Wherewith he burns

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The images of last night's dreams kept fluttering up, odd words in her reading sparking connections she would prefer to leave disconnected

Jacob. Godwin. Jakob.

Edward.

She shuddered. His visage, so carefully unthought, and yet perfectly preserved in her memory, swum before her. And his words, his fear that he would do so to her.

Godwin had.

She shut down the thoughts, and returned her mind to the last pages of The Inferno. It wasn't staying put though, and kept wandering back to subject she would prefer to leave alone.

Charlie's voice was a happy distraction, "Bella?" He called from downstairs.

"Hi dad," she said, standing up and stretching, "you burning the midnight oil?"

"Hah," he said, a bitter edge to his voice, "yeah, guess so." He was hanging up his jacket as she came down the stairs.

"You eat already?" She asked, wandering to the fridge, looking to see if she had something for his dinner.

"Uh-huh," he said, sitting down heavily on the couch, "we did," and rested his head on the back. "Oh, man, I forgot to get ice," he said rubbing his face.

"I can get that tomorrow with the groceries," she said, "fishing?"

"Yeah, Harry and I are going out tomorrow. Thank you."

Bella tried not to wrinkle her nose. She knew that the ice would keep the fish out the fridge until he was ready to gut it. She mentally added it to the shopping list.

"We'll be out early, and back late," he said, still rubbing his eyes. He stopped his rubbing, and added "That OK? I've been leaving you alone a lot, lately." He was watching her closely.

She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine, dad. I've got lots of homework to keep me busy, and I think I might go hang out with Jake. Seeing as you're likely stealing his dad too?" She smiled slightly.

"I'm glad that Jake's a good friend to you." His small smile matched hers perfectly.

It had been a long day for both of them, and they both made their way to bed soon after. Bella was grateful to welcome sleep, and a dreamless night.


The day had dawned an unusual mixture of clouds and sun, the sharp rays slicing through for moments, then silenced by a quickly moving cloud front. The trees were tipped over at the tops by the wind, bent in a wobbly prayer to the east.

Bella got the groceries and the laundry done quickly, putting everything away, and turning herself south in her truck, to meet Jacob.

The rain was coming in intermittent showers, and Bella had to keep turning the wipers on and off on the highway, grumbling as they scraped across her windshield every time she passed a patch of rain. Her next car, she told herself, would have adjustable wiper settings.

She snorted at herself, remembering someone else who wanted her to have another car.

She shook the thought away, focusing on the road, feeling the emptiness spreading inside. A firm grip on the wheel, she let the thought of her dream Jacob surface, remembering the feeling of the drawstring closing, tightening away the hurt inside.

When she arrived at Jacob's house, she found him comfortably ensconced on the couch, a basketball game in front of him.

"Hey," she said, poking her head in the door. "You alive in there?"

"Yeah, come on in," he called back, "game's almost over. Your sporty torture will be short."

She smiled, wiping her shoes on the door mat. He knew her well.

"Thanks," she said, when he scooted over, making room for her beside him.

The couch was old, and sagged generously. Her weight and Jacob's made it dip in the middle, sliding them together, inevitably touching at the hip. The ride down had been cold in the wind, and the truck's old heater had done little to combat the elements. Jacob's heat was a pleasant contrast to the clamminess she still felt

She sighed, relaxing into his side, not bothering to try to keep distance between them.

It felt comfortable.

Safe.

His arm was stretched behind her, over the top of the couch, and it slipped, ever so slowly, lower and lower, as he shifted his legs, down and between her back and the couch.

It settled on her hip.

Bella closed her eyes, knowing the ache inside, remembering the dream.

You're not asleep, her thoughts reminded her.

But this feels good, she thought, purposefully. And the string of that purse of agonies closed tighter.

She leaned into him, her head resting on the forward curve of his shoulder, her right hand on his chest.

He was remarkably still, and his heart thumped faster than she expected.

Jacob reminded himself, in what felt like a million repetitions. Be cool. Don't move. You might ruin the moment. Long game. Long game. Play the long game. The phrases repeated in a monotonous mantra, as he tried to relax, and savour what he knew could be a fleeting moment.

