suspected I had a concussion this time and to wake me up every two hours overnight in case it was serious. I tried to sell another story about tripping, but I was met with the rare and unexpectedly forceful weight of two disbelieving Swan boys.

"You know, perhaps that garage isn't the best place for you to hang out," Charlie commented, taking a bite of his dinner. Beau nodded in agreement, his face grave as he chewed his own mouthful.

I tried to keep the panic from showing on my face; surely my dad wouldn't ban me from going to La Push? If I couldn't go there, I couldn't see Jules, and more importantly, I couldn't get to my motorcycle. I was vaguely aware that I was rapidly becoming addicted to my delusions at this point, like a junkie always on the search for another fix, but I wasn't even a little bit interested in being cured of it. The voice had yelled at me for almost five minutes straight today as I took sharp corners at greater and greater speed, leaning further over each time just to feel the stomach-flipping jerk of returning upright as I got back on the straights. Then I'd made the mistake of pulling the brake too quickly again and gone ass over teakettle across the handlebars and into a tree – hence the concussion. I was going to pay for it in my nightmares tonight, but it was well worth it.

"I didn't fall in the garage this time," I said impulsively; coming up with lies on the fly was never a good idea, but I had no choice this time. "It was out in the woods. We decided to go for a hike, and there was a rock hidden in the underbrush…"

"Since when do you hike?" Beau asked incredulously, looking at me like I'd grown an extra head.

"Well, Jules is a lot more outdoorsy than me," I shrugged. "She wanted to go, and I didn't see a reason to argue. Besides, I've been working at Newton's for so long, it would be almost irresponsible of me not to try out the wonders of the great outdoors just once, so I actually know what I'm talking about when customers come in."

Beau scoffed, and Charlie looked entirely unconvinced. "Bella…"

"I'll be more careful next time," I swore, hoping neither of them would notice the fingers I had crossed under the table.

Charlie sighed, giving up far more easily than I could have hoped for. "Alright, alright. Just… stay close to town, will you? Don't go too far beyond where the houses end and don't wander off the trails." He shot a look at my brother. "That goes for you too, Beau. I saw your boots at the back door the other day."

"Why?" we both asked at the same time; we hadn't done that in a while, and it felt at once strange and completely right.

"The park rangers and the forestry department have been getting more reports about wildlife coming nearer and nearer to town." Charlie was frowning now, but thankfully seemed distracted from me and my many injuries. "We've had a fair few complaints coming through the station, too. It's being looked into and I don't think anyone's been hurt yet, but still…"

Suddenly, everything clicked. "Oh, you mean the big bear? We had a few hikers come into the shop that said they saw it."

"Angela and Ben think they had a run in with a giant grizzly a few weeks ago, too," Beau added helpfully. "Do you really think there's a monster bear out in the woods, Dad?"

He shook his head, his forehead still deeply creased. "I don't know, but there are too many reports for there not to be something. Be careful, the both of you." He gave us his best Dad glare. "Stay near town. Promise me."

"We will," Beau replied solemnly, and I nodded. Charlie still didn't look happy, but he let the matter drop.

"I think Beau and my dad are getting suspicious," I grumbled to Jules as she opened the door of the truck on Friday afternoon. We'd come up her drive almost in tandem today, and she still had her bag over her shoulder; her school must have let out a little later than usual.

She gave me a knowing look that I didn't appreciate one bit. "Well, it was going to happen eventually. Even you aren't that accident prone."

I stuck my tongue out at her and she laughed, then got serious.

"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to take a break from the bikes, just for a week or so." The last part came out in a rush, clearly in response to the militant look I could feel forming on my face. "One week with no hospital visits should be enough to calm them down, right?"

"I guess," I grumbled. "But what are we going to do? We can't fill all that time with homework."

"Speak for herself," she joked, hoisting her bag dramatically higher on her shoulder as we rounded the house. "My teachers are in a sadistic mood at the moment. But really, we can do whatever you want. I just like spending time with you."

"Me too," I said, smiling despite myself.

Only for the smile to immediately fall off my face as we walked into the garage and I saw who was already there.

Jules, who had fallen a few steps behind me, didn't notice my abrupt stop at the door and ploughed into my back, swearing loudly. "Bella, what the… oh no."

Beau stood in the middle of the small shed, by serendipity or design flanked by the two motorcycles, his arms crossed and a look of absolute fury on his face. Yet when he spoke, his voice was deceptively calm.

"Would either of you two like to explain to me exactly what you have been up to for the last few weeks? Because I'm beginning to think that the Rabbit hasn't been touched in quite a while."

