The characters are of course not my property, but they are oh so lovely to visit and play with...

Night Terrors

I awoke gasping, feeling like I was unable to catch a solid breath. It was the same old dream, again. The same dream that had haunted me since I was a teenager. Jake. The old truck. Our first kiss. And me, a wreck. Me, lost, alone, and trying to fill an unfillable void.

It happened in the dream just like it had happened almost twelve years ago. Except for the end. The ending was not real. Couldn't be real. Could not be real because that would be even more heartbreaking than what had really happened.

I was broken then. And I would not be broken again. Ever.

Jake had held me. His breath warm against my neck- just as warm and comforting as it was today as he slept soundly beside me. He had hesitated, lips almost touching, but not quite. And I had reached out for him, trying to stop myself from drowning in the sorrow that threatened to take me then. His kisses soothed me then as they still do now, though not as frequently. The windows of the truck had fogged, clouded with the moisture from our still damp clothes after my free fall at La Push, and with the heat of his body on mine.

I remembered the sadness. Loving Jake...wanting to give him something to ease his pain at Harry's passing. It had felt good to be wanted. After feeling deserted for so long, it had been easy to just let go, to let it happen.

I touched my fingers to my lips, remembering those first kisses. Jake's kisses. Warm and tentative and then growing more heated, more insistent. More...possesive. He had been almost fierce, as if trying to brand me...as if he knew that I hadn't really belonged to him and that I would always...Stop it Bella. Now.

I let him. Let him take me, right there in my driveway, in the front seat of the truck.

His hands had fumbled with my buttons, finally tearing my shirt in his frenzy to get beneath it. And it had felt good-the warmth of him against me, lips, breath, tongue-momentarily erasing the chill that had set into my bones since...Stop.

I had slid onto his lap, grinding against him...enjoying the sensation that had always been carefully denied by...And god, but his hands had been everywhere, all at one time. He had whispered my name over and over, "Bells, sweet Bells, my Bells"...

I wasn't sure which of us had reached for the buttons to his cut-offs, but they had been off in a hurry. I smiled, remembering my suprise that he hadn't been wearing any underwear...hell, he still didn't wear any today much, come to think of it.

He had laid me back against the seat, and I had wrapped myself around him willingly. He mistook my small gasp of pain to be the same sort of passion he was in the throes of. He hadn't grasped my pain at all, any more than he did today. Hadn't guessed that when he had entered me that first time, that not only was there a small sting of physical pain, but that my broken and bleeding heart had broken a little more.

He had taken his time though. He let my inexperienced body find his rhythym, and then let me lead the way until I couldn't tell who was pushing or arching. Couldn't tell where he had ended and I had begun. It was slow and sweet, and we came together that first time.

He had apologized repeatedly about my shirt, forcing me to wear his inside. He had paused on the front porch, a strange look on his face, frozen. And in that moment, all those years ago I had decided.

I had decided to live. Really live and really try with him, my Jake. Because in that moment when he had frozen at my door, I had been terrified that he was going to leave me alone inside. Alone with thoughts that were ripping my insides to shreds when all I wanted to do at last was move on...just like...

I smiled again, remembering Charlie's reaction. He had come home that night to find Jake in my bed with me-clothes on, granted-and he had been happy. Not furious and disappointed, but happy-maybe relieved I guess. He never fought our marriage, never complained about how young we were, never questioned our age difference. And that had sealed it for me. I had made two of my favorite people happy. Jake was estatic. Charlie was pleased. And the subsequent years, and two children that followed, had blended together, until recently.

Because now the most that I slept was two hours at a time. Because now the dream was back. Every night. Sometimes more than once.

Jake and I in the truck that first time. Except for the ending.

The dream's ending was not the sweet relief that reality had been. The dream ending shook me to my core...ripped open an old wound...made me question everything I thought I knew to be true...because at the end of the dream...when we got out of the truck...Edward had been there, and the look of hurt on his face haunted me in the glare of the sun just as it haunted my dreams.