Title: Unspoken
Rating: T
Timeline: AU, as if Bella picked Jacob, post-Eclipse.
Characters: Bella, Jacob, (Olivia)
Couples: Jacob x Bella
Words: 1565
Beta-Read: None.
Summary: The accusing, the calmness yet guilt, and the agony of it all is too much for her, and she snaps in half, her eyes feral and she can no longer try to let it all pass over her as if it doesn't affect her. It affects her hell of a lot more than she wished it would.
Note: Because I'd like to do each of the J/B scenarios of angst.
Unspoken
He's bouncing from foot to foot, joyous radiance hovering around him. Bella has never seen him so happy—except after their first kiss, first time, and wedding day—so she's suspicious of his unexpected and sudden happiness.
He's acting normally enough—he ruffles their son's hair affectionately; he kisses their daughter's hair with a loving grin on his lips. He saunters towards her, puts her hands on her hips, draws her close. She tastes his lip, his unspoken love evident, and can't stop the smile that appears, just like every other time they kiss.
The kids go to bed and that's when the face falls; it's only then that Bella sees Jacob so vulnerable, so hurt.
"What's wrong?" she asks, anxious, worried. She can't be happy unless he's happy—it's the way their relationship works, and it goes both ways—so she stokes his jaw line, a thumb rubbing across it.
He shakes his head before sighing deeply. "Bells…" it's the way he says her name, the way he looks towards the floor and no where near her eyes. It's the way she sees him gulp—the unspoken emotions: nervous, guilty, sad—that tears up her heart into pieces that she wants to desperately see together again.
"Jake, what's going on?" She's scared, afraid—worrytensedscaredfearfulconcerned—but he's not saying anything. The worry's giving way to anger and she wants to know. "Jacob Black, what is so bad that you can't tell your own wife?"
Jacob looks up at her, his eyes wary, sad, and agonized. Bella embraces him, her arms around his waist, in a second flat, but his arms are limp and he pulls back. It's an unspoken rejection that shakes her to the core, that makes the uneasy feelings increase in fervor.
"What—?" she asks, confused, before he cuts her off, his words jarring her senses, her heart, her being, and she falls into a deep mass of nothingness, of darkness, of nonononono.
"I imprinted."
The two words leave his mouth, flat, emotionless, and her jaw drops. Her gasp is silent, her shock is registered, and he bits his lip, the frown growing deeper, the sadness increasing.
"Why?"
It's not the question she wants to ask—she wants to ask who? when? where?—but she settles for the simplest, most pressing question—why?
He sighs again, more deeply, more sadly this time and Bella's heart breaks further, jagged parts of a puzzle falling to the floor, like teardrops that refuse to fall from her confused, unbelieving eyes.
"I don't know, I don't fucking know and it kills me, you know that, Bells, right?" he asks, he pleads for her to understand. The unspoken need for her to understand is so clear to her—and she does understand. She knows that this was the risk she took when she first chose him, she knew it could happen. The threat hovered over them like a spy, watching, waiting—like a scorpion, poised to strike, to poison their happiness, the life they had built with so much care and so much love.
"I know," she says flatly. She doesn't know what else to say—when are you leaving? Who is she, do I know her? Is she prettier or nicer or more charming or funnier or cooler than me? What about the kids, our kids? Why now, why us, why me?—so she sinks to the floor, her stomach repulsed, her head throbbing, her heart aching from the unspoken questions that the answers she so desperately needs the answers for. Her lips quiver when he falls to his knees, reaching for her with untold—unspoken—necessity.
His eyes finally meet hers, and that's when that first crack deepens.
"When are you leaving, huh?" The venom in her voice should surprise her, repulse her, but she's glad. She's glad she can control the urge to yell, to scream, to wake up the innocent kids upstairs, not a care in the world. She's glad she can play the nonchalant card, the not-caring card, even though she cares so much that it breaks her heart, more than ever before—it hurts so fucking much, it's unbearable, unimaginable, incomprehensible.
She thought he had fixed her, those long years ago. Instead, he just breaks her, further, deeper, more.
