This takes place in an AU after Edward leaves in New Moon. Bella has never formed a friendship with Jacob, and Edward has not reunited with his family. This is only a one shot, and will not be continued. Is it possibly a little over-the-top with cheesy romance? Yes. But still, let me know what you think.
"You have about five seconds to get out of my house, Edward Cullen, before I'll have to personally escort you."
Charlie Swan's voice was deep and gravelly, weighed down like stones with both grief and anger on behalf of his daughter. His threat, while empty, stung me. Charlie wouldn't touch me, and even if he tried, he couldn't move me. But simply the fact that he even had to entertain the idea of physically removing me from his tiny, handkerchief-sized kitchen made my dead heart ache.
"Three minutes, Charlie," I pleaded. "Three minutes, and I'll be gone."
He seemed to contemplate for a moment, the sound of his internal thoughts supporting the architecture of his face. What if he hurts her? he wondered. What if, after he leaves, she gets worse?
"I swear to you that I will never hurt her again," I swore, accidentally answering his thoughts as if he'd spoken them into existence. I stiffened at my error, but Charlie seemed to think nothing of it.
He looked up at me, his mouth still curved in an angry sneer, but his brown eyes buttery and molten with some deep emotion. "You don't know what it's been like," he murmured, clenching his hands into fists. "You left, Cullen. I'm all she had. You don't know what it's been like."
I winced at the flood of mental images that deluged the middle-aged brain cells of Charlie Swan, grimacing in horror at the reflected picture of Bella, on the floor, her eyes cold and lifeless. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought she was already a vampire.
"I'm so very sorry," was all I could muster.
Charlie scoffed, his thick, black brows setting into an angry line above his eyes. "I understand that your family had to move. Really, I do. But no phone calls? No letters? She waited. Everyday. It was pitiful."
Again with the mental pictures. I saw Bella through his eyes as if she were directly in front of me, perched helplessly on the curb outside of their modest, two-story home. Rain was pelting off her back as she wept, her hand gripping the wrought iron of the mailbox.
Waiting for letters that would never come, Charlie added bitterly, perfectly accenting my anguish.
I ran a hand feverishly through my hair, the small amount of blood that I'd consumed that day stilling in my veins. "I thought it would be easier to make a clean break," I whispered, my voice heavy and labored. "If I had known the pain…" I couldn't continue.
"Yeah, if only you'd known," Charlie muttered, his sarcasm too flat to give his monotonous voice any sort of animation. "Well, Cullen, I know. I've seen almost everything. And everything that I haven't seen, I hear through the walls."
"She never got better," I said firmly. It wasn't a question. It was a statement, marked with finality.
Charlie winced. "It's only been a little under a year. She's been trying." But not hard enough, I guess.
My eyes became heavy as I saw million of pictures of her hollow eyes in Charlie's thoughts, tearless sobs threatening to rip through my body.
"Why did you come back?" Charlie finally asked, breaking the silence. He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms. I'd better keep my voice down, or Bella will know someone's here. No need to upset her.
I took a deep, unnecessary breath, my eyes darting to my shoes and then back up to Charlie's face. "I was always going to come back," I answered honestly. "I…I couldn't stay away. I left because I had to, but I was always going to return."
I don't understand. "I don't understand," Charlie said.
I couldn't say too much. I was always saying too much. But how could I ease the pained soul of this man who had been left to clean up the destruction I'd created in my wake? How could I describe the inner turmoil I'd experienced everyday I tracked Victoria, everyday I melted into the dirty attics of South America, when I was supposed to be in sunny Los Angeles with my family?
"I had to leave. For my family. For her," I said quietly. Charlie's eyes widened infinitesimally.
"I'm still not grasping what you're saying to me."
I quickly formulated a lie in my brain, altering it so rapidly as to make it as close to the truth as I could manage. "I had the option to stay here," I explained. "I could have remained when my family moved on. But I left with them, because I assumed that it could…that it would be good for Bella."
And you were wrong, Charlie thought bitterly.
"Our relationship was always extremely intense," I continued, choking back the devastation that Charlie's thoughts were pouring on me. "Bella was consumed with me, and I with her. I thought that…if I left…she would have a chance. A chance with someone else, someone better for her."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "She doesn't have a chance without you Edward," he said, his voice so quiet that the human ear would have barely been able to detect it over the sound of the rain falling in noisy patterns through the glass of the kitchen window.
I nodded once, my head suddenly very heavy.
