"Shit!"

Rosalie throws her puzzle at the fireplace, where it crashes amongst the andirons with a horrendous clang, and storms up the stairs in a swirl of cold air. Two seconds later a door slams so hard and loud that I feel as if the whole house is shaken.

I can barely breathe, and my heart is hammering out of my chest. It's only by the grace of God that I haven't peed these pretty silk bloomers under Alice's velvet dress.

Her arms are already around me, holding me steady, and I realize I'm curled up almost in her lap.

"God, what – ?"

"Shhh, Bella. It's okay. It's okay."

It is completely not okay. Emmett and Jasper are sitting rigid on the couch, looking like they want to jump to the far side of the room. Their eyes are pitch black. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen have appeared out of nowhere, and Edward, Edward is standing at the piano, looking like someone just shoved a knife through his heart. A blunt one.

Everything shifts. I feel wrapped. Not just in Alice's arms, but in something. Something beautiful and warm and comforting. It's as if someone has taken my terrified, wildly beating heart and soothed it, gently, softly.

It's all right. Shhh, shhh. It's all right. No fear. No fear.

How do you describe something that speaks without any words at all? I'm surrounded by it, by this feeling.

Safe. Safe. No fear. No fear. My muscles say. My stomach says. My chest says.

"What did I do?" I ask.

I wasn't doing anything. But that's what I ask.

"No, Bella. No." Alice is holding me still, soothing me still.

Edward is sitting down on the piano bench again. I can't see his face behind the cover, which is raised like a black wing between us. His voice comes, disembodied and soft, answering me.

"She thinks we're all molesting you."

I don't understand.

He sighs. "We are."

Dr. Cullen kneels on the rug by Alice and me. "You've had quite a day, Bella. Perhaps it's time we got you home."

All the starch goes out of me at once.

"I'll take her," Edward says. Before anyone else can.

I imagine him picking me up and carrying me, putting me in his car. I wouldn't mind at all. But –

"My truck … "

Nobody looks too eager to drive it for me.

"I'm good. I can drive."

"Oh, Bella, no." Mrs. Cullen is kneeling now too, next to her husband, looking just like a worried mom. "Let Alice … or one of the boys – "

"It's okay. Edward can lead me." Lead me, Edward. Since I have no clue where I am or how to get home.

I see Alice having a seizure. It's only a small one, only for a second or two. Her face goes slack; her eyes stare at nothing. She forgets to breathe. She's still holding me.

Then she sighs. "It'll be okay."

Esme won't have it. "Carlisle – " She turns to me. "Bella, let Alice drive you. Or Emmett." Emmett's already driven the truck. He knows how to work the grumpy clutch.

Dr. Cullen has his wife's hand in his. I get the full force of his eyes. Gold is a soft metal, and so is his gaze. I wonder what his eyes have seen, what kinds of suffering, that has put such sadness in with the kindness there.

"What do you want, Bella?" he asks.

If I let someone drive me, then I won't be able to talk to Edward when we get to my house. I'll only be able to say goodbye to him there on the porch. When will I ever have a chance to talk to him again? Maybe Alice might tell me more, but it's Edward that I want to ask all my questions to.

"I can drive. As long as Edward leads me."

I see them all kind of glancing at each other. It's Dr. Cullen who speaks. "Alice, I'm sure Bella's clothes are dry by now."

I'm afraid to go upstairs, and so I end up changing in the mudroom between the garage and the laundry. Alice stands guard for me outside the door. She says I can keep her pretty clothes. But when would I ever wear them except in this house? And what do I have that I could ever give her in return?

"They don't really fit me, Bella. I got them at an estate sale. I knew they weren't quite the right size, but they were so pretty I just couldn't pass them up." She looks at me hopefully. "Do you believe in that? Getting something for a person or an event that you haven't even met yet?"

I don't even know how to answer that.

I'm led back out through the great room. Emmett is nowhere to be seen. Alice hands me off to Edward, who never actually touches me. Jasper magically melds to Alice's side, and Doctor and Mrs. Cullen are there, and I'm with Edward and it's like we've all paired up, two by two by two. As if this house is the ark, and the night is the sea. Even the rain plays along.

We're in the foyer, and Edward pulls an umbrella from a stand that I didn't even see. He's guiding me out, and I hope I at least said some kind of a thank you, but it's too late if I didn't, because now I really need to get my head together to drive.

Edward drives slowly in front of me. It's a good thing, because the night is pitch black and some places have fog as well as the rain. The windshield wipers on the truck aren't that great, either.

I keep his tail lights in sight, and thank all the lucky stars I can't see that there aren't too many other cars on this road. When one comes, and inevitably passes me, Edward slows down even more, until they pass him, too, and then I can see him again.

