A/N: Beta'd by SweeneyAnne, and pre-read by THEChickNorris & GemmaLisax.
I know I missed a bunch of you with review replies and teasers this time, and I'm so sorry. FFn was being a monster bitch, and it just...wasn't happening. By the time I could reply again I was working on fixing up the chapter, and I kind of figured you'd rather have that. Also, I can't respond to your review if you aren't logged in, so if you want a teaser you gotta login to ask for it.
Anyway, this one is a bit shorter than what I usually put up, but it ended where it ended, ya know? The next one's kinda short, too, so I'm gonna try and post it quick. ;-)
Can I just say that I flove how many of you want to give Jasper a head injury? It makes me laugh like crazy every time.
Don't own Twilight.
Chapter 9 – Web In Front
It's Bella's idea, of course, but I still can't really believe that she talked me into chauffeuring her back and forth between home and the tattoo parlor she found in the phone book. It's in the more touristy area of Gatlinburg, and for some reason she insists on this particular one over something closer. Something about artists and research; I'm not really listening to her reasoning.
"It's not a big deal, Jasper."
"How the hell do you figure that?" I ask, turning my head far enough to watch her sitting in the passenger seat out of the corner of my eye.
"Because it's an imperfection, right?" she asks, smiling faintly. "It'll get erased. Who else gets to do something fun like get a ridiculous tattoo and then not have to live with it?"
"What if I told you that it wouldn't go away?" I ask, not sure if I should burst her bubble and tell her that it might not. I'm curious now, and I'm pretty pleased that she's started talking about being changed again.
"Then I guess I'd have to get something more tasteful than what I have planned," Bella snickers.
She's so excited, and feeling more than a little devious, and in the end I just have to warn her. "It might not go away, Bella. I've met vampires with tattoos."
"Oh well," Bella shrugs easily.
She's annoyed that I won't actually go into the shop with her, but then she catches a glimpse of an overly large bald man with too many tattoos working on another guy's arm, she gets it. "Oh yeah, I guess that probably would be a bad idea."
"Being this close is a bad idea," I point out from between gritted teeth, and I've barely got enough breath left to say anything else.
"I'll call you when I'm done, okay?"
"Yeah."
I hear Bella laugh a little to herself as I'm walking away as fast as I can without drawing attention. I'm so insanely curious as to what she's going to have inked out across her body that it pisses me off to no end that I can't be there to watch.
She doesn't call for hours. It's getting to the point of being infuriating, this ridiculous thumbing through the newspaper at a little cafe a couple of streets away to pass the time. I'm convinced that she's doing it on purpose, that she went and found something else to do so I'd have to stew for a bit, but then again, that's not really her style; Bella's not so much passive-aggressive as she is just plain passive or aggressive in turns—or at least she didn't use to be. Now I'm not actually all that sure, because I still can't figure out why she makes me pay for the groceries.
I enjoy this space we've fallen into since our departure from Forks. We talk and laugh, she lets me run my palms up the sides of her arms and she drops her head on my shoulder when we watch movies far too late for her to stay awake. It's a comfortable life we've cut out for ourselves here in Tennessee, and it fills my mind with possibilities; she's finally talking about becoming a vampire again. It's a step, it means she's getting there. It's exciting.
I people watch, and spend the time aimlessly trying to compare and contrast the humans milling about with Bella. I've often wondered if my interest in her is simply because I've never gotten to know or understand a human before, or if it's just because she's Bella. I'm thinking it's the latter, that she's completely unique amongst her kind.
They're all rushing and aggravated and clipped. They have somewhere to be and want to be there right now, and they take that desire out on each other. It's a tourist town, all these families are on vacation, and I can't understand how that doesn't translate into lighter emotional climates. They're supposed to be here for fun.
I keep dumping my coffee into the plants littering the sidewalk when no one is looking, and I allow the waitress to fill the cup over and over again until she starts giving me this look like she doesn't believe anyone is capable of drinking so much. It's my cue to find something else to do, so I tip her nicely, she's been attentive, pick a direction, and start walking.
I consider calling Esme, or Emmett, but wind up doing neither, choosing to continue my mindless ambling until at long last, once the sun starts to near the horizon, Bella calls and says that she's done.
"What did you get?" I ask her the moment she's in sight, and she throws her head back and laughs. "It's gotta be huge, you took for-fucking-ever."
"You'll have to wait and see," she insists through her giggles, and I know that it's gotta be good, or awful; It's kind of hard to figure out through her near hysteria. "The logistics were a bit tricky, but I think it was well worth it."
She groans when she gets into the car and scrunches her face as a persistent discomfort radiates from her.
"That's what you get for asking some bald guy to stab you with a needle thousands of times."
"Shut up, Jasper."
