A/N: I have no excuse for anything. I don't know how big of a surprise it will be to see this story on your story alerts still (God knows even I'm surprised I started this thing back up again – it's been so long), but I had an idea that's been crawling inside my head from the moment I started the first chapter and I've since made it my responsibility to not rest easily knowing that idea is still there, waiting for me to form it into words.
I mildly contemplated not allowing the events in this chapter to unfold just yet – but then I realized I've been rather evil in keeping them from you for so long that I really do owe you guys. So, here ya go.
I don't expect any of you to forgive me for this long delay, but I hope you can forget your anger at me long enough to read this chapter and enjoy it.
Chapter Twelve.
Time seems to stand still. Even as the seconds agonizingly turn into a minute, you still can't think of a proper response. It's as though the breath has been knocked out of you.
What did Paul just say? What?
"What?" you finally say aloud, surprised your voice still works.
In the darkness you can see him roll his eyes and sigh in exasperation. "They told me you were slow, but I didn't realize you were this bad."
Even as your ears hear the insult, your brain doesn't process it enough to be properly offended by Paul's harsh tone. "You – you just said – Victoria's back? I – no, no, it can't – "
Paul interrupts you. "Look, I know you might be used to joking about vampires killing you on a regular basis – "
"No," you say, startled, "that's not what I meant at all – "
" – but we actually find this kind of serious," he finishes, bluntly ignoring you. He seems to be trying to formulate his next sentence with disdain clear in his eyes. "Even if it means defending some pathetic human like you."
You know you should be beyond affronted at his rude jibes, and the fact that he seems to be trying to cut you for no apparent reason (after all, you've never found Paul as someone you could easily go up to and have a pleasant conversation with – so what problem did he have with you, seeing as you've never really even spoken with him before?), but you can't find it in yourself to be offended. Your mind is still reeling over the recent bit of information he's just shared with you.
Victoria is back in Forks, you think, dazed. Victoria is back in Forks, Washington.
And she's going to kill me.
You can't believe it – you refuse to believe it. In fact, you were almost to the point of ignoring the fact that vampires even existed in the first place; it was kind of easy to pretend that, because the subject of vampires or Edward hadn't been brought up in so long, you could almost find yourself comfortable in the fact you might have just made it all up in your head. It wouldn't have been the first time you were imagining things that weren't there, after all. Like the illusions of Edward never leaving me, of Jacob never imprinting, of actually caring about me enough to stay, to deny the magic.
But here Paul stands in front of you, still inconsiderately babbling, not aware at all of how you must be feeling. You are brought back down to earth roughly and harshly as his voice cuts into your thoughts.
"We caught her scent around the south Washington border a few days ago. So she's not exactly close enough to go into full panic mode, but I don't think it matters – you still deserve the right to know, even if Jacob and the rest of the pack disagree. Sam didn't specifically order me not to come and tell you – I think he's had the same idea for a while now – so, here I am," he finishes lamely.
Suddenly, Paul looks very uncomfortable and out-of-place – perhaps even embarrassed. He glances towards the ground in a would-be inconspicuous movement, and you realize something immediately.
Paul was embarrassed because he was aware of the fact, in some ways, he was doing you a huge favor, a kindness, even, by sneaking away from the rest of the pack in the dead of night to disclose to you top-secret information that he might potentially get into trouble for. He's never shown any amount of kindness to you before, you remind yourself, so this might even into be a blow to his self-confidence, and the illusion that in order to intimidate you, he must act unfriendly and cold at all times.
And that's why you can't help the smile that slowly starts to form on your face. He seems to notice it too, because he starts spluttering like an idiot.
"Look, I didn't want to make it seem like I was being your guardian angel, or-or something, 'cause I'm not, I just couldn't handle the amount of stupidity in the pack – I had to do something, you know, I mean – I'm living with a bunch of idiots, it was hurting my pride – "
But you're not hearing a word of it, and then suddenly, against your better judgment, your arms are thrown around his neck and your face is pressed into his chest. He stiffens slightly and for a few seconds you think he might even throw you off of him, but he thankfully doesn't.
