Title: We Both Go Down Together
Characters: Edward/Bella
Rating: For now? PG-13.
Summary: A different view on what happens after Edward leaves in New Moon. There are three parts to this story. I wanted to write a very emotion NC-17 fic with build-up, so this will get lemon in part three.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, and I'm not making any money from this.
Author's Note: When you review, you're letting an author know that the hundreds of views on their story aren't just random clicks, they're people interested in what they're writing. Thanks a lot, if you take the time to do this. Reviewers hold a special place in my heart.
Dreams were fickle things. Sometimes, they could be agonizingly perfect, warm, and golden; a taste of utopia as you slept. Sometimes they were simply agonizing, a silhouette of the troubles that plagued you in waking life. The troubles that didn't leave you for a millisecond. The troubles that you did not need to be reminded of in slumber.
Sometimes, though, dreams could be both.
Edward was laughing, driving her truck, Bella tucked into his side with his arm around her. He was fiddling with the new stereo the Cullen's bought her, chuckling at the hilarious lyrics of a teeny bop song that was climbing the charts.
"Teenagers," Edward crooned. "No proper taste in music at all."
"Hey!" Bella giggled, pretending to be offended. "Not all of us listen to this tripe."
He replied by smiling broadly, kissing her lightly on the nose and pulling her closer. She brought her face up to the side of his neck and inhaled his deliciously sweet scent, letting it fill her lungs.
She leaned forward to put the CD that was his gift to her into the stereo system, eager to escape the annoying trills of the lead singer. She fiddled through the glove compartment, but it was nowhere to be found. She began to panic, searching for the CD, and she turned to ask Edward where it was.
He was gone. She shook her head, blinking at his sudden absence.
"Edward?" she whispered, looking around confused. The truck was empty, and she was now the one gripping the steering wheel.
"Edward?!" she repeated, louder.
She was alone. Again. The crippling sense of abandonment crept over her. She felt it tenfold in the wake of the perfect moment they were sharing just seconds before.
Bella woke with a start, breathing hard and clutching her chest. Her sleep schedule was ruined by the recent turn of events, often waking up in the middle of night like she did now. When Edward left, she had become less than a shell. Shells had hard outer cases and were empty inside. Bella didn't even have the outer layer as protection; she was broken, inside out. He didn't want her anymore, he had said. She wasn't good enough for him.
Seventeen days. It took her that long to finally react to his absence. She tossed the covers off of her, and ran from her room, down the stairs. She grabbed the keys to her truck, and rushed through her front door where she reached the old Chevy, shoes forgotten. She unlocked the passenger door and slid inside hastily.
Looking at the stereo for just one second, Bella began tearing at it with her nails. She clicked the removable faceplate out of place and began ripping at the expensive wiring underneath. She could hear the growls of frustration escaping her lips as she gripped as much as she could with her weak human strength. Using the keys to help her, she cracked the plastic in as many places as possible. She could feel the hysteria building inside her as she worked quickly, trying to clear away the memories by destroying the extravagant gift.
She huffed the mess of hair off her face with her breath and worked for a few more minutes, the tips of her nails breaking with the pressure and bleeding. The sight of her blood seemed to wake her up, and she stared around for a moment, shocked. Frozen in place, Bella took in exactly how much damage she had caused. The stereo system was dispersed around her, some portions at her side, some on the floor of the truck. The dream she just had stirred a new sense of delirium Bella had never felt before, and she could feel herself at a new breaking point. She was suddenly feeling every emotion the loss of her Edward had created, undiluted and raw.
The collapse in the forest on the day he left was almost welcome to her now. She was numb before, her brain protecting her by shutting down and catatonically dealing with the disaster that had just unfolded. She felt the hot tears streaming down her face as she wiped her bloody fingertips against her old hoodie, and clutched her knees to her chest, shaking with the force of the sobs that suddenly racked her body. She couldn't feel the pain in her fingertips, couldn't smell the blood that usually nauseated her. All she could do was face was the crude mix of feelings that had suddenly slammed into her. Her whole body quaked with the tears that were flowing freely now.
She had no idea how long she was there for, sobbing uncontrollably in her truck, her face buried against her knees. She could hear his name escaping her lips every few minutes, willing him to come back, willing him to reappear beside her and take her in his arms. She didn't care that he didn't want her, she wanted him to come back and pretend. She would welcome the facade, welcome it with every ounce of pleasure.
"Please," she called out, her voice raspy and desperate. "Please, please, please, Edward," she repeated, speaking to nothing but the broken remnants of the stereo system. She didn't care if this meant she was insane, she wanted the words she spoke aloud to come true. She willed them to come true.
"Bella?" A voice called from outside her truck. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she lifted her head to stare out the window, trying to see through the dark. She started sobbing again at the face she saw, a new wave of loss shaking her body. It was Charlie.
"Bella, what are you doing?" He reached the truck and opened the door, the sight of her bloody fingertips, broken stereo, and puffy eyes shocked him into silence. He softly put his arms around her waist and tugged her out of the truck, supporting her weight as they walked back to the house. Bella used the walk back to the house to force her face to show no emotion. She could not hurt Charlie by showing him this side of her.
"We should wash your hands," he said quietly, leading her to the bathroom.
She shook her head in objection, "No, no, I'll just shower, Dad, don't worry about it."
"Bella," he replied, agonized.
"I'm fine, Dad, I just..." she trailed off. She had no excuse formed yet, her brain was still reeling with the emotions of her breakdown. She shut her eyes, willing a reply to come.
"It's okay, Bells," he replied, sighing softly, face tense at the sight of her pain. "You do what you have to do."
She unwrapped herself from him and walked toward the bathroom, stumbling slightly. She didn't notice that she was still shaking as she shut the door behind her.
She turned the shower to a blazingly hot temperature and slowly pulled off her clothes, wincing as she started to feel the pain in her fingertips. She left her hoodie and sweatpants in a pile on the floor and stepped under the hot stream of water. She sighed at the warmth as she pulled the sponge that was hanging off of a tiny hook in the shower. Softly, she cleaned the dried blood around her nails as she willed herself not to return to the sobbing mess she was in the car.
Bella thought of Charlie, and this helped her resolve. She winced as she remembered the look on his face when he found her in the truck. She shut her eyes in concentration, a pained look on her face as she decided, right then and there, that she could not have Charlie see her that way again.
Her pain would not become a disease in the household. It would not spread, it would not infect Charlie. She needed to be strong, for him. She could break down in private, do it on her own time, but she could not drag him into the blackness her empty heart was creating.
The minute she opened the door of the shower, Bella would make sure her face held none of the pain that it did earlier. She would suffer through Edward's absence by herself. She was the only one who would suffer. She would become the empty shell. Cold, hard on the outside, empty and barren on the inside.