We come into town from a direction I don't know, and even with the lights I am disoriented. Until we get onto the main street. And then my street. Will he stay, I wonder. Will he talk to me, before I go inside? Will he answer my questions? I start running through them. Which one is the most important?

What are you?

Edward.

What are you?

The house is completely dark, not even a porch light on. My cell phone is lost so I don't know what time it is. Is it really that late? Did I really stay that long at the Cullens'? Why didn't my dad call if I wasn't home by nine like he'd told me to be?

I'm peering through the gloom as I come in the driveway. I can't see the cruiser in its usual spot.

I'm scared, and ready to burst out of the truck, and Edward is already there, opening the door for me, with the umbrella ready.

"Edward, what time is it?"

"Eight forty-seven."

I look carefully. There is no cruiser anywhere.

"My dad's not home. He should be home by now …"

I don't want unexpected things right now. I need my dad to be home, not somewhere I don't know where. I turn to Edward again.

"Can I … can I borrow your cell phone?"

"Of course." He sounds just like Dr. Cullen. Hands me the phone without letting our fingers touch.

I dial for my dad's cell. Thank God I have the number memorized. It rings so many times I almost give up.

"Swan!" Short and loud his voice is.

"Dad!"

"Bella! Where are you?"

"I'm home. Where are you?"

I hear him curse under his breath. My dad doesn't do that very often. "Bells, are you alone, there?" He didn't answer my question.

"No, Edward's with me."

"Carlisle's boy?"

"Yes. He led me back from their house; I was afraid I might get lost."

Edward is standing still as a stone next to me, keeping the rain off me with the umbrella.

"Listen, Bella, have Edward drive you straight to the station. Don't stop anywhere. Carlisle's coming to meet me here in the field. You two stay put 'til we get back, understand?"

I hear my blood whooshing in my ears.

"Dad, what happened?"

"Not now, baby girl. You and Edward just wait for us at the station. Don't let him go wandering off, hear?"

"Okay."

"Get going. Have the dispatcher hail me when you get there."

"Okay. Bye, Dad."

He's already hung up.

Edward speaks to me softly. "Get your backpack from the truck, Bella."

"You heard all that?"

"Yes."

He's like an old fashioned gentleman. For a moment I even picture him as a very old man, his shock of rust brown hair gone snow white, as he escorts me to his car, opens the door for me, puts my backpack in the back seat, helps me in. Never letting a drop of rain touch me. But he never touches me either. How does he do that? And why? Why won't he touch me? It's not like we've never touched before. But those were only in emergencies. To save my life. He'll touch me to save my life, but not for any other reason.

Why?

Do I really stink? Do I have cooties? Is he really and truly gay after all?

It doesn't matter. I want him to touch me. I need him to touch me. I need, want him to hold me. I need to be held. By someone … anyone. But I want him most of all.

"Bella, put your seat belt on."

I've been staring out the windshield like a zombie as he has pulled out onto the street. He's got the window open, more than just a crack, on his side. And the heat on full blast – for me, I guess. He doesn't make any sense at all.

From my dad's house to the station is only about ten minutes' drive. I can't exactly interrogate him there. If I'm going to ask him any questions, now is my only chance.

What are you?

Why does everyone in your family have the same eyes?

Why are you all so cold? All the time.

How could Alice carry me?

Why do the Quileutes hate your family?

How did you do it? The van. And today.

What are you?

Why are you so pale?

The journal … what does it mean?

What are you?

What do you want from me?

What are you?

Did I ask all those questions out loud? I was sure I did. But Edward hasn't said a single word. I'm pretty sure he hasn't even breathed. His face is all tight, his jaw clenched. And now we are pulling up in front of the Forks Police Station.

He opens the door for me again, carries my backpack full of books. So unfailingly polite. Yet so natural and graceful about it too. As if he's always been this way.

"Come, Isabella." As he shelters and guards me through the doors, into the brightly lit station. Never touching me. Never.

Edward is not a happy camper. We are seated on a bench in the waiting area in front of the duty officer's counter. I am at one end. He is way, way at the other end. Jiggling his leg non-stop. Sometimes he gets up and paces. Like he doesn't want to be anywhere near me. I try not to look at him. But it seems as if he's always in the corner of my eye. I can't relax with him like this.

Suddenly he is right in front of me.

"You need to eat, Bella."

"What? I'm fine."

"Nonsense. How can two little bowls of soup be enough for you? You need real food."

Where are we going to find real food in the police station? I'm pretty sure they have a vending machine in back, but I doubt that soda, candy or sticky buns count as real food.

"I'm going to the diner," he announces.

