"My best friend got hit by a car," he says, sounding appropriately unhappy about the situation. "I wanna see how she's doing."

"Bella Swan."

"And your name? I'll see if you're on her list."

His fingernails dig into his palms. "Delaney. Hammond."

"Mmmm... nope. Are you an immediate family member or someone who's been granted power of attorney or anything like that? Because if so you'd be on here. And you aren't."

"Guess not," he says flatly.

"Well, then I'm very sorry, you'll have to wait till she can receive other visitors," says the lady.

"Hello," says the lady at the desk. "I'm afraid no one has been added to Miss Swan's list recently."

"Yeah, uh, my storming off in a huff plan was working great until I realized I really need to pee," he says sheepishly. "Is there a bathroom around here I can use?"

"Uh," says the receptionist, but she doesn't complete a thought or get up.

Must be the mom. Alice sits down, some distance away but close enough to hear.

"I have no idea how much worse it would have been if I hadn't been there," Charlie murmurs, lowering his voice in response to Alice's presence but not actually by enough to be inaudible. "If someone had tried to move her, if it had taken longer to get an ambulance on the way..."

(If he hadn't been there, Alice could have got to her and used her store of pentagons to fix her, even if there wasn't a hex on the loop, and right now they would be laughing about it. Fuck you, Mr. Swan.)

"No, don't buy a plane ticket yet, let's... let's wait until we know more about the prognosis," Charlie tells his ex-wife.

Alice bites his lip.

A doctor or a nurse or somebody pokes her head into the room and taps Charlie on the shoulder, and murmurs - genuinely too quietly to hear.

So Alice watches Charlie.

Charlie listens, and nods, and gets up and follows her out of the room.

The doctor or nurse or somebody, and Charlie, are heading into a stairwell and up the stairs therein.

"...Are you goin' to see her, sir?" he asks. He didn't expect his voice to come out so rough, although he should have, because the last thing he did with it was cry.

"Yeah," he says.

Quietly, to Charlie: "Can—can you tell me how she is?"

"On my way out, if you're there," Charlie says, looking away.

"Okay," he says, and flees back down the stairs.

The receptionist eyes him but doesn't say anything.

"They letting her friends see her now?"

"Yes, visitors' hours began a few minutes ago, but please be quiet and don't disturb anyone," says the receptionist. "Miss Swan is in room 306."

Bella is indeed in 306, a private room in which she's being administered an IV by a nurse. He glances at Alice and says, "Her left hand's basically okay. You can hold it if you want, but don't jostle her or put any pressure on her."

"What-all's wrong with her?" he asks, unable to keep his eyes off the still figure on the bed.

"Coma, various injuries," says the nurse. "I got other patients to get to." He hangs up the IV and departs.

The pentagon continues to exist. Apparently it's not quite up to that.

"He went home," says Alice. "It's been a while. You want all these back?" He gestures to the pile of pentagons in his lap.

She peers over at them. "Uh, maybe, I dunno, I have six new ones now... How are we going to explain this medical miracle?"

"Well, it's not like I'm ever gonna need to borrow from you again," Alice says cheerfully. "Might as well keep 'em on your necklace for now, right? And I don't have a fucking clue, you're the smart one here. My brilliant plan for getting in here to see you was to wait for visiting hours and cry a lot."

"Mkay." She squares the pentagons out of his lap. "Uh, hm. Medical miracle. Including pin-vanishing. Is my backpack in here? I dunno how big a coin I need to Jedi mind trick my dad and a bunch of doctors." She closes her eyes. "Plus my mom. He'd have called her."

"Yeah," he says, and fetches said backpack.

Her various extremities are still in casts and the like. She squares them away. "Make sure nobody comes in before I have a good plan. Is there some obvious option besides brainwashing everybody, re-injuring myself, and allowing the media to descend upon me to find out how I got God to heal me?"

"...We could just change all the actual, like, records," he suggests. "...Nah, probably wouldn't—well, wait, hang on, what if we just wish you up to look like you've still got a shitload of broken bones?"

