Raum

Snare

[2-25-2013] I'm back! More Edward&Bella time, and I guess Walsh will be even more hated after this chapter.

I've written a one-shot for Emergency Beta Service. Would you read it? If you want to vote for it, you have to "like" and/or "share" it on Facebook. Thanks! h.t.t.p : / / t. co/ bJYSCgDq

I don't own Twilight. Surprising, isn't it? ;-)

Chapter 4

Special Diet

Good thing my shift is almost over. Some sleep, that's what I need, one of the bunker's private security guards thought, suppressing a yawn. He looked outside the window, watching the rain as it came down in thick curtains, giving the trees around the building a gray tint. Damn. The forecast said it would be a cloudy day, and now look at that rain. I promised Sam I'd take her to the playground today, but... The image of a child filled his mind, and he guessed his little girl was still sleeping in the early morning.

"Good morning, Eric."

Edward recognized the heartbeat as well as the quiet voice, and the girl's mental silence confirmed that Bella was back at the prison.

"Morning, Isabella," Eric greeted her. "Are you looking for your father? He hasn't arrived yet."

Contrary to his usual routine, Charlie hadn't stayed at the lodge for the night, but had left with Bella after her visit with Edward. Edward surmised that she must have left very early in the morning, while her father was still asleep; if he'd been awake, he would no doubt have come in with her.

"I know, and he's not the reason I'm here. Could you open the observation gallery for me, please?"

"Of course. Are you working here again?" Eric asked her on their way toward the cell.

"No," she rushed to answer. "It's just a visit."

Through the guard's mind, Edward saw that Bella had stiffened.

Before Edward, the lodge had been used by Charlie as a place where he could carry on with his research without distractions; but of course, it had also been designed to be a potential prison, long in advance of the vampire's capture. Bella's computer skills had been instrumental in getting the place set up; she had configured the computer network and the surveillance systems, and even helped the guards with the security system. She'd wanted to work toward a career as a technical analyst, and she'd showed great promise toward that end. But her working experience at the lodge hadn't lasted long.

Edward followed Bella's steps, her heartbeats, and Eric's thoughts as she and the guard descended into the basement. The first floor underground was occupied by the observation gallery; the cell was in the lowest level. Welcome to hell, Edward thought as Bella approached the glass window.

"Already back?" he greeted her. "I wasn't expecting a return visit so soon."

"Were you sleeping? I didn't mean to bother you."

He snorted. "Sleeping? Weren't you paying attention when your father told you about me?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Is he supposed to keep track of your sleeping habits?"

Edward gestured toward the windows that circled his cell. "As if anyone here doesn't know that I don't sleep."

"You don't sleep at all?"

"At all. And since I wasn't offered a coffin, I guess your father and his assistants figured that out soon enough–either that, or they wanted me to be particularly uncomfortable."

Bella looked at the few pieces of furniture in Edward's cell and registered that there was no bed.

When Charlie had designed the building, he had given it the exterior appearance of a large, modern villa. The architects had taken advantage of the natural sloping landscape and placed the house so it looked out over the greenery. The two levels aboveground housed Charlie's and his assistants' offices, all open and bright, with warm ivory walls, large windows, and fine hardwood floors. The basement had been divided into the observation gallery and the cell, which boasted rough dark flooring and white walls in which were concealed the openings for the flamethrowers.

Bella saw that in the large space reserved for Edward, there was nothing but a desk, a matching chair, and a long couch in a corner. Her gaze traveled toward a room divider.

"There's a bathroom over there," he informed her.

She ducked her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive."

He shook his head lightly, smiling at her words. For weeks he'd felt like an insect under a microscope. He'd lived through more than two centuries, but since he'd been taken to the bunker he hadn't had the last say on even a single moment of his time. Charlie and his assistants decided when to interrogate him or test his abilities and when he could be left in peace. Edward supposed he was lucky they got tired and needed to sleep; if not for that, they would probably keep watching and pestering him 24/7. Bella, on the other hand...she was kind, and the curiosity he could see in her expression resembled that of one person getting to know another. Two people who might become friends, he thought, as if he could ever know what having a human friend might be like.

"So, Miss Isabella, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

She frowned. "Isabella?"

"Isn't that your name?"