Bella's fingers moved back and forth, extending and contracting, tracing an invisible pattern he wanted to understand. It was like having an electric current running through him.

Her hand stilled, and clenched at his shirt as she moved herself over. Her intention was unmistakable, and the shock of her cool lips on his warm ones broke the rhythm of his mental chant. He matched her grip, and brought his arms around her, eliminating all space between them.

The purse strings were tight, and the last of the pain flickered, and died inside. Bella sighed into the kiss, pulling Jacob's shirt towards her, trying to draw him in even tighter than he was.

Jacob took the hint, and allowed himself to be pulled around to her front, sliding his hands to cradle her head, and her back, not breaking the contact of their kiss.

Bella's hands found the hem of his shirt, and slid under it to his skin. The kiss intensified, and a shiver ran up Jacob's body.

Was he cold? A small voice in her mind wondered, but the heat continued, and the shivers with it. Pressed against the give of the couch, she could feel the hardness of his flesh against her, the shuddering unrelieved.

Then it clicked, what the shivering was.

And the voice, his voice, came roaring back to her.

Stop, now! He's about to change.

Opening her eyes, Bella could see what her subconscious was telling her.

The scars of Emily's face flashed in her mind's eye.

The beautiful voice screamed at her to stop.

It ripped open the scabbed wound, a wave of nauseating guilt making her shudder now. She pushed back against Jacob, and pulled her face away.

"Stop!" She said, scrambling back, getting up shakily.

"Bella, wait—" he started.

"No, I have to go," she blurted out, and ran for the door, tripping over the mat, scraping her hands as she went.

She started the truck, and pushed the gas so that gravel sprayed behind her as she pulled away from the house.

A few minutes away, the shaking made itself known again, and the adrenaline that she'd felt was pushing the choking sobs out of her. She pulled over, hoping Jacob hadn't followed. Checking around her, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief, and succumbed to the guilt, and the grief.

It was never going to stop, was it? The ache. There was temporary relief, but it was just that. Temporary. And she'd used Jacob. Fresh grief stabbed her in the gut. Her friend, she told herself, you've used your friend. And hurt him.

She bent over in the cab, trying to stop the pain in her gut, but it was useless.

It was just there.

She began to feel the sinking sensation that the last few months had made so commonplace to her. The feeling like she was living under water, the distorted sounds of the world that reached her were slow, and almost surreal.

In this fog, suitably numbed, she turned the key mechanically in the ignition, and pulled away.

A remote part of her mind told her she'd forgotten to buy ice.

Not wanting to chance a meeting with anyone who would expect her to talk, in town, she pulled into Clive's. The ice machine's fixed, her mind supplied. You can get ice here.

She pulled into the lone parking spot by the store, and walked, one foot in front of the other, towards the ice machine. A paper fluttered, taped on one edge, to the front of the machine. Maybe they have a sale on ice, her mind wondered. Press the button, her mind instructed her, pull the latch, and she did. The murky darkness of the freezer surprised her. Didn't they normally have a light on inside, so you could see the bags?

The paper flapped itself over in the wind, Do not open, Broken, it read.

The dark shape of a booted foot was clear in the day's alternating light.

The cloud front was moving, she realised. Light, and diffuse light.

Bella closed the ice box, and walked to the older model. This one had ice in it. And a light.

She pulled out a bag, and walked to the cash. John's surly face was as unhelpful as ever, and this time her change bounced on the counter, and she tried to make sense of what she'd done, that he should be so rude.

Their eyes met, and the angry flush of his face told her something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Leave, Bella, said the voice. Now. Leave.

And the pain flared inside, making Bella wince, and shudder.

"Thanks," she said, her manners so ingrained as to be involuntary.

"Yup," he gritted, not breaking eye contact.

She returned, just as mechanically to her truck, and started it. As she drove, the numbness began to recede, and the longing for the delusion of his voice grew, matched only in size by the correlating pain.

The curve of the road brought the cliffs into sight, and Bella's course of action became clear.

She needed his voice. The sweet relief even of its ghostly memory drew her hands to the right, pulling over, looking for the trailhead Jacob had mentioned.