"Then I lie in this hospital bed for months, I guess, but that still might be best. Maybe I can refuse medical care and 'recuperate' at home? No, I'm a minor..." She digs through her backpack and seeks Helpful Charts.

"We could," he stops, swallows, tries again, "just let your dad in on the whole magic thing. He seemed... okay, I guess."

"...that sounds pretty workable," says Alice. He sounds fairly uncomfortable with it, though.

"My dad is not like your dad," Bella says. "Would I live here if he was?"

"Oh, I know your dad is not like my dad," he says. "But I don't... know it. You know? Like, I get it on the head level, but the gut level still wants to be about a state away from anything to do with him."

"Yeah," he says, passing it over.

"Yeah, I'm awake - don't get in the car now, I wanna talk," Bella says. "Okay, so. I'm awake. I am much, much less hurt than what you think you saw. I want to go home, and I can't leave against medical advice since I'm seventeen. Can you check me out of here?"

"Well, Dad, I could explain that, and you could not believe me, and you could ask me to prove it, and I could do that, and you could spend all afternoon hyperventilating," Bella says. "Or, you could take me out of here and not have to take weeks off work to be able to visit me and I won't have to eat hospital food and you won't have to eat your own cooking."

He giggles softly.

"I'd really rather not prove to all the doctors that I'm ready to leave first," Bella says. "I think I can prove it to your satisfaction - yes, Dad. I know you are not a doctor."

(Snort.)

"I couldn't stand on my head even if I hadn't been hit by a car," Bella says. "But I can walk around the room. Will you take me home if I can walk around the room? Please?" Pause. "I'll make the nice chicken recipe for dinner..."

...Alice takes out his notebook and writes something in it.

"Yes, that one, with the capers and the lemon juice. C'mon, Dad." Pause. Pause. "Yes, contingent on my being able to walk around the room, without doctor or nurse supervision. Then you roll me out in a wheelchair - well, Dad, no I don't think lying to my doctors would be a great idea normally, but telling them the truth, which you declined to have explained, would get a lot of attention. From, like, reporters."

Write write write.

"You did," he admits. "And I did. Twice."

"Okay," says Alice, just to make her go away.

"...I dunno," he says. "What'll happen if you do?"

"Probably? He'll shrug, say he's going to call you by your legal name but we can do what we want, and then mutter to himself about my weird friends."

"Fuck me," says Alice, rolling his eyes. "Think we can bargain him down to Laney?"

"Yeah, I can tell him that's what Hilary calls you."

"Great, okay. Bring it."

Alice... sits. Quietly. With his notebook closed.

"Hi," says Alice.

Alice grins at her.

"...I really want to hug you," says Alice. "Can I hug you?"

"Yes," Bella says, holding out her arms.

Alice is still beaming at Bella.

Bella transfers herself to the wheelchair, and makes a careful expression of resigned discomfort. "Shall we?"

"Guess so," says Alice.

"Yes please!" says Alice.

"Yes I am," says Alice. "And yes I do."

Alice just laughs. In a friendly sort of way.

"So, Dad," Bella says, wishing away the cast illusion because the neighbors aren't really that nosy, "everybody saw me get hit by a car. I probably need to stay home for at least two weeks, and then go back on crutches. Alice, can you bring me all my assignments, or would that be so patently ridiculous that I should ask Angela?"

"You should probably ask Angela," he says. "I mean, I could, but so could she, and it'll make more sense if she does it, and I think we want as much sense as we can get."

"The risk is she'll want to see me," Bella says. "But - Dad, stop listening, if you like - I can probably be pretty casual with everything, now, and the illusion's only a square each way, right?"

"Yep," Alice says cheerfully. "You're probably full up on those, right? You want any more? Man, I cannot wait to try for a hex."

"I have..." Bella is still wearing a hospital gown, which appears to have mostly escaped her notice until just now but does not seem pleasing. She picks up her invisible necklace. "Twenty-seven. I'm good."

"Cool," he says. "Lemme know if you wanna stock up."

Alice bites his lip, and glances at Bella, and draws a little heart in the air with his fingertip where her father can't see.

"Yeah, I'll bet it's not," he agrees. "And I'll bet you don't have an underground lair, either."

