This story is written in the first-person point of view, and sometimes switches between characters by scene or chapter. (Please do not panic; I do not repeat each scene from various points of view.) I do not label my chapters with character names, subsequently, your key is thus: Chapter titles that are short & succinct are Bella's, long witticisms are Esme's; song titles are in quotes, belonging to Edward, and Rose's are questions, finished off with an interrobang (‽).
Chapter Notes:
Much love to my muses cookEgawd & Blackjacklily, and to MunkeeRajah & Detochkina for beta and pre-reading awesomeness.
I've Had A Perfectly Wonderful Evening, But This Isn't It.
I enjoyed a precious few minutes of peace before the girls came home. I stood in the kitchen, in front of the refrigerator, carefully placing a few specially picked perishable items inside that I bought and stocked regularly to keep our appearance of normalcy. Emmett was sitting at the kitchen island, finishing up his entire week's worth of coursework at once. Jasper followed shortly after, entering into the room to welcome me home and give me a much needed hug.
Carlisle had just arrived before I did, and he began to walk towards me as soon as I removed my jacket. I smiled; I needed to see him, because when I looked at him most of the tension and stress of the day's events melted away. He kissed me like he always did: like the world was ending and it was the last embrace we would ever share. responded just as enthusiastically as always. Had I still been human, I would have blushed, because Jasper stood nearby, soaking up the pleasant satisfaction that radiated from us both. Neither Carlisle nor I minded; we were used to it. We also understood that he needed to get as much exposure to happiness as he could these days.
"Eww, get a roooom!" Emmett said. It was the same response he had every other time this display occurred, and this had been a routine for us long before Emmett had ever entered our lives. It happened at least once a day, every day, since 1921.
"You're one to talk," I said.
"Yeah, well, when Rose gets home." Emmett replied.
"I reeaally don't want to hear about this," said Jasper.
Carlisle chuckled. "How was your day, my darling?"
My face fell. "Long. Actually, I need to talk to you about that." I addressed the room. "I need to talk to all of you about it. But I'm going to wait until Alice and Rose get home first, since it involves all of us."
Carlisle grabbed me tighter. "I can't wait that long to know if you're all right," he whispered.
"I'm fine, dear, really. At least I will be."
Jasper and Emmett stood in place, both staring at me. Jasper, with an eyebrow raised and an unease that showed in his frown, sent a wave of calm over me.
"Grazie a voi, la mia pace." I thanked Jasper for the feelings of serenity that wafted through the room, sent for my benefit. Once upon a time, Jasper and I had taken on the task of learning Italian together, and I had gotten into the habit of speaking to him in that language in order to maintain my fluency. I hadn't even realized how on edge I felt until the anxiety diminished.
Emmett leaned further over the island counter. "Can't you at least gimme a hint?"
"No, Ekwe. The whole thing is kind of a Pandora's box anyway."
Emmett pouted in my direction. Ekwe was short for Ekwensu, the trickster god of the West African Igbo people. I had nicknames or epithets for all of my family, except for Rosalie and Carlisle. For me, it was a personalized expression of my adoration for each of them. Unfortunately, Rosalie was far too picky about what she wanted to go by, and I refused to let her dictate the term of endearment that I would use for her. I simply never managed to find anything that fit Carlisle. What word can one use to adequately refer to someone that is the world to you? The problem with calling Emmet by his sobriquet was that it constantly reminded him that he was expected to be up to no good.
Jasper raised his chin in his hand, forming his thinking position. "You said we were waiting on Alice and Rose. Not Edward?"
He was often too quick for his own good. All I could do to keep from getting into the discussion earlier than planned was to keep my mouth shut. "Patience, gentlemen. I'm sure everyone will be home shortly."
I realized I had become posed in an awkward backward bend because Carlisle still had not let me go, and in fact, was holding me tighter. "It's fine, dear, really, I swear." He loosened his grip minutely.
We heard tires squeal in the cul-de-sac and come to a stop at the front door. Alice ran in, with Rosalie quickly behind her, her blonde curls failing to hide her baleful grin.
Alice's eyes were wide and her stance was rigid, arms straight and fingers splayed at her sides. "Esme, what the hell!"
It was more of an exclamation than a question, and it was full of fear and confusion, not anger. Jasper ran to her side, and Rosalie sat at the counter next to Emmett, the grin still firmly affixed across her face. I suspected she was enjoying the drama.
"Alice! Why are you speaking to her like that?" Carlisle asked, his tone filled with as much reproach as I had ever heard come from him.
I replied quickly, before this could escalate further. "It's alright, Carlisle. It's probably warranted, anyway. What exactly are you referring to, Mellita?"
"Edward was with me when I went back to your office. He caught her scent, Esme! She was there! I recognized it, too, so I know he wasn't imagining things. You know what's going on, you've told us nothing, and I haven't been able to see anything!" After a second she continued. "Had you revealed your big secret earlier, I would have been able to avoid this!"
