Disclaimer: ok, this is a bit dodgy on the infringement front. I am rewriting chapter 22 and 23 of 'Eclipse' from Edward's point of view. It is not intended to be mistaken for the original, merely enjoyed as a parody.
Author's Note: There's no point in pretending that this is anything other than a present for sisterglitch. But, as usual, I would be delighted if my personal amusement entertained anyone else.
I would love to kill Jacob Black.
Since Bella would never forgive me if I actually did so, I can only imagine killing him. But, I do that a lot.
My favourite day-dreams are of killing him slowly and painfully, while Bella watches with an admiring smile. (Even in my day-dreams I couldn't kill him without her approval.) I would kill him while he was in his human form, not because I am afraid of his wolf-form (though I am sure the potent stench would ruin whatever I was wearing), but because I want to be able to see the exact expression on his face. I want to watch him wince and whimper, and cry. Yes, I very much want to make Jacob Black cry.
But, it would upset Bella. So, I won't.
Imagining how to kill Jacob Black is the best way I can think of to pass the time while I wait for him to carry – yes, carry – my Bella to me.
I have set up camp, a rather flimsy tent that is apparently the best that human design has achieved. It would have been better to build a log cabin. I could easily have erected a little place for the night and taken it down tomorrow, but Alice told me that someone would notice and a log cabin suddenly appearing in the middle of nowhere would raise suspicions.
So, I have bought the best tent that I could find and carefully fastened it down, ensuring that I didn't put my hand right through the side of it. I've laid floor coverings and sleeping mats down, to try and fool myself that I am not asking Bella – the light of my existence – to sleep on the floor. I've done everything that I can to make this little camp-site comfortable and snug for Bella, but even so, it is less luxurious than her bed at home. I hate failing.
I'm pretty sure that Jacob Black is taking his time. He is probably revelling in this walk, enjoying every single moment of holding my Bella, feeling her soft body in his arms, smelling her sweet scent.
How I hate that boy.
I smell him just before I see him. I allow myself one low warning growl, which I know that Bella won't hear and he will.
Then, I have to restrain myself, behave myself, reign myself in and get my anger under control. I must not threaten the dog. I must not glare at him. I must not let Bella see how much I hate him. She would think that I didn't trust her, and that would be horrible.
Somehow, Bella trusts me, even though I lied to her and betrayed her horribly. I can't let her think that I don't trust her. She has been nothing but faithful to me, far more faithful than I deserve.
No, Jacob Black is my punishment for leaving her. Had I not left, he wouldn't be as important to Bella as he is now. I have created this situation. I will bear my punishment with as much grace as I can, knowing that I deserve even more suffering than this.
Bella gets ready for bed and settles down in the sleeping bag. At least the dog is staying outside. I can still hear him and smell him, but he can't see Bella. He isn't locked into a bubble, which is filling with her scent and her warmth. He doesn't get to kiss her goodnight.
I get to kiss her goodnight. I get to hold her against my chest, breathing in deeply enough to smell Bella underneath that covering of wet dog that Jacob's given her. Bella smelling like him is just another part of my punishment for leaving.
Had I not made that stupid mistake, then my fiancée wouldn't wear the scent of my rival. Bella thinks that's all over. I left, I came back, I apologised, she forgave me. As far as Bella is concerned, that's the end of it. Of course, I am reminded of it every day.
Every day I see the scars of my mistake. I see Bella's new anxiousness around me. She will never be rid of the idea that I could leave, and I might leave her again. She cannot trust me as fully or as simply as before. From the moment that I met her, I knew that I would destroy her innocence, but that doesn't lessen the guilt now that I have done so.
When I hold her now, she grips my shirt in her fist. She never used to do that. But, ever since I left, she has twisted my shirt, holding on as tightly as she can, even in her sleep. I don't think that she knows that she does it. It can hardly be a conscious effort to hold me. Her hand could never be strong enough to hold me.
The fact that it isn't conscious makes it worse. Unconsciously, Bella is trying to hold me. Her sleep is not as peaceful any more She still leans against me, she still mutters my name, but now she holds on as firmly as she can, whitening her knuckles, pulling on my shirt. Now she mutters 'don't go' almost as often as she mutters 'I love you'.
I know that she likes to hold on to me while she sleeps, but the weather is getting colder. I cannot stay next to her tonight. I slip away, hoping that she will sleep in peace.
