try to slip past his defense without granting innocence
A couple weeks had passed quietly for Claire since her less-than-venomous conversation with Edward. Between studying, juggling Jessica and Mike and the drama between them, and dealing with the secret that continued to grow increasingly complicated to keep, it was mostly a blur. A really unpleasant, cold and rainy blur
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And yet, what was his life wrapped up in?
A paltry, human girl, who he wanted to hate more than he wanted to keep living. Who haunted his every waking moment.
He hated himself for bemoaning his own fate, but he couldn't help but find the whole situation monstrously unfair.
And, in keeping with his singular focus on his tormentor, his first instincts upon arrival were to see if she was there yet. With every slam of a car door, his eyes darted that direction, both dreading and hopeful at the same time. And there she was, finally, and he reflexively swallowed a deep lungful of air, that he knew wouldn't really last him long enough to make a necessary difference. He watched her, riveted, even as he followed Jasper and Alice towards the building.
He heard the sudden skidding noise before he even registered that it was only in his mind at first, as he processed why Alice suddenly gasped: "NO!" Tyler Crowley's van, careening out of control, Claire's eyes widening... The vision was crystal clear in her mind, and his eyes turned that way, as the sequence of events coalesced into reality, mirroring her precognitive portrait exactly.
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Her attention shifted after a moment of watching him, though, and she scoped out the student body, keeping an eye out for Jessica and Mike. No sign of them, thankfully, but she did notice the Cullens and Hales standing across the part, looking dire. Sadly, that kind of thing was the norm for them. She tried to keep her observation subtle, stepping out to the front of her car to get a better look.
It wasn't her best of plans -- the distraction meant she never saw Tyler's van coming. Not with anywhere close to enough time to get out of the way, at least. It was the bewildered look on Edward's face as he turned towards her that alerted her to the fact that something was going on -- and then she heard the screeching breaks. Correction. The screeching, failed Breaks.
She whipped her head around, eyes going wide with fear as she saw the metal monstrosity sliding over the ice, careening towards her. Tyler tried to spin the wheel in the opposite direction, desperately trying to avoid her, but it was no use. The momentum of the vehicle was getting carried over the ice straight towards her, and she could only manage one solid, clear thought before impact.
They're gonna find out.
There was no fear of getting hit, no fear of the pain or the recovery, just the flash of fear at what her Dad would say and do when she inevitably showed off what a freak she was to the entire school as they loitered in the parking lot. Her life seemed to come to her in snapshots in the next few short seconds. The image of the van hurtling towards her, the first contact, the way it ground against her and crushed her into the car behind her, the grunted gasp of pain that escaped her. And then it all rushed into motion.
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This wasn't good. In fact, it was ten kinds of horrible. There wasn't going to be any explaining this one to Tyler or anyone who'd watched the spectacle. Not because any of them had any luck of seeing exactly how bad the crash was -- the airbags had deployed in the van, Tyler probably had a concussion of his own, and the van had been between her and the onlookers. But she was undeniably hit by it, and in about five minutes when she dislodged herself from the wreckage, she'd be inexplicably unharmed by what would kill any normal person.
The pain alone was something profound that she was, in a twisted way, grateful for. It hadn't killed her, but that didn't mean she was some unflinching monster. It still hurt. Just like it would hurt anyone else, it had her choking down a scream and settling for a grunt at the impact, and she could feel every cut, every bruise, every break -- all too clearly, really. Most people would be wishing they could pass out from it.
But, it was like dousing her in a bucket of cold water in that it woke her up in a way that she hadn't been aware since she got to Forks. It was the first moment of clarity where she was still Claire Bennet and not some mindless drone who blended with the scenery. She was invincible. And right now, she was trapped between a rock and a hard place, imagining that both the rock and the hard place were freezing metal.
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Not her.
He felt his unbeating heart relocate itself to somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, and he acted before he could possibly think through the implications of taking action at all, here in such a public view, surrounded by students. He leaped through the air, simply a blur, impossible to be seen by any eyes that registered only a human's wavelength of movement, and as he sailed through the air, he heard her thought sail through the air, clear as a bell. He also saw the succeeding torrent of images that played through her mind, like her own personal horrorshow, that was not, in any way, what he had expected to see, and was honestly closer to his own personal fears about his identity being leaked...
