A/N: So, I'm proud of myself for actually waiting for Monday. I'm also posting this to console myself for not getting the first snow in six years that was promised to my town. My mom lives two hours away and she got an inch! They also had a snow day (only in the South does the city shut down for an inch of snow). I'm insanely jealous. Anyway, the cleaning-Jacob's-bedroom scene was meant to be just a small snippet at the beginning of the next chapter, which was originally supposed to be this chapter, but it grew. So, that's how that happened. Make sure to let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I have a secret to tell you: I am not Stephanie Meyer. Shocking, right? I know. Also, I did not write and do not own the song "Come Undone". I also don't own X-box, which I'm sure will be obsolete by 2013, which is when this story takes place, but I'm technilogically retarded and know nothing about video games consoles whatsoever, so I just chose X-box.

Dedication: I'm wasn't planning on doing another dedication, but I just thought ChampionShoes and Gina.N.B deserved one because they both reviewed multiple chapters and are awesome. Thank you also to everyone else who reviewed.

Chapter Four: In Which There is No Running

i have seen myself in a thousand faces, strung out on life's path
i would add up what you mean to me, but i cannot do the math

- vanessa carlton, come undone

-

I woke up the next morning feeling anxious. I had promised Jacob last night that I'd talk to him about anything that was bothering me, and very obviously he knew that something was, so I knew he was expecting a conversation. And I had promised him. As my best friend, I owed him that much.

But what to say?

My body felt tightly wound as I got out of bed. Another night of endless, amazing Jacob dreams had left my stomach in knots. Nice ones, though – ones I was dying to untie, not to ease discomfort, but because I was sure greater pleasure followed.

If I was a normal teenage girl, maybe I could enjoy the dreams, entertain silly thoughts privately in my head with no consequences. But I'm not a normal girl – I'm a half-vampire, half-human teenage girl with a mind-reading father and traitor palms that export my thoughts to anyone who touches.

So the dreams had to go. I was running on borrowed luck already, what with my parents staying at the big house every night to work on "wedding plans". I knew it was only a matter of time until it ran out and I was faced with utter humiliation and devastation in the form of discussing my Jacob dreams with my father. Or, well. Sitting red-faced and holding back tears as my father screamed at me about my Jacob dreams.

Either way, there could be no desirable end result to anyone finding out about those dreams. I would take the facial ticks and aggravated-air-through-nose noises for the rest of my existence and be grateful if it meant avoiding that conversation.

So, what to say to Jacob? And when to say it? The wedding was in three days and I was pretty sure Scary Aunt Alice was done torturing me for now, but I think she'd probably want to get to Jake (admittedly, my fault) before too long, and I wanted to do it before the wedding.

Or should I wait? I didn't want to ruin Grandpa Charlie's wedding, though, for him or myself by being all tense and worried about Jacob the entire time. So, before, then.

I guess I had my answer. Today. Ugh.

I dragged myself to the shower, tired and irritable. My feet were still sore from last night – I blocked the memory that popped into my mind of Scary Aunt Alice circuiting me around and around the shop in stilettos quickly, as I saw no need to start crying first thing in the morning.

I was caught completely unprepared, though, for the subsequent memory of Jacob's fingernail running across the sole of my sore foot and his strong hands – I stopped it right there. I was proud of myself.

It was about time, anyway. I was running out of outfits that covered my palms and I think even Jacob would begin to get suspicious if I started wearing his "skinny sweatshirt" everyday. I turned off the steaming water and wrapped myself and my hair each in a towel before returning to my room.

I was a little hungry and Grandma Esme told me last night (when I slouched, grumbling, through the big house to kiss my family so I could return to the cottage and pass out) that she'd make pancakes for breakfast. I'm sure she told Jake too, since they were his favorite, so he'd probably be there.

I kind of hoped he had patrol last night, even though I was pretty sure he didn't, so I could take a little while to compose myself and think of what to say. I threw on my panties and bra without much decision and grabbed the closest, comfortable-looking thing I could find.

It was a green, tank-top looking dress that I think was meant to be a beach cover-up, but it was simple enough and soft so I put it on. I checked the length in the mirror – I didn't like short skirts, so I was glad when I saw it came just past my knees.

I always made sure to check. I think Scary Aunt Alice slipped in sometimes at night and shortened my skirts. I asked her about it once and she claimed it must be my growth spurt, but I was done growing now and they were still getting shorter. I was going to have to hide some of my favorite stuff.

I decided that since I wasn't going with my being cold excuse anymore (not that anyone asked, being so preoccupied with "wedding plans"), I didn't need shoes. I grabbed my hair brush from my dresser and ripped it through my hair, trying to untangle the bronze curls as quickly as possible. I pulled it back once I decided it was as good as it was going to get and then I set off to the big house.

