the song for this chapter is Roses by Poets of the Fall: good song. go check it. :)
AN: someone kindly pointed out to me a flaw in my writing, and i have now added information. i won't post it for those of you who haven't read it.
thanks TheFlyingCrayon 3
3. R O S E S
Edward's hand was colder than mine – harder, too. I wasn't sure why that was, but I wasn't going to stop and try to figure it out now. If I wasted any time actually thinking about what I was about to do, I knew I wouldn't do it. I grasped his hand and entwined my fingers with his. I stole one last glance at his anxious expression and closed my eyes, using every ounce of me to try and reach the long forgotten memories.
It started, fading in like the opening scene in a movie. I could feel Edward next to me; hear his slight gasp as he recognized the place we were in. I didn't look at him though – I knew it would break my concentration. I had to wait until the memory became stronger before I could look at his reactions.
Instead, I looked around me. We were in a small house – very small. It seemed we were in a bedroom of sorts, but it wasn't like any bedroom I had ever had to sleep in. The bed, so to speak, was smaller than the backseat of a modern day car and the sheets on it were as thin as paper. Someone was sleeping on the cot, and it was only then that I realized we were not alone in the room. A woman, a beautiful woman, stood in the doorframe, entranced by the slow rise and fall of Edward's chest as he slept. Every line on her face was etched with concern and fear. Her hair was a bronze color and it fell, in waves, down to her lower back. Her green eyes were filled with tears, and her face looked clammy. I knew who she was. Elizabeth Masen, Edward's mother, and I knew she was sick.
A sudden stir from the bed caught my attention – human Edward began to cough. He coughed and choked and wouldn't stop. His cheeks became flushed and his body shook with the force of his gagging. It hurt me on a different level than just my ears. These must have been the last few days of Edward's human existence and yet, he was still beautiful. His face was scrunched in discomfort and he was in a cold sweat, but his eyes were such a brilliant emerald green that it made his hair seem brighter – even more like copper.
"Edward," Elizabeth swept into the room and held her fragile son's head in her arms. "Edward it's getting worse. We must go to the hospital, my son. It may be our only chance left."
Edward nodded and started another coughing fit. His mother stroked his hair gently and hummed a lullaby, trying to conceal her own pain – and failing.
Once he had controlled his cough, Edward looked up at his mother. "What's wrong, Mother? What has happened?" Even in sickness – in humanity – Edward was practically a mind reader.
Elizabeth's face darkened and she stopped stroking his hair. She looked as if she might start yelling at the poor, dying boy, but then her tough face caved in distress. She began to sob.
"You- your father!" she gasped wildly when she could control herself. "He's dead! The hospital sent word this morning! He died from the influenza in his sleep last night!" Her shoulders slumped and she let her head fall into her hands. She started to sob again.
Edward, always the gentleman, strained to get up on his elbows and then wrapped his arms around his mother's torso. I was shocked to see tears streaming down his beautiful cheeks, too. I realized this was the first – and probably only – time I'd ever see Edward cry. I studied his features intently, watched the gleaming droplets of water roll down over his skin; watched them leak out of the corners of his luminous green eyes. It felt wrong to be so interested in his extreme sadness, but it felt… right at the same time. It was as if I were seeing a part of Edward that only he had known. As if I were getting to know him on a whole new level than I had ever known him before. It felt personal.
I chanced a glance to my left for the first time, looking at inhuman Edward's reaction. His face was fixed with a would-be impassive expression, and, were it not for the intense agony I noticed in his eyes, I would have thought he didn't care.
When he realized I was looking at him, he smiled crookedly at me – but it didn't go anywhere near his eyes. As if I hadn't already been regretting my decision to show him his past.
I tore my eyes away from his and settled my focus on the pair sitting on the bed again.
"I'm sure Dr. Cullen can help us…" I heard Edward mumble into his mother's shoulder. His voice was very weak, very human.