And then that thought was torn away from him as the van hit her, and the sound resonated through the air like an atomic blast to his mind. It felt, for an instant, as if everything had been destroyed, just with that one hard thump of metal against human flesh.
He was too late.
He thought he'd felt guilt before, thought that the time he had spent plotting out how to kill Claire Butler had taught him what self-loathing really was. But that was nothing next to this. Next to the realization that he had not been fast enough, even when he was the fastest one out of his family, to save her from what had to be certain death.
This was like finding himself unable to breathe.
This was loathing his own body for not being faster, his own reflexes for failing him, his own idiocy for standing there for even a split second to process what was happening after he had so clearly seen in Alice's mind where this was all heading.
He'd as good as killed the girl. After all this time of fearing he'd do it by ripping her to shreds, now it was through inaction that he'd been the root of her demise.
♪As he landed beside the van, and gripped the edge of it, he was instantly overwhelmed by the scent of blood, no longer constrained by the veil of her flesh, but open to the air, and ten times more potent than it had ever been. He let out a groan of horror, reminding himself that if she were alive, by some miracle, he would be her only hope. Steeling his will against the desire to be distracted by the blood, he pushed the van aside with ease, freeing her body from where it was pinned. His hand left its own dent in the side of the vehicle, and he stared down at the bloody, horrible mess and...
...realized abruptly that she was still thinking, clearly. And staring right back at him, not even so much as unconscious. Able to see exactly what he had just done.
It was a horrible sight, her bones sticking out of her body, and hunks of the car stuck through her. Maybe it was shock, he told himself, that explained how she was still alive and not screaming out in horrible pain.
That was his only coherent thought, however, as the scent once again began to register with him consciously and the color drained even further from his cheeks, his teeth clamping together hard as he stared at her with a mixed expression of amazement, fear, and hunger, unable to speak, or decide what to do next.
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Her eyes slowly widened, brows drawing together in the distinct look of confusion as she forced herself to look away from that terrifying and all the same entrancing look in his eyes to where his hand was planted against the side of the van. To where the dent in the metal, freshly made, now fettered outwards from that point.
It wasn't possible. Simply put, it was absolutely impossible. She distinctly remembered, even in the state she was in (which, honestly, wasn't the worst that it had been, minus the onlookers) she could remember staring at him, watching him from across the lot. It was why she hadn't seen the van and now, somehow, in the split second while the vehicle was still sliding, he stood before her, inexplicably the cause of the fresh dent in the steel frame. The steel frame that had dented her body.
The conclusion was terrifying. But she didn't get to brood on it for long, because as soon as she'd concluded that he'd somehow made it over and he was somehow to blame for the van moving away from her, she'd felt her knees buckle and time seemed to be in full motion again.
One hand reached up to cover the wounds on her torso, desperately trying to shove bones back into place so that he couldn't see what he'd already seen. So that she could pretend that the van had miraculously missed her and she'd just been stunned into a nasty fall. Something, anything. Even if there wasn't an explanation for the blood, there would at least be a reason to suspend disbelief. A reason for her father to not haul her away immediately to some other town that you couldn't even pick out on a map.
Her breath was coming out in labored gasps, mingled with a grimace and a less-then-attractive, prolonged grunt as she pushed her ribs back under her skin, back into place with no small effort and subsequently pulled herself away from the vehicle and the mangled metal that was puncturing her. And before their very eyes, the skin sealed and knitted back together. The rib fractures, the puncture wounds that had been leaking steady streams of blood once she'd pulled away from the metal … it was all gone. The bruising faded, and all that was left were the tears in her clothes and the blood her wounds hadn't sucked back in.
Slowly, she dragged her gaze back up towards him as the din of the rest of the school's reaction to what appeared to be a tragedy finally roared in her eardrums as people shouted for teachers and time seemed to finally continue from its slowed pattern. Green eyes fixed harshly on his, demanding answers. Demanding some kind of explanation. Was he like her? Was there any way to salvage what this looked like right now? She sank back to her knees, leaning against the damaged car that she'd been pinned against, resting her back up against the wheel well and letting her legs fold out from under her, reaching one hand up to touch her head. Blood, it appeared, had streaked her blonde hair.