"There's a cellar!" Bella says. "It contains boxes and the old microwave and mousetraps and plumbing."

"How's it on pillars?"

"You're gonna take over the wooooorld," Alice sings, bouncing a little.

"I like your house," he chatters as he follows her in. "It's little and cute and it's yours and I like it."

Bella chuckles. "It's my dad's. I've had very little influence on the decor. I think the kitchen has been yellow since before I was born."

"Man, why am I so happy," he wonders.

"Could it be," Bella says innocently, "because you have magic powers?"

"Ooh, lunch," says Bella. "Sure, if you feel like cooking. I'm really tired - apparently vehicular collisions are exhausting - and I don't think I want to start using wishes as caffeine." She taps her chin. "I'm going to use the chicken for dinner tonight - probably with the help of actual coffee - but there's some asparagus I haven't done anything with, and pasta in the cupboard?"

"I will make you pasta and asparagus!" he says. "Do you mind if I hurt myself on your stove?"

"As long as you triangle away the suspicious smell of bacon. We are out of bacon, and Charlie always knows whether or not we are out of bacon," says Bella.

"You got it," he says brightly, and sets about preparing for pasta.

"...Cried more," is the first thing that comes to mind.

"Huh," she says. "I was going to guess an attempt to raise the dead with the star."

"Yeah, I probably woulda got around to that," he says. "But first the crying."

"You're tired," Alice observes.

"Yeaaaaaah." She closes her eyes. "Wake me when pasta."

"I will do that!" he promises.

There is no reply from Bella except for breathing.

Bella is groggily lifting her head. "Alice?" she mumbles. "Does pasta?"

"Pasta does!" he says, sitting up and collecting his fallen pentagons. "And I made hexes."

"Oooah," yawns Bella, looking appreciatively at the hexes. She peers at the stove to see if it's a mess or not. "Have fun with that?

"Took me this long to think of the fact that hex sounds like a kinda spell," says Bella. She triangles away the mess on the stove and accepts the pentagons. "Thanks! The other heap of hexes too? Don't want to gratuitously waste squares moving them on and off."

"Pasta!" he agrees. "Isn't it easier to count 'em when they're off, though?"

"I guess in large quantities I could sort 'em into piles, but in large quantities seems pretty safe to just know that there's lots," Bella mumbles into her elbow. She lifts up her head again. "Plates're in the cupboard above the sink."

"Wonder what happens if you run out of room," he muses, grabbing a pair of plates and trying drawers until he finds cutlery.

"Necklace'll expand, 'cause I am smart," she says. "'f it gets too heavy I can unshrink Elias's treasure chest. Or just make heaps an' heaps of wishes."

"You are smart," says Alice. "I love you and your smarts." He deposits a plate in front of her. "Pasta!"

"Oh, or, and I could make the necklace lighter by magic," Bella says, gesturing and looking around for a fork. "Forks're in the drawer by the - oh, you found 'em. Cups're in the cupboard left of the plates." She's clearly in no condition to get up and fetch a beverage; she looks reasonably likely to fall asleep in her pasta. She takes a bite of the pasta instead. "Mm."

"Water," Bella yawns. "You can pet my hair if y'want, 's only fair." Pasta, pasta, pasta.

Bella can have water, then! From the tap, since she didn't specify. Alice gets himself the same thing, brings his cup and plate to the table, leans over her, and gently ruffles her hair.

Bella sighs in tired contentment as she eats and sips at her water.

"Probably will nap. Whatever you wanna do, but it's probably boring here," yawns Bella. "This is pretty tasty."

"If I get bored I'll just hurt myself some more," he says cheerfully.

"I could carry you," Alice offers.

"Really?" Bella asks, skeptical.

"...yeah," he says.

"Do you like, lift weights while skipping school? 'Cause one time I asked you what you do and I don't remember that one."

"No, but I bet I can still pick you up," he says, shrugging.

"Without dropping me," she says. "On the stairs."

"Sure." He shrugs again. "Up to you, though."

Alice follows.

