WARNING: MENTIONS OF CHARACTER DEATHS
Pairing: BLACKWATER (for mewlingquimlover, who begged (^-^) )
Rating: K+
Genre: twisted fairytales, from my "Twilight Twisted Fairytales" collection
Word Count: 500
Prompt: [photo of an Apple iBook sitting open on a bed]
A/N: My German is rustier than my Russian, so I spared you the worst of it. Bitte. ;) More of these to come, less German in future flashes and one-shots. :D
Die Vergifteten Apfel,
Kurze Märchen der Wölfin
The clouds parted as Leah wandered the bazaar in Port A. To humor Jacob, she agreed to another grimy swap meet trip to track down parts for an ancient motorcycle rebuild he had underway. As the shop's first commission, he wanted it perfect. He started off on the right foot, hiring Leah as his office manager. Now, if she could just keep him under budget…
She knew it was a lost cause, but enjoyed the feel of his warm hand as he tugged her from booth to booth, oohing and ahhing over unrecognizable scraps. His face lit up and she envied him that joy, the simple pleasures, even as low as the last three years laid him with Bella's depression and eventual suicide—the same day Leah lost her dad.
Sometimes, she wondered, if not for their shared grief…
But it didn't bear thinking about—their loved ones—all gone in the Spirits' time. Bella, Jacob's parents, Leah's dad, Harry. Sam…
Pecking her cheek, Jacob squeezed her and promised to be right back. Nodding absently, she forced one foot in front of the other, ignoring the dragging sensation that seized her whenever Jacob let go of her hand. Her anchor in the worst of times, she worried about becoming too dependent on him. A little space should be good.
"It still hurts," a thick German voice rasped.
The breath caught in her throat and Leah spun to face her innermost thoughts spoken aloud.
A stooped old woman in plain black with a white collar peered at her from a table piled high with fruit, soaps, and bottled rosewater.
The woman's clear eyes, older than Eve, filled with secrets. "Such is the fate of your kind," the woman mourned.
My kind…
"Wölfin," the woman whispered.
She-wolf.
Eyes wide, Leah retreated a step.
"No!" the woman called, reaching out. "I can help the pain."
Wary, Leah searched the crowd for Jacob. Seeing no sign of him, she angled for more information while she waited for his return. "What makes you think I need help?"
"Not help, then. I misspoke. You are strong." The woman smiled. "This is … a reprieve from your grief. It hinders your happiness, prevents you from trusting those you should." The smile deepened, a wide, toothy grin of surprisingly even, white teeth.
Leah thought of Jacob, his simple pleasures. She wanted that—with him.
"What would I have to do?" she asked.
The woman's hand disappeared in the folds of her skirt, buffing something on her apron. She held it aloft.
An apple, red and glossy, shined like a picture in a magazine.
"Go on, have a bite," the woman urged.
"Leah!" Jacob called, breaking the spell. He emerged from the crowd, clutching a brown paper bag. He grinned. "I got you something."
"What is it?" she asked in a daze.
"A surprise." He offered her the bag—filled with the unknown. She glanced at the glossy apple and its promise of relief.
Making her choice, she reached out and embraced the unknown.