AUTHOR'S NOTE AND DISCLAIMER:
Stephenie Meyer is the author of Twilight. She owns the characters, and the Twilight Series. I'm just offering an alternate possibility.
I am eternally grateful to Jmeyer for acting as my beta.
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Bella's POV-
I don't know where I am.
Dark.
Wherever it is, it's dark.
It's a heavy darkness; it is thick, unending, full of things I don't want to know. The only light comes from... a glow, of sorts. It's the only way I know how to describe it. A faint light that is everywhere and nowhere all the same. The ground beneath me is slick and ice cold. Fog curls around me, dense and gray. There's an arctic chill in the air that cuts right to the bone and sears my throat and lungs with each breath. I should be shivering, but I'm not. I'm just sitting on the rock, staring as my toes slice through the crystal clear water below me.
Back.
Forth.
Back and forth.
In front of me, the clear water stretches infinitely, the misty haze hovering just above the surface. Behind me, there are shadows. I don't know how I know this because I can't look. Even the thought of turning my head ever so slightly sends terror coursing through my veins. There is something hiding there, something waiting for me in the shadows. A monster, perhaps, licking it's razor sharp teeth, lurking in the darkness, waiting for me to turn and acknowledge it before it tears my throat out. Or maybe something else. Whatever it is, it is bad.
I know this just as surely as I know my own name.
The word thunders through my mind-- "Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad."
I can't turn around or else it will ruin me.
A breeze swirls around me as the fog bears down, urging me.
"Look," it says.
"See."
"Bad," my thoughts remind me. My blood roars in my ears. My legs are tingling. I want to run. I should run. My only real option is to dive headfirst into the frigid water and swim until I drown. I cannot and will not tear off into the unknown. Not when it would surely destroy me. So I remain where I am: head forward, feet dangling into the water like fishing lures.
The entire scene is beginning to resemble a clichéd horror movie: just when I've come to the realization I have nowhere to go, just as the panic reaches critical mass, God finds his love for the macabre and decides to make everything that much more unbearable.
There is someone coming up from the left.
He approaches slowly. I feel my skin crawl as the adrenaline rushes through my veins again. I try to resist my curiosity's demand to investigate but it is useless. Curiosity wins. My eyes slide over, hoping to catch a glimpse of this new horror before he is upon me.
There is an ethereal light about him, emanating from every pore of his tanned skin; his only clothing is a pair of tattered shorts that hang low on his hips. It's almost intimate, but I can't find it in myself to care. In his presence, the shadows, the fog, and the panic retreat, curling back on themselves as he sits next to me. I continue to swing my legs.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
A quick "swish, swish" through the water.
Not wanting to risk seeing what lies in the darkness behind me, I steal small, quick glances of him.
His face is beautiful, flawless. An angel's face. I know that's what he is-- an angel. My angel. I feel better now that he's near me, driving back the dancing shadows and doom, easing the crippling anxiety that had seized my heart. Time creeps on as we sit silent.
"He really loved you." I can see his lips move, but the sound, that absolutely heartbreaking sound, seems to reverberate from all around us.
I can feel the confusion written on my face as I turn to face him. "Who? What are you talking about?"
Sad eyes slide over my face, looking as confused as I feel. There are accusations in those eyes, accusations I can't even begin to understand, although I try. I don't know why I'm here, what he's talking about. Grief twists the features of his handsome face.
"You just keep hurting him! He loved you!"
My mind races to make sense of his words. Frustrated, I pound my fists against the granite beneath us. "Who? Who am I hurting? Who?!"
He sighs mournfully, the regret plain in his eyes. "It's too late now, though."
A single tear slips its way down his cheek. This man, this angel is lovely and heartbreaking and angry. So angry.
Angry at me.
"How could you let this happen?" he wails, strong fingers wrapping themselves around my upper arms, bruising the flesh as he shakes me. Royal purple flowers blossom beneath his grip as he lifts me to my feet.
"How could I let what happen?" I demand. I want to yell or scream, but I know I shouldn't. Somehow, I know the guilt is mine.
One hand lets go, pointing to the darkness that has come creeping back upon us, willing me to look. He wants me to look. I can't look; I'm not supposed to know what is back there. I don't want to know. There is something dangerous in the shadows behind me. No, I'm not supposed to look. I don't know much, here in this frozen wasteland, but I know that whatever I do I mustn't look behind me.
"Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad," my mind chants. A simple word. Three letters. My last lifeline.
"Look, Bella. Look at what you've done!" he snarls in my ear. I can feel the dread crawling up my spine as I turn my head, helpless against this angel. I'm not supposed to look back there, but I do anyways. The angel, my angel, has demanded it.
Time stills as the darkness gives way to a grotesque scene. If I wouldn't have looked... this wouldn't have hurt if I'd just kept my eyes forward like I was supposed to... I was so greedy... I could never behave like I was supposed to...
The blackness has crept back, inching over two figures that are propped against one another in a strange imitation of amicability. One has its ruined arm slung about the other's shoulders, what remain of them anyway. The jaws of both hang unnaturally, twisting the mouths into sinister grins. The smile of the rag doll is wider, more visible; his jaw has been almost completely removed. The tendons and muscles once used to contort the handsome face into a wide array of emotions are visible on the side of his face, his pallid skin thickly coated in blood that has dried and begun to crack.
James.
James and Edward.
Dead, that much is immediately apparent. Their eyes bore through me blankly, human shades of glittering blue and brilliant green. Even in death they are magnificent. Their bodies have been ravaged, torn to pieces, presumably by one another. James is worse off than Edward. Every inch of his skin is bruised or bloody. His shoulders are uneven, and it takes me a moment to realize that's because his arm has been wrenched from its socket. James has been cracked open like an autopsy cadaver; I can see the white of his rib bones amongst all the blood. Both men have only a ragged, gaping hole where their hearts should be.
A wave of nausea twists viciously through my gut.
"How could you do this to him?"
It isn't so much a question as it is a plea. I can't stop the deluge of tears brought on by the misery in the angel's voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I sob, shutting my eyes to block out the look of accusation, the burning fury, the hatred marring this angel's face. I don't want to see this.
I don't want to see any of it.
I don't want to see this angel who has come to serve as my judge and jury, and I most certainly do not want to see the destruction I've caused.
"How could you do this to him?"
I have no answer. There is no way to justify the carnage I've witnessed. I can feel him growing frustrated with my lack of an answer, but I'm too terrified to speak. Too hurt to form the words.
"Open your eyes!" he commands, his voice more like a force of nature, like thunder, than it is a human's voice. "Open your eyes and look at what you've done!"
I can't.
I can't look at it.
The clammy fingers of the fog creep back over us, and I can feel the doom resettling deep in my heart. I can't breathe, and I can't look back there again. I knew I wasn't supposed to look, but he made me. If I hadn't looked, I wouldn't know what happened. If I hadn't looked, this wouldn't be real. I don't know how or when everything went so wrong.
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut even tighter. That is not enough to block the image of James and Edward massacred behind us, so I move my hands over my eyes, resisting his attempt to stop me.
I can't look at this.
"Open your eyes, Bella," the angels hisses, his grip punishing on my wrists as he tugs. "Open your eyes!"
"Bella, open your eyes!"
The echo of my gasps for air filled the room as I stopped struggling. I chose to focus instead on the feel of cool hands wrapped gently around my wrists and the weight of the leg thrown over mine. I could feel the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the window, hear the happy twittering of birds in the tree outside. I had become tangled in something...
Sheets?
It took a beat, two beats, for the realization to sink in: I was in a bed.
My bed!
I was home. I was home, and I was safe.
"Edward!" I choked, finally opening my eyes. I relished in the sight of him as he hovered over me, gloriously alive. His golden eyes stared back at me, concerned.
I slipped my hands from his and threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his skin. The last thing I needed to do was encourage Edward to worry, but I needed the comfort of his touch and the calm his smell offered my frayed nerves.
"You scared me to death," he chided softly as his arms snaked around me.
I couldn't suppress my giggle, and I pushed myself away enough that I could look him in the eye. "So time and most weapons have no effect on you, but I have a nightmare and you're a goner? Some tough vampire you are."
As I watched, he warred between concern and amusement. Finally, the amusement won out, and his lips curved into a crooked little smile.
"What can I say? You've always been my biggest weakness," he growled as he rolled over so that I was sprawled across his chest.