Forcing words out was like a monumental effort, harder than any battle she'd fought so far. Harder than Jackie's death, than Peter's, than facing what she could do to begin with. The sound finally croaked from her throat as she tried to swallow back the metallic taste of fresh blood.
"You're like me." It was said almost like an accusation, but it was all that needed to be said, truly. What else was there? Her stunned belief spoke for itself, really. And they were more or less equally fucked now. How did you explain a man denting a van and hoisting it away from a girl who'd clearly been hit by it and didn't have as much as a scratch? It was homecoming all over again.
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But the blood remained, drenching her now flawlessly healed body, and in some twisted way, it was like looking at his most macabre fantasies brought to life. His throat burned as if an inferno coursed down the entirety of it, as if he'd swallowed hellfire and brimstone. He knew, knew that this entire mask of humanity was slipping through his fingers, as he stared at the stains on skin, her clothes, like a starved animal. His golden eyes gleamed mercilessly, as he felt his lip begin to quiver, curling up for the merest of seconds as he fought the urge to bare his teeth and lunge at her.
It was a moment before he realized she'd spoken out loud - that that hadn't been a stray thought from her mind, but a very purposefully directed statement, for which she was expecting a response.
How could he be expected to respond in this state? Language escaped him, intelligent thought escaped him, the very meaning of her words remained elusive as he attempted to fight the red cloud over his vision, that painted everything in a hue of blood - made the whole world seem to run crimson in front of his eyes.
What had she said? He tried to grasp onto the thoughts, for some edge of sanity, and finally he managed to make some sense of it. You're like me. What did that mean? What was she?
For that, he had no answer, but he did know one thing. She was no vampire. The quickening of her heartbeat, thudding in his ears like a trapped butterfly, the scent of her, the all too human cast of her eyes, the way her injuries had torn through her, rather than shattering like too much glass: she was entirely, perfectly human. That much he was assured of him.
No. He was not like her, no matter what else she may be.
His own disbelief mirrored hers as he managed to follow this line of thinking back to some semblance of cognitive control of his actions. He could hear now the approaching crowds, people gathering around outside the ring of the van and the wall where they were, and he looked back over his shoulder, fear quite clearly taking over his features for a brief moment as he allowed himself to finally weigh the potential consequences of his actions.
He might have just damned his entire family. Exposed them all. Ruined everything, and made them targets for paranoia, hatred, who knew what else... Putting aside the mystery of Claire for the slightest of moments, he hurriedly and desperately scanned the thoughts of the gathered, his gaze seeming to focus sharply on nothing but the air in front of his face as he searched for any dangerous signs of recognition.
True relief swallowed him whole as he realized everything had happened too quickly for a single bystander to recognize what had just occurred. No one had seen him blur, seen him push the van, seen Claire... healing as he looked on.
For now, that secret remained theirs.
With that realization, his eyes moved back to hers, and he worked to control his expression now entirely, keeping it as cool as he possibly could and eradicating any traces of his own wonder.
"Are you alright?" he found himself asking, shoving the words out past the pain of the fire still raging inside. Perhaps it was a foolish question - her thoughts registered nothing like pain anymore, and she seemed, however ludicrous the notion, to be accustomed to this. But he couldn't help the anxiety that filled him over her well-being, and he certainly didn't understand what he had just witnessed.
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But, she didn't. Not even close. He didn't get to pretend to be scary when he'd just thrown himself in the way of a moving vehicle -- okay, belatedly, but still -- in order to save her. He couldn't hate her. Not if he was willing to do that. All of the stupid things she'd done because of her ability, even knowing she was indestructible, there were plenty of people who took it as a free pass to let her get hurt. Her dad being one of them.
Not Edward, though. Even after watching her pop her bones back into place, even with her sitting there soaking the ice and snow with her blood and appearing unharmed, he was still asking her Are you alright? She stared at him, baffled, still unable to form anything coherent for a long moment as she tried to drag herself out of the pull of his eyes.