"Yes, it is. But how did you know it? I told you my name's Bella."

Edward wanted to slap himself for his faux pas. "Your father referred to you as Isabella." Although never directly to me.

"But you asked my name."

Observant. Daddy's carbon copy. "Introducing yourself is still considered a sign of good manners, is it not?"

She looked away, and when he tried to catch a glimpse of her thoughts he was met with complete silence. Why was she so upset about him knowing her name? It didn't take long for the answer to arrive.

"Does my father talk about me?" she demanded. "With you?"

Edward let out a sigh. "No. I'm not exactly his confidante, you know?"

She glared at him but didn't reply to his words, waiting for him to complete his explanation. Edward wondered how much more could he reveal. He considered that every piece of information Charlie and the others had discovered about him had been extracted with threats and blackmail. He could at least tell Bella voluntarily what the others had acquired by force.

"I have heightened senses," he explained.

"Please, go on."

"I can hear every word spoken in this building. The intercom allows you to hear me, but I would be perfectly able to hear you without it."

"I see," she said quietly. "So you just overheard my father talking about me?"

"Isabella. Or Bella, if you prefer." He softened his words with a smile. "Believe it or not, everything I know about you is basically what you told me in your previous visit. The only time your father spoke of you in my presence was when he told me that you wanted to meet me, and I can assure you I haven't heard him mention your name often to the people here – far from it, in fact. Whatever else you want to disclose is up to you. You might want to start with the reason why you're doing this vampire therapy."

She gaped at him. "Vampire therapy?"

He shrugged. "So far, all you've done here—besides arguing with me about your name—is to tell me what you're worried about. As long as I don't know what brought you back today..."

"You said I could come back," she countered.

"Of course."

"Is it okay? I mean, if sometimes I..."

"Yes. Yes it is." The certainty of his own words took him by surprise; he hadn't realized how eager he was to see her again.

"I couldn't sleep last night," she confided. "I kept thinking about Charlie's studies, and what made him follow that path." She didn't elaborate further.

Through the interrogations and the investigators' minds, Edward had seen more than Bella about her mother's death and the other homicides that were connected to the Drainer, but he was never going to say a word about it, lest he hurt her. His thoughts ran back to Carlisle and his own loss – Bella's sorrow over the parent who had been taken from her mirrored his own.

"There have been moments when I doubted Charlie," she went on. "I was afraid that the Drainer had killed both my parents – my mother out of the blue, and then my father, day by day, sucking what life he had left out of him. As long as it wasn't certain whether you could be that killer, I didn't want to know anything about you, and I would have rejected the mere idea of seeing you. But now, you're in front of me, and I know you're..."

"A monster?" he challenged.

She shook her head, but didn't disagree aloud. "Are there many others like you?" she waved a hand in front of her.

Edward shrugged. "Some."

"I still can't believe that it's real. That you are real. I told myself I had to come here again to be sure that I hadn't imagined our previous meeting."

"Did you think I would vanish in the morning?"

The hint of a smile graced her lips but quickly disappeared. "You are mythical, after all."

Edward caught a quiet rumble coming from Bella's stomach–a sign he'd often noticed in humans. She brought a hand over her belly.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

He pointed to her. "Hungry? Your stomach..."

"You could hear that?"

He gave her a nod.

She looked down in embarrassment. "I skipped breakfast."

Edward recalled that there was a renowned bakery close to the clinic where he and Carlisle worked. He pushed away the memory of the last three years, of the time they'd spent in Washington, and the results they'd achieved in their careers as doctors. One of the nurses had told him about the bakery, and in her mind Edward had seen how she'd have liked to go there with him. He'd never even entertained the idea of asking the nurse, but now he imagined himself inviting Bella for breakfast, walking at her side in the crisp air of a spring morning...

"Would you like a cup of coffee? Some pastries?" he teased her.

"Thanks, but I'm on a special diet."

"Special diet?" Usually, that was his punch line, when he had to explain to humans why he didn't eat with them or limited himself to nibbling at some of the less obnoxious foods.

"I have celiac disease. It means my body can't handle gluten, so I have to avoid foods that contain wheat. You've probably never heard of it..."

Not very likely, after two degrees in medicine. "It doesn't sound new to me," he said vaguely. "Does this condition bother you?"