There.

She almost floated above herself, the pleasant detachment of an ill-borne hope carrying her feet forward. She was so intent, that the noises of the forest were a dim background to her purpose. One foot in front of another, she brought herself closer to the open air beyond the tree line.

Fear was beginning to twist inside her though, as other sounds bubbled up through her consciousness.

Footsteps. Behind her. Twigs snapping not the rhythm of her own feet.

She paused, just beyond the scrum of arbutus and gnarled gary oak, and turned.

John was standing behind her.

John.

And Edward's voice became clear: Jump.

The wind picked up, and somewhere, Bella realized, the sound of an old tin roof piece, swinging on its last screw point, was screeching its protest against being moved in the storm.

She turned, the cliff edge at her back. She was stuck.

Jump Bella, his voice whispered. You can swim, but you can't win against his hands.

"You probably think I've done something wrong," he said, standing, hands at his sides.

Lie, the voice hissed.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Bella offered, weakly, her heart pounding.

He snorted, "considering you opened a freezer box with a dead body in it, I'm going to dismiss that as nerves. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to talk."

Don't believe him. He's lying, the voice whispered in her ear.

Bella closed her eyes momentarily, wishing her own delusions were more helpful. She opened them again, remaining silent, waiting to see what more he would say.

"Dwayne was the worst kind of person," he said, his fists curled at his sides. "You know? The kind that wrongs you ten ways to Sunday, then asks you to forgive them?"

Bella was imagining that there were worse kinds. The kind that murdered in vengeance, for example. Or by accident, her mind supplied, unbidden. Like Godwin.

She shuddered.

John saw her movements, and stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You think you're so above this. Just wait. Wait until the person you've given yourself to leaves you for someone else. And when that someone else comes back, asking for forgiveness, don't think you'll give it, and walk away." The hands came out of the pockets again, and were flexing, his weight shifting angrily from side to side.

Bella took a careful step backwards, using her peripheral vision to ensure she wouldn't fall off the cliff. The crystal voice in her head screamed JUMP! at her again.

She swallowed instead.

"Frickin' walk the moon," he muttered against the wind, shaking his head.

"What?" She asked, her attention caught by the phrase Charlie had used.

"He wanted to walk the moon with me." He laughed at this, a hysterical edge creeping up the side of his voice. "He expected me to forgive him. Make peace. After he made off with my wife. Convinced her to abandon our son. You saw him. Damn sorry excuse for a person."

The teenager. Not a teenager. A young man.

That poor child, she thought.

"Couldn't look at him without seeing her," he said. "But managed to get through raising him. He'll be alright. But not if people find out what he's done."

"Your son?" Bella thought outloud.

"People don't react well when the man who stole your mother shows up. Ask your dad for forgiveness, in front of you. Don't even acknowledge you. Then yell at you to get them gas." He shook his head retelling this. "He's a smart kid. Offered to take him for a walk, listen to him." His voice grew husky with emotion, "If I'd known, I woulda stopped him, but...I never thought."

He looked up at her, his throat tight, jaw clenched. "I didn't protect him the first time, but I will now." He stared, his hands now firm firsts at his sides.

JUMP the voice roared, and Bella started at it.

John's head was shaking ever so slightly, side to side, as if he was disagreeing with himself. Or steeling himself for a decision.

He had.

His sprint towards her sudden, and Bella could feel the brush of a hand on her shirt as she finally pivoted and jumped, using the full force of her legs to give herself the clearance she needed to survive the fall.

The voice was going overtime. The water will be cold, Bella, the shock will be hard. You need to swim.

And then, with the deafening crash of the water, and the minute blackness that took her, it was blessedly silent. The blackness did not last long though, and the surging breath she took as the waves caught her was nothing, as the water broke over her head.

Swim! The voice screeched at her, and she was, but it was becoming harder, the weight of her jeans sucking at her legs. The effort it was taking to keep her head out of the water was draining out her slowly, and as her legs slowed, her descent into the black water was speeding.

And then she stopped.

Just stopped, and let, with a final breath, the water close over her.