"Thank you," you breathe into his chest. "Really. Thank you, Paul."
He tentatively raises his arms and pats your back. The gesture is awkward and stiff, but it doesn't bother you. You don't care. "Yeah... well... don't get used to me climbing in through your window for regular nighttime visits," he says warningly as he finally lowers his arms and puts them on your shoulders to put a reasonable amount of distance between you two. "I haven't been dragged into that trend just yet."
You feel your cheeks warming up considerably in embarrassment and shame. God, you've really been brainless, haven't you? Instead of making it more apparent of how Paul's words affected you, you settle for an all-business attitude. "What does this mean for the pack?"
He sighs and removes his hands from your shoulders after he seems sure you won't jump on him again. He wanders back to the window and takes a few moments to answer. You wait in dreading anticipation. You don't want to hear what he has to say, but you know you need to know.
He turns to face you and looks at you sadly, the exhaustion suddenly evident on his face. "More shifts, less breaks. Stress, tension, and a whole lot less time to fulfill our human needs, like sleeping, eating, and peeing." He grins wryly. "You know, the usual."
You nod numbly. "The usual." The words quietly escape your lips without you being consciously aware you spoke them.
He sighs and turns to face he window again and he talks without making eye contact. "Speaking of which, I really should be leaving right now. My shift starts soon."
You're pulled out of your temporary reverie and again brought back down to earth. "Of course," you say immediately. "Go. Just – go."
Paul nods and positions his feet on the window seal to jump down.
"Please be careful," you call out softly.
The rippling muscles of his back are the last thing you see before he jumps. You hear a muffled 'thump' after a few seconds as he lands on the grass outside, and then, quietly, so quiet that you wonder if you didn't just make it up in your head, Paul's voice drifts back up into your room, assuring you gently – "Always am."
-x-
You manage to go through two days without giving in. And then, finally, you can't take it anymore. What are you afraid of? What can you possibly lose? There's no use pretending the problem isn't there.
And so, after two agonizing days, you put on a brave face, pick up your phone and call Jacob.
It's been so long since you had anything to do with technology, or even remembered that it existed – there's never really seemed to be much point for calling and texting when talking in person always seemed so much more appealing – but now you don't deny the fact that seeing Jacob now (with Natalie, no doubt, you think with unnerving scorn) would not do anything to help with your mental and emotional state.
After the fourth ring and still no answer, you start to breathe normally again.
(Another reason you finally subjected to technology was because you half-expected Jacob not to answer, and you were half-sure you didn't want to talk to him.)
You give up after the sixth ring, hanging up before the voicemail beep.
So was that just it, then? Were you still a coward for not gathering up the courage to leave a message?
Not two seconds after you hang up, the phone rings and vibrates furiously in your closed hand. Your breath hitches as you see the name on the screen: Jacob.
You let it ring for a few seconds and seriously consider not picking up at all. But what good would that do? You were the one who called first, after all, and you had things that needed to be said. So you touch the "answer" button.
Tentatively, carefully, "Jacob?"
On the other line, you hear him exhale a huge sigh of relief. "Bells," his voice rumbles, and you hate yourself for loving the way your familiar nickname sounds coming out of his mouth. "I thought I'd nearly missed you. Sorry, I just ran into the house as my dad tossed me my phone, but it'd stopped ringing. Anyway..." He clears his throat uncomfortably, aware, it seems, of his adorable rambling, and he laughs a bit as he continues, "You called?"
"Oh. Yes." You blink a few times, now suddenly hesitant as to if you should let him know that you know about Victoria after all. Hearing him now, he sounds so, well... happy to hear you. Why ruin this moment by bringing the both of you back down to earth, to cruel reality? But you know you have to sooner or later, and you've come to learn that sooner is always the smarter choice.