Bella flops onto her bed and kicks off her wished-sneakers, which are bright white. "This," she says with a vague one-armed gesture around the room, "is my room." She pulls her blanket over her. "G'night."

"G'night," says a very amused Alice, and sits down on the floor at the foot of her bed.

Bella utters mostly nouns, some articles, the occasional number, and once, "Run!"

Alice dutifully records all of these things, on a page at the top of which he has written Stuff you said in your sleep today.

Bella sleeps for four hours. At six-thirty in the evening, she sits up and rubs her eyes. She observes Alice sitting at the foot of the bed. "How long was I out?" she asks, looking considerably more awake. "And how long have you been sitting there?"

"Four hours," he says cheerfully, and passes her the notebook.

"To both questions?" She looks at the page. "...What the hell? Marker snake? The six owl? I talk in my sleep?" She frowns. "I would have hoped it would at least be sensible. My dream was about miniature pies that could talk."

"That is adorable and kind of horrifying," says Alice. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

"Talking mini-pies are horrifying? They were super cute," says Bella. "And yeah, you do that like five times a day."

"Yeah, they're super cute," he says. "Until somebody eats them."

"Well, no one ate them in my dream," Bella says firmly. "They just happened to be pies, that's all. I mean, someone could eat you. No one's likely to."

"Everything is hot," Bella says, rolling her eyes, "according to you." She looks at her clock-radio. "I should start dinner. You sticking around or are you hieing home to the siren call of Hilary's food?" She pauses. "Also, was Theo terribly confused when he arrived at school and does your mom know where you are and is she likely to worry?"

"I thought of that one myself, actually. I called Mom and said I'm at a friend's place and she told me to have fun and call her if I need a ride. Pretty sure she thinks I skipped school to get laid."

Bella nods. "I do have a couple weeks off from school, conveniently enough."

"Yeah. Is it weird that I'm glad you got hit by a car? 'Cause I'm glad you got hit by a car," he says.

"I wish I had been slightly less hit by a car," Bella says consideringly. "It would have been much better if I could have stayed conscious, made the hex, and then healed myself before anyone got to me."

"...yeah," says Alice, "probably. On the other hand, this way you get plenty of time to help me figure out how not to kill my dad. Oh, uh, before I forget, can you wish me up a necklace like yours? If I do it I just know I'll forget something."

"Sure. D'you care if I make it so we can both see yours?"

"Nah, go for it. It's a good idea."

"Lemme have your coins for a sec, and they can start out already on it."

"Okay," he says, and digs them out of various locations - socks, pockets, more pockets.

Bella collects them all in a little heap and wishes on one of her pentagons. They appear all strung on a necklace like hers - chain with no clasp, expansible, invisible and insubstantial to anyone not herself or Alice. She then drapes it around his neck, pats him on the head, and gets up to go start dinner.

Headpats! Alice beams up at her for a moment before he gets up and follows.

Bella has made "the nice chicken recipe" often enough that she doesn't work from a recipe; she has the amounts memorized. "Wanna help?" she asks Alice.

"Yes I do."

"Spiffy." Bella assigns him to fetch her ingredients and measuring cups and the like from the relevant cupboards, and she turns on the oven and starts taking the chicken out of the packaging.

"Meh, I didn't barge in wearing a suit from work and shout that I was home," Bella points out. "Besides, I cook too, I was just tired." She mixes capers into the sauce for the chicken and lets it sit, and then dredges the pieces in flour. "Lucky you I bought extra chicken - I decided to start leaving leftovers more to make up for how often I'm having dinner at yours of late. Charlie manages - I mean, he didn't starve to death during some non-summer season before I moved here for good - but it's really not pretty."

"I can bring lunch when I come over tomorrow," he offers. "I can bring cake."

"Oooh, cake," says Bella, grinning. "Yes please." She pops the chicken in the oven and continues work on the sauce, adding teaspoonsful of various spices.

"Will do," he says brightly. "Need any more stuff grabbed?"

"Uh..." She consults her mental recipe. "Pepper, and may as well get the turner out of the cooking utensil drawer now. Then we're all set until..." - she sets the timer on the oven - "the chicken comes out."