"Just sometimes, when I'm in front of something delicious I can't have."

"I see," Edward replied, and it was truer than he could have expected. He remembered how venom filled his mouth when he was close to humans; sometimes a scent made him almost moan in appreciation. She's talking about a human experience, and yet I can understand how she feels.

"Edward, may I ask you a personal question?"

He tried to read it in advance in her mind but failed. "Go ahead," he invited her, intrigued by this new game where he had to wait for her to speak to know where the conversation was heading.

"Is it true that you live off animals' blood? That you didn't kill humans?"

Didn't see that coming. He nodded, tension building in him while he waited for her to go on.

"Does everyone like...you...do the same?"

"No," he affirmed. The image of Tanya, Kate, and Irina flashed in his mind. Apart from Carlisle, the Alaskan sisters were the only vampires he'd met who didn't hunt humans. He and Carlisle had befriended them, and Tanya...he dismissed the memory of those days that were forever behind him.

Bella stepped forward and rested her hand on the window separating them. "Without this barrier, would it be possible for us to meet and talk, just like this? You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

It was as if he'd been punched in the gut. He cringed, unable to push away the memory of what had happened in the bunker when Walsh... Stop. You must stop. He had to send Bella away before she could catch a hint of what was happening to him. But he couldn't.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Walsh entered the observation gallery. His mind showed that he was up to no good, but when wasn't he? Contrary to standard procedure, he didn't activate the recording system.

"Hey there," he greeted Edward. How are you doing, monster?

Edward rolled his eyes and tried to distract himself in whatever way he could—books he'd read, places he'd visited...anything to escape the annoyance that was Robert Walsh.

Walsh cleared his throat. "What I wouldn't give for something refreshing to drink right now." He sighed. "My mouth and throat are so dry, it feels like they've been set on fire. You know what I mean?"

Edward tried harder to focus on something else as the snake's words invaded his ears, enhanced by the mental images Walsh was unknowingly imposing on him.

"Maybe I should offer you something to drink?" his captor asked, trying his best to tempt him.

Slowly, Edward turned toward the observation gallery. Walsh was toying with a vial of blood. He tapped it against the window, and Edward had to swallow back venom as his throat began to itch.

"What would this be for you?" Walsh wondered, almost giggling as he continued to play with the vial.

Edward could hear the tiny amount of blood sloshing in the glass container, and he followed the dance of its rich red hue as if it were a laser beam.

Walsh smirked. "A shot's worth, maybe? It would be a pity getting just a teaser when you can have more, right?"

If Edward hadn't already been spellbound by the opportunity to get some relief from his unending thirst, he would have scoffed. His captors were always determined to keep him thirsty and weak, and Walsh was the worst, making him perpetually ache for more.

When Walsh put down the vial and Edward saw how his thoughts had shifted, he felt invaded by the flames spreading in his throat.

A small metal object gleamed in the bastard's hand. He lifted it, waving it behind the glass window and making it reflect the artificial lights. A razor blade. Just a thin fragment of steel, and yet it was a powerful weapon in those hands.

"Don't," Edward growled, not caring if his warning might reveal that he'd read his persecutor's mind.

Walsh savored Edward's discomfort, and a wicked smile appeared on his face. "Are you upset? You always seem so collected when you suck from your antiseptic plastic bag. When you said you don't attack humans, Charlie was ready to believe you, you little liar," he mocked. "But we know better, don't we? Maybe it just takes you a little inspiration to unleash your instincts."

He lowered the blade to his hand, laying it against the hollow between his thumb and index finger.

"Don't," Edward repeated, his voice coming out like a desperate plea. He wanted to be able to avert his eyes, but the beast inside him would not allow it. Invisible forces kept him in place, making it impossible for him to turn away. He stood frozen like a statue, his gaze fixed on the point where steel met skin on the human's hand. But if Edward's body resembled a sculpture, no one could have said the same about his face, for his features were those of a tortured animal, and every moment of his struggle marred his expression with pain.

"Come on," Walsh insisted, relentless. "A grown man, and you're afraid of a little cut?" He slowly drew the blade across his skin, and fresh blood began to seep.

"Go away!" Edward shouted.