She wakes up, desperately flailing. Not knowing what she's missing but knowing that she's missing something. Her arm reaches out, her hand searches, but she doesn't find me. She wakes up calling my name. It ought to be a curse, but it sounds like a blessing. Despite everything I've done, she doesn't hate me, she loves me.
"I'm here, Bella," I tell her. "Go back to sleep."
She rolls over and screws up her eyes. She must be having trouble seeing me. It is a little dark.
"Why so far?"
I sigh, "the air is cold and I'm colder. I don't want to suck away all your body heat." It is in my nature to suck all that is good and alive away from Bella. It is not only her blood that I want. I take her innocence, and even her heat.
Bella frowns. "I like the cold."
I laugh, remembering the first attempt I ever made at a conversation with Bella. I know that she doesn't like the cold. She likes heat. When she first moved to Forks, the cold and the wet made her miserable.
"You hate the cold," I tell her, "I remember."
"I've changed my mind."
I laugh again. "It doesn't matter, any way. If you get too cold then you'll get sick. Whether you like it or not, the cold isn't good for you."
She's trying to chaff her arms without me noticing. She doesn't want me to know how cold she really is. Perhaps she thinks that she could persuade me to hold her again. There is no way I am touching her before the sun comes back.
I have seen humans cringe away from my cold touch before now. I won't give Bella a reason to cringe away from me.
I'm an idiot. Only an idiot would have begun this evening, happy to feel the warmth radiating from Bella. How can I have sat here, pleased to feel Bella's warmth filling the tent? When her warmth fills the tent, then it isn't keeping her warm any more She's freezing.
The night wears on and Bella gets colder and colder. She's shivering.
I have to keep my distance. I would only make her colder.
"We should go back," I said, "you should be indoors, with central heating and hot chocolate."
Bella shivers, "and undo all my work from this afternoon? I don't thi-think so."
I caught her beginning to stutter. She is too cold.
Who should I curse first? Alice for failing to warn me of this storm? Victoria for bringing an army upon us? Myself for not thinking enough, and letting Bella freeze? Definitely myself. I should know better.
Jacob thinks so, too. He heard the catch in Bella's voice and he was thinking that we should abandon the camp and get her indoors.
"Please, Bella. You need to warm up. You won't be able to sleep in this cold."
Pansy. Jacob thought, distinctly unimpressed to hear me pleading unsuccessfully. I'd like to see him do any better! Actually, forget I thought that. I do not want to see him persuading Bella of anything, ever.
"I can live through one c-c-c-old night, Edward." Did she hear her teeth chattering as clearly as I did?
Worse than refusing to go back to the house, Bella persists in worrying about Jacob.
I can hear him grinning. She isn't worried that you're too cold, leach. Did you notice that? How did he get so good at taunting me? Nobody ought to be that in control of their thoughts. Sometimes it seems as though Jacob is as good at thinking at me as Alice is. I hate him.
I hiss at him, knowing that he will hear and Bella won't. I didn't dare speak. In the silence of the tent, she might have made out a word, and she wouldn't understand why I was annoyed with her . . . friend. Her pet, more like.
Do something! Don't you care how cold she is? What is wrong with you?
This time, he whines to give a verbal emphasis to his thoughts and Bella hears him.
"What do you want me to do?" I ask. Half-hoping that he's going to escalate this into a fight. I couldn't start anything with Jacob, of course not. But, surely, if he started it, Bella would understand me defending myself, and her. Wolves are unpredictable. He didn't really look like the Jacob she knew when he was in his wolf form, perhaps it wouldn't shock her so much if she saw me rip a wolf's head off. It wouldn't be ripping off her friend's head exactly.
Carry her home, you fool! Why are you even here? Can't you do anything useful?
"Carry her through that? I don't see you making yourself useful. Why don't you go fetch a space heater or something?" If nothing else, that would get rid of him for a while.
Bella continues to insist that she is fine. But, when she speaks, her voice shakes with cold. She is very obviously not fine.
You are so whipped. Jake thinks at me. If you're not going to do anything, then I will. I'm coming in there.
I watch, through his mind, as Jacob phases and grabs his jacket. I don't see what use that is going to be. Bella is plenty dressed already, and she is snuggled into a down sleeping bag. One jacket is not going to help matters at all.
I have a better idea, he taunted. Then he spoke out loud for Bella's benefit, "you said she needed a space heater, and here I am."
Yeah, this is what I meant. I meant, please come into a tent with my girlfriend. Why am I not allowed to hit him?
He cheerfully informed Bella that he ran hot, and smugly reminded me that I was the opposite. Is she ever going to need a man who feels like he's already dead?