"Mm," says Charlie. He looks at the oven timer while he shuts the door behind him. He pointedly hangs up his gun, eyes on Alice, and says, "Chicken's always good."

...Alice grins and bites his lip, accumulating triangles for a few seconds, because it is so hard not to flirt a little.

Alice shrugs and makes a helplessly apologetic face.

Alice rolls his eyes and gets up to go upstairs.

"I'm sort of hoping to set him up with Hilary," Bella confesses in a low voice, once they're up in her room and can barely hear the TV.

"That's adorable," Alice murmurs back.

Bella nods happily. "Not sure how to go about it though. I mean, they've already met."

"Also, Hilary likes girls," Alice volunteers. "She might be bi, though."

"Oh. Well, that's potentially inconvenient," sighs Bella. "And potentially not. How do you know?"

"I told her about Freddie; she said she had much the same reaction to Pat Benatar."

Bella snickers. "Okay. I'm not gonna count Charlie out yet, if that's all."

"Yeah, that's fair."

In which case, Alice sits himself down at the foot of her bed again.

Bella absently cards her fingers through his hair with her spare hand while she holds the phone. "Hi, Mr. Weber. This is Bella Swan -" Pause. "Yes. I was hit by a car. But I'm awake, and - thank you, Mr. Weber, but leading your congregation in a prayer for me isn't necessary, I'm going to be fine in a few weeks. Well, if it makes you feel better. Mm-hm. Can I talk to Angela, please?"

He giggles softly, leaning into her hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Weber." Pause. "Hi, Ange-" Pause. "Aw, thank you. If you still want to give me the card you can bring it by my house if you want. I'm recuperating at home. I also need my assignments until I'm ready to go back to school. Can I ask you to get them for me?" Pause. "Thanks, Angela, you're the best. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

Bella hangs up. "Awwww?"

"She got you a card! That's cute. Ain't that cute?"

"She got me a card and got like forty people to sign it," Bella laughs. "I think that's relatively customary when one is hospitalized."

"Well, I still think it's cute."

Bella shrugs. "Why's it cute?"

"...I guess 'cause I think she actually cares."

"Actually caring about people is cute in general?" Bella asks, cocking her head. "Or displaying actual care by means of a card is?"

"...yes," he says. "Those."

"I like the sound of that," he says, beaming up at her.

"Purr purr," he says, butting his head up against her hand. "I'm a kitty."

"Well," she says. "I'm still not sure if you're just playing along because you think it's funny, or wholeheartedly agreeing to be my pet human." Pause. "If I wanted a cat, I would have one. Renée reacts to Humane Society advertisements so intensely that I have to change the channel for her when they come on. Had to, I mean. I hope Phil figures that out before she adopts a one-legged dog or something."

"If being your pet means you keep petting me, then hell yes, I will be your pet."

"Good question. Pet humans aren't common so there's not a template. What I was summarizing was something like - I can just reach out and pat you on the head whenever I want, and you follow me around, and periodically you bring me presents. Which are overwhelmingly more useful than dead mice." She hefts her necklace. He can't hear it, but she can; it jingles.

"Then yeah, I am absolutely your pet human," he says happily.

Bella grins. "Cool." And she grins wider, snaps her fingers, and says, "Heel!" and proceeds down the stairs to check on the chicken in the oven.

...Laughing, he follows.

The chicken, when she peers into the oven, is sizzling nicely, but she decides to wait out the remaining minute and a half on the timer. "Almost food," she calls to Charlie over the TV.

Alice parks himself on a kitchen chair and gives Bella a look of unrepentant sappiness.

Alice just smiles. Not even Charlie can get him out of his good mood right now.

Bella ignores this entire interplay; if Charlie wants to talk to her about it, he can. She plops a chicken breast on her plate and passes the tongs to Charlie, who serves himself a drumstick to start. Bella spoons extra sauce onto hers.

Assuming that someone eventually makes the tongs available to Alice, he grabs the most easily grabbed piece of chicken and digs in.

It is good enough to get Alice making happy noises, although—perhaps thankfully—not quite good enough to turn him on.