For a few moments, both of us just stared at him, completely at a loss for words. Never in my wildest imaginings did I ever think it would be Beau who caught us. After that one near-miss, I'd been so careful not to let him come with me when I drove down to La Push, and I knew Jules would never let him back here. I'd felt extra safe today, since he was supposed to be working, so what was he doing here? For some reason, it was that question which my brain chose to latch onto, and which came bursting out of my mouth when my muscles finally unlocked.

"How did you get here?" I sputtered. "Shouldn't you be at the library?"

"Called in sick, and Jer gave me a ride," he explained, still seething. "Because I knew there was something going on, something that was getting you hurt, and I thought, no way is it Jules, no way would she let my sister do anything stupid or dangerous and then I find these!" His quiet anger had gradually gained volume as he went on and had reached a full-blown yell by the last word.

"Will you be quiet?" I hissed, hurrying over and grabbing his still tightly folded arms as if that would be of any help at all. "Bonnie's going to hear you."

He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Really? You're really still trying to keep this whole thing hidden? Dad is going to lose it when he hears about this, do you think it matters who it comes from?"

Panic took hold. "No, no, no, Beau, you can't tell Charlie, please…"

"It was my idea," Jules broke in. "I found these old bikes at the dump and I wanted to challenge myself with something new. But I didn't want to ride them on my own, so I convinced Bella to help me get the parts and fix them up."

"Jules…" I started to protest, but she cut me off again.

"No, Bella. It's all on me, let me take the fall."

Beau was looking back and forth between us, an intense scrutiny in his gaze that I did not like in the slightest. A nasty feeling was bubbling up in my stomach, and it took me a moment to work out what it was – fear… not quite… anticipation… yes and no… guilt…

There it was. I knew it was wrong for Jules to take the blame for this. Not when it had been entirely my idea, my rebellion, my psychosis…

"She's lying," I admitted quietly, unable to look at either of them. "I made her help me fix the bikes. Austin's parents were throwing them out, and I passed them on the way back from work one day, and I just got this crazy idea in my head that I wanted to learn how to ride one." I peeked up at my brother, utterly miserable but ready to face the music. "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but… but it was really all me, so don't be mad at Jules, and please don't get her in trouble with Charlie too."

A tense silence descended over all three of us.

"I cannot believe you would do this," my brother finally said, his voice low, hard, and unexpectedly cold. "I can't believe my sister would ever be so reckless and irresponsible. I mean, wasn't one head wound enough? Didn't the first trip to the hospital teach you that this is a terrible idea? Whatever the reason for starting it – which I still don't understand, by the way – I just can't work out where the end is for you, Bella. Were you going to keep going until you came home in a cast? Or do you only draw the line at a body bag?"

I blanched. "Beau, that isn't fair. You know I would never do that to you and Charlie." He was talking like my hallucination, which frustrated me; usually I mostly ignored the words in favour of just enjoying the sound, but now he was forcing me to confront them, and tainting the memories in the process.

"This morning I would have believed that," he shot back. "Now I'm not so sure."

I was on the verge of tears now, desperation breaking through months of emotional stagnation. "Please, Beau. Please, just… please."

I wasn't entirely sure what I was pleading for – his forgiveness, his silence, his permission, or his understanding. I knew that all were far beyond my reach, and I couldn't hope for any of them.

Finally, he sighed, his anger melting into deep sadness.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," he murmured, his voice breaking, and I realised abruptly that this was the crux of the problem.

I stepped forward and wrapped him in the fiercest hug I could muster. "I'm so sorry, Beau."

He hugged me back just as hard; I could practically feel the worry and sadness he felt leaking out of him through his arms. We stood there just holding each other for what felt like a very long time.

"We're taking a break." Jules broke into our little bubble quietly, as if afraid to intrude. "We were just talking about it, weren't we, Bella? So she'll be safe for a little while."

Beau tensed up and his voice was hard again, rumbling under my ear because he still hadn't let go of me. "You think that a break is really going to be enough? That somehow you'll come back in a few weeks and it won't be so dangerous?"

"Come out with us," Jules offered, and even I was shocked by how out of left field it was. Did she want my brother to completely lose it? I had no idea whether or not her mom was home, but even if she wasn't, Charlie was only a phone call away.

Beau looked utterly aghast. "You actually think I'm going to stand back and let you go out on those death traps today? Didn't you just say you were taking a break?"

Jules didn't back down. "Seriously, come and watch. Bella's getting pretty good, and I think you'll feel better if you see her ride."

"Jules…" I tried to cut in, but neither of them were really listening to me anymore.

"Why shouldn't I drag both of you down to the station right now and tell my dad what you've been up to?" Beau challenged, squaring off with Jules in a way that was obviously meant to be menacing and which had me cowering away from him as he finally let me go. It was almost like he was blocking her from getting to me, and I didn't like that at all.

