(disclaimer- i don't own twilight.)

please leave reviews if you read it. this is probably not going to have any more chapters.

Closure

His breathing was all out of whack as he got up closer, feeling a stem of self-reproach fill his stomach like a gallon of curdled milk. He couldn't keep his fingers from curling into his palms, couldn't keep from wishing he would just throw himself of the same cliff she fell from some time ago. He wouldn't achieve the outcome she'd almost gotten, and it angered him. He wanted to be able to rid of himself.

He thought he'd be able to handle it better than this. He'd practiced in front of the mirror for days, trying on each possible goodbye like it was a shirt, but not one of them seemed to fit him anymore. He'd debated whether to go in there with anger, with hope, with remorse, with apathy, with love...

He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip his own throat out.

Maybe he should lie, tell her that he met somebody great, somebody that made him laugh three times harder than she ever did. He could say that this imaginary girl was so pretty she could wipe out any competition with one single bat of her eyelashes. He could say that she was the best thing that'd ever happened to him and that he'd been stupid to think he'd wanted anyone else.

But he couldn't say any of that. He couldn't imagine wanting to hurt Bella that way. Dammit.

He could forge a note from Billy saying that he'd died tragically in some sort of collision: Eight-wheeler hits gigantic wolf on main road, wolf ends up dead. Good riddance. But Bella wouldn't ever read it, anyway. There would be no point to such a thing.

He groaned quietly.

The man didn't want to think anymore. He shrugged down against a pine tree, paying no attention to the mud soaking through his pants. He lifted his big, russet hand and wiped his forehead with the back of it. He was sweating like a pig. He'd never been so damn nervous in all his life.

He remembered the first time he'd seen her on the beach. It'd been windy and the air had moved her brown hair so strangely. It'd almost looked alive at the time. He'd been able to tell from that first glance that she was smart, quiet, nice. He'd been able to see that he would never find anyone like her, and he'd known that he would have to find a way to make her his.

That hadn't gone the way he'd planned it, though.

He remembered when she'd come to his house, asking for bike-repairs. He'd been very happy to oblige, and he'd done well to keep his concern hidden from her. You should've seen her face. It was all broken down and hollow. It was like somebody'd scooped out all the humanity, the emotion, in it, and had placed over it a nearly unrecognizable mask. She didn't wear it well. He'd liked her old face, the happy one.

He remembered the conversation he'd had with her leech, so long ago, in a freezing cold tent. He'd been lying beside her sleeping form, cringing slightly from her frost-bitten toes. He'd said fiercely, in a quiet tone, that Bella would be happy with him. If Edward had just stayed away, if he hadn't come back, Bella could have been happy without Edward. She could have been happy with him.

But maybe he'd been wrong about that. Maybe she wouldn't have been happy at all. He'd probably just been deluding himself. But, with him, at least she wouldn't have ended up this way.

Finally, he got up off the cold ground. He was determined now. He couldn't keep letting the hurt filter in and distort his plan. He had to end this for good now, for real. He wouldn't be able to see her again...ever again. He needed to make things right, he knew. He couldn't leave the ends of their friendship all frayed and bent like they were. They needed closure.

But it was so freaking hard, he didn't think he'd be able to manage it.

He cursed himself as he opened the back door, lightly. The knob twisted too easily beneath his fingers and it didn't make a sound. This was too easy, much too easy. Everything was pushing him faster in her direction, pushing him to the end. There should have been some kind of alarm, some kind of something that would alert the police to his presence and land him in jail for breaking and entering.

But no. It seemed God was playing some sort of cruel joke on him today. Everyday.

He wanted to hit somebody.

He stepped slowly, silently, down a long hallway. The walls were dark and the floor was dark and his eyes were dark, but he could see. And then there she was, lying motionless in a makeshift bed. She appeared to be sleeping, and his fingers felt very much asleep, too. He suddenly couldn't remember how he'd gotten there.

"Oh, Bella," he whispered with a voice that wasn't his.

He stooped to her side and took her cold hand in his. He couldn't believe they'd left her uncovered, and he couldn't feel his limbs.