I smelled pancakes and pine trees wafting towards me as I approached the house and my stomach flipped in anxiety and anticipation. So much for having time to collect my thoughts.

Scary Aunt Alice was spread out on the living room floor with her Gigantic Scary Wedding Book and cloth swatches and sketches, so I mumbled a quiet "morning" that I hoped she didn't hear in her preoccupation, and skirted quickly around her.

Everyone else was in the kitchen. I saw Jake from my peripherals, stuffing his face, but I didn't look at him just yet. I needed to get through greeting my family before I worried about – I remembered Dad at the last minute. He was talking quietly with Mom in the corner so I don't think he caught it.

Aunt Rose was the first to spot me.

"Good morning, Renesmee!" She sang, and sashayed toward me, frying pan in hand. She kissed my cheek quickly, then spun back to her place at the stove before I could respond.

Grandma Esme smiled kindly at me from the stove and gestured towards at stacked high with pancakes on the counter.

"Thanks, Grandma," I said in return, and then to the room in general, "Morning!"

Mom looked up and smiled brilliantly.

"Good morning, Renesmee, sweetheart," She said and ran forward and hugged me with more enthusiasm than I was expecting. She pulled back and studied me for a moment as though she were searching for cracks, then hugged me again.

Dad got me as soon as she pulled away. He kissed my forehead and whispered "morning" into my hair.

And then there was Emmett.

"Well, good morning sunshine!" He shouted, more for the benefit of the room than wanting to wish me a good morning. "Nice to see you up and about, sleepyhead! How are we this fine, fine day?"

I just rolled my eyes and accepted the bear hug that he snatched me up into. Besides Jake, I was the only person around who slept, so it was a treat for him to have another venue to make a big production of something. It was customary, there was no avoiding it. We did this every morning.

I saw Uncle Jasper roll his eyes from over Emmett's shoulder. He raised his hand in silent greeting and I smiled.

"Grandpa Carlisle already left for the hospital?" I asked once Emmett had set me down and I regained the ability to breathe.

Grandpa Carlisle had been working at a hospital in Port Angeles for the past four years. Actually, I think most people assume we moved to Port Angeles when "Dr. Cullen" transferred, so we did our best to stay out of sight. We would probably have to leave soon anyway. Jake promised he'd go with us, but the thought still made me sad.

"Yes, he left early to relieve another doctor," Grandma Esme informed me as Mom placed a plate of pancakes in my hand and pushed me towards the table.

Speaking of Jacob and promises . . .

Jacob smiled at me as I sat down across from him and the room got a little warmer. I smiled back, and snatched the syrup from his side of the table and drizzled it over my pancakes.

"So, what is everyone doing in the kitchen?" I asked the room at large. "Not taking up human food, are you?"

Uncle Emmett snorted at my words, but it was Dad who answered.

"No, we were all just going over some last minute –"

"Wedding plans," I finished for him, having been told this at least twice a day for the past week. "Got it."

I think they realized I was irritable as I dug into my pancakes, but no one said anything. Well, of course, Dad knew I was irritable, and knowing he was inside my head only made my irritation worse.

I was jarred in my seat as Jake kicked my chair – I tried to glare at him, but he grinned at me so cheerily that I'm sure it didn't look authentic.

"If you're done giving me a contusion," I deadpanned, but without heart. So, in true Jake fashion, he kicked the chair again.

My glare was much more authentic this time.

"Good morning, Nessie," He said slowly and clearly, enunciating each word like he was waiting for something.

Oh. I felt dumb. "Good morning, Jacob," I mumbled.

"What's with you?" He asked quietly, looking a little nervous at my sudden change in attitude. I realized he must think it was him and I smiled to let him know it wasn't.

"All this wedding cheer getting to me, I guess," I said, and shot a look at my family congregated in the corner of the kitchen whispering just fast enough for me to be unable to understand. Jacob shifted in his seat a little guiltily and I realized he must know what it was all about.

I thought about getting angry, but remembered my argument was a moot point. He knew I was keeping something from him, so why should he tell me his secret? I'd remind him after I talked to him that the promise worked both ways. I swallowed the last bit of pancake I was going to eat and pushed the rest towards him. As always, he smiled gratefully and dug in.

"Wanna go running?" I asked, and he nodded his assent.

I was surprised he only nodded, since he usually took every opportunity to talk with his mouth full around Aunt Rose. She seemed too busy to notice now, anyway, deep in conversation with Grandma, which is probably why Jake hadn't bothered.