I slipped up and growled too loudly, earning myself a reproving glare from Bella.
She probably couldn't see in this light, so she didn't know that I was looking apologetic. Jacob did, however, and he winked at me.
Then, he – teasingly slowly, surely knowing that he wasn't going to have his arms for very much longer – unzipped her sleeping bag.
I grabbed him. He must be out of his tiny mind. How could he think that I would allow this?
Once again, Bella saved the dog's limbs. She told me not to fight. We stand there, his hand still on the zipper, my hand still on his shoulder.
"I'm sure she'll thank you for this when her toes drop off."
He's right. He does feel hot under my hand. Hot enough to warm Bella. I can feel the warmth from him warming my own cold skin. If I do let him touch Bella, then she'll be warm. That's more important than my own sanity.
It is not an easy thing to do. But, I've done difficult things before. I take my hand off his shoulder and slip back, away from Bella.
He climbs in beside Bella, who barely protests. She's cold, I tell myself, that's all, she's just cold. But, I wish that she'd kicked him out. I wish she'd said that she would rather freeze to death than sleep cuddled up with that dog.
He teases her, suggests that she remove her clothes.
I growl a little, but there's no point in making too much fuss. I can already hear Bella's breathing beginning to steady. Much as I hate this, it is working. Part of me doesn't even want rid of him now.
He offers to kiss her and she tells him to behave. It's not a slap in the face, but at least she didn't say 'yes'. I suppose that's the most that I can hope for tonight. If I am very lucky, she will still want me in the morning.
Bella's heart is slowing as she settles down. She's going to sleep.
Jacob, on the other hand, is still fully conscious. He's enjoying the feeling of Bella's body pressed against his. Her toes on his legs, her fingers on his chest, her cheek on his shoulder. He's imagining how it would be if she changed her mind, if she got rid of me, and let him hold her like this every night. He's imagining her feet stroking up and down his legs, making their way up his thigh. I screw my eyes shut and try not to whimper.
The other wolf arrives. I wonder if I could possibly arrange a switch. Obviously, I don't want anyone cuddling up with Bella, but if someone is going to, I'd rather it was anyone but Jacob. I would need to get Bella to ask, though, and she's very nearly asleep.
She groans and I feel guilty. Her rest is important. I should simply bear my torture.
It is torture.
Jacob is enjoying himself so much. He marvels at the tininess of Bella's toes. Her feet are so small and delicate, against his leg. He imagines them, once more, between his thighs. Then, she shifts a little and her hair brushes his cheek. Suddenly, he is imagining her head between his thighs, her hair brushes against his stomach, her lips around his . . .
"Please! Do you mind?" I cannot stand it. I have to stop him.
My words jerk him from his pretty little daydream and he's embarrassed at getting caught. As he should be, it wasn't very imaginative or very respectful.
Jealous much? It's not only warmth. Being alive means that – if we did do it – she could get pregnant. Does that bother you as much as this does?
"Yes," my voice sounds lost, even to me, goodness knows what the dog will make of it, "I'm jealous of that too."
Odd that he answered. It was rather insensitive. I wouldn't have asked that kind of question aloud. I wonder what else he would tell me. Would he tell me about himself?
"Maybe I would."
"But would you be honest?" He's not used to conversing in his mind yet. He still uses his voice, when he's actually thought about what he's saying. I guess he isn't completely in control of his thoughts yet.
I like the distraction, not only for me, but also for him. While we're talking, neither of us are thinking so much about what he's doing, with my Bella so close to him.
He hasn't spent nights holding a sleeping Bella, so he assumes that she's fast asleep right now and unable to hear him. I wonder if I can push him into saying something stupid, something to make her hate him. But, I have to be careful, she can hear me too.
He asks if she loves him.
Well, of course she does! Hasn't he noticed?
"I can't tell you if you're right."
He assumes that I don't know. He thinks that, since I can't read her mind, I can't tell how she feels about him. But I don't need to read Bella's mind to know that she's in love with Jacob. I can see it in her face. I can hear it in her voice. I can feel it in the ripping pain I get whenever anyone says his name. Of course she loves him. But, if she never realises it, then she won't leave me.
A sudden wind threatens the little tent and – quite instinctively – Jacob wraps his arms tighter around Bella and pulls her close. It's a brotherly instinct, for once, and I'm grateful.
He asks me to remember those times when I almost lost her. I owe him for keeping her warm, I suppose, but he is ungraciously determined to collect.