At first, I assumed by her outburst that she'd had a vision, perhaps she had seen Bella here in the house tomorrow or maybe with the family, but I had no idea that Edward was with her when I called. The rest of the group began to show signs of waning patience, tired of waiting for an explanation. All eyes in the room focused on me.
I ignored her scolding in favor of addressing the primary problem. "Wonderful. Where is Edward now?"
"He ran off to hunt, but he said he would be back tonight. Mom, he was totally out of his mind; he's outraged!"
Carlisle gently squeezed me. "Darling? Are you going to tell us what has happened?" I took an extra second to focus. I realized that since Alice didn't say anything about seeing Bella with me tomorrow, it likely meant that she probably hadn't truly settled on coming yet.
I inhaled. "I ran into Bella on campus yesterday."
Rosalie's mouth opened to say something. I glared at her, and she shut up instantly. Everyone else remained silent, so I continued.
"Of the four thousand higher education institutions in this country, we managed to pick the one she attends. She happens to be a junior at Carnegie Mellon in the Design department. I heard her voice during a class she was leading. Her response when I walked into the room wasn't exactly ... encouraging. She left altogether, in fact. I sent her an invitation to come see me when she was ready, and she showed up at my office to talk to me earlier today. She's alive and she's surviving, but things have not gone the way we would have hoped."
I did not feel it was my place to share all of Bella's story with them; if they wanted to know the details they would have to approach her individually. I did tell them about Laurent, Victoria, Bella's alliance with the Quileute werewolf pack, and I painted a broad, general picture of her constant state of alarm.
"If you could see her ... I can barely describe it. She's in so much pain. Fear is a way of life for her now." I sighed. "She's taken up some dangerous hobbies to soothe herself. I wasn't even aware that jumping off buildings is considered a sport now."
"She's hanging out with werewolves and she's base jumping?" Emmett asked.
"Yes, that." I replied.
"Rock on, Bella!" Emmett said.
We all glared.
"Um, bad Bella, bad. I mean ... she could go splat," he stammered.
I glared harder; he shut up.
"She was surprisingly gracious to me when we talked earlier today. I can't imagine the sense of abandonment she feels. I didn't even ask; I was too much of a coward to want to find out. But from what I could gather, she misses us as much as we miss her."
After a period of silence Jasper spoke. "Does she still love Edward?"
I closed my lids when I pictured in my mind's eye the look of anguish she failed to hide whenever I said his name. "At least as much as he loves her."
"Daaaamn. If as a human she's in half as much misery as Ed's whiney, mopey ass—" Emmett blurted.
This time Carlisle, Jasper and even Rose interrupted him. "Em!"
He stood his ground. "Sorry, but you know it's true. Poor Bella."
Rosalie dropped the smug face she held.
Alice had been looking at the floor since I described Bella's state of affairs, but she lifted her head towards us and spoke softly. "We screwed up in a major way when we left, didn't we?"
"Yes," I said. "We all owe her an apology. I was hoping to have more time to convince Edward of that, but it looks like I've run out; Bella has agreed to come visit us."
"When?" asked Jasper.
"Tomorrow afternoon," I said.
I was expecting discourse or discussion of some kind, but all was quiet.
"What's the plan?" Alice whispered.
"There isn't one." I answered. "It's going to be awkward, and there's nothing that can be done about that really. You each know how you feel about her. I think that all we have to do is make a concerted effort to show her exactly what that is."
I snuck a glare at Rosalie, but she seemed properly contrite, so I returned to addressing the group.
"As far as Edward is concerned, well, we can't really control him, now can we? We can only hope that he sees reason. He will need our support as well, so hold your tongues if you can; I expect he'll be quite angry when he gets back, and I would bet he's going to take that out on me. Let me handle him."
Carlisle frowned and moved to take a defensive stance. I stroked his arm and smiled, trying to assure him that I could handle this on my own.
"Really, we'll be fine. I can be the enemy for a while if I have to be. He and I will reach an understanding. In the meantime, from you all, he'll need some understanding and empathy." I looked at Jasper. "Well, you know, not quite Jasper-level-super-empathy, but you know what I mean."
Jasper smiled.
"Other than that," I said, "we hope and pray, and just maybe ... just maybe, we can start to repair this."
We watched as Alice called Edward's cell phone. She left a message pleading with him to come home, then snapped the phone closed. Afterwards, we all just stood or sat in place for so long that I lost track of the time. I focused my attention on each and every one of them for at least a minute each. I tried to carry all the hope and desperation I felt on my face for all to see, and I left them with it as I walked away.
Contrivances
While what I had told Esme about having errands to run was true, it wasn't my first order of business for this morning. I had a climb scheduled with Daria and Gabriel, two members of one of the local climbing enthusiast groups. I hadn't slept well since my talk with Esme. My burgeoning headache was now deafening. I needed relief soon, and I was counting on the climb to clear my head.