Walsh's smile widened. He lifted his arm so it was close to the window, letting the trickle of blood flow down his palm until it reached his wrist. "Tell me, what would you do if this barrier wasn't here?"

Edward felt his knees buckling. A growl shook him, his human mask fading to reveal the bloodthirsty monster who was now in charge. "Leave!" he snarled.

"So this is the extent of your famous control," Walsh taunted. "Do you still expect us to trust anything you say?" He lowered his arm and retrieved a handkerchief.

The ragged skin around Edward's neck wound throbbed, reminding him of his current weakness. If he hadn't been so incapacitated by the gash and accompanying loss of venom, as well as the vitamin D Charlie was still giving him, he could have easily leaped up and crashed through the reinforced aluminum oxynitride glass between himself and Walsh. And then? I will have played into his hands.

He grabbed the first thing he could reach – a chair beside his desk – and threw it against the glass. The chair broke, and the alarm sounded immediately.

Like the coward he was, Walsh jumped toward the door, where it didn't take long for a guard to arrive.

"What happened?" the security guard asked, already wondering if he would have to use the flamethrowers. He was oblivious to what Walsh had been up to; though all the guards had access to video surveillance monitors that covered the entire building, that guard hadn't been paying attention to the confrontation.

"Nothing," Walsh snapped. "Our friend here is being difficult today."

Edward retreated to the farthest corner of his cell. Never like them, he mentally repeated to himself. He reminded himself that he had to rise above, not because of Walsh, not even because of what Carlisle had taught him. He had to overcome the monster, to keep the promise he'd made to himself when he'd come to terms with his new nature: that he refused to become a beast, ruled by his instincts. He could still retain his humanity – that was what he'd learned in the centuries he'd roamed the Earth. He could, and he would.

Making sure that the guard didn't see, Walsh wiped the blood off his hand and carefully folded the handkerchief. Then he put it in a small black plastic bag. "Take this to the subject," he instructed quietly.

It isn't over. Edward stopped breathing and tried to shut out every sound, thought, memory. But he couldn't deny the shameful truth that a worm like Walsh had witnessed how easily a few drops of blood could drive him over the edge. As long as they could use his nourishment to their advantage, he was at the mercy of creatures much weaker than him.

He remained frozen – immovable like only his kind could be – when he heard the guard opening the serving hatch in the cell's door.

He surged.

The scent of undiluted blood, deliciously fresh and not treated with preservatives and other substances, sucked him in like a vortex. He bolted toward the door and managed to block the opening mechanism of the serving hatch. The guard couldn't pull his arm back in time. Edward felt the human's wrist bones cracking in his grip.

He bared his teeth and when he opened his mouth, venom dripped from his lips. He could taste the blood's scent on his tongue – the luscious promise of a more refreshing balm for his needs.

Edward lowered his head, but the flesh he pierced wasn't the guard's. He sank his teeth into his own arm and curled into a ball on the floor, channeling the rage that was driving him mad against himself. The human wouldn't have stood a chance in a fight against a vampire, and Edward knew it would have meant his ultimate defeat, too, for he would have been unable to bear the guilt.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Edward stood in the middle of the room, head bowed, hands clenched into fists, waiting for the tension to leave his body.

"Edward? What's wrong?" Bella's voice grew frantic.

Though no more than a few seconds passed, it seemed ages to him before he could overcome the trembling in his body and meet her eyes. There she was–the only person whom he'd enjoyed meeting in the last two months. He didn't want her to see him like that, once again tortured by the ravenous inner beast that kept him enslaved.

He roamed Bella's face with his gaze, taking in her furrowed brow, wide-open eyes, and slightly parted lips. Her hand was still on the glass, and he wished he could reach for it, to reassure her–to hold that hand and graze it with his lips, like he would have done in his time.

She stepped back and reached for the control panel. "I guess it's better if I go," she murmured.

"Bella," he rushed to call out. "Would you come back?"

"I don't know if that's the wisest thing to do."

"Please?"

Thanks for reading!

NOTES:

One of my children has celiac disease, but I've never seen it mentioned in a fic. If you want to talk about gluten-free food and recipes, here I am :-)

Thank you! to Snare's fabulous prereaders/betas: Camilla10, SatinCoveredSteel, and Marlena516. Thanks also to Emergency Beta Service.

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