Finally, she forced herself to blink and snap her mouth shut, shaking her head slowly and continuing to blink quickly as she tried to force the gears in her mind to turn and grind out some words. Preferably words that made sense when strung together.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm -- … fine." She slowly, skittishly, became aware of the situation around them and began to turn and look at the people around them. Or, rather, the lack thereof. This time, looking around, she processed that none of them had seen but Edward. They were hidden snugly behind Tyler's van -- well, not so snugly at first, but in the end … it was a good thing. As far as crises went, anyway. She didn't get very long to be grateful, though, because she heard a panicked noise come from the driver's door that was beside them, and it began to creak open.
"Oh my god, Claire, I'm so sorry," the words were sputtering out of his mouth before he could even pry the dented metal door open. Immediately, she panicked, looking up at Edward again as if she were looking for an answer. Luckily, she was experienced with this kind of thing (luckily? since when was that lucky?) and her own mind raced through possible excuses before settling on one.
"Catch me," she demanded in a hoarse whisper, shifting a little and falling gently to her side towards the asphalt. Hopefully he'd catch on quickly enough for her to not hit it. If not, she would just have to live out the excuse she'd decided to stick with. Her mind had settled on the easiest option for why she wasn't injured -- she'd jumped out of the way soon enough, but at the cost of falling and hitting her head. The blood was from scrapes that just weren't visible, and it wouldn't be serious enough for her to need any real medical attention. Hopefully, the crisis situation wouldn't be overdramatized.
Of course, she didn't factor in where they were. Small town logic didn't really operate on the same frequency as Claire logic, and there were students and teachers flocking around Tyler's van, trying to get a look now, trying to 'help.' Chances were, one of them had already called the local hospital for a bus. Tyler, too, finally came stumbling out of his van as Claire dropped toward the ground, finding his way onto shaky legs and holding one hand up to nurse a wound that his own head had suffered.
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Horror flooded through him as she didn't give him the space of even a moment to argue, but instead moved into action immediately. Instinctively, his arms shot out, a fraction sharper than any human's ever could, to wrap around her, preventing her from slamming into the ground. They were watching now, he knew, they could see all of this... He had to keep that in the back of his mind, absolutely must, because this...
The warmth of her body pressed against his as he gripped onto her was a surprisingly welcome feeling, and an alien one as well. He didn't have much physical contact with humans in any capacity, and to have one so close... He could feel her heartbeat thudding though her entire frame. Such a fragile thing, the human heart, encased in something he could crush so easily if he weren't careful. He slackened his grip on her the slightest amount at the thought, worried that perhaps he was misjudging and hurting her.
His preoccupation with these smaller matters only managed to distract him from the inevitable for a space of seconds. Even as Tyler made his way towards them, Edward's eyes fastened on a trail of wet blood that spilled down her collarbone, and when he opened his mouth to try to respond to her, it contorted into a horrible grimace that he had to fight back, clamping his mouth shut once more.
Oh God, how he wanted to taste that rivulet, but tasting it, even if it that in itself weren't an utterly insane action, would never quench his entirely parched throat. He'd never stop. Not until every drop was gone, and he knew it. The look on his face twisted into one of pure agony as he stared down at her, and there was a slightly strangled noise that his throat released against his will, a groan of terror and frustration, like an injured animal. He cut it off as quickly as he could regain control of himself, knowing she must have heard it, feeling a flush of embarrassment worked in with his anger at himself. What in the world was she going to think of him, if he couldn't get a hold of himself?
Though if he really couldn't reign himself, she wouldn't be thinking much for much longer.
There were the voices of teachers now, mingled in with the hum of students, yelling, shouting, "Is everyone okay? Did someone get hurt?" and people pointing and explaining, and fearing the worst.
Priorities, Edward, priorities, he chastened himself, and tore his gaze away from the cut. He looked back over his shoulder, and found that helped to loosen up his words a bit.
"They're coming," was all he could think to even say. Was it a warning to her? Meant to be a phrase of relief? Or was it just something to say, to kick his brain into gear, to try to come up with an excuse for what he'd just managed to do?
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Either she was a very heavy one hundred pound cheerleader, or he was taking this gesture as a lot friendlier than she'd meant it.
