A/N: Song fic! Random inspiration while listening to Colin Hays. This is basically a "what-if" Edward never came back after leaving Bella in New Moon.
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything.
I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You
She stepped outside, surprised by the cool breeze that met her. Summer didn't last long in Forks; and fall was sweeping in swiftly. She scanned the yard – an old habit – before continuing down the driveway.
Crunch.
Her feet met with crispy leaves, and she was glad for the noise. Any noise was good. The empty eyes looked around once more, and then she was off.
Running had been Charlie's idea. She, uncoordinated as she was, would never have dreamed up such torture for herself. But, never eager to upset Charlie, she had agreed to it.
After she began, she didn't seem to be able to stop.
It was barely 6:00 A.M. But when her screams finally woke her up, she was determined to do anything to keep her mind off of… well, she was determined to keep her mind from thinking at all.
School would be starting in a few weeks, and she wasn't sure what she would do when she could no longer run from her own thoughts. She supposed, and hoped, that schoolwork and the loose tangles of friendships that she had would keep her busy.
It hadn't worked last year. But still. She hoped.
She was always home when Charlie returned from work. That was very important. He couldn't know that she ran all day. He would get worried – may even suggest that she stop. He would know that she wasn't just running, she was running away. And she couldn't stop, she couldn't sit still anymore.
Even now, she felt his eyes always on her. He didn't even try to hide it anymore; just watched her blatantly, with a big, nervous stare. He thought she'd gone crazy. Maybe she had.
She wasn't sure how many words she'd spoken this summer, but it couldn't have been many. She rarely spoke at work; the Newton's put her in charge of restocking and organizing the back room. It was easy, mindless work, and she enjoyed it. Most of all, it didn't involve confrontation. Easily the best perk.
She didn't read anymore. Sometimes, she would read the very last scene in Romeo and Juliet, when Romeo comes crawling back to Juliet, only to find that she's dead. She can stand that much. She can stand the misery; can feel his pain. But she can't stand reading the love. That's too much…
Her feet took her down streets, up hills, around corners. She had learned this town back and forth, and never grew tired of the grey skies, or the constant mug. The sun shining was unpleasant to her, and on those days she ran quicker. The days when it rained were her very favorite. On those days, it would be hard to call what she did 'running', it was closer to a walk than anything.
It seems like minutes, but it's probably been about an hour, when she sees the sign for Mocha Motion. It's a small coffee shop that she's come to adore. When her nightmares were especially bad, she started stopping for a cappuccino to give her the energy to continue running.
Now, she just asks for straight black coffee, and goes outside to stand and drink it. It warms her fingers. But that's all it warms.
- I drink a coffee, every morning.
It comes from a place, that's far away –
Again, involuntarily, she scans the perimeter. It's moments like these that she hates. Moments when she can feel the words, the screams, the bile, coming up.
- And when I'm done, I feel like talking.
Without you here, there is less to say –
She downs the drink in a few eager, desperate gulps, and throws it into a trash bin to her left. It's barely in the bin before her feet start running again, and she doesn't mind the sloshing of the liquid in her stomach.
- I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy.
What is closer to the truth,
is if I lived 'til I was one hundred and two –
The thoughts were catching up. She ran faster.
- I just don't think I'll ever get over you –
This pace was alright for a few moments, and then she broke out into a sprint. She was dimly aware of herself beginning to sweat. But she couldn't stop. It would get her.
It always did, though, in the end. She never outran it.
- I'm not longer moved to drink strong whiskey.
I shook the hand of time, and I knew
that if I lived 'til I could no longer climb my stairs –
Faster. Faster. She pushed herself, what muscle she had, every fiber of her body, to run faster. She must have looked like a maniac. But that didn't worry her. Nothing worried her except for the monster that was about to catch her. Always behind her. Always waiting for her to look back.
- I just don't think I'll ever get over you –
Like she did every day, she ran into the forest. Her feet crunched twigs, leaves; the ground was wet under her steps. Her body was radiating heat, her heart pounding into her ears. It was catching up, and she could feel her eyes misting over. She could feel herself giving up.
She always gave up.
And when she couldn't run any longer, she slowed, and tripped. She fell hard, onto the cold, wet ground. The coffee in her stomach threatened to come up. Her voice was no use. She couldn't; wouldn't scream anymore.
She let it wash over her. The hole in her stomach ripped open. There wasn't any use trying to cover it, trying to hold herself together. It ripped her in half, the pain – the searing, blinding, white-hot pain. And as the past caught her, it took her in waves. Lapping over her, covering her; pulling her under into the blackness that she tried so hard to outrun.
- Your face it dances, and it haunts me.
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears –
The cold, bitter eyes stared at her then. Never the warm, topaz eyes that she vaguely remembered loving… only the cold, unforgiving eyes that left her. That hated her. That didn't want her.
- I still find pieces of your presence here,
even after all these years –
Even those cold, hate-filled eyes were just a memory. None of it was real. It was all gone. So gone that she wondered how she had ever been so happy, and if, maybe, it had all been a dream. Something her subconscious had imagined. A ghost time that never really existed.
- I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner.
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do –
Digging for strength, gritting her teeth with effort, she pulled herself up off of the ground. Her face was wet with tears, her chest constricting painfully; throbbing as her heart willed itself to beat.
She was running again, certain of where she was headed. For the first time in a long time, she wanted the sun on her face. She wanted her tears dried. She longed to be whole and not continually, daily, ripped into half. Her mangled heart throbbed on.
After what seemed like hours – hell, maybe it was hours – the trees began to clear. She saw him. Her tears were falling again, and she tried to remember how to speak – to yell.
Her voice was husky, full of tears, sleep, and the past.
"JAKE!" She shouted, and after half a second she tried it again; tearing after him.
"JAKE!" Her voice shrieked, sounding stronger – still desperate, still frantic. But stronger.
He looked up. His eyes met hers, and his face fell into an uncharacteristic frown. Her hair was in her face, her eyes were red, her knees scuffed. She was shaking her head and running fast – very fast, towards him. Coming closer.
- Even though I may soon feel a touch of love,
I just don't think I'll ever get over you –
When she hit him, she hit hard. It knocked the breath out of both of them, and while he struggled and panicked, she stayed calm; not breathing.
It was behind her still, but as she held fast to Jacob, not breathing, she realized that it wasn't grabbing her. It wasn't pulling her under. It wasn't washing over her and tearing her apart.
- If I lived 'til I was one hundred and two –
She blinked and saw, for a moment, the golden eyes that she hadn't seen in so, so long. They stared with pain, and then she saw, for a split second, his smiling face.
She went limp in Jacob's arms, and all at once erupted into tears. Sputtering, hiccupping, gasping for breath – she opened her eyes to get the heartbreakingly familiar face out of her head.
- I just don't think I'll ever get over you –
It would be gone now. As if he never existed. And it would never stop hurting.
But with the next word, she felt the sun come out, and she felt stitches in her torn chest. The fire licking; burning her insides was out. The emptiness was there, but as Jacob spoke, for the first time in nearly a year, she felt her heart give one strong thump; she knew she could fight. She could stop running, now.
"Bella?"