I watched as the scene before me began to fade into another setting. The room we were in began to change. Everything about it changed; the walls expanded and the one small bed became many rows of slightly larger – but still small – cots, all of which were filled with people. I clasped Edward's hand more tightly when I realized where we were – the hospital ward. And in the beds on either side of us – Edward and his mother were dying.
"Good evening, Carlisle," I heard a man say in a deep voice and a slightly British accent.
"Evening, Richard," Carlisle replied. I stared at him. I knew it was absurd of me to be so surprised at how much he looked the same, but I still was. "How are they?" Carlisle asked in more of a hushed tone, his eyes flickering over to the bed where Edward lay.
"They're not well," the man named Richard complied morosely, "The woman's fever went up today. We figure it's only a matter of time before she passes now…"
Carlisle looked down before asking, "And the boy?"
Richard simply shook his head sadly.
Carlisle nodded and began to walk briskly over to the beds we stood between. He looked at Elizabeth and shook his head again. He looked up then, at Edward, and stared at him. I watched the hope drain from his eyes.
Dare I look at the bed to my right? Slowly, I turned my head. I gasped at what I saw. Edward was a pale shade – and not the same pale as he was as a vampire. He was pale enough that I could see his veins – blue under his nearly translucent skin. His breathing was shallow and his breaths short, and though the room must have been over eighty degrees, he was shivering violently, a cold sweat dampening his clothes. He looked nothing like the sturdy, immortal Edward I stood next to. He looked like the faintest breeze would make him keel over.
I looked at his mother. Elizabeth was sleeping – dreaming. Her skin was as pale as Edward's, and I could see the sheen of perspiration on her forehead. She didn't look anywhere near as bad as Edward did, but if Carlisle was true to his story – she was much worse. Every now and then she would mutter Edward's name and I had no idea if she was talking about her son or her deceased husband. All I knew was that Edward was going to die first. I felt the strong urge to try to change him, to save him from his deathbed. But I knew he was merely a memory.
Carlisle turned his attention back to Elizabeth. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she stared up at Carlisle. With a sudden urgency – fueled by whatever her dream had been about, I was sure – she grabbed his stone cold arm and glared at him with something burning behind her eyes. Carlisle was utterly taken aback.
"Save him!" her voice, though hoarse, was somehow strong despite the frail look of her body.
"I'll do everything in my power," Carlisle muttered, reaching for her hand and taking it in his own.
"You must," Elizabeth rasped, firmly securing her grasp on his hand. Her eyes started to smolder like green embers, "You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."
Carlisle looked at Elizabeth for a moment with discomfort. I knew he was wondering if she knew his secret. Suddenly, as if she'd been hit over the head with an invisible frying pan, Elizabeth slumped back onto the thin pillow on her cot. Carlisle checked her pulse and then looked at Edward, uncertainty cushioning his eyes. He stared for a long moment at the shaking boy before his expression finally cleared into a mask of determination.
"I think I've seen enough, Bella…" Edward's voice came from beside me, and it reeked of misery. I regretted showing him this. I had known that I would, but I had done it anyway. With an effort, I released his hand.
Like the ending scene in a movie, the hospital ward faded to black and the dashboard of the Porsche came back into focus. I looked down at my knees for a long time before picking my eyes up to look at Edward's face. It was contorted with tearless distress and his eyes looked at something millions of miles away through the windshield.
"I'm sorry, Edward…" I hadn't wanted to show him, but I had. It was my fault he looked as morose as he did now, "I shouldn't have shown you…"
"Don't be ridiculous," Edward snapped, shattering out of his trance. "I asked you to see it. Well, bribed you really," his tone was teasing but his eyes were sad.
"Now you understand why I don't want Alice to know? Who knows what we would see in her life…"
"But… Alice would want to know," Edward looked at me sharply.
"Yes, but would she want to know after she'd seen it?"
"Yes."
I sighed. He didn't seem to get it.
"Edward. I see the sadness in your eyes. Don't assume I don't. I don't know if I could handle having to look at Alice's eyes in the same state as yours."
