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[if_inconvenient]

Sherlock does not want to be at school today. For once in his life he is something less than indifferent to the occasional stare and snicker, the looks of familiar contempt from those who have been around long enough to get used to him. His mood has been fluctuating wildly between rage and despair since yesterday morning. He knows his self-control is good enough to keep him from reacting to any taunts with violence, but nothing will stop him from wanting to. Which is unsettling in itself.

He has a duty, though, one that cannot be ignored. And if he is going to show up at school again, he may as well do the job properly. He is on time for every class before lunch, polite if not friendly when circumstances call for conversation, crisply dressed—in trousers, thank you; he does not think he could bear the reactions to another skirt. The only signs that anything is wrong are the dark circles under his eyes and the tension that stands in sharp contrast to his usual indolence.

At noon on the dot he is in the cafeteria waiting for Bella Swan.

Comments

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If she is honest with herself - and she always tries to be - it came as something of a relief that Sherlock wasn't in school yesterday. The extra time to digest their last conversation did not go amiss.

But she is also relieved to see him in the cafeteria today. Time to digest is one thing; protracted suspense is something else entirely. She is, she thinks, as ready as she can be, under the circumstances. Waiting much longer would have become frustrating.

Bella takes a breath and approaches him.

"Hello."

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"We need to talk," he says. "Today. In private. Something has come up—largely unrelated to our last conversation."

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Bella pauses for a second, taken aback, then says,

"All right. Can I get some lunch first?"

Whatever it is, it sounds serious, and low blood sugar tends not to facilitate Bella's ability to think clearly.

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"By all means," he says, stepping back out of her way, although he himself does not make a move to acquire any kind of food.

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The line isn't too long yet, so Bella is only gone for a few minutes. She returns with a drink and a wrapped sandwich.

"Should we go sit in my truck?" she suggests.

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"Yes, thank you, that would be a suitable venue."

He really does not look at all well.

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He doesn't. She studies him with a slight frown.

"Okay."

The cab of the truck is hot from sitting in the sun; Bella concludes that Sherlock would prefer not to have the windows rolled down, as complete privacy in the parking lot during lunch is unlikely, so she turns on the air conditioner instead and hopes the battery holds out.

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He tucks himself into the passenger seat and stares out the window for a moment, gathering courage.

Since when does Sherlock need to gather his courage for anything?

"I did something very foolish yesterday," he starts.

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Bella quietly unwraps her sandwich, listening.

A couple of days ago, the list of possible reasons why he might choose her to confide in would have had some half dozen items on it. Technically, it still does, but the one she would rank first now takes considerable precedence over the rest: she knows what must be his biggest secret now. That makes her a very logical choice for any other confidences he might see fit to share.

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Now how the hell does he tell this sensibly, without lying, and without making her think he has gone thoroughly mad?

"I discovered that someone has been spying on me for some time. We exchanged words. I was not polite. It was reckless of me to be so cavalier without knowing my adversary. Among other things, this individual threatened to—to damage your father's sanity. You would know better than I whether such an attempt might be successful."

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Bella's eyebrows go up as she absorbs this.

Her immediate instinctive response is no, of course not, Charlie is the steadiest and most rock-solid person she's ever known. Nothing could shake him.

But she makes herself stop and think anyway before she answers, chewing a bite of her sandwich slowly. It's true that it would take a great deal of force to break Charlie down, but it wouldn't be impossible. Everyone has a weak spot. Charlie is no exception, no matter how much she wants him to be (and of course she wants him to be).

She doesn't have enough information yet.

"How?"

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"I... cannot go into as much detail as I would like about the methods," he says, wrapping his arms around his stomach and staring down at his knees. "Once again I am put in the position of knowing something patently unbelievable for which there is no ready proof, and this time without even circumstantial evidence on my side."

He shivers very slightly when he adds, "And I am not up to being disbelieved at the moment."

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"Sherlock," Bella says tightly, "you can't tell me someone threatened my father and stop there. What is the point of telling me anything at all if you're not going to give me enough information for it to be useful?"

Sherlock's anxiety about the situation is clearly real; it's practically pouring off him. Considering how few friends he has, and how people have noticed the fact that she has been friendly with him outside of their assigned roles in Biology class - she ate lunch outside yesterday to avoid a barrage of questions from Jessica once she realized that they had been seen leaving school ground together - it's not unreasonable that anyone wishing to get to Sherlock might target her or her family.

It has not occurred to her until now to think about the potential dangers of befriending the boy whom the world believes to be Tony Stark's brother.

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Bella cannot, of course, call Tony without having his phone number, which her accident with her sandwich earlier prevented her from getting.

After class is over and the room is mostly emptied out, she takes out her phone again and asks Sherlock for it.

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"I may as well dial it myself and introduce you," he suggests.

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Bella nods without hesitation. She had been thinking of proposing something similar.

"I imagine he'll take better to my choice of topic if you confirm that my interest is legitimate first," she agrees. "Shall we meet up after school?"

[if_inconvenient]

"Certainly. North door again?"

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"Yes."

Having memorized the parts of the building she's in the most by now, she arrives promptly at the north door after her last class.

"We can go to my house this time," she says. "It's closer, and Charlie won't be home for some time yet." And it's her turf, not Sherlock's - a minor advantage which she'd prefer to have today.

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"I am amenable to that suggestion."

The latter half of the school day seems to have improved him a little. He's not looking quite so raw as he did at lunch, anyway.

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She's glad to see it. She's calmer herself, having had time to compose herself since their conversation.

"Good," she says.

The drive is indeed much shorter. The Swan home is in the middling part of town, neither rich nor poor. The inside is well-kept enough - neither Bella nor Charlie is a neat freak, but they tidy after themselves as necessary. Having been primarily Charlie's home alone for years, it is more prominently stamped with his personality, but traces of Bella are making themselves more known.

Bella leads Sherlock into the kitchen and puts her backpack on the table, glancing at the clock to calculate when she should start dinner. Tonight's menu is nothing overly involved, so she needn't worry about it just yet.

"Would you like a snack?" She wants one; she's very hungry after not eating most of her lunch.

[if_inconvenient]

Wryly: "No, but I ought to have one anyway."

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Bella smiles a bit at the answer.

"How do you feel about apples and peanut butter?" she asks. She doesn't move to get the ingredients just yet - there would be little point if she were to find out in the next few seconds that Sherlock has a very sensitive peanut allergy or something similar.

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"More pleasant than otherwise. Thank you."

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"You're welcome."

Bella prepares the snack quickly, bringing it over to the table along with - after determining that dairy is acceptable - two glasses of milk.

[if_inconvenient]

It is in point of fact the first thing he has eaten all day. Somewhere around the second apple slice, he discovers something resembling an appetite.