"So... I was informed of something the other day," you begin, and wait for his reaction. There's nothing but silence on the other end, so you take that as your cue to continue. Instead of dragging it out unnecessarily, though, you decide to get straight to the point. "Victoria," you say. "Here. In Forks. For a while now. Why didn't you tell me, Jacob?"
You almost expect him to defend himself or think of some lousy explanation, but to your immense surprise, he exhales loudly on the other line and says almost immediately, "Oh, Bella. I know I should have told you, I know, and I'm not proud of myself for hiding it from you. I don't know why I did. And... I'm really sorry."
"You – you're not gonna ask me how I found out, or anything?" you ask in disbelief, voice faltering. "And – and you're not gonna say that I didn't need to know, or something ridiculous like that – "
"Bella," Jacob's voice breaks through your mindless babbling. "No. I have no reason to defend myself because I know I'm in the wrong. I was thinking we could hide it from you for a little while longer, but I always felt guilty. I – I didn't want to adapt to the way that – that Edward used to treat you. I know you're probably used to things being hidden from you, but I've caused you enough pain to think I could hide this, also. You're worth more than that to me." His soft, murmuring voice, so full of affection and love, makes you question your reasons for staying away from him. This, this right here – Jake and Bells – is all that really matters and all you really need. Why did you let it get so far away? How did you manage to grow so far apart?
And then you remember, like always – Natalie.
You glare and tremble angrily, even though Jacob can't see you. So you try and make it apparent through your voice. "I wish you wouldn't make it seem as though I still matter, Jacob," you spit, not bothering to keep the harshness out of your voice. "You give me all these impressions but I always end up wrong in the end – or on the floor, crying. I wish you'd stop with the affection and caring, 'cause you and I both know it's not helping anything."
Again you're surprised at Jacob's reply. It comes a few seconds after you've finished ranting, and his voice is calm and collected. "I know, Bella. I'm so sorry."
You try to fish for adequate words to say, but none come. You hadn't planned on him agreeing with you. That hurts in a way you hadn't anticipated, even though you know you did the right thing by bringing it to his attention. "I – okay," you finally mumble. "Okay."
"Right," he says, slightly breathless, and you can picture him shrugging as his next words are spoken. "Now that you know, let's get down to business. The pack has decided that you are probably safest when you're with us, but not for an extended period of time – don't want you in one place for too long, you know – and we think that you've been at Charlie's place long enough. I'm gonna drive over there and pick you up in a few hours, as soon as my shift is over, and you're gonna hang out at the reservation today."
"Don't I get any say in how I spend my day?" you grumble angrily under your breath, but you secretly can't wait to see him and you don't think you'd rather spend your day any other way.
"Sorry – I'm gonna come and pick you up soon, if that's alright with you?"
You allow yourself to smile, just a little bit. "Okay."
Jacob laughs once – the familiar, short bark that has been absent from yours and Jacob's conversations for way too long. "Okay. See you soon, Bells."
The receiver clicks on the other end, signaling the end of the call. But you don't hang up. You can't hang up.
Did that conversation really just happen? you ask yourself. Jacob's left you in a daze, making it seem too normal – like there wasn't a good reason for not seeing each other, because there definitely was. He might stop with the flattering and affections from now on, but that doesn't mean he can't still confuse you by making it seem like you guys are still friends. You're not sure if you're ready to think of him that way again, not so soon after so much fighting and confusion, anyway. You're not sure exactly what you and Jacob are. What do you call it when you're in love with your best friend and he's in love with you, but he's with someone else who's in love with him, and he's obligated to love her back, all the while still trying to assure you he still loves you? What the hell do you call that?
And why does your life have to be so goddamn confusing?
-x-
Jacob shows up about an hour later, making his presence known with obnoxious knocking on your front door.
You quickly finish your text message to Charlie (he's on duty at the police station – apparently there's been a sudden rise of unexplainable crimes in the south, which scared you enough this morning to almost convince him to stay home): I'm going over to Jacob's for a few hours. I'll be back before dark, just letting you know. Be safe. Love you.