"I won't tell her. But you should, you know," he began sending me on a guilt trip.
"I know."
"But you won't." It wasn't a question. It was a fact.
"Not likely," I confirmed.
Edward sighed now. "Well, should we pay dear old Billy a visit?" he asked, his tone biting.
I had almost forgotten why we had come here – why we were even in the Porsche. Almost… I swallowed. Not that there was any saliva to swallow – but the feeling of my esophagus contracting calmed me… in a way.
"Let's go," I muttered.
Edward got out of the car and was opening the door for me less than a second later. I stepped out into the rain and inhaled deeply. I couldn't believe I'd ever been so hateful of the smell of the damp earth. I loved it.
Edward led the way to Billy's front door, his arm securely wrapped around my waist. When we reached the threshold, I reached up to knock. But before I could rap my hard knuckles on the wood, the big door swung open. At the clearing of the oak, Billy was revealed in his wheelchair, glaring – with the most hateful eyes I'd ever seen – up at Edward.
"Why have you come here?" he asked me defensively, though he was still staring up at Edward with disgust.
"Billy? Is it true? Jacob's really… gone?" my voice was small and shaky and human. Perhaps that was why he released his gaze from Edward to look at me with scrutiny.
"Give me one good reason why I should tell you anything. You're one of them now," Billy's voice shook with anger, and he did not relinquish me of his fiery eyes as I stammered.
"H-he… Jake… Jacob was my… he was my friend," I finally managed to spit out. "Don't I have a right to know what happened?"
"No," Billy growled. I felt Edward's arm tighten around me.
"Please, Billy…" And then I felt it. A warm, stinging, trickling sensation trailing down my cheek.
I watched as it fell to the welcome mat. So did Billy.
He seemed to know that regular vampires couldn't cry because his face was astonished.
I listened, still looking at the tear drop on the ground, to his wheels squeak as they backed away from the door and heard his deep, husky voice mutter that I should come in.
I looked up at Edward, and then stepped across the doormat. Edward began to follow, but Billy protested.
"I don't want that thing anywhere near me," he growled ferociously.
"I go, he goes," I said fiercely, staring Billy down – a near impossible feat. But he soon lowered his eyes and wheeled into the small living room.
"Why have you come here?" the old man repeated.
I looked at Billy, really took in his appearance for the first time that night. When I had seen him last, Billy was fifty-six – a young fifty-six – and he'd had a certain… confidence about himself. Like he had everything the world had to offer. But now, he was sixty-seven and his age was catching him. His hair was a smoky gray and his face was wrinkled to the point of no return. His eyes were hard at Edward and my arrival and his old lips were pursed in agitation.
"Billy. What happened when I left? What happened around here? Is Sam forming another pack?" I asked, some desperation tickling my voice.
Billy stared at me like I was an idiot. His eyes then flickered, pointedly, to Edward. His meaning was obvious – he would say nothing in plain view of the enemy. Not that it mattered – Edward was probably reading his mind.
"I really don't see how that's your business," his tone was flat, annoyed.
I let that subject drop.
I contemplated how to phrase my next question without bringing back painful memories, then decided there was no way to do that and asked flat out. "How have you been without him?" There. At least I hadn't resorted to using the name…
Billy's face fell and his tense shoulders slumped forward. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought he'd fallen asleep. Edward looked over his shoulder, out the window, embarrassedly. This wasn't a conversation that he wanted to be a part of, I was sure.
Billy looked up from his paralyzed knees, "I've gotten better."
He's obviously not ready to tell me the whole story, I thought. But he surprised me then by continuing.
"At first… well I didn't believe it. Sam came here at an early morning hour. I wasn't sure what to think, he usually only stopped by if there was immediate danger and he needed Jacob, but Jacob was already supposed to be with him. Sam was speaking fast and all I heard was the word 'dead' every now and again. At first I thought he was trying to tell me you were dead, Bella. I told him to slow down and start again. He told me Jake was dead and I laughed," Billy seemed tormented by this memory, "I thought the pack was playing a trick on me. I clapped him on the shoulder and told him to get back to work, but he sat me down and told me everything." Billy sent another piercing glare in Edward's direction.
