milliways_bar: OOM [unposted]
[After this.]
Bella's clothes changed the minute she left Bar, which gave her little reason to do more than get the glass of water she'd gotten up for in the first place and head back to bed for another hour's sleep. She might've spent more time thinking angry thoughts about Edward Cullen if she hadn't been pretty sure that doing so would have just been overanalyzing a situation that didn't exist outside her head.
And when she woke an hour later, the sudden arrival of snow was sufficient distraction to keep her from dwelling upon whatever bizarre anxiety she was projecting into her dreams. Really, there was no reason for her stomach to be doing nervous little flip-flops at the thought of seeing him again. They'd had one conversation. One, if she was only counting the reality outside the Bar, which she was. And even assuming that reality was a less hostile environment than the one she dreamed up, that was no reason to almost look forward to seeing him today. For all Bella knew she'd be unable to look at him without picturing that stupid pirate hat, and she'd make an idiot of herself by laughing at nothing and an even bigger one by trying to explain.
Rule #1: Do Not Mention Crazy Pirate Dreams to Edward. (In fact, do not discuss Milliways at all with Edward, since there's no way to subtly ask him if he happens to frequent the Bar at the end of the Universe in the hopes of confirming that it is in fact a shared hallucination. Because that would be even weirder.)
With that in mind, Bella set off for school, putting most of her mental energy into staying upright and then not driving her truck off the road. The second part was easier than anticipated, and when she finally climbed out she saw why: Charlie had putt snow chains on her truck while she was sleeping. She was just standing there with a little half-smile on her face, all thoughts of Milliways and Cullens and how snow was the enemy momentarily gone from her head --
And then a high-pitched screech barely had time to startle her properly things started happening too fast to keep up with.
His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock.
-- he was four cars down; too far to do anything --
(ohgodpleasedon'thit--)
shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed
-- slammed to the ground from the wrong direction, maybe it was some kind of out of body experience --
(stillbreathingohgodwhat'dibreak)
-- the van skidding around again to finish the job --
long, white hands shot out protectively in front
(whothewhatthehellhowdidhe--)
Then the van coming to a stop, something pulling her out of the way.
(buthowdidhe--)
"Bella, are you all right?"
Words putting the world back together. (still breathing. nothing hurts. but how--)
"I'm fine."
She couldn't move, but she was fine, if he'd just let her up (and why was he here to begin with, and how did he --?)
"Be careful. I think you hit your head pretty hard."
(What happened to not pretending?)
"Ow," was all she managed, and once again it seemed like he was silently laughing at her. It was enough to make her bold enough to get the question (well, one of them, anyway) out:
"How in the ... how did you get over here so fast?"
***
She should've known he'd find a way to weasel out of answering.
She didn't understand him. Forget how he did it; Bella had a hard enough time trying to figure out why he did it.
He would've done the same for anyone. His dad's a doctor. He's a jerk, but he probably learned morals somewhere along the line.)
But that theory wasn't helped by the fact that he couldn't answer when she'd asked.
"Why did you even bother?"
"I don't know."
She hadn't meant it to come out like that. Like she was ungrateful. Like she'd expected him to stand there and watch her die if in fact it turned out he was entirely capable of having gotten to her in time.
Stranger things have happened.
Not here, they haven't.
There'd been a moment, just an instant when she'd almost blurted out something about Milliways, somewhere in the middle of her version of events she'd almost thrown in a comment that would've at least let him know she was down with the possibility of the impossible --
-- but of course that would've only lent credence to the concussion theory, which she wasn't allowing. She might have been the girl who sees things, but she knew the difference between Milliways-reality and Forks-reality, and what she'd seen had been impossible, which made Edward a liar. An arrogant, egocentric, possibly multiple-personalitied or manic-depressive or who KNEW what, filthy lying liar.
Who'd saved her life.
Crap.
Bella's clothes changed the minute she left Bar, which gave her little reason to do more than get the glass of water she'd gotten up for in the first place and head back to bed for another hour's sleep. She might've spent more time thinking angry thoughts about Edward Cullen if she hadn't been pretty sure that doing so would have just been overanalyzing a situation that didn't exist outside her head.
And when she woke an hour later, the sudden arrival of snow was sufficient distraction to keep her from dwelling upon whatever bizarre anxiety she was projecting into her dreams. Really, there was no reason for her stomach to be doing nervous little flip-flops at the thought of seeing him again. They'd had one conversation. One, if she was only counting the reality outside the Bar, which she was. And even assuming that reality was a less hostile environment than the one she dreamed up, that was no reason to almost look forward to seeing him today. For all Bella knew she'd be unable to look at him without picturing that stupid pirate hat, and she'd make an idiot of herself by laughing at nothing and an even bigger one by trying to explain.
Rule #1: Do Not Mention Crazy Pirate Dreams to Edward. (In fact, do not discuss Milliways at all with Edward, since there's no way to subtly ask him if he happens to frequent the Bar at the end of the Universe in the hopes of confirming that it is in fact a shared hallucination. Because that would be even weirder.)
With that in mind, Bella set off for school, putting most of her mental energy into staying upright and then not driving her truck off the road. The second part was easier than anticipated, and when she finally climbed out she saw why: Charlie had putt snow chains on her truck while she was sleeping. She was just standing there with a little half-smile on her face, all thoughts of Milliways and Cullens and how snow was the enemy momentarily gone from her head --
And then a high-pitched screech barely had time to startle her properly things started happening too fast to keep up with.
His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock.
-- he was four cars down; too far to do anything --
(ohgodpleasedon'thit--)
shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed
-- slammed to the ground from the wrong direction, maybe it was some kind of out of body experience --
(stillbreathingohgodwhat'dibreak)
-- the van skidding around again to finish the job --
long, white hands shot out protectively in front
(whothewhatthehellhowdidhe--)
Then the van coming to a stop, something pulling her out of the way.
(buthowdidhe--)
"Bella, are you all right?"
Words putting the world back together. (still breathing. nothing hurts. but how--)
"I'm fine."
She couldn't move, but she was fine, if he'd just let her up (and why was he here to begin with, and how did he --?)
"Be careful. I think you hit your head pretty hard."
(What happened to not pretending?)
"Ow," was all she managed, and once again it seemed like he was silently laughing at her. It was enough to make her bold enough to get the question (well, one of them, anyway) out:
"How in the ... how did you get over here so fast?"
***
She should've known he'd find a way to weasel out of answering.
She didn't understand him. Forget how he did it; Bella had a hard enough time trying to figure out why he did it.
He would've done the same for anyone. His dad's a doctor. He's a jerk, but he probably learned morals somewhere along the line.)
But that theory wasn't helped by the fact that he couldn't answer when she'd asked.
"Why did you even bother?"
"I don't know."
She hadn't meant it to come out like that. Like she was ungrateful. Like she'd expected him to stand there and watch her die if in fact it turned out he was entirely capable of having gotten to her in time.
Stranger things have happened.
Not here, they haven't.
There'd been a moment, just an instant when she'd almost blurted out something about Milliways, somewhere in the middle of her version of events she'd almost thrown in a comment that would've at least let him know she was down with the possibility of the impossible --
-- but of course that would've only lent credence to the concussion theory, which she wasn't allowing. She might have been the girl who sees things, but she knew the difference between Milliways-reality and Forks-reality, and what she'd seen had been impossible, which made Edward a liar. An arrogant, egocentric, possibly multiple-personalitied or manic-depressive or who KNEW what, filthy lying liar.
Who'd saved her life.
Crap.