She tried to level her expression to something more neutral so that there'd be less to question as Tyler climbed from the van and began to question them, and Edward quietly warned her to the fact that people were heading over. So, she reached out slowly and placed one hand on the asphalt, the other moving up to her head as she put on a grimace that was only slightly exaggerated.
For now, her interest in Edward had to be put on the back burner for her dad and his stupid lie and she knew it. As much as she wanted to disagree and as much as she didn't want to hide all the time, she was still going to concede on it in the end and be responsible about handling her drama.
"Okay … that hurt," she admitted as though there was something comical about it. She spent a minute nursing her fake head wound and looking altogether none too pleased with her situation. It didn't hurt that she realized there was still a rib cracked and out of place in her right side so the pain at least was genuine. The crowd had grown bigger -- Edward definitely wasn't exaggerating when he said that they were coming.
Tyler crouched beside the two of them, directing his questions at Edward as if Claire was somehow too brain damaged to answer. Claire could hear him buzzing in her ear asking -- Is she okay? I didn't mean to --
"It's okay. I'm fine, it's not a big deal. I jumped when I saw you coming, I must have gotten out of the way or something." Another cringe. God she really needed to put that rib back where it belonged. It was like having a king-sized thorn stuck in her side, and not just in the figurative exaggerative kind of way. She was doing a passable job, though by no means thoroughly convincing to anyone if they actually knew a thing about Claire Bennet instead of Claire Butler, of looking fatigued and distant like she'd been knocked unconscious somehow by her dive.
"Lucky me, right?" She turned her attention on Tyler, frowning a little and looking concerned. "Are you okay?" It was the first genuine thing she'd said since the people surrounded them, and she reached over to the demolished wheel well of the car beside her to try and climb to her feet, making a show of being a little weak on them but altogether okay. Judging by the lack of effect it had on the communal concern, though, there wasn't much convincing them. For now, though, that didn't matter to Claire. What mattered was Tyler actually being in a car accident like that without healing powers.
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He was distracted from those thoughts by the fierce piercing voices of Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper resounding in his mind. All of them were watching this unfold with some degree of horror, or anger, or disappointment. Anxiety over what this would bring. He was not looking forward to being read the riot act once they made it somewhere private, that was for certain. Alice was the only one who seemed ... almost calm about what had occurred. But she never did react to surprises the way anyone else did.
They were moving the truck now, adults and ambulance workers working in tandem to lift it, when he'd so easily shoved it out of the way, and could have done so again now. A voice rose over the others, asking them if they were alright.
"We're uninjured," he said, keeping his voice as level as he could, his eyes still locked on hers. He was afraid that if he looked away, she might suddenly expose him, abruptly decide to throw him under the bus and point him out as a freak, in order to mask the fact that she was more than simply human as well. Of course, there was nothing in her thoughts that lead him to believe this would be true, but still... he couldn't quite tear his gaze away. Claire was dealing with Tyler now, who was mostly thinking about this had probably blown his chance to get Claire to go to the dance with him.
Idiotic, simple thoughts of an adolescent, compared to the world-shattering things he and Claire were concerned about at the moment.
Claire Bennet. That thought stood out to him. Despite everything, it felt like a sudden burst of victory, which was ludicrous considering he'd just learned something much more important about her than simply her name. He tried to shove the irrational sentiment aside.
Tyler was working to assure Claire that he was entirely uninjured, but Edward's eyes were on the EMTs making their way around now that they'd created enough space to pull a stretcher through.
Oh, thank god, he thought as the EMT glanced at him, and he recognized him as a registered nurse who worked with Carlisle at the hospital. If he could get brought to his father, there'd be no problem in escaping an examination.
"Thank you Brett," he said calmly, making sure to make it clear from his tone that he was under no physical strain. "But the van didn't touch me, and I managed to grab Claire before she could get hit."
Of course, there were the indentations in the van that were shouting out loud that this was a lie, but ... perhaps they'd think it had merely hit the wall. If he were lucky. Of course, they had all that blood to explain.
"... Too hard, at least," he amended in defeat. He hoped she wouldn't hold it against him too much. He realized she probably wanted to avoid being examined as well, but perhaps he could talk to his father about that too.