"Embry's mother's old friend came over with her daughter—Olivia—but, Bells, I imprinted, yes, but—"
"But what? You fought it off? It didn't mean anything?" The anger's growing, rising. How dare he try to lie to her, to try to get hopes up? "Bullshit."
"Bells—I love you. I'll always love you."
The hits keep coming, she thinks. It's like a clichéd movie—it's not you, it's me, me the werewolf with this freakish and stupid power, only it's a curse and if I had a choice I'd chose you—and if she was in another scenario, she'd probably make some witty joke—Jacob has rubbed off on her, after all—about it, but she can't because she's broken.
She wraps her arms around herself, tries to protect herself, but it's too late—too late, maybe I should have picked Edward after all, the safe pick, forever, eternity, foreverforeverforever—and there's nothing she can do about it. "It all meant nothing, didn't it?"
He's shocked and she doesn't get it. He has no right to be shocked that she'd think that—no right at all.
"Bella, honey, listen to me for one second and please let me explain before you make assumptions."
The accusing, the calmness yet guilt, and the agony of it all is too much for her, and she snaps in half, her eyes feral and she can no longer try to let it all pass over her as if it doesn't affect her. It affects her hell of a lot more than she wished it would.
"Assumptions? Assumptions? You think these are just assumptions that I think will happen? Well, you know what, I trusted you! I trusted you to be with me for not-forever, until we died! I kept my heart beating for you and for you alone. I birthed two of your flipping kids—"
"She has a boyfriend."
"—and I love you too damn much for you to just walk out of my life like it's nothing! I don't care if you imprinted, I don't care if you have to be with her all the time! I don't fucking care. You are going to stay with me, even if it means you have to sneak out with your darling Olivia in the middle of the night because I love you and I won't let you—"
"I want to just be her friend."
"—you can't just leave me like this! You fixed me when Edward left me broken, and I love you, damn it, you can't do this to me, not like this, not now—"
"I'm not going to."
"—you stand there like you have something to be sad about, when I'm the one who's losing her husband because he has to be a fucking werewolf and has to imprint—"
"I love you, Bells," he says, calmly, a small smile on his face, though his eyes are still sad, guilty.
She pauses, takes a deep breath, is about to ramble further when it all crashes down on her, waves after waves of realization, of truth, of ohmygods.
"You—you what?"
He chuckles, the sadness edging away, though he's still guilty, she can sense it. "I love you, Bells, and no matter what, I'll always choose you. It just wouldn't be fair otherwise, would it?"
She's speechless, she shocked, she's happy. "Jake—oh god, I'm sorry, I just—oh god Jake! I love you too, always, I'm so sorry—"
"Shh, honey, it's alright. You—you won't leave me, will you?" he asks softly, worry coloring his tone and she laughs outright.
"Of course not, you idiot! Why else do you think I was just suggesting you cheat on me. I can't lose you," she replies, the complex of emotions of five minutes crashing through her again and again, but she's happy, she's content, she's glad.
"Thank god," he says, kissing her firmly, deeply, passionately, and she responds in kind. When they break apart, she's in his lap and his arms are securely wrapped around her, and they're foreheads are touching and he's stroking the skin of her lower back.
"Never, ever scare me like that again, got it?" she asks, trying to be firm, steady, but her voice is wavering but she finds she's doesn't care all that much.
"Never," he agrees immediately, without hesitation. She smiles widely, knows that it can't all be this simple, knows that they'll have to face the guilt that'll always haunt him. She knows they'll have to address the other, but for now she doesn't care because he staying with her and he loves her just as much as he did all those long forever years ago. "I'll prove it to you, too," he adds, a mischievous, yet wanting smile creeping onto his face.
She raises an eyebrow, suspiciously. "How exactly?"
When he stands up, lifting her up to him, his mouth on hers and her legs wrapped around his waist, their destination—the bedroom—is an unspoken agreement, an unspoken comfort, and an unspoken necessity to confirm what they already know.
Author's Note: I needed to write one of these, because that one fic I read was just plain horrible and urgh. So I make up for it.