The wound smells large, but the appeal of her blood is all saturated in ointment and ink. It doesn't set off the side of me that very much wants to kill her, like I'd been a little worried it would, but I roll down all the windows anyway, just in case. Bella's enjoying my impatience far too much, and she laughs lightly when I peel out from the parking lot next to the tattoo studio and get back on the highway. It was about a forty minute drive in, and I wonder how much time I can shave off of that without getting pulled over.
"So, I was wondering if you would explain something to me," Bella says, her arm trailing along in the cool wind of the highway through her open window.
"Shoot."
"Back in Phoenix, when I said that you and Alice were mates, what did you mean by 'and?'" Bella's curious, but she's attached to this question as well, and I figure that it's got to be something that bothers her a lot. She's not the only one hung up on it either, but I wonder why she didn't ask Alice when she talked to her.
"You want to know if Alice and I are mates." I clarify, and she nods immediately while steadfastly refusing to look in my direction.
"In the strictest sense of the definition, yes."
"I don't understand," Bella comments quietly. "How could you have left her if she's your mate?"
I think that maybe she's drawing those crazy parallels she's so fond of between Alice and me, and her and Edward.
"If I explain this to you, you need to understand that there is a very large difference between definition and reality. There is no right or wrong answer, only interpretation, vampire folklore, if you will. Okay?"
"Yeah." Her words are quiet and worried, and after another quarter-mile I pull the car over on the side of the road.
"What I have been taught throughout my years, and what I believe, is that vampires are kind of... stuck. We have trouble accepting new ideas and changes to our lives. I will never, ever, think of a car as a preferable method of transportation, and Emmett will always feel most at home in a house with wooden walls." I take a breath and drum my fingers against the leather of the steering wheel for a moment while I assess Bella's temperament. She's calm, and she's accepting, so I figure that she understands what I'm telling her.
"The reasoning is that your mate can change you with ease and without consequence; they can lessen your flaws, and you're forever altered for knowing them—and this is true of me and Alice. When we met we were just two souls absolutely lost at sea, we were beyond rock bottom; we were only slightly more than nothing.
"We changed each other in that way—we're better for knowing each other."
"That sounds very sweet," Bella comments, and I roll my eyes at her. It only looks nice through rose colored glasses.
"We don't work as a couple, we never did. I believe that our journeys aren't over, that yes, we met and some things were different, but it wasn't enough to get either of us to where we need to go. Those people who met in Philadelphia, they weren't us, we were so damaged. We called each other 'mate' for a long time, and we tried to live up to that expectation—but it was useless." I'm still a little bitter over how hard I was expected to try to make things good between us when we simply aren't very compatible, and it shows.
"She's in love with you," Bella comments, and she allows her gaze to fall on me for the first time since she got in the car.
"Yes, but she's trying to move on."
"She's trying to love you differently," Bella muses quietly, the fog of her emotions running together like watercolors. I don't understand why any of this is so important to her, but then again, there isn't anyone in the world who could pull that girl's logic out of her head. She's a mystery, an enigma.
"Why do you ask?" Actually requesting the information is the only way to get it.
"Because I'm curious."
"About what?" I prod, and when she shrugs I pull the car back out onto the road a little quicker than necessary.
"Inquiring minds want to know, Jasper," Bella giggles; she's trying to cover up something else that I can't quite identify.
"I want to know what your tattoo is of," I shoot back, opting for a subject change rather than talking in circles for the rest of the way home.
"You can see it when we get back," Bella says firmly. "I'm supposed to wash it and do some lotion thing, so you'll get your chance to take a look then."
"Where is it?" I ask, and she fumbles just long enough for me to notice.
"On my arm."
The weird thing is that she's lying about something, and I don't think it's the location of the tattoo; I can kind of see the outline of tape and gauze under the shoulder of her t-shirt.
"What about Edward?" Bella asks, and it's such a rarity for her to talk about him that I almost miss the surge of anxiety that comes in time with her question. She's always like this, little pokes and prods until she gets to what she really wants to know.
"What about him?"
"Is..." Bella trails off, and shifts her gaze back out the window. "Am I actually considered his mate? Everyone always said he was so different after he met me."
"No. You're human." I answer honestly. "There's no reciprocity; people bend and change for as long as their hearts beat and their eyes see. Anyone who bothered to look at the situation objectively would see that his feelings for you are not returned."
I don't tell her that not many would care enough to look so closely.
"But they were, at one point. If he'd changed me when I asked..." Bella says softly, and I'm impressed with her for following along so well.
"Yes. He claimed you, and that is the largest concern."
"It doesn't matter if I don't want him anymore?" Bella asks wearily, already resigned.
"No. The ones who would pass judgment would only care what Edward thinks, and that I did not respect his wishes."