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Despite the clouding in her mind and the fact that her brain was so frazzled that she was trying to focus on everything at once and subsequently found herself unable on anything, she heard one clipped phrase that stood out to her. Her eyes slowly turned away from Tyler onto Edward, wide and just a little betrayed.
Before she could get hit. Too hard, at least.
Her instinctive response was scandal and offense, but she had to fight it down so everything seemed normal. It didn't stop the brief puff of her cheeks and flare of her nostrils, though. She forced a more neutral look onto her face and found a weak smile as she turned back to Tyler, shaking her head and assuring him not to worry about it -- as long as neither of them had more than a few scrapes and bruises, there were no hard feelings.
She kept to herself the fact that, after all, she'd gotten far worse from boys her age in the past. Instead, she broke away from Tyler to move back to where Edward was talking to the EMT, fighting down the din that was clogging her brain and overloading every emotional response that she had. Five minutes into the school day and she was already exhausted. She reached out to grab Edward's arm and try to guide him away as she shot the EMT a look.
"Thanks, but we're fine really. Scrapes, bruises, and nothing else. He's a real hero, this one." She turned her gaze on Edward, something stern in those green eyes, something that demanded to know why he'd sold her out and made it sound like she got hit. The blood, the scrapes, the cuts in her clothing that made mirroring holes on either side of her shirt inexplicably because there was no way she could have possibly been impaled -- she could have explained them. She could have dismissed it, he didn't need to say she got hit by a car! Not when there wasn't a scratch on her to back it up. No one was that fast of a healer, and the blood had to come from somewhere.
It was going to be Homecoming all over again. The questions. People wanting to know how she could possibly be covered in all her own blood when she was completely uninjured. The panic was worsening and it was almost a dizzying feeling. Mike and the others were now making their way over, shouting at Tyler to figure out what happened across the hood of his van and glancing over anxiously at Edward and Claire.
She wanted to get out of there. She just wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, and not deal with this when she had just gotten past the "new, shiny" stage of her stay in Forks.
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Actually that wasn't something he could be dismissive about. Not now that she knew, or at least had strong suspicions, that he wasn't quite normal. He'd have to find a way to keep her from acting out on her anger towards him. Edward found himself wishing he had Jasper's talent for soothing emotions right now. Instead he had to settle for hoping she didn't spill anything out before he could reassure her somehow in private. Unfortunately his mental connection only went one way.
They weren't going to let her leave, that much was for certain. In fact, Brett was currently debating fitting her with a neck brace, just until they got her checked out, and he saw him conferring with Chief Swan behind them.
"Just trust me," he said, in the lowest of voices, when they'd gotten out of range by a few feet. It was an empty request, he knew, one she had very little reason to put any stock in, considering that he'd obviously been lying to her about something - or everything - since they'd met. But his position was a bit more tenable considering she'd been doing the exact same. She didn't need to know that he'd already known that, on some level.
"It's alright," he said in a louder voice, addressing the adults who were taking steps towards them both again. "Though I think she should at least go in to get confirmation from my father that nothing happened internally." It served as much as a reminder to Claire that he'd seen what had occurred and that arguing with him right now might put her in a dangerous position too, considering how worried her thoughts were about exposure. "I'll ride with her in the ambulance, and he can make sure we'll both alright."
His voice was as level as possible, smooth and convincing, and the Police Chief removed his hat to scratch his head as he glanced between them both and Tyler. "The other kid too. Better make sure they're all alright. Don't need any parents askin' us why we didn't get 'em all checked out later on." Chief Swan made sure to point a finger in Tyler's direction with a warning look as well. "And we'll have some words about your driving there, boy."
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No, it was the fact that he was tossing her under the bus now that she was deciding she was right about him to begin with. And when he started to talk to the paramedics and police, she was doing some mental preparation on how to best express her frustration verbally to him whenever they got some time alone. Her mind skidded to a halt mid-track when she heard the word father.
That's right. Edward's father. He was a doctor -- the doctor was probably a safe bet, judging by the size of forks. Her expression softened into something more surprised, realizing how stupid and bullheaded she'd been and … okay, maybe not feeling guilty for it, but finally understanding why she was supposed to trust him.