The cold, the exhaustion, were too much, and the painful flaring of the emptiness within sucked away at the last will to survive.

Why not?

Edward's voice became clearer under the water, and the screeching to swim became a plea to live. Please Bella, don't let go.

You did, she thought.

No, I haven't, it said.

Liar.

But the thoughts were becoming less coherent, fading, and twisting, until the flickers of his face were all her mind could hold.

The sudden, sharp movement of air in her lungs was painful.

"Breathe!" Came another voice, this one hot, and insistent, as it blew into her mouth.

"Come on Bella, breathe for me!" And the rapid, thumping pain in her chest told her she was.

"Jacob?" She coughed, seeing his worried face over her.

"Thank God," he breathed.

She sucked in another desperate breath, this one to fuel her voice, "John! His son—they—"

"We know," Jacob said. "Paul and Embry have him. Sam and Embry overheard you both."

Bella's eyebrows furrowed, as she opened her mouth.

Jacob scooped her up, the heat of his body a relief against the shuddering cold that was beginning to convulse her. "They were coming towards you when you jumped. They'd been dealing with..something else, before that." He frowned, and his grip tightened.

Bella knew there was only one other kind of concern that would have kept them.

"Is she—?" She started.

"No, she got away," he shook his head. He looked like he was going to say more, but his mouth settled into a grim line.

An unprecedented exhaustion was seeping over Bella, as she fought to stay awake.

"It's OK, Bella, sleep. We'll be at my place soon."

And she was. Awake. In clean, dry clothes, not her own. Wrapped in a blanket, in Jacob's sister's room, on the bed.

A florid blush crept up her face, had Jacob—?

"Bella?" It was a woman's soft voice.

Emily, her mind supplied.

"You back with us?" The voice said, a warm hand on her arm.

"Yeah," Bella said quietly, sitting herself up. Whoa, spinning room. She settled back against the headboard.

"You were pretty out of it when Jacob got you here. It was hard to get you changed."

Oh, she thought. Thank god.

"Sam called me, said something happened on the cliff," she prompted, tilting her head sideways.

"John—his son, he…" and she gulped, "killed Dwayne. I found the body, in his ice box. He said he wanted to explain—but he went to grab me, so I—"

Emily nodded, "No wonder you're shaky. Here—drink this, it'll help," and passed her a cup of tea, heavily sugared.

The heat felt good, as Bella sipped, letting her back relax, the slight shake to her hands easing.

"I should go," Emily said, standing, "Jacob's here. You need anything that only a woman can provide?" She grinned at Bella.

Bella gave a small smile back, and shook her head, "Thanks, Emily, I appreciate it."

As she left, Bella stood, shakily, and headed out into the living room, to face Jacob.

"Hey," he said, meeting her partway. "Don't fall down on me again. I think I've had enough of saving your ass for a day."

Bella gave a quiet, internal sigh. He was pretending this afternoon hadn't happened.

She did not deserve friends like this, she thought guiltily.

"Jacob—" she started.

"I think we should get you home, Bella," he said quietly. "Maybe I can drive you?" He raised his eyebrows, looking at her shaking hand.

"Yeah," she said, feeling the uneasy twist of her gut.

The drive was silent, and Bella thought about everything that had happened. She needed, she knew, to get some things clear, before Charlie got home.

"Jacob—" she tried again.

"Can we talk about it later?" he said too quickly.

"I need some answers, before Charlie comes home," she said evenly.

"Charlie's going to be home late, Bella. He's at Sue Clearwater's."

"I thought he was fishing? With your dad, and Harry?"

"They were," he said, "until Harry had a heart attack, Bella. He didn't make it."

"What?"

"Harry died, Bella. It was really sudden. They couldn't...do anything."

Jacob's hands were tight on the steering wheel.

"Oh," she said, not sure what else to say.

"There's something else you need to know, too," he said, his voice softer now.

"Godwin was on our lands—"

"Did you—?"

"No," he shook his head, "Victoria was there. He," Jacob shook his head to clear it, "he got in between her and you. Sam saw, when they were following her, before they saw you."