Jules, to her credit, still stood her ground. "Because there are an awful lot of secrets I could tell him about you in return, Swan. We've known each other since we were in diapers, remember? I'm sure there's more than one bout of mischief that neither of us have ever been punished for that Charlie would absolutely love to have an explanation for. The shrink-wrap on the cruiser, perhaps? Or maybe that trick with the shaving cream…"

I had no idea what she was talking about, but Beau clearly did; he blanched and looked more than a little scared, the shoe suddenly on the other foot as Jules became the one doling out threats. "You wouldn't dare."

One black eyebrow rose on her copper forehead. "Try me, Beaufort."

After a few moments of silence, I couldn't help but try to play mediator, breaking the tension with what I hoped would be an acceptable compromise. "Come along with us and watch. If you still aren't convinced… or if I get hurt again… well, then you can tell Charlie whatever you want, and neither of us will stop you. Just give me a chance, Beau. I swear, there have been more rides I didn't wind up in the hospital than ones I did." When he gave me a disbelieving look, I clarified. "This week, anyway."

My brother made a sound somewhere between a disgruntled huff and a panicked whimper, but did look somewhat torn, which was definitely progress. Whatever Jules had on him had to be huge if it was enough to give him even a slight pause for thought about turning me in; could the consequences possibly be as bad if not worse than what I would face? I didn't dare say another word, resisting the urge to start pleading again and letting him make his choice.

"Fine," he said at last, sounding defeated. "But I'm warning you, convincing me is going to be hard."

Jules and I both let out breaths I hadn't realised we were holding, a simultaneous rush of air that hissed around the space like helium escaping from a balloon. Both clearly on the same wavelength, we hurried to our bikes and started wheeling them out of the garage into the trees; I did my best not to let mine wobble, hoping I could give the impression of expertise right from the get-go. Beau looked confused by the trek through the woods until I quietly explained we were trying to keep out of sight of Bonnie, which got me another disapproving look. Despite his censure, he moved as if on instinct to help Jules put them into the truck bed, seeming as surprised as I always was about how well she handled them all by herself.

Jules ducked into the house to check in with her mom before we left, and I hurriedly took the driver's seat before Beau could claim it – I didn't trust him to follow directions to our riding spot and not just take us straight to Charlie if he was in control. Rather than get in beside me, he waited outside and let Jules go first so that she was in the middle seat, and what was left of my heart sank even further; here was yet more proof of the distance that had opened between my twin and I, a distance I thought we had closed last year and which I never wanted to open again, but which I also couldn't deny I had had a huge hand in creating.

It was a quiet, nerve-wracking drive, the tension crackling between us almost palpable. Beau knew and Jules had learned by now that I didn't like having the stereo on, so neither of them touched it, and the lack of background noise somehow made everything worse, to the point I was tempted to turn it on myself. Deciding that was a minefield I didn't want to navigate right now, I held back and suffered the silence all the way to the isolated little back road that we always rode on. As we passed the cliffs over First Beach, I glanced up reflexively. But no one was diving today, although the weather was much nicer than it had been the day we'd seen Sam and his gang leaping from the higher rocks.

Once we arrived and had the bikes unloaded, Jules made me go through all the controls and techniques I'd learned so far in much more detail than usual, obviously trying to make a point to Beau about me knowing my stuff when it came to riding. I aced every question, even getting the right brake (as far as I knew, the foot brake still hadn't been reattached, so I stayed away from it on instinct). When Jules was satisfied, she coached me through starting the engine with minimal prompts, and I was proud that it only took two tries for me to get the kick-start this time. My brother watched the proceedings from a spot on the hood of the truck, looking incredibly uncomfortable and rolling his cell phone between his hands in a way that made me nervous. I focused on what I was doing, knowing that getting the jitters wouldn't help me control the bike the way I needed to. Helpfully, the voice came to me just as I was easing up on the clutch, giving me an extra distraction.

"Really?" he growled, honey-smooth and beautiful as always. "You're actually doing this with Beau watching? You want him to bear witness to your suicide, is that it?"

"Hush, you," I muttered under my breath, too quiet for Jules to hear over the engine, and let the gears engage.

The leap forward as the bike really got going still hadn't lost its heady rush, but I was beginning to find it more enjoyable than frightening. I knew the stretch of road better and had practiced the turn, so I knew how to lean and change my speed to sail round it comfortably onto the next long straight, which was the best place to practise shifting gear because I could get a good run of speed going. I got all the way up to third today, then dropped back down to first so I could more easily pull a U-turn on a wider patch of road up ahead. No need to go overboard, and anyway, there was no point in bringing Beau to watch me if I was miles away from him and out of sight the entire time. I bobbled slightly as I took the turn just a degree too tight, but recovered and revved the engine back up, retracing my route with ease. The angel made a few comments, but I mostly ignored the actual words, just revelling in the sound of his voice. The entire ride was glorious.