That didn't mean the underlying threat was missed, though. If Edward wanted to, he could easily take this opportunity to ruin her life. As if the ambulance ride wasn't going to do that already. Her dad was gonna ask questions. Lots of questions that would lead to an earnest desire to get the hell out of Washington.
Why didn't she want to take that chance now that she had it?
She spared one more look up at Edward, sheepish and gentle, almost like a little kid looking for direction, and then she gave a nod to the Police Chief, letting go of Edward's arm finally and stepping away to fold them across her chest and head past Chief Swan in the direction of the ambulance, apologizing to him as she moved past, hoping Edward was serious about riding in the back of the ambulance with her so she could at least talk about what had just happened to someone.
"Sorry for the trouble." It wasn't entirely genuine, of course, because mostly she was sorry that they were making it a big deal. But it was probably the most exciting thing to happen in Forks since they started importing sliced bread instead of making their own or something, so she couldn't bring herself to be that surprised by how big of a problem this was growing to be. It just went to show that Claire was right when she'd tried to argue for hiding in a big city instead.
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If both he and Claire could remain calm, and get to Carlisle before another doctor asked to see them, they should be fine.
Of course, then he would have to deal with the girl, and the questions she was likely to have. Not to mention the questions still burning in his own mind...
But that was something to take one step at a time. Thanking the Chief, Edward stepped up into the back of the ambulance behind her, glad to hear the voices and thoughts of the gathered students and teachers fade away as they doors were slammed shut. The EMTs wanted to do some basic checks as they rode along - Claire's vitals, et cetera, but nothing that should - hopefully - be too incriminating. He hoped to high heaven they wouldn't ask him for the same. He wondered grimly how they would react to finding he had absolutely no pulse at all.
He kept silent for most of the ride, watching Claire closely and monitoring her thoughts. They couldn't speak privately at all, so he had to hope she wouldn't slip up, which was unnerving, certainly. He didn't like having to put all his faith in this girl, not when his entire livelihood, and that of his family, depended on it.
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Shouldn't he know better than anyone how much it was asking to just expect trust? With what they had to go through every day? Even now, in the company of someone who she was trying her hardest to have faith in, her eyes were trained with begrudging suspicion on the third party EMTs who were just trying to be helpful. Her mind continued to race as she offered up her wrists and bicep for basic vital tests. She even managed to keep a straight face when they slipped the stethoscope under her shirt, because she was too distracted by her own thoughts to care that Edward was present for the awkward, hurried examination.
Maybe he hadn't had the bad luck of running into the Company yet. It was probably better that way, anyway. It'd save her the trouble of admitting that her dad had been a part of it. Or maybe she was just being optimistic in that, and he was the one of them for some Company operation. She flicked her gaze back towards him, chewing on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.
The ride was short, though, and before long her thoughts were interrupted. Small towns. Gotta love 'em. She reached out to brace herself on the wall of the ambulance as it jerked to a stop, rattling a few of the instruments they were co-habitating with for the time being. The EMTs thrust the doors open and Claire clambered after them, refusing to accept help and just jumping out of the back of the glorified van.
She stubbornly resisted as they tried to guide her into the hospital entrance right away, and she instead turned to fix Edward with a raised-eyebrow, expectant look with her arms crossed over her chest. A look that said: Look what you did. This had better be good.
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The Company, The Company, he caught those thoughts from Claire, and his eyes went right to hers just as she looked at him, as if she'd signaled him. A sloppy movement, but one she could write off to him being hyperaware of their surroundings, he hoped. He felt himself swallow around his parched throat as they held each other's gaze for a moment, but the bump in the road gave him an impetus to break the temporary stare.
He was right out behind her at the hospital, maneuvering himself to her side, and gently placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on her elbow, glancing behind at the EMTs. His posture indicated he was going to help the girl inside, keep her steady, and he nodded to them both. "It's alright. I'll bring her to my father."
They weren't having any of that, however, and shook their heads.
"We'll have to check her in," one of them said, and Edward tensed a bit, but nodded, and cast Claire a look of what he hoped was reassurance.
"I'll go find him, then," Edward said, and without another word, broke away from them and pushed through the doors, making a beeline for where he could hear his Father's thoughts.
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