Wow. Sorry about the wait everyone. I guess I warned you, but I in no way intended for that update to take so long. My excuse...? Writer's block...laziness? Take your pick. Anyway, here's the chapter. I was really hating it until today, but hopefully you'll like it. Review please! Inspires me to update :3
Merry Christmas to those that celebrate it, and happy holidays to the rest!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series or any of it's characters...
It is the sun that wakes me up the next morning, rising at just the right angle to shine directly into my eyes. I stretch, rolling my neck to get the aches out and to get the circulation back into my limbs. The sunlight is bright and warm, though perhaps not cold would be a better description, as it's merely not frigid like most things have been since my transformation.
I look towards the house where Bella had taken up residence the last few weeks, and it is then that it hits me, that I remember the events of the previous day. Bella. Dead. Kill me. Gone. Please. No… the thoughts run through my brain rapidly and convolutedly as I try to tune them out and relax. A deep breath in, out, in, and out again, but I can still feel the tears pricking the backs of my eyes, threatening to seep forth.
I gaze around me, trying to concentrate on something, anything else. Seth's sleeping form, curled up a few feet away, captures my attention briefly—how his gray fur rises and falls with each serene breath—but it doesn't stop the thoughts, only reminding me of how upset Seth must be himself, although in sleep he shows no indication.
And then my eyes trail off on their own, into the house and the window through which I can just make out parts of the Cullen's living room. The place Bella had spent all her time until just yesterday…
Without thinking, I head for the front door, opening it without knocking, and striding in without hesitance. Sudden inexplicable anger rages through me, directed at the bloodsuckers', a burning seething blame that drives me into their home, ready to yell and argue and accuse.
But as soon as I enter the house, the atmosphere puts out the flames that had risen so violently like a fire hose, and my mouth hangs open slightly, forgetting what I had been about to say. Because really, who is to blame for Bella's death? He hadn't known…she hadn't wanted the monstrosity to be destroyed. She had wanted every action leading up to her death, and he…they…had simply given her what she desired.
Would I have done differently? Part of me wants to say no, I wouldn't have, I wouldn't have let her kill herself, however unintentionally, and however she felt on the matter. But I know deep down that I would have done everything to make Bella happy. Everything. I have no reason to blame him, or any of the others.
I turn my gaze to the room I enter, looking around, observing. The bloodsuckers, all of them, are seated around the living room at various intervals. Somber, serious, and lost, all either concentrating on the curled form in their midst, or staring off into space, lost in thought. It is such a familiar scene, yet so overwhelmingly different. For the sobbing, broken person on the couch is not Bella. No. He is larger and paler, with hair the color of a new penny rather than Bella's rich dark chocolate sheen. But apart from physical appearance, Edward looks exactly the same as his deceased wife had in her final hours.
Suffering through unbearable agony, but trying to hide it from the world, for the sake of others. I almost smile at the thought. How utterly Bella-ish he's being.
And then I notice the reactions to my entrance. The Cullens' disapproving, suspicious gazes are unnerving. Everyone, even Carlisle and Esme, are looking at me with ill-concealed distrust and almost…betrayal…
The aggression catches me off guard. Weren't we all buddy-buddy just a few hours ago? Hadn't they—for the most part—accepted me as a friend? Jasper growls and moves so that Alice is blocked from my view, and Emmett holds Rosalie tighter. Carlisle casts me a worried, apprehensive glance, and even Esme is frowning slightly, wrapping her arms around Edward protectively.
Edward. Oh. That's right. I tried to kill him last night. That's why. They think I'm here to try it again, to finish what I started. But I'm not the suicidal one.
"I'm not trying to kill Edward," I hold up my hands, offering peace, "I promise I'm not going to try anything. He asked me to…that's why. But I'm just here to…here to…" I trail off, unsure of what to say next. Why am I here? Bella is dead, gone; I shudder at the remembrance. There's no longer a need to protect the bloodsuckers, because the abomination is gone along with her. So why…?
And it is then that I notice the object displayed in the center of the large living room, large and rectangular and foreboding. A reminder of an event that didn't need to be brought up; it was already fresh in everyone's minds. A casket. Bella's casket. I can't help but be thankful that the lid is closed. Just the thought of her mangled, too pale corpse sends a wave of nausea through me.
Another muse replaces the image. There will be a funeral won't there? For everyone who had known the girl, for her friends, for Charlie…How will he take this? I knew she shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, that he would just be crushed like this, worse than before. But no real anger or annoyance comes at the error of Bella's actions. It's impossible to be upset with her now of all times. So impossible and just…wrong.
But they're still looking at me, waiting for an answer, though the antagonism has faded for the most part. My gaze falls on the only vampire that isn't looking at me. He's still shaking, so violently that it reminds me of Bella in that flimsy tent during the snowstorm. But she was shivering, freezing…vampires don't get cold. So the tremors must be of another cause.
"Is he going to be ok?" I ask without thinking, returning my attention to the rest of the gathering. A spoken answer doesn't come, but the room tenses slightly, and I can venture a guess. We can only hope…Uncomfortable silence settles over the assembly.