As I came back around that first bend and the truck reappeared, I was feeling confident enough that I decided one more moment of recklessness couldn't hurt, and twisted the throttle to kick back up into second gear again, zooming past Jules and Beau instead of coming to a stop like I normally would have. I heard Jules shout, but her words were lost in the wind and the delicious velvet roar from the voice in my head.

Remembering to be gentle, I put on the brakes and came to a stop about two hundred yards further up the road, dropping my feet to steady myself once I was stationary. I didn't get quite as firm a base as I wanted, used to Jules spotting me at the handlebars, and the bike started to tip over as soon as the engine cut. Although I managed to get off fast enough to keep it from falling on me, I overbalanced and landed on my backside at the side of the road, the bike tumbling over just in front of my toes. I laughed, just imagining what I looked like and still riding the adrenaline high.

Beau yelped and jumped off the truck, rushing towards me with Jules hot on his heels.

"Are you okay?" he panted anxiously when he reached me.

"I'm fine," I assured him, tempering my laughter down to a wide grin as I let him help me up.

"Not for lack of trying," the voice commented smarmily, the volume gradually fading into silence by the last word.

I ignored him, dusting off the back of my jeans. "I've done worse just walking down the driveway on an icy morning."

My brother insisted on giving me a full once-over before he was satisfied that I was really alright, asking a lot of the questions that both of us were more than used to from years of hospital visits. Meanwhile, Jules was more focused on making sure the bike was okay after its unceremoniously collapse.

"More stopping practice today," she decided. "Everything else go okay?"

"Fine," I said, and gave her the highlights of my ride. When she heard I'd had trouble on the tight turn, she nodded and added that to the list.

For the next few hours, we did short runs up and down the road, never going out of sight of the truck, until I could make a tight enough turn to get all the way around without wobbling, going only slightly off the side of the road, and stop by myself without falling over about three times out of every five. There were a few more tumbles, but I avoided any injury worse than light bruising and one barked shin.

I did my best not to watch Beau too closely, mostly because I could feel his eyes on me and didn't want to get caught. Though I wanted desperately to see his reactions to what I was doing, I was also a bit afraid of what I would see. Judgement, fear, acceptance… I wasn't sure what I expected, or what would be the worst. By the time we were finishing and loading back into the truck, he'd schooled his features into something appropriately impassive, and it was impossible to get a read on his mood.

We dropped off Jules and the bikes without incident; as we pulled away, Beau in the driver's seat now, I saw Jules in the rear-view mirror making an unmistakable 'call me' gesture with her hand to her ear. I felt a sense of anticipation building as I wondered what news I would have to tell her.

I half-expected Beau to set upon me straight away once we were alone, but he didn't. Instead, the ride home was as quiet as the drive out across the clifftops, him focused on the road and me watching the scenery with anxiety bubbling up more and more with every mile that we travelled closer to our father.

Charlie was home already when we got in, which only made me more nervous. But Beau didn't go beyond the usual greetings and small talk, asking about his day and telling him about various inane goings-on at school. It was late enough that our dad offered to get pizza again, but I insisted on taking my turn to cook, throwing together an easy pasta dish that I knew wouldn't take too long. I listened intently while I was working, trying to hear if any dangerous conversations were happening in the living room, but all that echoed down the hallway was the sound of the TV and the occasional comment on whatever show it was they were watching. Charlie laughed a few times at something Beau had said, and though I was constantly tensed for angry yelling to begin, it never came. I was getting a bit annoyed with Beau; couldn't he just make his mind up and get on with it already? The waiting was torturous, worse than any punishment I could imagine Charlie laying down.

Dinner came and went, and I stayed downstairs with the boys afterwards, still waiting. Beau kindly cleaned up the kitchen for me, then ducked into his room and came back out with his scrapbook. I hadn't noticed him taking the camera anywhere, and quickly realised he didn't have any new photos to add; instead, he was captioning pages further into the book, clearly anticipating some of the end-of-year events at school that he was going to get pictures of later. As I watched him write words like 'finals', 'graduation' and 'moving out', I couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy. He could look forward to all those things, could see them as something important and worth recognising. I was tolerably sure I would manage to graduate at the end of the year, maybe even get a few good grades. But there was nothing coming after that, nothing to look forward to, no new grand adventure as I headed off to some far-flung university and took on the next phase of my life. As good as things had been recently, I was less inclined than ever to leave Forks, even though I knew I was going to catch all kinds of hell from my parents whenever they realised I wasn't applying or even planning to apply to college.