When you look up at Jacob, his face is sporting a much-too happy expression for the given situation. There's a blood-thirsty vampire with the sole purpose of ripping you apart limb from limb; what does he have to be so smiley about?
"What's that look for?" You try and ask it in a teasing tone, but really you're anxious for him to say one thing: You. It's for you, Bella.
For a fraction of a second, Jacob turns toward you with arms trembling as though he's itching to reach out and hug you. (God knows you'd let him.) The moment quickly passes, though, and instead he just shrugs. "I dunno. Is it suddenly a crime to smile?" He exaggerates his point by smiling even wider. "Oh, and... I would've gotten your truck to you sooner, but Embry didn't seem to want to drive it here. The pack's been so busy lately, we haven't found the time... so it's just sitting at my house." He glances at you when your breath hitches at the mention of Embry.
Suddenly all these thoughts come rushing back to you, each one more embarrassing than the last. You have the impression Jacob already knows, but you can't help but ask anyway.
"So... I take it you know everything? Um... about Embry, I mean..."
"Yep," he replies instantly, popping the 'p'. As you risk an upwards glance at him, you can't tell if he's smirking, grimacing, or both.
Oh, God, you think dreadfully. No no no.
"And... about how... in my bedroom..."
He sighs. "When will you remember that we wolves read each other's minds, Bella? There are no such things as secrets."
"Oh... right. Yeah."
Okay, he's definitely smirking, and it's really pissing you off. "We really should be going, though. Sam wants me back on patrol in a few hours," he adds anxiously, jumping in the driver's seat and slamming the door behind him.
As you get into the passenger seat of the Rabbit, you try to make sense of his words. "But it doesn't take that long to get to La Push. You'll have plenty of time to spare."
Jacob hands freeze on the steering wheel. He then fiddles with the heater controls nervously and mutters quietly, "Exactly. I wanted to hang out with you for a little bit before I had to leave again."
Your breath catches in your throat. Jacob starts the ancient engine and pulls out of the driveway while you try and formulate a sensible response. "What about Natalie?"
"What about her?" He avoids your eyes.
You gape at him for a few moments, but if he notices, he doesn't say anything. "I should think that you'd feel obligated to hang out with her, not me. And don't you have some kind of freaky mental connection with her? Or did I just make all that shit up in my head?"
"Natalie's visiting family this weekend, so she's out of town, and I'm blocking her out of my head. I figured she'd be kind of preoccupied, so... so she won't notice." His hands nervously drum on the steering wheel. "Besides, I see no problem in hanging out with my best friend."
You can't think of anything to say to that, so the rest of the drive is spent in contemplative silence.
-x-
Hanging out with Jacob isn't nearly as painful as you imagined it might be. Sure, there are a few off moments in which he accidentally mentions something from the past that leaves you both in a painful silence, but the conversation usually picks right back up without flaw – Jacob has always had a thing with words – leaving you wondering if there had been an off moment in the first place.
Walking down to the beach is nothing if not painfully nostalgic, though. It's the first time in a long time, and although you would like to believe that you just happened to go on a long vacation and this was now your reunion party, you know you can't get carried away. Even your imagination won't allow you to make that scenario up in your head.
The passing of time has left behind all those magical moments, and you don't know what to do to get them back.
You remember sharing similar walks with Jacob, seemingly a million years ago, where hands could be held without promises of anything else developing, where words could be spoken without intense forethought on the meaning behind them all. Where affections could be spoken on a log by the shore, and bodies could entwine in warmth and comfort.
That log is the one you and Jacob approach now, and sadness and longing seems to quiver in the air that separates you. A few seconds are spent staring at the empty piece of wood, but neither of you dare make the move of sitting upon it like you once did. It seems like a highly dangerous concept.
Jacob finally breaks the humid silence with a loud sigh. Thunder clouds are visibly rolling on the horizon, and he looks up at the sky as though judging the time based on the sunlight – or lack thereof.