The subject of my question moves now, brushing his wrist across his eyes in a faint scrubbing motion. I lean in a bit, just to double check that there are no actual tears. There aren't…must be a leftover human reaction. His eyes are locked with mine, his too black ones with bags underneath of just a slightly lighter shade, and my own brown, which in any other scenario would have been considered dark. Again, he rubs his wrist over his eyes, discarding invisible tears. My lips twitch upwards at the uselessness of the action, but I keep from smiling, fearing it would be misinterpreted.
"I'm…I…Jacob…can I speak with you?" he whispers, so quietly I can barely make out the words. And even then I doubt my hearing, as the others' eyebrows rise in surprise at the content of his raspy articulation. He should be upset with me, angry and fuming. I hadn't killed him; I had subjected him to this eternal torture. Why couldn't I find even the slightest trace of wrath in his tone? But I nod, deciding I owe him this much.
To my surprise, he gets up, walking towards the front door and out it, not waiting for me to follow. His family tenses as he passes through the entrance, and I smile back at them as I leave. "I'll watch him, don't worry," I promise, and after a second of thought add, "And I won't try anything…I swear."
He doesn't stop just outside the house as I had expected, but keeps walking and walking, eventually breaking into a run. Afraid that he might be trying to make a run for it, I quickly change into my wolf form, sprinting after him. Leah and Seth wonder if they should help me catch him, but I decline the offer. I can handle this. Besides, if Edward manages to escape me and make it to the Volturi, all the better for him. I could uphold my promise and save him, because really, in his place, wouldn't I want the same?
Minutes pass, and still he runs, as I trace his steps, wondering where he could possibly be going. As if in answer, he stops, and I skid to a halt, taking in my surroundings as I slip into the clearing. It's a beautiful place, wide and open, deep in the forest. He's sitting off to the side, back against a tree, gazing up at the canopy of leaves, legs curled to his chest, arms crossed.
As I approach, he tenses, and I pause, pondering the action's cause, before continuing forward and sitting a comfortable distance away. The vampire's stench is stronger as a wolf, and I wince as it singes my nostrils, its sickly sweetness overpowering.
"Sorry," he whispers, a small, minute almost smile appearing in apology and slight amusement. And he hesitates, looking at the ground, then at me, then at the ground again, and so on, as if reluctant. I watch, smug amusement filling my mind at how utterly stupid he's acting. At the thought, his eyes meet mine, obvious offense clear in their murky depths, and I roll my eyes, waiting for him to get on with it.
"I…" he begins, gaze moving away once more, arms tightening across his chest, "I just…wanted to talk to you. You're the only one who can even begin to understand…you loved her, did you not?" I stare at him blankly, before rolling my eyes once more. No duh. He laughs, a weak, strained laugh, but resumes speaking, "I just…is there any way you could allow me to escape? Please, before my family finds out just…" And his eyes are back, locked with mine, pleading and misleadingly dry of tears. I know he would be crying if he could.
And then I think, reviewing my options. I sense Leah and (mostly) Seth's panic at Edward's proposition, but I tell them to keep from notifying the Cullens for just a moment. Just to let me think first. And reluctantly he complies, only easing his patrol closer and closer towards our current location, ready should his help be needed. Leah just scoffs, continuing her route, unaffected.
If I let Edward die, his family and Seth will be hurt. The bloodsucker winces as the images of their pain filled faces move through my mind, pulling his legs in tighter. But as far as I stand on the topic, letting him die would be a favor to Bella, keeping him alive would be torture. In his place, I would want death. At a loss, I consult Seth and Leah. Seth instantaneously vies for Edward's life to continue, but Leah pauses. A couple of minutes pass, before she answers. Don't kill the leech, she decides, almost regretfully, and her mind fills with an image of her little brother, devastated over the loss of yet another friend. Of course.
I look back at Edward, and he's looking away from me, fists clenched, head on his knees. I don't need to see his face to know that he's upset by the decision. Guilt floods through me and I inch forward slightly, wincing at the pungent scent. Trying not to gag on the all too overbearing smell, I nuzzle against him, trying to offer what comfort I can in this form.
Much to my surprise, he throws his arms around my neck, and buries his face in my fur, as Bella had done so many times. I start to pull away, but stop myself, succumbing to the disgusting scent, because he needs this. Though I do have to wonder why he doesn't seem bothered by how terrible I must smell to him. Her death must have made him crazier than I first believed.
His arms and face are cold, more so than Bella's ever were, and I almost shiver at the contact. It's like having ice cubes attached to my fur, minus the wetness—no tears.
After an hour or so passes, his breath starts to even and he pulls away slightly, eyes trained to left of my head, on one of his hands, still in my fur. "I'm sorry," He whispers again, and then pulls away completely, inching backwards. "I don't know what came over me I just…you remind me of Bella." And oddly enough he smiles, a real, true smile, though the undertones of agony do not lift, "she loved you so much Jacob…and she should have been yours. None of this would have happened."
And with those parting words, he gets to his feet, turning towards me once more, and thanking me. My brain is confused, but I force myself to utter a mental "you're welcome" as he takes off, back towards his house. I trail after him, slower this time. Thank you? For what? Breaking the promise, subjecting him to perpetual torture? He must be insane.