When Beau was satisfied with his work, he started flicking idly backwards through the pages. There were a few snaps from Christmas, New Year, and some of the other holidays and events that had passed me by when I was in my haze; I didn't remember any of them being taken, and I wasn't in very many, from what I could see. At a certain point, I turned away, knowing that he was getting back to September and the potential to see things that I wouldn't be able to handle seeing. I wasn't sure whether he saw me move or anticipated the same problem at the same time, but Beau lifted the cover so I could no longer even accidentally catch sight of the photos, and I found myself struck once again by how much my twin considered all the strange little oddities that came with my current mental state. As exhausting as it was for me to cope with all of it, it had to be nearly as bad for him, trying to make sure that I could live as normal a life as possible. I wondered, with a pang of guilt, just how much of his own life he had been putting to the side in the months since our birthday to try to make things easier for me, and resolved to start giving back in any way that I could find.

Charlie headed up to bed a little earlier than usual, and Beau appeared to be retreating too, getting up and vanishing into his room. But he hadn't said goodnight, and when he reemerged a few moments later, it was clear he had just been putting the scrapbook away.

"So…" I ventured nervously.

"So…" he echoed, and his tone didn't sound promising. Then he sighed heavily and plopped down onto the sofa next to where I sat curled against the armrest with my feet up on the cushions. "What do you want me to say, Bella?"

"Whatever you want," I said, almost instantly wondering if that might have been a bit reckless; I could be in for another angry lecture or sad lament, neither of which I was prepared to withstand. Still, I was committed now, and in the spirit of repaying his months of one-sided sibling loyalty, I didn't take it back.

Beau pursed his lips. "That's just it. I really don't know what to say. It's like I've got Dad's voice in the back of my head, all those talks from when we were growing up about motorcycles and how dangerous they are, and I want you as far away from any of that crap as possible. At the same time, I know I'm not your parent and that's not my job, that it's your life and your choice, all that stuff…" Another weary sigh. "I don't know, Bell. Help me out here."

I took my time thinking about my reply, knowing these next words could be very important, and that I couldn't risk giving away any of my true intentions. "Okay… well, I guess I'll go first then. I do understand where you're coming from, Beau, really I do. I had all the same lectures, and I genuinely didn't think I'd ever consider something like this. I just… had this idea, and even though it didn't make sense, it was sort of… exciting, and it had been so long since I felt that way… since I felt anything…" I paused, closing my eyes as something like shame went through me at that admission. Even if he could have already guessed at my lack of emotional reactions over the last few months before I got the bikes, it was another thing entirely to admit to it out loud. I hurried on once I had collected myself, keeping my eyes closed in the hope that it would be easier to talk if I couldn't see him watching me. "I couldn't resist trying it. Believe me, I don't want to be this… this shell of who I was. I want to be normal again, and maybe I can, maybe I can't. All I know is, when I'm riding, I'm not thinking about… everything else. I'm… better, even if it's only for a little while."

He was silent, taking in what I had said and processing it, clearly wanting to be as careful with his words as I had been. "Earlier, there were a few times when you seemed… happy."

"I am happy," I agreed. "When I'm with Jules, even if we don't go out on the bikes, I'm really happy. They were the reason I went to see her that day, but they're not the only reason I keep going over and spending so much time with her. And what really scares me about you telling Charlie about it all…" Here it was – no going back now. "What really worries me is that he's going to ban me from going to see her completely, and I'll lose all of that… I don't know what to call it. Progress, maybe?"

Beau shifted so that he was facing me more fully, folding one leg up onto the couch cushion and propping his elbow on the back, leaning his head against his fist. "And I get that, I do. I just can't help worrying about you. I mean, I meant what I said the other night. I'm glad you have something that makes you happy, Bells. But did it have to be this? Did it have to be something that's already hurt you and could be so much worse next time?"

"I understand," I mumbled. I knew there wasn't anything else I could say beyond revealing the truth, and that was completely out of the question. His steadfast protection only went so far, and if he knew I was hearing things, he'd definitely be pushing for me to get help – or get thrown in the loony bin.

"I think the worst part of it, though," he murmured after a few moments of silence, "is the fact that you didn't feel like you could talk to me. I mean, it was you that said all that stuff about keeping secrets for each other, not from each other. So I guess it more surprised me than anything, to find out that you had been hiding something from me after all."

This was what I'd suspected back in the garage, so I was somewhat prepared for it. "I wasn't thinking of it like that. I just didn't want to worry you or risk it getting back to Charlie. But I can see how it could look to you, and I'm sorry. I never meant to go back on our deal. I… back then, I couldn't have imagined that this would ever happen."

Wasn't that the understatement of the century? That promise had been made less than a year ago, and yet it felt like another lifetime.

Beau snorted, a dark cloud falling over his features. "Yeah, this would have seemed pretty unbelievable back then, huh?" Before I could ask what had him in such a black mood – and really, I wasn't sure I wanted to know – it had passed and his expression returned to its previous mix of hurt and worry. "But wasn't that the whole point? That we were supposed to trust each other with everything, that it was better for everyone if we didn't keep secrets?"

