Chapter Four: I'm On Fire
I'm immersed at the start. Covered in gray and black and debilitating darkness. It's so impossibly cold and void of everything else.
After an immeasurable amount of time there's light. It's a bright white that filters through the water and shows him to me, his figure thrashing beside me. I see his eyes next. His beautiful eyes, they're wide and terrified like I've never seen them. Bubbles float from his mouth and I can hear the muffled cries, can feel the vibrations of it all around me. He has to calm down.
I reach an arm through the water but the seatbelts pulling and he's just out of reach, like always. After too many seconds grasping and struggling with the buckle holding me I know there's no use. I'll never reach him. I'll never save him.
My lips open, intent on screaming his name, but there's no sound and my mouth fills with ice and dirt and something metallic. It's vile on my tongue and makes me feel more desperate, more panicked. The feelings are as sharp and piercing as the water surrounding.
I look to him again and he's flailing and then twitching.
From the feeling of burning emptiness in my own lungs I know. I know it's caught up to him the way it will catch up to me any second now. My heart clenches painfully the moment he stills. His beautiful eyes are too empty now, void of the sparkle when he laughs, void of the darkness when he's angry, void of everything I love so much about him.
I can see in those eyes that he's gone and everything hurts worse than it ever has. It's loss and drowning and I'm screaming his name over and over again in my mind, knowing that any second from now I'll be with him, wherever he's gone.
Edward!
Edward!
Ed-
And then the world is shifting. The cold is gone but I'm still struggling to breathe and everything is blurred, hidden behind salty tears and darkness. It takes nearly a minute of fighting the hold and gathering my bearings to realize the water is gone and he surrounds me instead.
He's alive and holding me so close. The hands I haven't felt in over a week are running over my back in soothing circles and his breath is tickling my ear with whispered words. His stubble scrapes against the soft skin of my cheek and I breathe deep into his neck, smelling the pine and warmth and everything Edward. My hearts still beating fast but my clenched muscles slowly release.
"Edward?" I know it's him but I need to be sure it's real. I need to know that this isn't just a figment of my twisted mind. I pull back and lift my eyes and hands to his face. It's dark but I can see the life in his eyes, can feel the clench of his jaw under my fingers. "You're here." The last word is a sob and the feeling of relief is overwhelming.
"Hey, it's okay. Everything is okay." His voice is still a whisper and his hands are on my face now, wiping the tears away and rubbing my cheeks with the rough pads of his fingers.
"I tried but I couldn't…" I pause to breath deep and swallow the lump of fear lodged in my throat. "I couldn't save you. You were gone." Another stream of fresh tears but his hands are still there to catch them. "I can never save you."
"Bella, look at me." I do as he asks without hesitation. The moonlight shines against the white of his eyes and I can't see the green but I can see the heavy emotion there. "I'm right here." A feather light swipe of his thumb over my damp cheek." It was just a dream."
"It felt so real. It always feels so real." He's close and making no move to push me away and I couldn't be more thankful. I need the touch, I need to hold him in my hands as he allows, need to feel the tangible reality of his presence.
"I'm right here." His hands are less tentative now, holding to the sides of my face and my neck and making me feel more grounded. He knows what I need.
"I know." And then it's silence. I'm breathing his air and his scent and relishing in the touch I've ached for, the touch that burns hot and lulls me like nothing else.
"I thought it was getting better Bella." He's sad whispers and eyes that look too closely.
"I'm sorry." And I am. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to keep this from him. Sorry to make him worry so constantly. Sorry for making him hold me so close when we both know my bed's not where he should be. "I wish it were better. I wish I were better." The last part is a whisper and I feel his jaw flexing again under my hands.
"Bella…" He moves even closer. He'll speak soft and convince me that it's all out of my control. It is but I'm tired of feeling so helpless, tired of feeling like a burden, tired of feeling so tired.
"Did she hear me?" I look up and into his eyes again. He doesn't respond but I know the answer. A sigh escapes my lips and I want to cry all over again. "I don't want to be like this. I don't want you both to worry." He's shaking his head and I let my hands drop finally, into my lap to wring the fabric of my tank top.
His hands fall as well and then they're warm on my bare shoulders as he speaks. "I know. Of course you don't-"
"I don't want attention." I sounds every bit like the teenager I am but somehow it feels okay. These dark nights together are a void where words fall to never reemerge.
His eyes close and he's sighing loud. I imagine his hands would be in his hair if he weren't holding me. "You heard that?"
"Parts of it." I look down to the place where I nervously twist at the grey cotton of my tank top. Everything's gray at this time of night.
"She's just worried." He defends halfheartedly and I wonder if things really are that bad between them.
"You've been gone all week." I don't mean it as an accusation, it's just the next thing that comes to mind, but the way his hands fall away makes me think that's how he hears it. I'm still practically in his lap but it feels too cold and I think I'll say just about anything to feel his hands on me again.
"It's been busy…"
"Has it?" I counter the question exactly how he did when asking about my sleep. That was over a week ago.
"Has this been happening all week Bella?" One hand falls just above my knee, to the spot where my shorts end and skin begins. The feeling makes my stomach pool with warmth but my mind wonders briefly if he only touches me when he's worried, when he's trying to fix me. It's almost like he's trying to hold me together.