"Let's head back," he murmurs, and you agree wordlessly as a fresh wave of the freezing cold ocean breeze blows over the exposed skin on your neck and face. You bury your hands deeper in your coat pockets, and stare at your feet as they crunch, crunch, crunch over the beach's rocks, accompanied by Jacob's more quiet footsteps that are way too far away from yours for comfort.
A few minutes pass wordlessly, and then Jacob makes a snorting sound, full of dry humor, that causes you to look up.
"You still up for cliff diving one of these days?" he asks, snorting again.
You see immediately what instigated his sudden inquiry; you stop and look out at the high cliff becoming ever-closer in the distance, and admire the way the waves roar against the craggy edge, and the dangerous drop from the very top. You remember, long ago, when you witnessed a dozen half-naked Quileute boys throwing themselves over the edge into the angry waters, and the way you freaked out about it.
My, how times have changed.
You get pulled back to the present and search for a way to answer Jacob's question. You're not sure if he's entirely serious, but you answer honestly anyway.
"Still sounds as thrilling as the first time you told me about it."
"Are you kidding? You were scared shitless."
You shrug. "I was, but then it started sounding really appealing for some odd reason. Kind of like the adrenaline rush I've been missing, you know?" You shrug again, suddenly confident with everything you're saying. "I said I wanted to a few months ago, and I still do. Nothing's changed."
Jacob laughs loudly, and you are both made aware how false that last part is; every-fucking-thing's changed. "I'm gonna hold you to that. I could use a few adrenaline rushes that don't threaten my life on a daily basis." He chuckles at the horrified expression on your face, but you're not in the mood for jokes anymore.
"I need to know how the situation with Victoria is."
"Stable," Jacob answers immediately, speaking to the ground.
"Which means...?"
He shrugs, still avoiding eye contact. "She hasn't made herself more conspicuous than the first time we caught her scent. She's definitely still there, though. We expect her to move closer any day now" – you inhale sharply" – but there's nothing to get immediately freaked out about." He smiles toothily. "We'll get her, Bells. You can trust us."
"You know damn well it's not me I'm worried about."
His eyes roll dramatically. "For God's sake, Bella. Have some faith in us for once, will you?"
By now you've made it back to Jacob's house, and for the second time he looks up at the sky and sighs. "I think I should drive you home now." He looks uncertainly in your direction, letting a few seconds pass before his next words are spoken. "I enjoyed myself. Did you?"
You don't even have to think about it, but you allow yourself to slowly smile before answering. "Yes, thank you," you murmur. Yes, I did. More than you could ever know.
You hadn't even done much in the past few hours spent in Jacob's presence, because that was all you needed – to simply exist in each other's company, enjoying the way that quiet moments were steadily becoming less and less awkward, and maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself believe that you could live through this. You could let happen what may, and maybe become a better person because of it.
You could let Jacob go.
A heart-wrenching sound breaks through the calmness of the evening, causing you and Jacob to both start in alarm, and, in your case, glance around wildly.
Because they were wolf howls.
You can almost see the sounds tearing through the night, echoing all around you with the promise of something dreadful yet to come (or maybe already came, but you won't let yourself linger on that). A dozen voices seem to surround you from every angle, dripping with something you won't let yourself believe: a warning. Some kind of sign. The desperation and aggressiveness in the howls are clear, you can sense it.
And Jacob can sense it.
His body is rigged with sudden stress and terror, knowing full well that this is not a good sign; something's happened, something very bad. Time seems to stand still, and before you know it you're yelling in panic, "Jake! Oh, God, Jake, what's happening?"
He flinches and his eyes focus on you as though he just now remembers that you're there. You can almost see the gears begin to turn in his head as he adjusts to action-mode.
"Bella," he cries, voice breaking. "I really hate to do this, but the pack needs me. You – you have to drive yourself home. Thank God we never found the time to get your truck back to you sooner." The last sentence is a kind of afterthought, spoken roughly under his breath as he seems to listen intently to the upset howling that still rings through the trees.
