A/N (3/19): Hello! First of all, many thanks to Dollybigmomma for working on this story and getting rid of numerous typos and grammatical errors. As a non-native speaker, I learned a lot of things just by talking to her. Thank you, again!

A quick word about this little tale. This story has been bugging me for years, it simply begged to be written, and I was actually supposed to write this one before I even began to work on Paths to Entwine. I began to write Do No Harm at the beginning of July, and by the end of October, I was writing the epilogue. I've never written this much in four months, and it still baffles me that I survived without any major writer's blocks. I know this sounds very cliché (it also kind of sounds like Stephenie Meyer, forgive me for that) but the idea for this story actually came to me in a dream, and it never left me alone.

As said in the summary, this is going to be an All Human story. To be honest, there was a time when I didn't understand the point of those. I mean, this is Twilight, for goodness' sake. It's supposed to have vampires in it, right? It's not Twilight if no one's going to get bitten at some point, right?

Back when I was still an active fanfiction reader, I pretty much skipped every single All Human story, because I automatically thought they weren't my thing. But then, I ran into a Bella/Carlisle story, in which all characters were human, and I suddenly realized that, okay, this human thing might actually work. Therefore, one might say that this little story of mine was inspired by that particular fic.

I don't think I ever actually finished reading that story, though - maybe the author was posting it at the time, and at some point, I quit keeping an eye on the updates or something of the sort. And here's the thing; I couldn't remember the name of that fic, even if my life depended on it. I tried to look for it a couple of days ago, but it's kind of hard, since I have no idea about the name. I can't recall much of the plot - I only remember that Charlie was in that story, Carlisle was his friend, and Esme was Carlisle's sister, maybe? I think Alice was somewhere in there, too, and someone was about to get married/someone got married, but I'm not sure. I also remember that the story was, ahem, hot. As in, I-have-to-take-a-cold-shower-now, hot.

So, please, a desperate call of help to all veteran Bella/Carlisle fanficion readers/nerds out there, if someone knows the name of that story/has a vague idea about it, please hint. I'd love to give it a read when I have time, since I don't think I ever managed to finish it. I hope it wasn't removed or anything. I remember discovering it around the time New Moon came out as a movie, if that helps, so the year must have been 2009 or something.

(Edit: Found the story! It's called What Happens at Charlie's Wedding by velvetbutterfly!Thank you, Goldielover!)

Anyway. This story is going to be a little more fast paced than my two other ones. It's also going to be a little lighter and more playful, and there will be more smut. Not insanely a lot, but more than I originally planned. A lot more. But even though this story has a light, playful side to it, there will also be some pain, drama and darkness. Some chapters deal with very heavy and painful subjects, so the reader should be prepared for that.

Rating: M for language and smut

Disclaimer: I still don't own The Twilight Saga. Stephenie Meyer does.

I hope you enjoy, and as always, I'm more than eager to know what you think!

"We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what.

Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story."

- Jandy Nelson, I'll Give You the Sun -

The Kindness of Strangers

"How about that guy?"

Rosalie's voice made me lift my gaze from my coffee. It wasn't the words that caught my attention – it was her tone. There was poorly concealed eagerness in it. As I met her gaze over the table, tiny alarms began to go off in my head, because the look in her eyes matched her voice.

I glanced at the young man passing our table; he was looking for a place to sit. The lunch hour was starting, and the place was packed, but of course, I could trust Rosalie to find the most good-looking man in the busy café. She had an eye for these things. For men, that is.

Men's eyes, on the other hand, seemed to watch her wherever she went. I remembered it had started around the time she had turned fourteen, so I had gotten used to it.

Too bad she was taken. I always felt bad for the guys who sometimes came up to her to flirt and start a conversation. The bold ones asked for her number right away. Rosalie always disappointed them; she had been in a happy relationship for a long time now.

Since we had grown up together, Rosalie and I were like sisters. Not that we looked like sisters – she was blonde, curvy yet athletic, and her eyes were a startling shade of blue-green. I, on the other hand, had inherited my looks from Charlie. I'd always been thin, but it would be a joke to say I was athletic. Not to mention curvy.