"He stopped her?" Bella wondered.

Jacob was slowing down, pulling over to the road's shoulder. He turned off the ignition. He nodded. "Yes, he did."

"And?"

"Sam said, when the clouds cleared, they both began to glimmer in the sunlight, but then, Godwin, he began—his hood came off as he was fighting—he began to smoke."

Jacob swallowed again. He could see it, in his mind's eye. Wisps of purple smoke curling off of Jacob's skin.

"He burned, Bella, as he fought her. He kept her from getting to you, but it was too much, she—" and he stopped, not wanting to describe what he'd seen in Sam's mind.

"Killed him," she finished the thought for him, remembering the sound of screeching metal. "Because of me," she added.

"No, don't you dare—"

"I'm not," she whispered, "but he did. For me."

"We'll get her, Bella. Don't worry. We'll stop her. She won't hurt you."

Bella nodded, her mind running to Godwin's fiery end, as she had escaped her watery one.

And Jacob had saved her too.

She wondered if he would again, from the pain that was slowly slicing up inside, its edges pushing outward, eating up her weary remnants.

"Please take me home, Jacob," she said, not daring to look at him.

He didn't answer, but started the car.

She looked up when the peripheral landscape became familiar. The front light was on. Had she left it on?

No, she hadn't, she realized.

And then she saw the car.

Carlisle's car.

"No, don't—" Jacob said, grabbing her arm. "There's a vampire inside." He stepped out of the car, and Bella followed. His arm caught her before she crossed to the steps.

"I said I would protect you, and I meant it, Bella."

"That's Carlisle's car, Jacob." There was a desperate edge as she spoke, a sharpness he wasn't used to.

Anger flared in him. "It could be a trick—easily!" His grip tightened. She flinched at it, and he forced himself to loosen it, a shaking anger rolling up him.

They stared at each other, a silent war waging between them. The pull away won, and Bella turned, looking at her front steps.

"Jacob, I can't not check. It might be them." Her voice shook with nerves, with hope, and the knowledge that she was abandoning her friend.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

And she turned, one bridge burned behind her, and another, built of hopeful imagination before her, and walked away.

~ The End ~


Author's notes: Well folks, I hope you've enjoyed this tale. I've certainly enjoyed writing it. If you want to know where it goes from here, it's straight back into New Moon, in the chapter Visitor.

December 24, 2017: I just wrote a one shot that features Bella and Jacob fulfilling all of Jacob's desires (smoochy, sexy goodness). A reader suggested it would make a nice alternative ending to this story. It's called "No need for Explanations." Perhaps you will enjoy it after all of this.

As I've moved towards this last chapter, I've wondered unsuccessfully how I might incorporate the lyrics to Florence and the Machine's "Never Let Me Go into it", because they seem so apt to Bella's state of mind in the water. All the ways I could think of adding it seemed trite, so I've included the verses below for your enjoyment. If there's something you've liked in this story, I'd love to hear by PM, or comment. Thank you for reading!

"Never Let Me Go"

By Florence & The Machine

Looking up from underneath
Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me
As before I went under

And it's peaceful in the deep
'Cause either way you cannot breathe
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under

Oh, and it's breaking over me
A thousand miles out to the sea bed
Found the place to rest my head

Never let me go

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me
And all this devotion was rushing over me
And the questions I have for a sinner like me
But the arms of the ocean deliver me

Though the pressure's hard to take
It's the only way I can escape
It seems a heavy choice to make
But now I am under, oh

And it's breaking over me
A thousand miles down to the sea bed
I found the place to rest my head

Never let me go

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me
(So cold and so sweet)
And all this devotion was rushing out of me
And the questions I have for a sinner like me
But the arms of the ocean deliver me

And it's over and I'm going under
But I'm not giving up
I'm just giving in

Oh, slipping underneath
So cold and so sweet

In the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold
And all this devotion, well, I never knew at all
And the questions I have for a sinner released
In the arms of the ocean deliver me

Never let me go

Deliver me

And it's over
I'm going under
But I'm not giving up
I'm just giving in

Ah, slipping underneath
Wooh, so cold, but so sweet