"You're right," I agreed. "I've really got no excuses, Beau. I'm just sorry."

He gave me a look so mistrustful that it made my chest ache – not as bad as the hole, but pretty damn close.

"Sorry you did it, or sorry you got caught?" he asked softly.

"Sorry I did it," I assured him. "Sorry that I lied, and that I hid something from you when I said I wouldn't I'll be honest from now on, I promise."

"I don't know if that makes it any better," Beau grumbled, a sour frown creasing his forehead. "If you tell me everything, it's harder to have plausible deniability if Dad ever asks me what you're up to."

It took me a few seconds to work out what he was implying, but when I did, a rush of hope welled up in me. "You're not going to tell Charlie?"

"No, I'm not," he confirmed, then, obviously seeing me get excited, added, "For now. On the understanding that I know when you're going riding and you try to be careful. No more hospitals."

I made a face. "That might be difficult. I'm still me, after all."

He huffed out a dark laugh. "Alright, then at least tell me when it happens so I can run interference for you."

"You've got a deal." I beamed at him and then, because that wasn't enough, dived across the sofa to hug him. He seemed surprised at first, but then wrapped his arms around me tightly and squeezed like he was afraid I would disappear if he let go. It felt good, like the rift between us was finally healed, and I let myself enjoy the closeness.

"Love you, sis," he mumbled into my hair.

"I love you too," I whispered back. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Just keep Jules at bay," he said darkly, making me wonder again exactly what dirt she had on him that made him so scared. I decided it was better not to ask.

Jules was thrilled to hear we weren't in trouble when I called her later from the safety of my room, although she insisted we take the break we'd agreed to. In deference to Beau's worries, I considered staying away from La Push entirely for a few days. But after Friday night's dream, I knew I couldn't give up my hallucinations and Jules at the same time. There had been a sense of hopelessness in this nightmare that was new and disconcerting, and which lingered much longer than usual after I woke up. All through my shift at Newton's on Saturday morning, a plan percolated in the back of my mind.

If the bikes were no longer an option – at least for now – then I had to find another source of the rush that came from doing something dangerous and stupid, and which brought with it those delightful painless memories. As I'd already realised way back when I had first decided to cheat on my end of the deal, finding such an activity here in Forks was going to require serious creativity, and I knew I wouldn't be able to find a solution anytime soon. In the meantime, there had to be another way to find traces of him somewhere. Anything else was unthinkable; Jules alone could not stave off the zombie and the darkness, that much I was sure of.

There had to be something else I could do, some other circumstance that didn't risk my life but still let me hear him. The house had no shadows of him, but that didn't necessarily mean that there wasn't a place that held some lingering echo of his presence – somewhere other than the recesses of my mind, that is.

Perhaps the problem was that everywhere that I associated with him also had memories of other things attached to it. His house was not only his, but his family's too; school was full of days without him, every classroom shared with dozens of other people; even my room, our quiet private sanctuary through so many wonderful nights, was not his alone, filled up as it was with thoughts of my childhood and my father and my brother.

But around lunchtime, I finally thought of somewhere that would only ever be his place, a place I had shared with no one else, because I had been there only once, only with him. I could almost picture it now – that beautiful little meadow, full of light and flowers, made magical by the glow of sunlight and the glittering brilliance of his skin reflecting it in fractal rainbows.

There was no guarantee, of course. It could be the house all over again, hope built up and dashed, despair more acute for there having been the chance of joy. And finding it again was going to be an undertaking, if it was even possible. Then again, I had told Charlie I was hiking – might as well turn a spur-of-the-moment lie into an honest plan.

So I used my as yet unexploited twenty percent employee discount at Newton's to buy a pair of new hiking boots and a topographical map of the Olympic Peninsula, ignoring McKayla's curious looks. Beau, too, eyed my purchases when he picked me up after his shift at the library, his look more keen than our friend's had been. When I explained my idea to actually do some hiking – leaving out the true purpose, at least for the moment – he seemed surprised but not opposed to it and agreed to let me take the truck down to La Push by myself with less argument than I would have ever believed possible.

"Just make sure you don't go too deep in," he warned. "Remember what Charlie said."

"We'll be careful," I promised, giving him an extra tight hug before I hurried out the door, leaving him blinking in surprise behind me.

Jules also seemed startled when she opened her door and found me standing on her front step. "Bella! I thought…"

"I know," I cut her off. "But I had an idea about what we could do today, instead of hanging around in the garage all day." I was acutely aware of Bonnie sitting in the living room behind her, listening curiously.