"Well?" she asked me, quirking her eyebrows. I glanced at the young, brown-haired man who was still looking for an empty table.

I gave her a smile and rolled my eyes. "He looks a bit too young for me."

"Oh, come on," she huffed. "Bella, that's a poor excuse. How old do you think you are?"

"Well, sometimes, I feel like I'm forty."

"Which you're not. You're twenty-four, soon to be twenty-five, and if you continue that way of thinking, someday, when you're actually forty, you're going to feel like you're fifty-six. How does that sound?"

"Depressing."

"Exactly. And don't do this," Rosalie frowned and pursed up her lips, apparently to mimic my expression. "You're going to get frown lines."

I smiled. "Well, that wouldn't be too bad. I could come to you, then, and you could give me that vitamin...acid...exfoliation…treatment?" I frowned, shaking my head. "Or something like that."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. Apparently, she had deemed me a hopeless case when it came to cosmetology terminology. She was in her dream job, working at her mother's beauty salon. The business would probably be hers one day.

On the other hand, I wasn't so sure if I was in my dream job. I'd been working as a waitress here for over three years now. I liked the job, and some days, I even loved it. It was sometimes exhausting, though. I considered myself an introvert, and therefore, constant interaction with people and staying polite, no matter what the situation, was sometimes challenging. Not to mention staying on your feet for hours without a break had the tendency to wear you out. The good thing was, I never needed to work out. My job was my exercise.

"Seriously, though," Rosalie said again, giving the young, brown-haired man another glance. "I'll wave him over. He's still looking for a place to sit. Please, Bella? His hair is the same shade of brown as yours. It's like the universe itself is trying to send you a message."

Maybe she thought her eagerness was contagious. Sometimes, it was – it was a mild expression to say that Rosalie was a radiant person. She'd always been like my own personal star. Or a sun.

I smiled and shook my head. Rosalie sighed in frustration, apparently thinking I was being stubborn on purpose.

"Honestly, Bella, you have to get back into the game." She leaned towards me over the table. "When was the last time you got laid?"

I was just about to take a sip from my coffee as she said that. Not a good idea.

"Rosalie!" I wiped my mouth with a napkin and glanced down to see if I was now wearing my coffee as well.

"What? It's a relevant question."

I sighed, knowing I should have been used to this by now. Rosalie had always been more open about these things. On more than one occasion, she'd perked up my day by telling me how many orgasms Emmett had given her the previous night. It was needless to say that I was a little different when it came to these things – I wanted to keep certain things personal.

Her eyes were still on the brunette man. She flung up her hands in disappointment. "Aw, now you lost your chance. He found a free table."

"Too bad."

I tried to ignore her stare as I began to gather up our sandwich wrappings. I counted to five inside my head, knowing the silence wouldn't last any longer than that. She only made it to three, before she began to speak.

"Are you saying you're never going to date again?" she asked. Her tone was gentler now.

"No. That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying I'm not into it right now. I'd rather spend some quality time alone, to be honest. Maybe I need to discover myself again or something, as cliché as it sounds."

"Are you still thinking about him? James? It's been a year, after all."

Like always, hearing James' name made me both angry and sad. And like always, I took a deep breath and felt almost instantly better – it had taken me months to achieve that.

"No. I don't think about him at all, actually. It's kind of nice." I gave a dry laugh. "And besides, if I found myself thinking about him every day, or even once a month, I'd probably want to pour bleach into my brain."

Rosalie shrugged. "I can't blame you for that, considering what he did. I promise you, Bella, if I happen to bump into him, I'll take a pair scissors and – "

"Whoa," I cut her off, knowing what was coming. "Don't make me your partner in crime by making me listen to what you're going to do to him."

She smiled. "Fine. But you should know you missed the best detail."

"Does it have something to do with bleach?"

"You read my mind."

"Sounds painful."