Charlie had never understood the intensity of my love for Bella. He grew to be resentful of it, placing foolish restrictions on my time spent with her while not realizing that the moment he sent me away from their home, I'd scale the siding up to Bella's bedroom. But somehow, something had clicked in his mind about Bella's feelings for me. What was too intense or too serious for him before, now strangely made perfect and complete sense. Yes, we were young, and yes, to the human eyes, our love could have been seen as unhealthy. But as Charlie watched Bella's wounds try to heal themselves, he finally…understood.
"But you have to understand," Charlie said, interrupting my reverie and almost perfectly echoing my inner monologue, "I can't let you see her. I can't let you go up those stairs knowing what she must look like right now. I know the look on her face, I see it every time I close my eyes. I can't let you go to her now, knowing that you're going to leave her again." Knowing that I'm going to have to pick up the pieces again. Knowing that she won't have the smallest chance of keeping herself alive.
"I'm here to stay, Charlie," I promised, the intensity of my voice sending a series of shivers up Charlie's spine.
"But how do I know that?" he pressed, the stiffness of his tone becoming more and more desperate as the conversation wore on.
I swallowed heavily, trying to find the words to explain to this man that not only would I never leave Bella again, but I couldn't.
I loved Bella. I loved her so much that it crippled me, morphed any other woman's face besides the faces of my sisters and my mother into a blur of unseen beauty. I couldn't see their faces, their eyes, their lips. It was as if there were headless corpses walking the streets, their scents repelling as the memory of Bella's freesia and lavender swept through my body. There was no one else. And I couldn't survive anymore.
I had come back to Forks after my surrender. I'd planned to exit her life permanently, the smallest voice among many in the back of my mind telling me that she would be better, happier. But I wasn't strong enough. I wanted to be, but I knew, as I lay against the dusty floorboards of a foreign place to me, that I was too weak.
I needed her.
So I began running. A haunting song pounded in my ears as the wind ripped against my granite form, the tenors and chords of Bella's closed mind trailing mysteriously throughout my dried bloodstream. I heard the arpeggios of her laughter, the melodies of her victories, the soft notes of the moments we lay together in her bed while Charlie slept unknowingly. I heard the harmonies of her happiness, the transitions of her growth. But, most of all, I heard the repetition and hollowness of the sounds of her face the afternoon I played her lullaby softly, the scent of her tears trailing down her perfect, scarlet cheeks.
I was going back to Washington.
I wasn't sure how I thought Bella's face would look like after all this time. It had been just under a year since I'd left, and I'd assumed that she would look very much the same. The image of her face in my mind drove me to run faster, thanking whatever god there was that South America was mostly contiguous with its Northern sister.
After what seemed like years, the song in my mind changed drastically, and very suddenly. It was now one of dread, of fear, only dark notes of the lowest octave pounding against my sharpened eardrums. My heart, had it been fully functioning, would have been stuttering erratically beneath my chest.
I froze to a stop, my body humming as my steady breathing stopped all together. The Forks district line.
Welcome to Forks! Population: 3192.
Home.
Bella.
Could I do this? I had come so many miles to find her, to beg for her forgiveness. I was weak. I needed her. Did I deserve redemption? Of course not. But my hands ached for her, my feet itching to pull me forward and through the window of her peaceful, warm bedroom. A place I hadn't been in so long. A place I yearned for, with the bed and the blanket I'd grown accustomed to so many moons ago. And Bella…
Before I knew it, the dew from the grass of her front yard was staining the toes of my sneakers, my mouth hanging open in both unreserved terror and anticipation. I had battled both vampires and humans of the most vile sort without fear or reservation. How was it that one tiny, eighteen-year-old girl somehow frightened me beyond any of the monstrosities that I had faced in my lifetime?
Was she even there? What if she was gone? What if she, too, had moved on, as I had once hoped? What if she'd moved with Renee, across the country to a sunny place where monsters couldn't find her?
Well, if that were the case, then I had a plane to catch.
But suddenly, a sound so familiar that I could pick it out of a mass of people anywhere in the world whipped my head in its direction, a flood of the deepest emotion I had felt in my century of living sweeping me up in its undulating embrace.
Bella's heartbeat. Her breathing. A soft whimper of desolation; the most devastating sound to ever break the walls of my porcelain skull.
The sound alone pushed my anxiety to the back of my priorities, propelling me across her lawn at an inhuman speed. And that's how I found myself fixed beneath the stare of her father, her caretaker, the last person she had left.
"You have about five seconds to get out of my house, Edward Cullen, before I'll have to personally escort you."
I nearly chuckled a humorless laugh at the recollection of how drastically the conversation had turned, from meaningless threats to pleads for his daughter's preservation. Only three seconds had passed as I remembered my journey to Forks, the sound of Bella's beating heart, the scent of her pure, coppery blood.