"What? No!" I'm already jumped up and grabbing him by the arms. He holds stock still, as if I'd caught him in freeze tag. His arms are cold under his jacket.

"You have to stay here. My dad said." I'm hiss-whispering, afraid the adults in the station will notice we're arguing.

"Bella, it's just down the street." He keeps his voice low, too.

"No. My dad said. You have to stay."

"Bella." He looks down at me with a funny expression. I don't know what it means, but it doesn't look unkind. "Tell me what you want."

I want him to stay, but that's not what he's asking. He wants to know my favorite food.

"The turkey dinner. With mashed potatoes and gravy, and Bessie's cranberry relish." What my dad and I used to eat in July to celebrate Thanksgiving, because Mom and I never made it back to Forks in November. And he didn't really make it out to where we were either.

"What about a vegetable?"

This conscientious boy.

"Green beans."

"And to drink?" He's smiling now. It's the first time I've ever seen him smile. It's like the sun beaming down on the water.

"Hot tea. With milk and honey."

"Okay."

His voice is so, so soft. I'm sure that only I can hear.

He's going to pay for it all, too, I know. I might as well resign myself, but I make one last try.

"You don't have to do this." The meal is way more than I can finish by myself. Maybe he'll let me share it with him.

"I'll be back in no time. It'll be as if I never left."

I'm still clutching his arms through his jacket sleeves. He's shivering. Hard. I have to let him go. I hear him sigh in relief as he slips out through the door.

He does come back really quickly. I wonder if he called in the order on the way there. I don't care. I'm just glad he's back. I've been hearing things, snatches and snips, on the police scanner – all scratchy with static – and the duty officer and the dispatcher talking.

… Chief's friend … thirty years … hard telling his family …

… half in the boat, half in the water …

That would be the body, in two pieces … more or less …

… dogs won't go near it …

… old Bert trawling the lake …

… blood's all washed away … Cullen … wounds … hairs … footprints

… state … forensics on the scene … animal control …

"Bella."

Edward's using the bench beside me as a table, opening up the takeout containers. "Don't listen," he says. His face is drawn again. He's so pale, and his eyelids are dark. His eyes are pitch black again, too. My neck hair stands up, just like it did the first time I saw him like that, when he brushed past me at the school office, when we both went there trying to change out of Biology.

He finishes opening everything up for me and then steps back, all the way to the far corner of the waiting area, and gestures for me to eat.

"Don't you want some?"

"No, I … don't really care for turkey."

I look at the rest of what's here, wondering what I can offer him. This is diner food. I wonder how long it's been since he's ever eaten anything like this any more. Or maybe he does eat like this, since his step-mom can't cook.

The station is pretty quiet, now, as the night wears on. It's scarier than when all the chatter was coming in. My dad's still out there, where there is some kind of animal that can tear a grown man in half. I think of King Kong, or T- Rex. It's in our town.

I save half of the turkey dinner for my Dad. As if that's a magic charm that will bring him home safe. My hands are shaking as I close up the containers and stack them in the paper bag.

Edward notices, from way across the room.

"Bella, are you all right?"

"Yes. What time is it?"

"After ten." He doesn't tell me how much after.

"They're not back yet." It's as close as I can come to confessing how scared I'm feeling. In a very small voice.

Edward comes close to where I'm sitting. Very hesitantly, but he comes.

"Bella, they're fine. They're with lots of other men. They all have guns. Nothing is going to happen. It's an animal. They'll find it. They'll have to kill it. Then it will be over."

"Are they going to go tracking it tonight?"

"No, not in the dark. Tomorrow." He looks at me. "It's going to be all right, Bella. I promise."

I wonder what that means. I guess my dad is pretty safe, if Dr. Cullen is with him …

Edward goes back to his corner. Slides down to sit there with his knees up. We're both sitting like that. Me on the bench, him in the corner. The two gargoyles of Forks.

He's got a piece of paper fished out of his pocket. It looks like the diner receipt. He's fiddling with it, folding and unfolding it in intricate ways. I think of the medicine recipe. The only gift of his that I still have left.

I watch his fingers as he plays with the paper – not hidden clenched up in a fist any more, but out where I can see them. His fingers are slender, graceful, and strong – just like I knew they must be. Making a plain little slip of paper into something complicated and delicate, then unmaking it and starting all over.

I see his hand, pushing in the side of Tyler's van.

I glance up at his face. I have never seen a face as beautiful as his. All pale planes and dark brows, eyes intent on the dance between his fingertips and the paper. His cheeks and his jaw and his mouth – just right, just right, just right to my eyes. How will I ever love any boy but him? This boy who will not touch me, except to save my life, who won't even sit next to me here on this bench.