"And that other time – when you thought she was dead?" It will be like that when he kills her. Did he feel as bad then, as I will feel when – if – he sucks her dry?
We talk. I remind him that she loves me. I remain civil – well, as civil as possible. He makes a couple of half-threats, but he isn't going to say anything stupid. Carefully, slowly, I lead the conversation away from changing her, trying to bring it back to him, trying to lead him to admitting something that he wouldn't want Bella to hear, something that might show him in a bad light. He's almost as tired as she is. He's easy to lead.
"I had a game plan" he admits.
I almost ruin everything by laughing. How easy it was to get him to admit to attempting to manipulate her feelings. Surely hearing that will change her opinion of him. Surely she will see now what I've been trying to show her for so long: this creature is playing a game with her. "It was a well thought-out plan" I say, hoping that arrogance will make him elaborate.
But, he doesn't. Instead he returns to talking about children, and trying to persuade me to leave Bella for her own good. Still, he admitted to a 'game plan', Bella can't have liked that.
It's probably the best I'm going to get. Bella has been in this half-sleeping state for too long. She needs to sleep. I hum the lullaby that I wrote for her and listen as her breathing changes once more and she finally drifts away.
I sit all night, watching her sleep in my rival's arms. It surprises me when she twists her tiny hand into the waistband of his shorts and grips the fabric tightly. I shouldn't be surprised, of course, I had already concluded that she held onto me unconsciously. Still, holding on to him isn't the same thing at all. He isn't me. Maybe she doesn't hold my shirt because she wants to hold me after all. Maybe she just wants to hold something, and anything will do. Him, me, a blankie.
Jacob is surprised by her tight hold as well. He imagines her tugging his shorts down.
I growl a slight warning at him. Surely, even the dog knows that you don't start anything with a sleeping woman.
"A stray thought, don't worry," he says. I can hear the laughter in his voice. For a moment I wish that I had Jasper's gift rather than my own. Sometimes it would be nicer to read feelings than thoughts. I don't know exactly what he means.
After a while Bella begins to talk.
She says my name, a lot.
It's almost a consolation. She may be holding him, but she's thinking of me.
Even when she says, 'Edward, don't go', it is almost a relief to hear it tonight. Though I still hate having broken her heart; I don't know how I would have felt if tonight, in Jacob's warm arms, she had stopped worrying about me leaving.
Then she says 'Edward, I love you,' and, though it is cruel, I breath a sigh of relief. I needed to hear that.
Jacob is grimacing and pretending to be asleep. He doesn't want to talk to me any more Not while Bella is telling me that she loves me in her sleep.
Then, it all changes. Suddenly, she's talking about him and he's all ears. 'Jacob. Jacob, my Jacob'.
Can you hear her? Does she talk about me a lot in her sleep? Do you worry that you're not enough for her? Not man enough?
I hate him.
Even when she says my name again it doesn't help. He is replaying the previous moment in his head. My Jacob, he thinks, hearing it in her sleepy voice, Jacob, my Jacob. Oh, he's adding his own words now, I love you, Jacob. Touch me, Jacob. My Jacob.
He keeps wondering what it means. Is she just now realising how much she loves him?
I cannot help wondering the same. It had seemed clever to let Jacob talk, to let him admit to trying to win her over, to cunningly playing with her emotions. Now, I think I may have mis-stepped. Maybe hearing me say that I didn't know whether or not she loved him, Bella has been musing on it. Maybe she has realised how much she does love him. Maybe it wasn't only Jacob and I who were thinking of what he can give her. Maybe Bella has been thinking of what Jacob can do and I can't. Maybe she's going to choose him after all.
The night is miserable. He drifts into the forgetfulness of sleep, but I cannot have that escape. I have to sit all night, while he holds her, worrying about what the morning will bring me.
She holds onto him all night long, just as she usually holds onto me. I don't know whether that means that her holding me was nothing at all, or if it means that she is transferring some of her affection to him.
Part of me would like to wake her and ask her. But, that would be absurd. She needs her sleep. I ought to be glad that she is sleeping peacefully, even if she has obtained that peace by gripping Jacob Black.
I wish that he was wearing a shirt. The way that she holds me: her arm laid over my stomach, her fingers gathering a knot of the back of my shirt, always used to feel intimate. Now she is holding him: her arm over his hip, her hand gripping his waistband, her thumb pressed against the bare flesh of his lower back. This hold seems more intimate. I wish that he was wearing a shirt, so that her hand was higher up his body. If she must hold something, why can't it be something more perfectly innocent.