"Assholes," Bella mumbles under her breath.
"Pretty much," I agree.
"I can see why you don't buy into all of this nonsense. It's so juvenile; I haven't called dibs on something since I was seven," Bella grumbles from the passenger seat.
"I think that mates and claim, maybe they're just some of those things that means something different to everybody. The rest of the Cullens, they buy into this idea that mate equals soul-mate, they romanticize this notion of claim—and they don't really see what it looks like from underneath. You and I, though, we've been burned by the concepts too much to believe in them." I'm pretty sure that this time I'm doing a bit better of a job of explaining; probably because I'm not so determined to keep this from her anymore.
"He left me, doesn't that mean anything?" Bella asks, and I like that she gets me enough to not comment when I give her these little glances at stray thoughts I so rarely say aloud.
"It does. It could completely outweigh his entire argument." The odds of this happening are increasing, too; at least they're better than they started out. With Esme on Bella's side there's not many left to back up Edward. Short of going directly to Aro and risking implicating himself for exposure, there's not much Edward can do at this point, but then again, it's not out of the realm of possibility for Edward to do this; he's just the right type of person to do something stupid like throw himself off the cliff just to make sure I get pushed over the edge, too.
"Well, I'm glad one good thing came out of that horrible day, then." Bella says angrily. She's still carrying such a grudge, but there's something in this conversation that she's happy about. I just wish I knew which part.
"Just one?" I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
"Maybe two," Bella concedes. "After all, I did get a car out of it."
"Ouch. You wound my precious ego when you say things like that." I'm containing a chuckle, but not nearly as well as Bella.
"Like there's anything that could make you think less of yourself," Bella replies with a grin that's more fond than anything else.
"I don't think many of the Cullens care very much at this point, Bella," I admit. A little part of me wants to let her think that this is worse than it is, wants to let her believe in the worst case scenario so I come off a little better, but it's a ridiculous notion to have, and I push it to the side. "The only ones I would be worried about are Carlisle and Edward, but after talking to Esme I don't think Carlisle would take any action. He's still trying to hide you, and that means a lot."
"I'd have thought Rosalie would be a problem," Bella confesses, and I smile a bit at the rivalry between the two. They don't actually dislike each other, but neither of them seems to realize it, because Rosalie can't be bothered to actually explain herself.
"Rosalie doesn't want you changed at all," I explain, again, giving her the short version, "but it has little to do with you. I think she feels that way because she actually does like you. She doesn't want to see you subjected to life as a vampire."
"She thought that leaving me hanging would have been better?" Bella asks feeling absolutely outraged.
"Probably."
"That's absolutely insane. I would have... if you hadn't..."
"I know," I interrupt. She doesn't need to tell me how much of a mess she would have been if she'd wound up abandoned by everyone. She never would have been able to live peacefully, knowing what she does.
"You're crazy for getting yourself all swept up in this nonsense," Bella scowls, but she's more grateful than anything else.
"So are you," I shoot back. "Let's not forget who pursued a relationship with a vampire even though every direction was telling her not to."
"We've already gone over the stupid choices I've made in my life, Jasper." Bella sighs and reaches her right hand down with a twinge of discomfort to recline her seat a little more, and slumps down.
"What's wrong?"
She takes a moment to think about it, and when the words come out they're so quiet that they're barely a whisper. "I just... sometimes I miss kisses and the feeling of hands in my hair, of thinking that maybe I'm loved..."
"You miss Edward," I finish for her, but she shakes her head slowly and dips her head.
"No, I don't. Not anymore. I miss the dream, and sometimes I wish that you hadn't woke me up from it." The thought flits through my head that maybe I'm the one who's still dreaming.
I believe her, which doesn't seem right. It really hasn't been all that long, just a couple of months since we left Forks, and it seems like it'd take some time to get over the kind of shit he put her through—but then again, it's been nearly eight months since that day she laid her heart out from a hospital bed in Phoenix. Maybe it wasn't fair to tell her that she'd planned for this all to go right, because it sure seems like she's spent some time thinking about what her life would be like if it didn't.
I'm curious as to what role I played in the worst-case scenario she laid out in her head; if I was going to just up and leave her like all the rest, or if she'd transferred some of that unwavering faith she used to have in Edward onto me. Both are foolish, but I find that if it's gotta be one of the two, I'd rather it be the latter.
"Do you think you could have been happy with him?" I ask, and she takes far less time to think about it than I expect.
"Probably, but I wouldn't really have known any better."
I agree with her there.
"Do you regret it?" I ask, waiting for her emotional response just as much as I'm waiting for the words as I make a left turn onto the road leading to the house.
Bella raises her head up and sends a soft smile my way. "Not at all."