Why?

He looks up.

"Why what?"

Shit.

"I don't understand you," I whisper. He can hear. I know he can.

The paper is nowhere to be seen. He's staring at me, his dark, feline eyes never wavering.

"What don't you understand?"

I can't ask him all my questions, not here, not now. But I can ask him the one thing that is more important than all of those, the thing that I have wanted to know for much longer than all of those.

"Do you hate me?"

He's up and walking toward me now. Slowly, carefully. Tiger, leopard, mountain lion grace.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why. You save my life, bring me medicine, bring me food, a journal … music … but it's like you can't even stand to be in the same room with me. Why? Do you hate me?"

He's crouched in front of where I'm sitting, all hunkered and hugging myself here on the bench.

"No," he says. "No."

And, "Bella."

In his soft, soft voice. His gaze isn't hard and staring any more, either. Does this mean we can be friends?

"Not even a heartless monster could hate you. Well, not for very long, anyway."

He's making me giggle with that. On purpose, I'm sure. Who knew that Edward Cullen had a sense of humor? I'm so glad he does, though. I want him to be happy. I don't want him to walk around forever with storm cloud eyes, and storm cloud heart.

He sighs. "Too much has happened to you today, Bella. You're dead on your feet. I'm getting you a blanket."

He's at the counter, calling to the officer. He commandeers two blankets, actually, from the emergency lockers. He brings them both to me.

The bench is too short, so he puts my backpack up against the end of it to sort of support my ankles. He shrugs his jacket off and makes a pillow of it for my head. He tells me to lie down, and he'll wake me up when our fathers get here. He puts both blankets on me and then goes to sit in his corner in his shirtsleeves.

Only now do I notice that he is wearing a nice shirt. With a nice pair of slacks. And a belt. He put on nice clothes to come down and play the piano where I was.

Oh, Edward.

I hide my face in his jacket because I don't want him to see that my eyes are leaking. Some day I'm going to make him tell me all his secrets. No more lies. And maybe, some day, he will actually touch me when my life is not in danger. But for now, I'll take the Chinese medicine and the turkey dinner, the beautiful music played in nice clothes, umbrellas and blankets and his jacket for a pillow.

I keep my face in his jacket because his scent is all over it. He turned the inside part out so it would be soft for my face. And it is. And it smells like him, like him, more beautiful than oxygen.

I don't sleep, but I do close my eyes, and time stands still with my face in Edward's jacket. When I look again, he's not in the corner. He's stationed himself against the wall at my feet, on the far side of my backpack, and the bag from the diner. His eyes are closed, too. I wonder what he is thinking. I would give anything to know.

Headlights flare through the glass doors. There's loud noise and bustle, and my father and his deputies and Dr. Cullen are all coming in from outside.

"Dad!"

I almost trip, all wound up in the blankets still, but Edward catches me, helps pull the heavy wool away, and then I'm on my father.

"Dad!"

"Bella! Bells. Easy girl. Easy."

He's embarrassed that I'm like this with him, in front of all the men, but he's got me in a tight grip, too. His sheriff jacket is soaked. My stomach almost turns, and then I see that it's just rain. Just rain.

My dad looks at me. "I'm sorry Bells. I've still gotta file the initial report, phone calls to make ... gonna to be a long night. I'll set you up in the cot in my office. You can stay home from school tomorrow."

I feel like I'm surrounded by noise, heavy and clanking, boots, metal on metal, thick clothing being taken off, men's voices – everybody is taller than me. I hear lockers opening and closing in the back, see the rifles and shotguns as they are carried past.

I'm so tired I can hardly make sense of anything any more. Why doesn't my dad let me go home with Edward and his father? I'm sure they have an extra room in their house. I could sleep over and go to school with them. I look around.

Edward and Dr. Cullen are gone.

A/N: Well, it's two years to the day since I first began posting this story. o.O I never imagined then that I would still be writing it now. I want to give special thanks to geo3 for badgering me to post. I never NEVER would have except for her. Averysubtlegift, I seriously don't know how you've put up with all my writing angst, but I'm so grateful that you have. Quothme, you set me straight on tenses at the beginning, and that has made all the difference. Dear readers, many of you who have followed this wild ride all this time, wow! I'm bowled over by you every step of the way, and am grateful to call many of you friend. What an unexpected gift! To those who have pm turned off and I haven't been able to reply to your reviews - richierich, berylline33, farsidelady, iluvmeagoodstory, Maddy, Anonymous M.H., Wait Until Dark, BnSA, and others from earlier chapters - please know that I treasure every word, as I do for everyone who has left thoughts here. May everyone be having a safe, healthy, and happy holiday season.