She's asleep, of course, so this means nothing.
He's asleep too, though he enjoyed the feeling for long enough before he succumbed to rest. There's an extra layer of intimacy in them sleeping together. I wish that I could fall asleep in her arms, just once. I wish that I could be so vulnerable with her.
When he moves in his sleep, she moves too. It's like a sort of dance. Their bodies are aware of each other. I wish that I could share that kind of dance with her. When I want to dance with her, she complains and feels self-conscious I wish that I could hold her in that intimate surrender, just once. Just once, I would like to sleep holding Bella.
It's a night of sheer torture. I get to see what it would look like if she chose to leave me for him. This is how it would be for the rest of her life. I wouldn't be able to go far away, so I would watch her. I would watch her with him: holding him, sleeping with him. Every night, I would watch her with him. Every night would be just like this. It's a ghastly preview of my own personal hell.
I only make it through the night without screaming by reminding myself that she loves me, she's agreed to marry me. This is a one-off, I tell myself over and over, trying to believe it. This isn't my life. This is a one-off.
She will wake and she will tell me that she loves me. When she's awake, she won't want to hold him any more, she will want to hold me.
Dear God, when she awakes, please let her want me and not him!
While I sit and hope and pray, she sleeps. She sleeps peacefully. I think that she does prefer to be warm. She never lets go of him. She holds him for the entire night, as if she were afraid that he might leave her.
Eventually she wakes and she looks at me. I wonder if tonight has changed her mind. I can almost hear her dismissing me. I look into her eyes, big and brown, honest and concerned; and I pray that this isn't the end.
She smiles at me and asks about the weather.
When she tries to get up, she is trapped and can't move. The dog is too strong for her. She struggles uselessly against him. She can't even reach around to undo the sleeping bag. I've been waiting for her to ask because I don't want to lose all the credit that I've built up. I was being so perfectly patient, I mustn't ruin it all now. Finally, she says "a little help?"
"Do you want me to take his arms all the way off?" I ask, trying to conceal my longing with a smirk.
Bella isn't amused.
I undo the sleeping bag and Jacob tumbles to the cold ground, hitting it satisfyingly hard.
Then he rolls on top of Bella, crushing her! She's so little and so fragile and he is like a gorilla or something: a huge, sweaty weight crashed on top of her.
I move him quickly. Perhaps I throw him a little hard, but I don't follow it up with a punch to the face.
If this is the fight, then he started it.
He's shaking, about to phase. I make sure that I'm between him and Bella. I'm poised for the snarling and the teeth and the claws. I know that he is no match for me, he's only a baby. But, I must keep between him and Bella, even without meaning to, he could rip her skin like tissue paper.
I can hear the other wolf outside, yapping to join in.
Then, Bella is there, once more taking charge.
"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it now!" She's got her hand on my chest, and her other hand on the dog. But she's looking at me. Her eyes are stern. Whatever the truth of it is, if I fight the dog now, I will be in trouble.
She checks on the dog. She's worried that his slight bump might have hurt him.
She isn't worried about me.
All the concern fades as she turns her eyes back to my face. "That wasn't nice. You should say sorry."
Jacob Black is grinning. Even the puppy is amused at the sound of the big bad vampire being scolded by his girlfriend.
My most childish side is in the ascendant now and I feel myself pouting like the teenager I will forever be. "You must be joking – he was crushing you!" How come I'm not being thanked? Why is she annoyed with me? Surely it isn't just because I gave Jacob a bit of a push.
She doesn't back down. "Because you dumped him on the floor! He didn't do it on purpose, and he didn't hurt me." She's glaring at me, and all my fears from the night are coming back. I had hoped that, once she awoke, Bella might give me something, some sign that she still loved me. I had hoped for a bit of a reprieve. Instead, I'm getting angry eyes and I feel like a little boy being told off. I had better win her over fast.
Are you going to let her boss you around like that? The dog is taunting me.
But, of course I'm going to let her boss me around. If she wants me to, I'll give him a kiss to make up. He would do the same, if he were me.
Say sorry, like a good boy. He goes on.
Well, I may have to do what Bella says, but I certainly don't have to obey Jacob Black. Instead I say "my apologies, dog." Bella isn't thrilled, but she isn't scowling at me any more. I think that I can get back into her good books. I will just have to be a bit more charming. The danger hasn't passed. There is no time to lick my wounds. I will have to keep fighting for my love, or I risk losing her here and now.