"Oh, yeah?" Jules stepped aside to let me in, an eager smile already beginning to spread across her face. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, there was this really beautiful meadow I found once, ages ago, when I went out hiking." I ignored her sceptical look and focused on beating back the ache in my chest as my thoughts strayed unbidden to that afternoon last March. "I'm not sure if I could find it by myself, but I was thinking I'd love to go there again. It might take more than one day…"

"No, I like this." Jules pulled me to sit on the sofa, the spark of excitement I loved so much already showing in her eyes. "We can break up the area into a grid, try out different directions and mark them off as we go. Do you remember whereabouts you were?"

"Yeah," I nodded, matching her energy despite myself and pulling out the map, unfolding it quickly to the right spot, tracing my finger along the roads I remembered driving. "It was here, at the end of the one-ten, where the trailhead is, you see?" When she nodded, I made a show of looking embarrassed. "I kind of didn't follow the trail, but I think I mainly went south."

"That's definitely a good start," she assured me, taking the map and moving the furniture around so she could spread it out across the floor.

Bonnie moved out of the way, chuckling good-humouredly, and the two of us moved into the kitchen to get out of Jules' way as an odd manic energy took over her. She ducked into her room, emerging with a compass, a pencil, and a ruler, which she proceeded to use to draw a complex web of lines across the map, starting from the point I'd shown her and spreading out across the southward section of the map. It was like watching her do homework again; she lay on her stomach in exactly the same way, with her knees bent and her feet swinging gently back and forth above her. This time, though, she was far more engrossed in what she was doing than she had been in any of her school work. I waited for Bonnie to make some sort of protest, to mention the bear or any of the other dangers of wandering off the trails through the woods, yet she didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Part of me wanted to ask her not to say anything to Charlie, but I had a feeling that was the fastest way to get the gossip mill spinning. Not to mention it might actually be good to have a parental witness to confirm I was really doing what I claimed to be doing.

"What if we spot that mutant super bear?" Jules commented, not looking up from the patterns she was drawing. Her tone was clearly joking, but I couldn't help the way I stiffened slightly, worrying Bonnie would finally realise the risks and tell us we couldn't go.

But she just laughed along with her daughter. "Perhaps you should take along a jar of honey to distract it with."

Jules turned her head to look back at me over her shoulder, grinning widely. "If it's as big as everyone says, one little jar isn't going to satisfy it for long. Hope you've practiced running in those new boots, Bella."

I matched her smile. "Oh, but really, I only have to be faster than you, don't I?"

Jules guffawed loudly. "You wish, shorty." She folded the map, apparently finished, and practically jumped to her feet; she really was getting ridiculously tall, I realised only when she was upright. "Come on, let's get going."

"Have a good time," Bonnie said, her gravelly voice full of warmth, as she rolled herself towards the fridge.

I might not have too much in the way of supervision from Charlie, but apparently Bonnie was even more relaxed than my father. Not to mention Jules didn't have a Beau keeping tabs on her too. It made me miss living by myself, just a little bit, thinking of my own mother and the life I might have had if I'd never left Phoenix or gone out to Jacksonville with her and my stepfather.

But no. For all the pain it had caused me, I wouldn't trade this life for anything. Not even now.

It was harder to find my way to the roads I needed, coming at it from another direction, but Jules had the map out and made for an excellent navigator, and eventually things began to look vaguely familiar. Once we got to the last stretch of dirt road, and especially once we had parked up, I was certain we were in the right place, and a sense of unease began growing in the pit of my stomach. This was almost certainly going to be a terrible idea, but even the slim possibility of hearing him tempted me too much to turn back now.

I got out and surveyed the dense wall of green, ignoring the clearly marked trail; that was the one direction I was positive I hadn't gone.

Jules, on the other hand, was looking pointedly at the sign. "Last chance to realise that you actually went for a nice stroll along here?"

"Nope." I shook my head and pointed into the trees. "I went that way."

"Alright." She shrugged, as usual completely unbothered by even my most illogical actions. "I just took you for a stick to the trail sort of girl."

I gave her a weak smile. "What can I say? I've always been a renegade. The bikes are just the latest and most extreme phase of my rebellion."

Jules laughed and spread the map across the truck's hood, fishing her compass out of her pocket. "Well, we're at least not going to just wander off willy-nilly. Otherwise, I just wasted a half hour of work. Give me a minute while I work out where our first line is."

I peered around her arm, and like her work on the bikes, it was fascinating to watch. There was obvious skill in the way she turned the map and compass until they were aligned just how she wanted; when she was certain of the direction, a smile of satisfaction spread across her face, the same one she got when a part fit perfectly into place or a gear moved just as it should.

"This way," she said confidently, striding off into the woods along her first line on the grid.

It was slow going, and I was sure that on another day, Jules would much rather have left me behind. Yet she didn't comment or complain, chattering away as usual quite happily. This helped in more ways than one; it kept me in the present, and it kept my spirits up.