"How do I know that?" Charlie had asked me. How do I know she'll be okay? You shouldn't trust him. He'll just hurt her again.
I ignored his questioning, knowing that my intentions were finalized and unchangeable. "Three minutes, Charlie," I begged.
He searched my face for a moment, his thoughts loud and angry before finally fading into a peaceful murmur. He found something in my eyes that settled him, in spite of the fact that, naturally, my predatory gaze made the dark hair on his forearms stand at attention.
He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
"I hope you realize what the consequences will be if…if…" If you leave her again. Charlie's worries were heavy, heart-breaking. Unnecessary.
"I will never leave her again, Charlie. Not ever." My vow was solemn, and he recognized that.
He deliberated for another long moment, his dark eyes shifting hesitantly back and forth in their sockets. His heart beat feverishly, beads of sweat building on his brow. "Three minutes," he relented. "But if I so much as hear a single sob, you're gone. Forever. Hear me?"
I tried to fight the smile that was forming across my face, but my efforts were fruitless. "I can never thank you enough, Charlie," I whispered. "For keeping Bella together. For saving her."
He harrumphed, his shoulder sagging as he remembered, for the thousandth time, the face of his daughter. The expression that would be with me for the rest of my life. The look on her face that I would make sure never took over her features again.
"Go to her," he urged in a harsh breath. "Just…be careful."
"I will," I swore, backing slowly from the kitchen.
I paused at the foot of the steps.
Although it was raining, a pale gray light spilled into the foyer, illuminating the first stair leading to the second floor. But as the steps climbed higher, the darkness of the upstairs hallway drank what little light there was. It was menacing, even to me, a monster.
Bella's door stood directly at the top of stairs, a small bar of the same whitish light as in the foyer spilling from beneath its solid maple. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, holding it in my throat as I climbed the stairs carefully, one by one.
I was there. I couldn't turn back now. I was there. So close to where I had longed to be for months now.
My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob, a deluge of Charlie's thoughts echoing from downstairs and flooding every thought in my extensive brain.
Bella in the grass, the sun on her face, her body still and lifeless as the wind ripped through her dark hair. Three months after Edward left.
My hand touched the cool brass of her doorknob.
The sounds of her crying. I couldn't sleep at all that night. I remember just listening to it, trying to find signs of closure, signs of healing, but I found nothing…
I twisted the knob in my palm ever so slightly.
The day I turned the radio on in the cruiser. The weight of her body in my arms as I carried her up the stairs, tucking her into her bed as silent tears dripped from her cheeks. She didn't move for days.
My palm twisted so many degrees.
Jacob Black. I'd hoped he could be good for her. I wish she'd liked him, at least enough to be friends. Maybe then she'd be happy, and Edward would have something to come back to. Maybe she'd be better off…
Another few degrees. The door would almost be opened.
Christmas. The worst day. Nearly as bad as Valentine's Day. Almost as terrible as the day she graduated…
My features twisted in pain as I saw the moments I'd lost in Charlie's head, my chest burning as I saw Bella in her cap and gown. Another milestone…
The knob would not turn any further. I knew that I had to face what I had destroyed, accept whatever ending Bella chose for the two of us. I pushed.
The door swung open.
"Knock next time, Dad."
The voice alone made me jump, caught me off guard. There was no inflection, no intonation whatsoever. Her voice was hollow, raspy, empty of every and any emotion. My hand flew to my dead heart, clutching the material of the shirt that covered my chest.
Bella's back was turned to me, and she didn't lift her head to acknowledge my intrusion.
I stayed, frozen in place, unable to move even the smallest muscle. Her hair, usually so dark and inky, was dry, splitting on the ends and twisting crazily across the cotton of her pillowcase. Her heavy comforter rose and fell with her breaths, her spine riveting out of the soft flesh of her back in a fashion that was nearly frightening.
"Dad?" she called again. The effort behind her volume was pathetic. I heard the sheets rustling where her feet were, and I nearly ran from the room. I knew she was preparing to turn to me, to face me.
"Do you need something?" she asked again, gathering the duvet in her tiny fist as she adjusted herself to turn towards the doorway.
I opened my mouth, contemplating whether or not I should answer her. But my throat was suddenly so dry, so raspy, that I could not have produced sound even if I had wanted to.
Her eyes were pinched closed, dark rings beneath them, and her lips cold and pale. She was nothing like my Bella. She was a ghost, a shell of a person. This was what I had created.
No, I hadn't turned Bella. I hadn't created a vampire. But I had still created a monster. I had altered her life so completely that there was no hope left for her now. She was a person only minutely different from a corpse.
Her lids parted suddenly, her chocolate eyes lazy for the shortest moment. And then she really saw me.