I stole the last swallow of Jacob's orange juice (at which he hmph'd, but left it alone) and took his glass and empty plate to the sink as he finished what was left of mine. I washed and dried them efficiently, trying to ignore the unintelligible whispers behind me, and placed them back in the cabinet. By the time I returned to the table, Jake was polished off my plate.

"You can wash that," I told him, and flung the wet washrag at his head, which he deftly caught. "And then we can go."

He sent my ponytail spinning with his free hand as he passed behind me, and the bronze curls ended up hanging in a mess over my face.

"Thanks, Jake," I said sarcastically, turning to glare at him through the bronze web he had created. "That was really necessary."

I heard him laugh as I attempted to disentangle myself.

"It was," he agreed, and I heard the water stop. The next thing I felt was his hands in my hair, helping me sort it out. My stomach flip-flopped, but didn't tighten, which I took as a good sign. "Everything that amuses me is necessary."

I tossed my head back, finally shaking free of the net that was my hair. When my face was unobstructed, I rolled my eyes deliberately in his direction.

"Yeah, well," I tried to sound bored, and very carefully, offered him my hand. "D'you wanna go or what?"

He took it and we made our way to the door.

"Going running with Jake!" I shouted over my shoulder, though it was strictly not necessary when in a house full of hyper-hearing vampires who were standing only feet away.

The whispering immediately stopped. Jacob noticed too, because his back stiffened and he turned to face the direction of the silence. Everyone was looking at us like us like I'd announced we were dashing off to Vegas for a quick wedding and that we'd be back by lunch. I was surprised when my Dad didn't even respond to that thought.

"No running," Dad said. His topaz eyes flashed with something, but it was gone before I could look again.

"I'm with her," Jacob said, and squeezed my hand.

This time is was Mom who spoke.

"No running," she said, and her tone brooked no argument.

"Will you at least tell me why?" I asked, feeling like I was fighting a losing battle.

"Because we're your parents, Renesmee, that's why," Dad responded.

I was right. Didn't make me feel any better about it. I was sick of them all.

"Fine. We'll go to Jacob's house and play X-box, and leave you to your wedding plans." I spat, and turned on my heel. Exerting a surprising amount of force, I managed to drag Jake with me.

"This is ridiculous," I ranted to Jacob, pulling my hand from his so I could use it to gesture. "Everybody's running around with their secrets and their plans that poor little Renesmee is too young to understand or know anything about."

Jake listened attentively, but I was sure the only reason he had given in to my parents so easily was that he agreed. But that was ridiculous. What could hurt a humongous werewolf and a half-vampire?

"I'm sixteen, you know," I added, just for good measure.

"No, you're not," Jacob disagreed. "You're seven."

"But I'm physically sixteen!" I almost-shouted at him. I plucked at my dress for emphasis, pulling it away from my body then letting it go. "My body's going to look like this forever – I'm fully grown, I'm not getting any older. And my mind is much more developed than that! It always has been!"

Jake ignored me and kept walking, but I didn't quit. I continued on this vein for some time, only stopping when we reached Jacob's house and he stooped to get the key from under the mat.

"It's not fair," were my speech's parting words.

"I never said it was fair," Jacob said, and swung the door open, letting me go in ahead of him.

"But you think it is," I retorted, and he didn't answer. I opened my mouth to pick up where I left off, but then I remember something. "Where's Billy?"

"He's at Charlie's house," Jake said, and smiled wryly as though there was some joke I didn't get. "Alice was over there earlier, along with Leah and Sue and Charlie needed Billy to help him even out the testosterone level."

I couldn't help but grin as I was met with the random mental image of Charlie's face as the remote was snatched from his hand and the television was switched from SportsCenter to LifeTime.

"So, you said you wanted to play X-box?" He asked, and I watched with interest as he gracefully maneuvered his large body through the cramped little house.

"I don't care," I said honestly, following him to his bedroom, which was the literal sense of the word.

It was a room with a bed in it and that was just about it. There was a worn wooden dresser with a tiny TV perched on top and my x-box system plugged in on the floor. The tiny amount of floor space that was left was taken up by clothes. A t-shirt caught on my bare foot and I tried to kick it up into Jacob's face, but I was entirely too short and he was entirely too tall, so it only made it half way. He caught it when it was parallel with his hand.

"What d'you wanna do then?" He asked, tossing the shirt past me and into his closet. As it zoomed by my head, his scent slammed into me like a brick wall. It took me a second to clear my head.

"I mean, we can play if you want, but I don't care what we do. I just wanted to hang out here."

"Sure, sure," he said, and threw himself on his bed. His massive frame seemed to pour out from every side, too big for the bed to contain. He reached up onto his dresser and grabbed a small black band that he used to tie his hair back.