There was no way, with where we were or the purpose behind it, that I couldn't be at least partly sucked into memories. After all, this wasn't an activity I regularly engaged in of my own volition. The last time I had been here, my companion had been very different, but if I let myself think about that too much, I would collapse under the weight of it, helpless to resist the crippling agony of the hole in my chest. How would I explain to Jules while I was suddenly gasping for air and unable to move? I couldn't, and so I had to keep the memories at bay.

With Jules there, it was surprisingly easy. Between bouts of conversation, she whistled cheerfully and even sung snatches of songs, off-key and a little grating, but wonderful in that simple human flaw. It was as if the very shadows themselves were held back by the light shining out of her, my personal sun overwhelming the darkness. She stopped every few minutes to check the map and the compass again, making sure we were still travelling along the right line, and then would go back to her whistling or talking as if there had been no interruption.

After a while, I felt safe to let my mind wander a little, kept under control by strictly focusing on Jules; our conversation from the cliffs came back to me, and my curiosity was too acute to be denied.

"Hey, Jules," I ventured in a quiet moment, hoping she wouldn't get angry at me for asking about it again.

"Yeah, Bella?"

"I was just wondering… How's Embry? Is he… still ignoring you?"

Jules didn't answer right away, her long legs carrying her forward faster than I could keep up until she was a good ten yards ahead of me. I was afraid she'd decided to leave me behind after all, or forgotten I was there, until she stopped and waited for me to catch up before finally speaking.

"Yeah. He's still spending all his time with Sam." She sighed heavily.

"Damn."

"Yup."

"Any luck trying to talk to him?"

"Nope. And no, I haven't brought it up with my mom again, before you ask."

Hesitantly, not sure if I would be accepted, I put one arm around her; though I aimed for her shoulder, she was getting too tall for me to reach, so I settled for her upper back and laid my head on her arm in a way that I hoped was comforting. She put her arm around me in return, and we stood for a moment, just holding each other.

"Is Sam still treating you weird?" I asked in a whisper.

She shrugged. "Sometimes. I avoid him as much as I can, to be honest."

"Still watching Quil?"

"Yeah. I even thought about talking to his grandparents too, but…" She kicked the dirt sullenly. "I don't know. I've got this funny feeling that Old Quil would be about as helpful as Bonnie."

I rubbed her back soothingly. "My offer still stands for you to come live with us. Our couch is very comfy, and I bet my floor wouldn't be too bad if we put down a mattress or some pillows."

She laughed, breaking the dour mood I'd plunged us into. "Yeah, but when my mom calls the police to report me missing, Charlie would have a pretty awkward situation on his hands."

I giggled, relief washing over me as the usual Jules returned.

We kept going for a while longer, until we'd gone about six miles according to Jules, then turned and cut west before looping back around onto another line of the grid. The longer we walked, the more everything looked exactly the same, and absolutely nothing was familiar. My brilliant plan, so promising this morning, was beginning to seem absolutely hopeless; it wouldn't matter a bit whether there were any safe memories to be found in the meadow if I couldn't even find it.

I voiced my fears as it was getting dark. "I'm sorry, Jules, I think I've brought us on a wild goose chase."

Jules didn't seem fazed in the slightest by my gloomy mood. "We definitely started from the right place?"

"Definitely." That much I remembered for sure..

"And we went in the right direction?"

I nodded. "It was away from the trail, for sure."

"Then we'll find it eventually. We knew it might take more than one trip, right?" She smiled reassuringly and grabbed my hand to pull me through a last stand of ferns, emerging from the treeline to find the trailhead and the truck, right where we'd left it.

"You're very good at this," I admitted; I'd been afraid to praise her too much for fear she'd use it as an excuse to keep inflating her age.

Now she preened happily but didn't claim any more years – at least not yet.

"Up for another try tomorrow?" she asked as we climbed back into the cab and I cranked the heat; the sun going down had made the temperature drop sharply. "We can start earlier and then it won't matter that you're such a slowpoke."

I shoved her shoulder and rolled my eyes, shaking my head as she laughed. "Sure. Maybe it would be best to keep hiking for Sundays in general, when we have the most time of day to play with."

"Sounds good to me," she agreed. "But you might want to look into some moleskin or lamb's wool for your boots. I'd be willing to bet your feet are feeling a bit tender by now."

I winced involuntarily; it did indeed feel as if I had a pretty impressive collection of blisters forming. "Thanks for the tip."

"I wish we had at least seen that bear," she sighed, sounding genuinely disappointed. "It would be cool to have a story like that to share at school."

"Oh yeah," I said, my voice thick with sarcasm. "It's just the highlight of my day when something tries to eat me."

She waved me off and scoffed dramatically. "We're not tasty enough for bears. Even if they really ate people, I'm too stringy and you're hardly more than a snack."

"Thanks so much," I grumbled, trying very hard not to think about the last person who had called me that.