She's telling the truth.
The hum of the Jeep is the only noise between us as I barrel up the driveway until I screech to a stop. Bella practically flies out of the car, she's so excited, and I'm not very many steps behind her. I've just got to see this crazy thing that has her so mirthful even after the heavy conversation had on the way back.
I beat her to her bedroom door. "Let me see it."
"Be patient!" Bella demands as she tries to shove me out of the way.
I catch her arm and she freezes at the same moment that her breathing speeds up, and I take advantage of the moment to tug her jacket off and roll up the short sleeve of her navy t-shirt. She's nervous and a little afraid, and she's trying so hard to compact it all enough that I don't see it, so I peel the tape and gauze back carefully, not sure if it's going to hurt. I'm surprised by how intimate it feels.
I'm not entirely sure what it's supposed to be, at first. It's a whole bunch of dots with little numbers written out beside them, a pair of skinny ovals, and a few other lines. I stare at it completely dumbfounded for two whole minutes before I understand what it is I'm looking at.
"Seriously?" I scoff, visually tracing the points through to the last one. I would never have figured it out if that same face didn't stare out from the kitchen cabinets. "Is that supposed to be Count Chocula?"
Bella bursts out laughing, and winces a little bit when she leans forward to catch her breath. We're standing so close that with one shuffle forward her forehead is leaning against my chest, as she fails miserably to get her humor under control. I have to admit the entire thing is more than a little amusing; the girl is absolutely nuts.
"I couldn't help myself," she giggles. "It was too great of an idea to pass up."
I'm not really sure how she managed to irritate it getting into the car, but tattoos are a subject I know next to nothing about. She finally straightens her posture, and I raise my hand to trace the black dots and numbers etched into her skin with light fingers and a chuckle erupts from my chest. I can't believe she did this.
"I had a feeling it was going to be crazy, but I never expected this."
"I like it," Bella says, sounding a little defensive.
"That's all that really matters, then." I get out of her way and shake my head a little at her as she walks into her room and closes the door behind her with a click.
I'm better in the kitchen, now. Bella's taken it upon herself to teach me how to be less useless in this area, and I can't deny that it's interesting, this science of smell and taste. It's a difficult skill for me to acquire, and I haven't been able to think that about anything in decades. Bella finishes her shower just as I'm trying to figure out if the pizza in the oven is the correct shade of 'golden brown' that the packaging demands.
Bella glances in the oven from behind me and says, "It's done, Jasper."
How she can tell with just a glance, I'll never know.
Bella sets the table, and I extract her food. I don't understand why, but she gets an immense pleasure out of working in the kitchen with someone else. She claims that it makes her feel like she's at home, that it's nice to have company for tasks like this. I suppose that it could be compared to hunting; though I've never really been one to enjoy another's presence, there are many that do.
"Does it look different now that it's cleaned?" I ask her as she picks a pepperoni from her pizza and pops it in her mouth.
"Not really. It's a little less red, less swollen."
"I still can't believe you did that," I tease, but I try to stay a little lighter with it, because Bella's obviously very proud of herself.
"Emmett's going to be so mad that he missed going with me when he sees this on his credit card statement," Bella snickers, and I just have to ask her about that. It's been bothering me for weeks.
"Why is it okay with you to spend Emmett's money?" She pauses for a moment, surprised that I'm questioning it, but it passes quickly.
"Because we had a very frank and honest conversation, and in the end he made me realize that he just wants to feel like he's helping in some way. I use his credit card because it's for him."
"Then why do you always make me pay for the groceries?" I raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Bella laughs lightly, answering just as my phone begins to ring in my pocket. I send the call to voicemail.
"That's different. You made this horrible comment about how you were sure I needed 'human shit', and it made me angry," Bella's a little embarrassed by how badly it rubbed her the wrong way, but I'm more focused on finally obtaining knowledge of what exactly I had said to set her off. She's gotta get some thicker skin. My phone starts ringing again, and this time I move to answer it, but I pause when she keeps talking.
"I knew you didn't mean it that way, but... I don't know, I was just mad. So I figured that if you had no idea what human shit was, then I was going to get a ton of it." Bella shrugs her shoulders, and I roll my eyes at her. What a strange little thing she is.
"You gonna get that?" she asks, annoyed, once the ringing begins for the third time.
I answer the intrusive phone, and it all comes crashing down. The words ring in my ear as I stare at this beautifully fragile girl, this tiny thing that has absolutely no means to protect herself, and if my heart beat, I swear it would have stopped. My responses are automatic, the echoes bound through the kitchen and living room long after the call disconnects, and the reverberations of those first few words spoken hammer against me with taunts of 'you should have seen this coming.'
'She knows you left.'
A/N: Teasers if you want 'em!