We wanted to get out early, before the state parks filled with the weekend campers and hikers, so I woke up at 3:00 that morning, hoping to be out on a rock by the crack of dawn. I couldn't remember where exactly they wanted to meet up, so I opened my email to double-check. I found six messages from professors, one from a member of a group project I had been forced onto, and a new one from Daria, which I opened immediately.
Hey Isa,
Bad news. Gabe and I got into a huge fight last night (because he's a jackass), and I kicked him out of our apartment. As I type, he's standing outside banging on the door, and once I finish this email I'm gonna start tossing his clothes out of the window. I'm looking forward to it. Unfortunately this means I certainly won't be out on the climb in the morning, and I'm assuming he won't be there either (especially since I have all of his underwear and socks. I'm thinking I'llkeepthose in the apartment. He can go buy more.) I'm really sorry, I know this is totally late notice, and I apologize for our collective dysfunction.
Later,
-Dar
I wasn't too disappointed to hear that Daria and Gabe wouldn't be coming. I had asked them because I was planning on climbing a relatively difficult route, and they were great technicians. Given that this route was rated at a 5.13 when 5.15 was the maximum difficulty, I could have used the guidance. The downside was that they bickered constantly. This was mostly a problem on the way to and from the rock—on a climb everyone was focused on the climb itself, as it should be. I didn't mind going solo, even though it made the trip longer since I had to set up all the equipment alone.
Damn it, I don't have a solo rigging set up ready.
"Rigging" was a general term to describe the configuration of how one's equipment was set up for each climb. Every scenario presented different requirements, and the change in plans meant I was no longer properly prepared. In the end, neither complication mattered; I had decided that staying home this morning wasn't an option. Since I no longer had to meet up with anyone, I crawled back into bed and stared at the ceiling for another ten minutes. Then I got up and took off for McConnell's Mills State Park.
An hour and ten minutes later I stood at the bottom of the rock I had planned to conquer. Even though it was early enough that the sun still hadn't quite risen, my insecurity begged me to look around, checking to see if I was in anyone's line of vision. My usual style preferences resulted in pretty modest clothing, but when climbing, I preferred to wear as little as possible, since clothing just got in my way, and I liked to feel the cool rock face with my skin wherever I could. That morning I was in a simple tank top with my school's logo plastered across my breasts, and a matching pair of shorts that weren't much larger than my underwear. Hell, I was probably wearing more sunscreen than I was clothing.
I hiked up the gradual face of the hill by foot, and carefully tied my primary and back-up top-ropes around the trunk of a huge black walnut tree. I sat my bag lunch beside a pile of fallen walnuts. Afterwards I threw the ropes over the edge of the cliff, attached my belay, affixed the rest of my rigging, then peeked over to look down the sheer rock wall. I glanced once more at the belay device. It was a small piece of metal whose purpose was to connect my safety rope to my harness, and halt or slow the rope, providing enough tension for me to control my descent if I had to rely on the rope to carry me. It was designed to work with the rigging, which, all together, was just a large, complicated counterweight that, if I fell, would result in me dangling harmlessly from the side of the rock face until I gently rappelled down to the ground.
Lookin' good, Swan. This is going to be a beautiful day.
I took one more second to appreciate the view, then began the hike back to the bottom.
Halfway through my return hike to the base of the rock formation it occurred to me that no one I had met since the start of my "Isa" days had ever referred to me as clumsy. I supposed that a large part of my flailing around all the time back then was simply that I wasn't paying attention. I had a nasty habit of letting my mind wander constantly. It didn't matter whether I was walking, driving, or if someone was talking to me; half the time I was off in my own little world. Jeez, I must have been insufferable. I could admit that I still got lost in thought sometimes, but not usually when mobile. These days my wanderings weren't even an option. If I didn't keep my mind clear and pay close attention to the task at hand, fatalities could result. While I had no death wish, I was well aware that any irresponsible behavior on my part could endanger those I was with as well, and so my mind stayed where it needed to be. Off my flights of fancy. Off Edward. On the work ahead of me.
I took one, last, sure-footed hop and I was standing where my top-ropes had landed. I completed the rest of my anchor setup and attached my excess gear to my harness. Last, I pulled out the shiny metal belay device that I so proudly designed myself. It was time to start The Ritual.
"The Ritual" was my name for the processes that took over once my brain realized that I was planning on doing something dangerous. I stood stock still, closed my eyes and dug my toes into the dirt. I reached underneath my ponytail to rub the spot at the base of my neck; this was just a nervous habit I had now. For me the act was like rubbing the belly of a Maitreya Buddha statue, it was something I felt would bring me good luck. When I opened my eyes I let them measure the distance from where I stood to the top of this enormous, craggy, and unforgiving rock face. I estimated 250 feet or so. Soon the adrenaline came. It pulsed through me, stronger with each heartbeat. I shook out my arms, and checked my focus: my mind was clear. It was time.