The way in which she reacted was not what I had expected.
She sat up carefully, starting at the toes of my shoes.
Her eyes, slow and roaming, trailed from my feet and up the dark denim of my jeans, settling on my knees. Her pupils dragged slowly up to my hips, over my torso, and lingering on my chest, her mouth open in an almost disgusted 'O' of shock. Leaving my chest, her gaze skimmed over my neck, lingering on my throat as if she were afraid to look at my face. And then, ever so carefully, she allowed herself to see me, to meet my gaze.
It all happened suddenly then.
She was on her feet, at a speed almost like my own, her eyebrows pulled together and whiny gasps scraping from her throat. She was shaking, her entire frame jolting with an almost sort of amazement, burning into my skin as I stayed frozen in the doorway, my hand never leaving the knob.
She stared for a silent measure, her arms slowly reaching around her torso, her fists grasping at the cotton of her t-shirt so tightly that she looked as if she were holding herself together.
"Is it…is it you?" she gasped, her voice sharp and shattering.
I smiled sadly, my eyebrows lifting as I nodded deeply, the emotion emanating from the sound of her voice and wrapping around my heart.
"You…how…" she stuttered, thick tears now streaming ceaselessly down her pale, wasted cheeks. "Why are you…"
I was no longer in control of my body as I crossed the room to her in one stride, gathering her fragile limbs in my hands as I cradled her to my chest. She continued to tremble, her hot tears staining pools against the fabric of my shirt, her gasps and sobs muffled by my chest. Her arms remained firmly by her side, the scent of adrenaline coursing freely through her veins.
"Bella," I breathed, planting a kiss to the top of her head.
I realized that she could do one of two things. She could either shove me from her—or, try to shove me from her—and order me to leave. She could cry and shout, shoving daggers into my impenetrable flesh as the guilt of the last ten months pinned me to the floor. Or…she could…she could wrap her warm arms around me in return, and she could accept what I'd done. Which was what she was doing now.
I opened my mouth, a gasp escaping from my throat as she squeezed my ribcage between her wrists, her tears thicker now than ever and strangled hysterics reverberating from the walls of her room. I kept my eyes pricked for Charlie's thoughts, his warning about hearing Bella crying replaying in my mind. But his mind was quiet, unconcerned. Almost…relieved.
I felt Bella's lips press against my chest, trailing up the side of my neck, before her lips finally ghosted along the ridge of my ear. "Thank you," she whispered in a broken breath.
I leaned away from her, careful not to let go of her in fear of the round of hysterics that the absence of my grip would bring on. "Why in the world would you thank me?" I asked, my tone colored with confusion.
She sniffled, letting out another whimper. "I'm not sure," she blubbered. "I don't know why you're here. But thank you for at least showing me your face. It's so much more beautiful than what I've been seeing in my head."
My eyes, heavy once again, pinched as I buried my face into her wild hair, planting wet kisses behind he ear. "You're ridiculous," I chided, my stomach jumping with satisfaction that she was in my arms. By some miracle, she hadn't sent me away.
Bella squeezed me tighter to her. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. "Why did you come here?" she asked, her voice small.
I picked her up in my arms, her legs wrapping automatically around my waist as I lay her gently against the bed. I set her on her side, curling up beside her to look directly into her face. This was it. She could accept it, or deny it. And I had to be prepared for either outcome.
She was still crying. Her legs wrapped around one of mine as her hands reached around me in desperation.
"Bella, I'm home," I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew how true they were.
"Forever?" she whispered, her tears spilling over her lips.
"I can't stay away anymore," I answered, rubbing her jaw with my thumb. She had a small scar there. A puncture from flying China as Jasper lunged towards her, bloodlust in his eyes…
She burst into sobs again, as if she were reading my thoughts. I felt her face nuzzle into my neck again, the warmth of the saltwater dripping from her eyelashes bathing my skin.
"How do I know that?" she begged, echoing Charlie's worries from just minutes before. "How do I know you won't disappear? It's been so long…anything could happen…but, somehow, you're here...I don't understand."
I kissed her temple, my hands pressed firmly against the small of her back. "I am in love with you," I whispered. "I will never forgive myself for what I've done. I swear I would have never done what I did had I known that you would…that you would be like this. But I couldn't stay away anymore."
Another round of hysterics shook her frame as she gasped for breath, her body heaving against mine.
"You're really here," she cried, leaning back to meet eyes with me. The whites of her eyes were tinged pink, her dark eyelashes sodden as she ran her fingertips over my cheekbones, my lips, my jaw. As if she were trying to re-memorize everything.
"I'm here," I affirmed, half of my mouth pulling up into a smile. "I'm not going anywhere."