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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The only person here who had any idea who she really was and he didn't want anything to do with her anymore. The only person who she'd ever met besides her own family members who could even do something similar. What kind of freak was she that even people like her couldn't stand to be around her?
She didn't allow herself to wallow in that self-pity for long. The teenage insecurities got bit back and she turned quickly to grab his arm.
"Edward, we can't just pretend it never happened." The look in her eyes was pleading. Begging him not to tell anyone, but to not just walk away from her either. Please. Please don't pretend this doesn't mean anything.
She'd go on like normal at school, pretend it hadn't been a big deal to anyone else, but she couldn't with him. Because it was a big deal. And she'd let herself believe for just a few minutes that she really wouldn't need to keep lying to everyone. That she would at least have him to be honest to. That it could be one real thing in her life.
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"And why not? That seems the safer route for everyone." He spared her hand a glance, as if to burn her grip loose with his eyeballs. "Let's just forget this ever occurred and move on."
But the more she thought about it, the more his own curiosity over Claire rankled at him. She was willing to open up to him about the truth. But what was he supposed to say in return? He couldn't offer her the truth - that was out of the question. She thought she was ready to know, but she was dealing with an entirely different ballpark. He could lie to her about his abilities but that seemed like an even deeper betrayal, given how much she was aching to trust him. He couldn't do that to her.
He wasn't sure why, given how easily lying usually came. It just feel unconscionable.
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"I can't just forget. I can't just -- just walk away from this." The persistence and indignation seemed to drain out of her, leaving what was just a deflated look of saddened, vulnerable desperation. She shook her head, unable to understand, and pleaded. "Please. Just talk to me."
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Instead, what came out of his mouth was: "This is hardly the place to do that." The look that accompanied the words was hard at least, but that was the opposite message he wanted to get across. Angry at himself, he turned again, marching down the hall swiftly.
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"Then, we'll find a different place. After school, or -- Or something! Just tell me that we will talk about it." She slipped her hand into his, trying to pull him to a stop. A chill ran over her skin and she jerked her hand back, stopping in the hallway and giving him a confused look. He was freezing. But, that wasn't the point. She shook her head to dismiss it and move on.
"Please," she added. "You're the only person I can talk to."
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"That isn't a good idea," he said, an attempt at damage recovery, but still twisted away from what he should say, by that ridiculous compulsion he was suffering from that he owed her some granule of the truth, because of what they knew about each other.
He had to keep a clearer head than that. But his words ran away from him. "I'm not a good person to..." spend time with, lest I try and maul you in dark corners? Oh yes, that one would go over swimmingly.
"Be around," he finished, satisfied.
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"It's a risk I'm willing to take." There was stubbornness in her tone, and a kind of disbelief. The way he tried to deflect her it was like he thought she would be in some kind of danger. Like he was bad news -- but, she knew the opposite. He'd saved her. He couldn't be that bad.
Although, to some degree, she could relate. She could remember more than one occasion on which she'd felt like just her being around people magnetized horrible, traumatizing things. On the worse days, she blamed herself for what happened to Jackie. Maybe that was what Edward was feeling now.
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"You shouldn't," he said sharply, speaking in a low tone, eyes kept dead ahead, although he could see the nurses they passed by giving him strange looks, and hear their thoughts of concern over how angry he looked. This girl, he thought with a scowl, why was it so hard to keep a lid on his emotions around her?
"We don't have anything to talk about, Claire." He kept his voice as cold and even as possible, hating himself more and more for it as he spoke. He hated how much he wanted to know what had happened to this Jackie - who she was, why Claire felt so much guilt over it.
He couldn't ask her these things, so he had to settle for grazing for scraps that fell out of her thoughts. It was the opposite of satiating, it was maddening.
The only way he could think to stop all this was to keep himself away from her as well, keep her out of his thoughts, because an obsession with Claire was a death sentence, all things considered. He highly doubted she could heal from all the things a part of him wanted to do to her. Still wanted to, even after all this, even after saving her life, that part of him was still there, craving her death.
"Just let it go," he said, the words difficult with how dry his throat had gotten again. This corridor seemed interminable for some reason.