"Bella," he said. "Bella you don't know how much I miss you." That was all he could get out before he forgot what else to say. He thought about lying again, about telling her that he'd found someone new who took away all the pain. But he didn't feel much like lying today. Instead, he let the words flow. "I'm so lonely without you. And hell, I thought it was bad before." He shook his head. His heart was lying somewhere beneath him, curled up like a child on the floor. His fingers shook.

Tears rolled down his face and took him by surprise. He made a wobbling fist, clenching his teeth. He'd promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Sighing, he gathered the strength to keep his words going. "So guess what, Bells. You know that little monster you were trying so goddam hard to protect? Ha." He snorted and it sounded weird, all mixed in with sobs like it was. "Well, that thing is what landed you here, you know..." He fell silent. His body seemed to be missing; everything was pain and tears and anger. He was sinking, slowly, deeper.

"I can't believe you did this," he shouted, heat rising. "Dammit, Bella. Dammit, dammit, dammit! I mean, how could you be so stupid? So illogical? Where was your head? Your pretty little freaking face..." His fingers grazed it. The flesh was so cold. She was frozen. He couldn't breathe.

"I imprinted on your little monster," he told her quietly. There were hands around his throat. He couldn't see them, not even with his super sight. He prayed to anyone who'd listen that they strangled him to death. "I bet you didn't expect to hear that. I didn't expect it either. Never saw it comin'." Jacob laughed bitterly. "I nearly killed it yesterday, just so you know. Your husband almost killed me for it, though." He paused, considering, and his eyes widened. "Wow," he said. "Holy crap. Husband. What a crappy deal that was, huh? Married for...what? A month or so? And then poof. You have a little monster baby and a dead wife...I almost feel bad for him. Almost."

Bella's arm seemed to twitch for a moment and Jacob jumped back, eyes wide and terrified. After a minute of staring, he pulled her back to him and held her tight. He wanted more than anything to warm her up, to bring heat back into her icicle skin.

"Bells," he said. "You know, I'm the very first of my kind to deny my imprint." He chuckled sadly. "Isn't that something?" Jake shook his head, staring into space. "She's beautiful though. It. It is beautiful. Has your eyes and everything. And you know what else? It has some stupid power. It can show you things. You know, like pictures? And guess what the hell it showed me. Come on, Bells, guess." He shook her a little too hard, believing for a second that she might really respond. He could hardly see her anymore. He had too many tears in his stupid freaking eyes.

"She showed me you. You...just before she killed you. Damn her. Damn that stupid fucking monster." The words were incomprehensible, but he continued. His left hand was in such a tight fist he thought it might have actually been broken, but he didn't care. "And then, and then, she showed me me, and I could feel love radiate from her. She loves me. LOVES me, dammit! I could kill her. I swear to God I could kill her. I want to tear her into pieces and burn the hell out of her. I hate her...so much..."

He pressed his face into the white sheet and sobbed. "Dammit, Bells. Why'd you have to be so dumb?"

Jacob suddenly jerked upward and picked up another metal table, only this one was empty. He flung it across the room so hard it smashed into two pieces on the opposite wall. He hoped somebody would hear it next door and call the police. "Hello? I think some psycho's broken into the morgue."

He shook his head wildly, unable to breathe. He wanted to grab her hand and make her come away with him. He wanted to, but he couldn't. She was dead. She was dead. He had to remember that, to believe that. He'd come here for closure, and, by God, he would get it.

He stooped down again but didn't touch her. He made a face. "You're dead," he told her bitterly. There were tears in his voice. "You're not coming back. You're gone. He couldn't save you. I knew he couldn't do it. I knew it, and I left, and I'm sorry. I should have stayed. I should have stayed in that room and helped him, tried to save you. It doesn't matter that it was hopeless. It doesn't matter that I knew it wouldn't help. It doesn't matter. I should have stayed, dammit! I should have stayed there and been there for you. I broke my goddam promise. I said I'd always be there for you, and I wasn't! I left while you were dying! I let you die. I practically killed you."

He sniffled. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm so, so, so sorry. You know I love you, don't you Bella?" He cradled her, petting her hair. The brown strands of it were wet with his tears. She was so white, so freaking white. And cold. "You know it. You know I love you." He rocked her. "I love you, Bella,"

Quickly, before he could say anything else, he stood and covered her face with the sheet. His feet led him slowly back to the door.

"I'm sorry," he whispered once more. And then it was over.