She shrugged again. "That's what you get for cheating on my best friend. And for doing that to you." She gave a pointed nod at my arm. I had a scar that ran from my wrist up my arm; it was likely that it would never fade. It was the only visible scar James had given me. When I'd found out he was cheating on me, I had confronted him about it. The martyr in me had told me I should have known what was coming next. James had gotten mad, and he had nudged me, and thanks to my poor balance, I'd had no way to stay on my feet. I had tried to grab something as I fell, and my hand had knocked a glass off the kitchen counter. It had shattered, of course, and like expected, I had fallen right on top of the shards. Somehow, James had managed to blame me for that, claiming I had fallen just because I was clumsy.

I had walked out that day, obviously. And I had returned the next day with Emmett and Rosalie, and they had helped me pack my things. James hadn't been home – that was probably the only reason why he hadn't ended up in a full-body cast. Maybe that was why he had stayed away that day. Maybe he had known I'd return with backup called Emmett McCarty.

"Are you sure you're over him?" I heard Rosalie ask, drawing me away from the memories.

"Believe me, I was over him the moment I saw him fooling around with that girl. In our apartment. In our bed."

Rosalie nodded, accepting my answer. She knew my words were honest, and she also knew I wouldn't pretend to be alright if I truly wasn't. There were no secrets between us.

"Then, why don't you start dating again? I'm not pressuring you – that's not what this is. I just want to know how you feel about it. Aren't you lonely?"

I gave her a smile. "Well, it's not like I don't have any social life. I have you, and I also see people here at the café. And I went out with Eric, remember?"

"Eight times, if I remember correctly."

I gave her a long look. "Do you keep a diary about my love life or something? That was two months ago, after all."

She laughed. I saw a man at the next table turn to stare at her, giving her an appreciative look. I was sure Rosalie saw it as well, but she ignored it.

"Why did you really end it with Eric? You told me you were too different, but that's not the whole truth. I know it."

I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, James and I lasted almost two years. It was the longest relationship I've had. We even lived together, for goodness' sake. And all that came to an end during one single day. When I said I'm over James, I meant it. But maybe...maybe I'm not over what happened, you know? Maybe I'm just not ready to risk that something like that would happen again." I paused, searching for words. "Eric was nice, and I was being honest with you when I said we were too different. But..."

"But there was also a small voice inside you saying you shouldn't give your heart away just yet?"

I shrugged. "I guess. Maybe. Like I said, I just want to spend some more time alone." I gulped down the rest of my coffee to get more time to think. I tried to search myself, wondering if I was feeling like this because of what had happened with James, or in spite of it. I'd always enjoyed my own company, and so, being alone had never been an issue with me. I'd noticed how some people seemed to lose themselves completely after the ending of a relationship. There was nothing wrong with it, not really – if you lost someone important to you, you were supposed to feel it. It wasn't supposed to be easy. But eventually, you were supposed to be able to move on. Right? Depending on the person and the circumstances, it could take a few months, or even a few years.

There were also those who could never move on. It made me wonder if the love they had lost was somehow greater. Or did those people simply love deeper than some others?

It made me wonder why walking away from James had felt almost...relieving. I had cared about him – that much was certain – and that was why his betrayal had felt so terrible. But had I been in love with him? At the beginning of our relationship, I'd felt like I was infatuated with him, but maybe that had been because he had known how to be charming. Maybe I didn't even know what it really felt like to be in love.

I had known him for almost two years, and suddenly, it had turned out I hadn't known him at all. It was frightening to realize the person you had trusted could turn out to be so different than you had believed.

"I was about to suggest that a series of one-night stands does miracles for some people," Rosalie began, smiling teasingly, "but I have a feeling it's something you're not interested in."

I shook my head. "Not really. I'd rather spend some quality time in bed with a book, as you know."

"Well, if you change your mind, Emmett has a single friend. He's not looking for anything serious, so..." she trailed off meaningfully, giving me a mischievous smile.

Rolling my eyes, I glanced at the clock and noticed my break was almost over. I knew Rosalie had to leave soon as well, but her time wasn't as tight as mine. And besides, she didn't have to walk to the salon; she usually drove here, whenever we agreed to spend our lunch break together.

She got up, preparing to leave. I got up as well, tightening my red apron, before I began to tidy up our table. I took the wrappings to the trash and collected our cups.

"We're going to catch a movie with Emmett tomorrow night. Want to come?" Rosalie asked, before heading for the door.