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"I can't." She confessed, eyes searching his. "And you can't either, I know you can't. You have to feel this too." Her voice quieted a little, desperate. "You have to." She didn't want to acknowledge that maybe he really didn't -- how could she? She'd spent so long wanting to know she wasn't just some freak, that someone was like her, and now that she had -- He had to know what that felt like. Wanting to meet someone, anyone, who was like her. Even remotely.
"I don't care if I shouldn't. Whatever it is, I can take it. Edward, you saw--" Her voice hushed and she cut herself off. She could handle whatever danger came with him. The Company was enough on her end, she knew danger. She'd nearly seen New York blown sky-high because of the danger that came with this, she could handle whatever messy baggage Edward might have.
She could take it. That was the whole point. She'd always get back up.
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He kept his face impassive when her thoughts about New York nearly being blown up flashed across her mind. That was... unusual. He failed to see how her ability to regenerate could have led to something like that, which meant there was more - much more - to her story.
He craved nothing more than to ask her every detail of it.
But he was at war with himself, and his sense of duty and responsibility to his family. She thought she could handle anything, but she had no idea...
"I didn't see anything," he said flatly, but the anger had faded out of his voice, and it was not very convincing. "And neither did you." He laid one hand on her arm to gently push her aside, but there was a bit of an apology in his eyes that he couldn't quite erase completely.
He could see them up ahead, Carlisle and Claire's father, and he locked eyes for a moment with the other vampire. He could read the worries in the minds of both fathers as they came walking up: running along parallel lines of concern for what secret the two might have shared. Edward shook his head almost imperceptibly, enough for Carlisle to pick up that everything was alright.
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That icy wall had gone up between them again somewhere along that way and no amount of banging her fist on it and crying desperately was going to get him to let her back inside. And now, after having that brief glimpse in, she felt more alone than she ever had before. Because she'd gotten a glimpse, a tiny taste of what it was like to have someone just before he was torn from her. Of his own free will.
She felt hollow. Numb. Confused tears edged at her vision, but her jaw clenched stubbornly. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. If he was this sadistic that he wanted to actively hurt her by shoving her away, then he'd enjoy it too much. He'd feel too victorious. So, instead, she she shoved past Edward, hurrying to her father's side and trying to hide her distress. She latched her arms around one of his as they moved in the direction of the door, Noah bidding Carlisle goodbye and one last thank you.
"Is everything all right? Claire? Do you want to tell me who that boy was?" His tone was warning, and Claire just shook her head.
"No one. He's no one. I just want to get out of here, Dad." She looked up at him, lower lip shaking. "I hate hospitals."
She had a million reasons to, of course. Her mother. Her own car wreck with Brody Mitchem. Which led Noah to reach over and rest his free hand on the opposite side of her head, leaning down to kiss the crown of it. Reassurance. Exactly what she needed. Which was good, because she knew -- she knew as soon as they got home, she'd have to jump straight to the defensive.
After all of this, she didn't get to rest. She didn't get to just cry over the loss of the one friend she thought she might really have. Instead, she got to pretend nothing had happened. Lie to her family.
Maybe it'd be better if she didn't. The thought spooked her, but it was there. Maybe at this point, it was better if she just told the truth and they moved away and never looked back. Lyle would hate her even more, and her dad would be frustrated, but at least she wouldn't have to deal with this. At least she could put it behind her.
But, she knew she couldn't. She couldn't hurt her family like that. Not again. So, she'd just have to get used to carrying that broken and defeated look that she wore as she headed out to the car with her father.
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But that was impossible. It was too late now.
Perhaps, he thought as he watched her go with her father, that was for the best.
He'd had to commit to this before he took anything else away from her. Like her life - that one would make whatever this had been pale in comparison. He had to keep a focus on that. This was for her own good, and her couldn't let her teenage emotions convince him otherwise. He had more than enough experience reading the thoughts of teenage girls to know how melodramatic they could be.
But this felt different, and he didn't even hear what Carlisle was saying to him at first, as he asked in a low voice if he were alright.
Edward simply shook his head once, turning and stuffing a hand in his pocket, walking back down the hallway. He felt a bit bad for dismissing Carlisle's concern as such, but he was sure the elder vampire would understand.
He needed time alone.
And fresh air. More than anything right now, he needed to get away from the scent and the memory that was Claire.
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