"I understand," you say immediately. "I can drive myself. But – Jacob, do you have any clue what's happening? Should I be worried?" You snort and answer yourself not a second later. "Fuck that, of course should be worried. Ugh, Jake, please be careful with whatever it is that happens – "
Jacob suddenly tugs roughly on your arm, a new kind of fire blazing in his eyes. "I really need to go and I don't want you here alone. Drive home as fast and as safe as possible. You'll be fine. You've got to be fine. Nothing bad happened. I would have known, I would have known..."
He scans the trees on all sides as he escorts you quickly to your truck, slamming the door behind you. You quickly roll down the window just as Jacob strips in plain view, ready to explode into his wolf form. His body is quivering already, but you can't help but yell, "Jake, wait!"
Again he looks back at you, acknowledging your presence with an alarmed quirk of his eyebrows. You effectively ignore his nakedness as he runs to your window, and to your surprise, he grasps your head in his strong hands, staring you straight in the eyes.
"Everything's gonna be fine, Bella, I was just caught off guard, that's all." Try as you might to believe his words, his trembling hands betray him, and you see for the first time how torn he is to tell you this: "Go home. Now." And with that, he presses his lips to your forehead firmly.
You suddenly have the overwhelming urge to cry, you're so terrified. You close your eyes tightly and cling to the feeling of Jacob's fiery lips on your skin, when suddenly, they're not there anymore. And all the warmth that can only belong to your favorite werewolf is now gone, replaced with the now-silent, chilly air, and you open your eyes in a flash, a broken cry escaping your lips.
And the only thing you see is the trees on the other side of the clearing quiver slightly, as a russet-brown tail is quickly swallowed up by the darkening throng of the forest.
-x-
The drive home is frightening, just as you knew it would be.
You cannot force your hands to stop shaking or your eyes to stop filling with tears. What if something happens to Jacob, or to any of the pack? You'll never be able to forgive yourself. On more than one occasion, you swear you see movement in the trees on either side of you, but when you risk a glance, you can see nothing but the dark stripes the trees paint against the ever-growing darkness of the night.
When you arrive home, Charlie's police car is still absent from the driveway. You feel another stab of panic as you wonder if what the wolves are facing now has anything to do with what Charlie might be facing – and suddenly your legs are much too weak to carry your weight so you hurry through the front door, slam it behind you, and drop on the couch in the living room before you collapse.
You take a few steadying breaths and send a million prayers up to God, or whoever's in charge of all this stuff, that Jacob and your father will be okay, or at the very least live through the night. To ask for such a thing only brings a ghostly chill to your bones, but you know it might seem selfish to ask for much more than that. So you sit in silence and pray for several long minutes, then jump up to lock the front door in another sudden burst of random panic.
You bite your tongue in your mouth repeatedly – a bad habit – and settle back down on the couch, this time loosening up enough to kick off your shoes and curl onto your side, resolving to spend the night there if it meant being able to see with your own eyes your father walking through the door unharmed.
Then you feel a sudden shift in the air around you. A creak of a floorboard, the dusting of shoes across the carpet. And every bone in your body locks, every molecule of saliva in your mouth is sucked dry. The air seems to delve into negative degrees Fahrenheit, but you've stopped shivering; your body won't allow you to move out of sheer terror.
And then you hear his voice.
"Bella," he sighs, magical and as clear as crystal, just like the first time you ever heard him speak your name, more than a year ago. Your bones unlock just in time for you to whip around and see with your own eyes his full lips forming his next words. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't return."
Your eyes rake over his pale, marble, and impossibly beautiful face, underneath a crown of messy bronze hair, not even daring to believe what's right in front of your eyes. Because you can't believe it. No. No, this isn't happening. No, this isn't real.
But please let this be real, a part of you screams, from the back of your mind.
You finally manage to find your voice again, semi-aware of how it cracks – because of the lump growing in the back of your throat or the fearful anticipation of waking up and this all being a dream, you can't decide.
"Edward," you whisper.