It was something I had seen him do a thousand times before. I'd put that hair in pig tails when I was four and pulled it as little as two weeks ago. I ran my hands through it every night in my dreams. But there was something about the movement, the way he casually pulled the hair back and tied it that I liked.

How stupid was that? Didn't I pull my hair into a ponytail everyday? What was so special about it? Nothing. No reason for the pleasant clenching in my stomach to return with a full force, no reason at all. Yet it did.

"Your room is a mess, Jacob," I said, because I had to say something. I was glad my dress was loose around my thighs so he couldn't tell when I squeezed them together.

"So? I'm always at your house – I hardly even sleep here."

Something about that struck me. "What do you mean, you hardly ever sleep here? Where do you sleep?"

His russet skin went a little pink and I think he was blushing. "Well, some nights I sleep in the woods by your house."

I was strangely touched. I felt a rush of . . . safety, security in knowing that Jacob was always close by.

"I mean," he continued quickly, "Just mostly when your parents are gone hunting or they're at the big house. I just, you know, want to make sure you're okay by yourself."

"That's stupid," I said, and when his face fell I was struck with horror as I realized he misunderstood. "What I meant was, that's stupid for you to sleep outside. Mom and Dad don't care, you could come inside. There's no need for you to be out in the cold."

"I don't get cold."

"I know that. You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I do. So, you don't think that's weird?"

I thought about my reply for a second. I settled with as close to the truth as I could manage. "Jacob, I'm a half-breed vampire-slash-human, my best friend is a werewolf, and my family are vegetarian vampires. Even in the realm of myths and monsters, we're weird."

He ducked his head and sort-of laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He agreed.

"Anyway," I continued. "Back to what I was originally saying: your room is a mess."

He rolled his eyes. "Back to what I was originally saying: I know. I don't care."

"Well, I do. And I'm going to clean it." I informed him, already moving around the room and picking up dirty clothes.

I needed busywork. Something I could do with my hands that would let my mind wander until I came up with what to say.

"Don't, Nessie," Jacob groaned as I dropped an armful of clothes onto his stomach since he took up the entire bed. "Come on, now, I'll do it later."

"No, you won't," I said, and released another armful onto him.

I couldn't keep the clothes in my hands long. The smell would start to get to me and my stomach was already in knots – I really needed to ask someone about this.

Jake let out a long suffering sigh of epic proportions before world-wearingly heaving himself from his bed. His head almost reached the ceiling. If I was a normal human, I wouldn't even be able to touch it if I jumped.

"Well, at least let me help you so we can get this over and done with," He offered with the air of someone who was sacrificing at great deal for something he wasn't sure was worth it.

"Yeah, okay," I said, and shoved yet another armful of clothes into his arms, "You can sort these: whites, darks, and lights."

I had never done laundry a day in my life, since Scary Aunt Alice treated clothes as though they were disposable, but that was how it was done on TV, which was my only frame of reference. I hope I sounded like I knew what I was talking about.

"I never do that," Jake said, though I was pleased to see him pick a few white t-shirts out of the pile and throw them off to the side. "And they always come out fine. Well, good enough."

We worked together and soon the floor was clear of all clothes. We found a slew of X-box games that I previously thought were lost, which was good. I was busted about my lack of laundry knowledge when Jake noticed me hanging curiously over his shoulder (well, technically around his elbow, since he's so tall) as he started the washer. I thought he would laugh, but he just showed me how to add the detergent and set the timer.

When we were back in his room, I sat cross-legged on the floor and began trying to match the games to their cases and Jacob sat on he edge of the bed and watched me. When I was done, I stacked them all up neatly against the wall. I rolled up the controllers and set them on top of the game system.

I looked around. There wasn't much left to do.

I tried to arrange his dresser, put all his hair ties together and repack the deck of cards strewn across it, but there were so many small odds and ends that I didn't know the place of that I couldn't. I looked up and a picture on the mirror caught my eye: it was old, at least twenty years, and the edges were worn from age and use.

But it was the woman in the picture that captured my attention. Her hair was the same midnight black and her skin the same russet tone as someone else I knew. Her eyes were familiar, too, soft and dark, but more feminine, somehow, than the eyes I was used to. Her nose was straight and she had the shapeliest lips I'd ever seen on a woman. She was, without a doubt, stunning.

She was Jacob's mother.

It bothered me that I hadn't seen this picture before now, that I hadn't noticed it. It bothered me that I had never asked him about his mother when she obviously meant so much to him, to be the only picture hanging up in his room. I felt ashamed of myself.

I looked to the right and had to backtrack: one of two photos. The other one was of me.

Coming up: An awkward conversation, a false realization, and running.