"You killed him, you savage, didn't you?"
Edward looked back at Billy for the first time; his eyes were regretful and soulful again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Black," he said with sincerity and respect, "had I known your son was in the pack, I would never have laid a finger on any of them."
"Don't you preach your lies to me, leech," Billy snarled, his voice lined with utter despise. "I don't want to hear it. You and I both know you would have killed every last one of them no matter who it was."
Edward looked annoyed for the first time. "I would never hurt a friend of Bella's, and I believe Jacob was her friend – her very best." His tone had a note of finality to it, and I could tell that was the last he'd say on the subject.
"Jacob's friendship with her ended the moment you took her into your despicable lifestyle." Billy's face was flushing red under his russet skin. His eyes told me he wanted revenge.
Edward simply stared out the window again.
There was suddenly a deafening bang and the front door flew open to reveal a dark, monstrously huge man standing in its frame. Sam Uley started across the floor.
"What are you doing here? Get out of this house!" Sam roared at Edward. I leapt from my seat and was about to hurry to the door but Billy caught my cold arm in his hand and whispered for me to stay – it was Edward Sam had his attention focused on.
Edward looked calmly up at Sam and then raised himself slowly out of his seat. "I'll meet you in the car, Bella," was all he said and then he sauntered through the still open door.
Sam looked at Billy, then at me, and then back to Billy. They seemed to share a moment of wordless communication, gazing into each other's eyes, and then Sam went back out the door.
"Will he leave Edward alone?" I asked anxiously.
"If Edward stays in that hideous car he will." Billy's voice was still angry. "Sam's been helping me – taking care of me, in a sense – ever since Jacob was taken from me. Sam's been… great." Billy said the last few words sadly. I wondered if I should reach over to him and try to comfort him.
"Bella – I have something I want to show you. And then, I would appreciate it if you would leave." His voice was soft and hard at the same time. Final, as if this were a moment he'd been waiting for and dreading.
"Of course. I don't want to overstay my welcome…" even though I did. Being in this house had the wonderful scent of Jacob.
"Alright, follow me."
Billy wheeled around to the back door and started to roll across the wet lawn in the pouring rain. I understood at once where we were going – to Jacob's garage. I froze in the doorway, unsure of whether or not I wanted to proceed. It only took me a moment to realize that I did.
It caught me off guard at first, Billy's wheelchair had always been such a big limitation that he couldn't go outside without help. But as I stepped to the backdoor, I realized someone had laid a wooden path of planks all the way across the lawn. I wondered what was so important that someone took the time to lay a five-hundred foot path of wood so that Billy could get to the garage.
Once we were at the opening of the shack, I caught the very strong scent of roses. It was a bittersweet scent and I could tell there were many. Billy turned on the lights of the garage and I gasped at what I witnessed before me.
The garage had been completely transformed. The floor was made of earth, and it was covered in roses – hundreds of deep red roses. It was surreal! Then I noticed a path in the center of the garden that lead to the center of the room. I looked at Billy questioningly before advancing down the pathway. I came to an opening where the rosebushes cleared and a gray stone stretched up and out of the ground. I thought it was a grave at first, but then realized it was merely a memorial. A memorial to Jacob. I looked closely at the stone, reading the inscription.
Your loving smile will be forever here,
You haven't left us yet.
I felt the tears welling up again. I turned to Billy, questions bubbling to the surface. The one I would not have picked came out first.
"Why do you trust me?"
Billy's expression was grave. "I don't."
"So then why did you come back here all alone with a vampire?"
The answering voice was not Billy's. "He's not alone. And you are not a vampire."
I gaped. Sam Uley stepped out of the shadows, his eyes angry but his expression calm.
"I… I am though."
Sam just shook his head, "No, Bella. You are a human."