"Sorry. I have a late shift tomorrow," I told her. "Some other time? Next week, maybe?"

"I'll hold you to it."

"I have one condition, though." I narrowed my eyes at her, pretending to be miffed. "During the movie, I'm going to sit between you two. Last time you asked me to come with you guys, you and Emmett didn't even bother to watch the trailers."

"They were boring. And so was the movie."

"How would you know? You didn't see it. And I thanked my lucky stars the theatre was dark, and therefore I didn't have to see what you were doing. I think you and Emmett actually managed to traumatize the teenage boys sitting behind us."

"Nah. I believe they were enjoying themselves. Who knows – maybe they even learned something from us."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, giving her a wave as she left the café. As I made my way behind the counter, relieving the other waitress so she could take a break in turn, I idly thought to myself that someday, Rosalie and Emmett would get arrested for doing something indecent in public, and I'd probably be the one to have to bail them out.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of rain hammering against the window. It wasn't the first time rain had acted as my alarm clock, and it wouldn't be the last. After four years of living in Seattle, I had gotten used to the weather. For some reason, though, I wasn't immune to the sound of raindrops beating against my bedroom window; it always woke me up.

It kind of frustrated me now. Since I had a late shift at the café, I didn't need to get up just yet. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I gave up and dragged myself into the shower. This was one of the reasons why I preferred earlier shifts – I could never sleep past eight in the morning.

It was still raining when I left for work a few hours later. My old Chevy's windshield wipers protested as I turned them on high. One got stuck before I had even managed to leave the parking lot of my apartment complex, and I had to get out and fix it. It only took a minute, but I was drenched when I got back in the car. I turned on the heater, wiping a wet strand from my face as I drove to the café. It wasn't that far away from my apartment, only a little over a mile or so, and when the weather was good, I liked to walk there. It wasn't often, though. Rain was nearly a constant companion in Seattle.

It seemed the universe had decided that I was going to have a challenging day. I tripped in the parking lot, and I broke the fall with my palm, possibly spraining my wrist. This was nothing new, considering my clumsy nature, but as the afternoon wore on, it seemed as if there was more to come. The café was crazy busy, and at least ten customers either dropped or spilled their coffees or teas, and I felt like I spent half my time running around with a cleaning rag. My wrist began to ache after a few hours, reminding me of the fall I'd taken in the parking lot earlier. It wasn't swelling, though, so that was a good sign. By now, I knew pretty well if my occasional injuries needed medical attention. I tripped all the time, after all.

Luckily, the rest of my shift was more or less uneventful, and by the time I was free to leave for the night, I was actually smiling. My wrist was no longer bothering me, either, and as I made my way to my truck, I stuck out my tongue at the spot where I had stumbled a few hours earlier, pleased about my victory.

I was out of bread and juice, and I decided to make a quick grocery run before going home. I headed for the market nearby, and about half an hour later, I climbed into my Chevy again, placing the grocery bag on the passenger seat next to me. I had to resist the urge to yawn – I was suddenly tired. Eager to get home, I slid the key into the ignition and turned it. I began to fantasize about a hot, relaxing bath, and that was when the universe got in the way again.

The truck refused to make a sound.

I cursed quietly, putting my forehead to the steering wheel. This was what happened when you were too optimistic. After counting to ten, I got out and walked to front of the truck, lifting the hood. It opened with a groan, as if to protest my desperate attempts to fix whatever was wrong. Even the truck seemed to know I didn't speak "Car."

What was it again Charlie had told me to do in situations like this? I wrapped my arms around myself; the August evening was slightly cool after the rain.

"Damn it," I murmured to myself, wondering who to call. Rosalie and Emmett were at the movies tonight – they couldn't help me. I considered calling Charlie and explaining the situation, but I didn't want him to get worried. It was getting late, and if he heard I might have to walk home, I knew he'd rather come here and help me than lie awake, fearing I'd get mugged. He had an early rise tomorrow, and I didn't want him to drive four hours here all the way from Forks.

I muttered another curse and tried to think of what to do, when a smooth, pleasant voice startled me.

"Is everything alright?"

