Hunger
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Closing the door behind him, an exhausted Charlie Swann hung up his jacket, and gun belt, rubbing his face with his hands. Man, all he wanted was a beer, and dinner, and a nap. Realising that he was likely out of beer, and edible food, he sighed, wondering what there was in the cupboards that he could turn into something passable. The large, heart-shaped sticky note on the fridge caught his eye. It was neon-pink. "Dinner's inside. Esme hopes you like it. - Alice"
God bless Alice—and Esme. The thought was mental sigh. He felt relieved.
Opening the fridge, he repeated the blessing. There were neat tupperware containers of what looked like enough food for a week, for both lunches, and dinners. And there was beer.
His feelings towards the Cullens softened slightly, and he suffered a guilty pang, thinking about his surly words with Carlisle this morning.
Checking the time, he wondered if he would have time for a nap, before he saw Bella. Likely not, he realised, and pulled out a beer, and a dinner. After a moment, he set them down, realising that he'd picked out his last clean shirt today, and would need more for tomorrow. If he was going to get laundry done tonight, he'd better get it started. He trudged upstairs, throwing the one he was wearing in the laundry machine, and moved through his room, gathering more laundry. He hesitated slightly, before stepping into Bella's room, not wanting to violate her privacy. Assuring himself that she wouldn't mind if he did her laundry, he entered and picked up the clothes, and a dirty, stiffly dried towel she'd uncharacteristically left on the floor. His eyes were drawn to a note on the bedside table. His innards chilled. Bedside notes were rarely good. He picked it up tentatively, wishing half-heartedly for a pair of evidence gloves. It read: "I love you. Keep trying. Call you later. - Jacob"
Relieved, he folded it carefully, and put it in his pocket. He'd bring it to her later. The less logical parts of his mind attributed an uncertain magic to the words of loved ones, written or spoken, and he wanted these to be as close to her as possible.
Jacob. It made him smile to think of it. His, and Billy's child together. It was right, in so many ways. Now, he just needed to protect her from the Cullen boy.
Edward.
His mood sullied, and the laundry started, he trudged downstairs to his waiting dinner. Opening the tupperware container, he sighed in pleasure. Salmon with roast potatoes. No vegetables. His favorite. Bella must have told them, he realised, before they left.
His feelings towards the Cullens, en masse, softened again.
He set himself down to eat on the couch, and woke, a solid hour later, knocking over the empty container as he startled. Looking at the time, he dusted himself off, grabbing his keys, and headed out to the car.
Carlisle had finally convinced Edward to hunt.
"It isn't like she's going to miss you for the next few hours, Edward, and you need to be well, if you're going to be any use to her."
Edward was moving rapidly through the wetness of the forest, nostrils flaring, searching for the quickest game. He could scent deer, and found easy prey in a young buck. It tasted bland, but it would keep him safe for Bella. Her name, recited in his mind, was a balm against the deeper hungers of his flesh.
Charlie felt weary, even after his unplanned sleep, and the hospital only added to the feeling. The weight of illness, worry, and grief hung about the place. His work had carried him here often enough, that it was permanently tinged with the grubbiness of the business that he usually encountered in it. It bothered him that Bella had to be here at all, not just for her well being, but because it brought the clean sphere of home, and the darker one of work too close together for his own peace of mind.
Carlisle knew, before the phone rang, that Charlie had arrived. He'd left his door open, and the scents of the building ran through the current that drew from the slit of the open window. "Of course," he said into the receiver, "I'll be right down."
He had, with many mixed feelings, agreed with Edward, that they should keep what they'd learned to themselves. There was no way to verify it, not until Bella woke up, and even then—she'd have to come to her own conclusions, for her own good.
"Carlisle," Charlie said, turning when he entered Bella's room.
At least I'm back to being Carlisle, instead of Dr. Cullen now, he thought. He made a mental note to thank Esme for feeding Charlie. Men, stomachs, and hearts, he ruminated.
Charlie sat, slightly slumped, his hand rubbing over Bella's. "Any change, today?"
"Yes, I was just going to call you," he lied, "she was awake for a few minutes, talking."
"What did she say?"
"I don't know, exactly," he said.
"Who did she talk to?" Charlie asked, looking around, almost as if he expected to find someone else in the room.
"Edward," Carlisle said softly.
Charlie stiffened immediately, pressing his lips together, jaw tight. "Edward," he said. It dropped like a rock, deadening the conversation.
Many of the chief's positive feelings dribbled away at this revelation.
"Jacob visited, too," he added.
That seemed to mollify Charlie a bit, and he nodded, "good," he said. "He left a note for her, the other day, I guess." He pulled it out, smoothing it, before setting it beside Bella's bed. A vase of fresh flowers was there too. Alice's work, he suspected, smiling, but the corners of his mouth drooped when he realised it could just have easily been Edward.
"Esme brought them," Carlisle answered his unspoken thought, watching the drift of his eyes.
"Please thank her for me—and for the food, too."
Carlisle nodded, and then, the niceties aside, briefed Charlie on the medical information he could provide. It wasn't much, but Charlie agreed that rest was what Bella needed at the moment.
Edward waited, securely unnoticed in the darkness just outside the parking lot. When Charlie left, he returned, taking up his vigil, this time by Bella's bed, her hand in his. He kept up a constant murmur of his devotion, unbroken, as the dark moon traced a silent parabola in the sky.
Author's note: I long to know what you infer, dear readers, so far in this tale. Where do you expect it to go next? Your thoughts help me see where I've successfully, and perhaps unintentionally, planted seeds.