"No." It's truth enough. There's been nothing quite like tonight for weeks - months maybe.
It's so quiet, just the sounds of wind and gentle breathing. I look back up into his eyes after a beat and find him searching still, looking into the depths of my soul, into the recesses of my mind. I wonder if he knows how I feel. I wonder if he sees the fear in my eyes, feels the heavy beat of my heart. He's so close but I want him closer still. Does he feel the same?
The thought makes me feel even more naïve, makes me cringe internally and fight the urge to roll my teary eyes. In what world would this incredible man want anything close to that from me? Edward Cullen, the man who married my gorgeous mother on a warm evening in spring. He's selfless and strong and good. He risked his life to save me and I reward him with my obsession, with my inability to let him go. I have to though. He doesn't deserve this. I don't deserve him.
I move to pull away, shifting my hips and my legs slowly over the mattress, but then his hands are on my bare arm and gripping my leg tighter.
"I'm so sorry Bella. I shouldn't have stayed away so long. You shouldn't have to deal with all of this alone. " He's practically growling the words and I know he's beating himself up already. "Please don't be upset."
"You think I'm angry at you?" I'm too shocked to try to retreat again. He should be the angry one. He should be livid.
"Aren't you?"
"No…" I need to go through this alone. I need to distance myself from you. I want more than you can give. I'll ruin you. I want to say all of those things but they stick on the tip of my tongue. It's true but too selfish to speak.
"Promise me Bella." His voice is hoarse and almost pained.
"I'm not mad, I get it." He shouldn't have added those last words. I know it as soon as they fall from my lips and even more so when I see the cogs working in his brain. I see the question there, see him about to ask it but I interject before he can.
"It's late Edward. You should go to bed. We have a long trip tomorrow and we both know mom will make you drive." I see his shoulders fall and feel the movement in his hands.
"I'm not leaving until you go back to sleep." My laugh in response is breathy and humorless.
"So you're just going to sit here all night then?"
"If I have to." I add stubborn to the list of previous descriptors and shake my head. I look to his steely gaze and feel his fingers gripping tighter.
"You're impossible." This time I do roll my eyes. Even in the dim light he must see it, because then he's laughing. It's low and gravely and my twisted mind loves every moment.
I move away and surprisingly he lets me. Once my head is back on the cool pillow, Edward busies himself by draping the fluffy comforter over my form and taking the other side of the mattress. My eyes focus on his shadowy figure as he leans his back against the headboard. I'm staring through the darkness, watching his every movement, when his hand reaches out. His fingers find mine with a touch so light and then he's whispering again.
"Close your eyes Bella." And I do. My eyelids fall heavy and I focus my attention on the warmth and the weight of his hand in mine.
For the first time in a long time I'm not afraid.
When I see light again it's not in a car underwater. It's the faint glow of morning dusk against my curtains. It's his eyes shut tight and his face so peaceful next to mine. It feels so natural that I almost forget that I should be surprised. He stayed. It was unintentional, most likely but he stayed. He's asleep and so close and I let my gaze roam every inch of what's in front of me while I can. His long dark lashes, brushed against pale cheeks. His lips parted just so, begging me to lean forward and taste what I shouldn't want so badly. The faint lines across his forehead and beside his eyes, shallow river beds left as proof of the life he's lived. He's unshaven; sleep mussed hair, and soft breaths. I'm a heart so swollen with love and a small hand reaching out tentatively, fearfully, but unable to halt.
My fingers find his hair and despite how messy it looks it's feather soft to the touch. I concentrate on the sensation against my skin and work my hardest to lock the feeling deep in my mind. It's not enough and my hand moves on it's own accord, palm forming smooth to the curve of his jaw. I feel the muscle twitch as he moves just slightly in response, his eyelids fluttering quickly. My mind screams at my body to move the offending limb away but it feels so impossibly heavy now and I can't make it budge. Finally his eyes fall open and to my surprise his lips pull into a sleepy grin.
"Bella." His hoarse whisper sounds like a dream. Of course this is too perfect to be real.
But then his bright green eyes spring open in the way I first expected. They're alert at last and decidedly confused.
"I fell asleep?" I nod slow and let my arm fall when he sits up quickly. He rakes his face with quick hands before glancing back to me again.
"Did you sleep?" Another nod of my head and his smile is almost back. "Good."
"I should… I need to…" He pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing."We need to leave in a few hours." He's standing now and easing around my bed towards the wooden door, hanging slightly ajar. The air falls tense all around us and it's obvious to me how awkward he must feel. Coming to rescue me in the darkness of night is one thing but waking up at my side in the morning is another thing entirely.
His steps stop just short of the exit and he turns his body back to face me.
"I'm going to go pack." Another pause. Green eyes stare towards me and he's looking for something. I wish I knew what it was.
"Okay." My voice is equally as hoarse and I clear my throat as soon as it sounds. He stands there a moment longer, mouth opening and closing with a hand resting at the back of his neck.
"Okay," replies his smooth voice, sounding unsure. And then he's gone and the door is squeaking closed behind him.
I'm awake enough to know that this should harden my resolve. I should be even more worried about how close we've become. It should make it all the more obvious to me how badly I need to push him away. I don't think about that though.
All I can think about is the comfort of lying next to Edward and how it's the best sleep I've had in over a year.