I jumped slightly and whirled around to find a tall, blond man standing a few paces away from me. He was carrying a small grocery bag, and he raised his free hand in a soothing manner.

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to startle you like that." He chuckled softly – my reaction seemed to amuse him. "I was walking by and...well, it sounded like you might be in trouble," he gestured at the raised hood of my truck.

The man was kind of...beautiful. I hadn't known it was possible – men who were handsome were just...well, handsome. But this man...he had a refined, sculpted face and high cheekbones. The sun had set behind the grey clouds almost an hour ago, and the parking lot of the market was dark except for the lamp posts, but I could easily see that his eyes were blue. Like, really blue.

I shook my head to snap out of my thoughts, realizing he was waiting for my answer.

"Uh...yeah. My truck...it won't start. I think the battery died. It's an old truck, so..." I shrugged, giving him a small, self-conscious smile.

The man nodded. "I see. Do you need assistance?"

I hesitated. "I have a friend who might be able to help, but she's out tonight. I was just considering calling someone else."

He nodded again, hesitating. "I have a set of jumper cables with me," he offered. "Why don't I get my own car and see what I can do?"

Wow. Kind strangers really did exist. "I don't know, I mean...I don't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble," he assured me, giving me a kind smile. I felt like my insides had turned to jelly. "I'm parked just over there. I'll be right back."

"Oh. Well, okay. Thanks," I managed to say.

I tried to get a hold of myself. What was the matter with me? The man was obviously handsome – or beautiful, more likely – and very kind and polite, but I'd also noticed he was a lot older than me. A lot older. I didn't even know him. I had just met him, for goodness' sake. There was no need to feel breathless; my lungs didn't seem to understand that.

The man returned a minute later, driving a black SUV. He parked next to my truck and went into the back, taking out a set of cables.

"Have you ever jump-started a car before?" he asked me.

I shook my head no. He took a quick peek under the hood of my truck and turned to me, giving me a reassuring smile.

"The battery doesn't seem to be leaking acid or anything. That's good. Is the transmission in neutral?"

When I nodded, he got to work, explaining everything he was doing. It was kind of nice – someone else might have assumed that, just because I was a woman, I either wouldn't understand or be interested. But the man went through the whole process, point by point, and I found myself enjoying the sound of his smooth tenor. He had a pleasant voice, deep but soft.

"Thanks for doing this," I told him, when he was connecting the cables. "I think Charlie – I mean, my dad – told me a few years ago how to do this, but I've totally forgotten."

"I take it this hasn't happened before?"

I shook my head. "No. I've never had any problems with my truck. I know it's old, and I might have to replace it someday, but..." I sighed, brushing my fingers against its rusty surface, "I'm kind of fond of it. It eats a lot of gas, but I don't know how I can give it up. My dad got it for me when I turned seventeen."

The man gave me an understanding smile. "I see. I'm sure it's a good truck. They don't make vehicles like these anymore." He connected the last cable. "Alright, try to start it."

I got inside the truck, turning the ignition. It started on the first try.

"Yay!" I gave the man a pleased smile and got out, leaving the engine running.

"That's great." He smiled back, disconnecting the cables and lowering the hood, before he went back to his own car. "Now, I suggest you drive around at least fifteen minutes to recharge the battery."

"What if it doesn't start tomorrow?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't have to walk to work in the rain.

"Well, it means the battery isn't holding a charge for some reason or another," the man explained. "If that's the case, it needs to be replaced. I'd keep an eye on it, especially when the weather starts to turn colder." He put the cables in the back of his car, giving me another dazzling smile. "Will you be alright?" he asked considerately.

I nodded. "Yeah. Thank you again. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't turned up."

He smiled as he went to the driver's side of his car. I tried to ignore the way my stomach fluttered as he looked back at me. "You're very welcome. I hope you have a safe drive home."

"Thanks. You, too."

As he drove away, I raised my hand to wave goodbye. Then, I climbed inside the truck, my stomach still fluttering strangely. I quickly turned off the heater, because I noticed I was suddenly feeling way too warm, almost hot. Even though the evening air was cool, I rolled down the windows as I maneuvered out of the market's parking lot, suddenly realizing I hadn't asked the kind stranger's name.