I shifted my shorts, yanked on my top-rope one last time, and began the climb.
I reached, I grappled and I hoisted myself up from crevasses to cracks, forcing myself to find solid footing. I sung fast tempo songs in my head to try to keep a rhythm. Rhythm counted for a lot; if I were busy keeping up with it and trying to match my movements to that rhythm, then I would be too busy to think about the fact that there was nothing but air underneath my butt, and the only thing keeping me attached to the rock were my slender fingers. Somewhere along the line Edward would find his way through; creep in when I wasn't vigilant, scolding me. Then I would use his voice like a metronome, keeping the tempo, our silent conversation urging me to find the willpower to push myself up one more foot. Two more feet. Ten more feet. This time, though, I was 150 feet up according to the altimeter on my wrist, and while Sufjan Stevens had set up camp in my mind with his various melodies, there was no Edward.
I was closer to 160 feet when I felt a tug. My anchor at the bottom of the rock was set up to keep my ropes relatively taut, so feeling them go slack ever so slightly caught my attention. I looked up, but they looked just as I had left them; they didn't seem as if they had shifted, so I couldn't understand why I felt the extra slack. I lifted my leg and swung myself to a new foothold. When my movement settled I felt the ropes go taut again. I looked up. Nothing. It was probably a fluke. I was about to move on when I heard the whisper. It was him, in my ear, telling me something was wrong.
Bella, listen, you need to leave, you need to leave right now.
I rested my head against the rock face, my helmet clinking against the stone.
Thanks, Edward, but I can't exactly just bolt from here. Got some useful advice?
He didn't reply. I looked at my harness to see if I had anything on me that could be used as a backup measure. There were three cams. Just three, for at least 85 feet of rock. Spring Loaded Camming Devices were like wall anchors. You shove one in the crack of a rock, expand it, and link yourself to it via a carabiner and rope. If I had planned on using cams as my primary safety measure, I would have had more to work with, but I didn't; I intended to rely on a top-roping method instead.
Alright, Swan, time to think here. If you had chosen to Trad Climb, you would have a gear sling packed with fifty of those suckers at your beck and call, but you didn't want to carry thirty pounds of metal up the rock, so that's not the decision you made. The choice you made was to use a rope for the climb and bring three cams. Three, thinking you wouldn't have to rely on them. Now here you are, something deeply instinctual telling you that mischief is afoot, and your only options are to stretch these three as efficiently as you can on your way to the top of this wall. THINK. You need to finish this.
I took a minute to breathe and clear my head. Then I started calculating.
Okay. Normally I would use one cam for every 10 feet of vertical climb. That would mean that if you fell 10 feet above where you placed your last cam, you would fall no more than 20 feet, right? Right. I have another 85 feet of climb to go, so the best you can do is space these three relatively evenly apart, and means that if worst comes to worst, you'll fall maybe 25 or 30 feet.
I unhooked a cam from my harness and jammed it into the crack on the rock face I was clinging to. I activated the cam trigger and the spring released, securing itself into the rock. I swung myself sideways to push my hip against the rock and gain a foothold that would allow me to maneuver so that I could hook in and clip my rope to the carabiner on the other end of the cam.
Bella, you have to hurry. I heard his whisper.
I could feel my heart beating in the tips of my fingers and toes. I grinned in satisfaction. This was the rush I was waiting for. In the back of my mind I really didn't think much of the momentary rope shift. Perhaps I was even imagining it so I could hear his voice. Given recent events, hearing the hallucination was comforting. Just thinking of seeing or talking to the real thing brought me close to cardiac arrest. I kept moving.
Move faster! he yelled.
I scrambled from hold to hold. 30 feet from the top I placed my last cam, but now I was rushing. Moving too fast to really check my grip, ten feet from the top I slipped. First the toes on my right foot dislodged, then my left, the momentum swinging my body to the right. I collided with the face of the wall and my left hand lost all grasp. I clung to the wall from three fingers.
Bella! Grab! There! Edward urged.
I saw a hold just a couple inches from where my left hand was swinging. I grabbed it. Seconds later I was firmly planted on the rock again. My last few feet. Fatigued, I struggled to climb over the ridge and rest. I hooked my right leg over and with one final push rolled myself onto the flat, harsh surface of the hill. I was just about to exhale in relief when I heard a voice.
"It's about time you got back. It took you so long to get here that I had to grab an appetizer, but don't worry, I would never spoil my entrée when I've been looking forward to it for so long," the voice said.
This one wasn't in my head. It wasn't Edward, and it was not friendly. I recognized it instantly; I opened my eyes and saw red.