The memory of the angel's voice echoed in my mind, wailing that I look at what I'd done. In my dream, I had essentially murdered both James and Edward. I was their biggest weakness, and it had left them both so vulnerable. It was not wonder that James had been so thoroughly destroyed.
"Bella? Bella, are you alright?" His smooth voice brushed away the memory of the dream, and his fingers completed the job as they trailed along my spine. "That dream seemed rather upsetting."
"It was nothing."
"Are you sure? You can tell me anything, you know. It just might help you feel better to get it out," he coaxed, his sweet breath washing over my face.
My teeth gnawed absently at the soft flesh of my lower lip as I struggled to make my decision. Should I tell him and risk his anger and worry? It had just been a dream, nothing more. There was nothing to worry about, right?
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Bella," Edward's voice continued softly. It was the doubt in his eyes that broke me.
"I don't know how to describe it. It's going to sound so stupid!" I complained, looking to him for guidance. He merely stared back, waiting.
I sighed, relenting. "Okay, fine. Well, um... I was alone... and it was cold, dark... and God, it was just awful. But then I turned around and you and James... you had killed one another, and I saw it."
There was a pause. Edward's eyes narrowed and the crooked grin disappeared, replaced by a taut line. "You saw us kill one another?"
"Well not really. I just saw the aftermath."
This seemed to only make him angrier. I scrambled to fix things, to erase the look of pain from his face. "It's no big deal, Edward. It was just a nightmare. You two won't ever see each other again so I'm not worried about it. I promise."
His expression changed but not the way I'd anticipated. Now he looked sheepish and a bit frightened.
"Actually, I saw him last night."
I stared down at him, blinking.
Blinking again.
The seconds ticked away as I struggled to make sense of Edward's statement.
Edward.
Saw James.
Last night.
Wait, WHAT?
"How did you see him last night? Was he here? Did he come back for me?" I sat up quickly. My voice was appropriately anxious, but it was hardly from fear. I wanted James to come back.
I wanted him to fight for me.
Edward stood and began to pace as he regarded me warily. "No, Bella. I went to find him. We fought."
We fought.
Oh. My. God. He killed him. Edward killed James. James is dead.
Seconds passed and became minutes that seemed to stretch on for hours. We sat in silence for God only knows how long. Then, before I could stop it, a low cry rose from my throat. I felt like I was going to pass out. James was dead. James was dead because of me. James was dead, because I had told Edward about our kiss.
James was dead.
I was going to pass out.
I had ruined everything.
Oh God. The angel from my dream had been right-- it was too late. I had hurt both of them and continued to do so. James was dead. How was this going to affect Edward? I felt like sobbing; I felt like dying. A knot formed in my throat as tears burned my eyes. Why hadn't I felt this? Surely I would feel his loss- I was in love- had been in love- loved James.
"I didn't know you cared so much," Edward said wryly, his voice jerking me from my thoughts.
His face was blank when I looked up to meet his gaze. The doubt remained, coupled with an accusation that resembled that of my dream angel.
Rage swept through me, scorching and powerful. "You killed someone! Someone is dead! How could I not care?"
His expression softened, and he seemed almost hurt by my outburst. When he spoke, his words were careful and his voice quiet. "I didn't kill him, Bella."
"What? But... you said- you fought him! You said so!"
"I said we fought. I didn't kill him. James isn't dead."
"I don't understand. There's no way you would have fought and let him live. What on Earth happened?"
"There were… " he paused, weighing each word on his tongue "…complications. I failed to consider part of the situation when I went into the fight. Of course, I realized my mistake and changed my plans accordingly."
"What could possibly have changed your mind if you were there to kill him?" My voice was low and husky from the onslaught of tears and anger. Edward's eyes flared in a way I knew all too well. Boys, I chided internally.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked softly as he crawled cautiously onto the bed. He didn't look predatory at all, just... needy.
"Please, Edward?"
He groaned as he pulled me to him; it was so difficult to remember that I was angry with him when he was this close, molding my body to his, his scent cloaking me.
His lips brushed against the skin below my ear. "I don't want to lose you, Bella. I don't know what I'd do."
"Just tell me." I can't promise that you'll never lose me.
"Fuck."
The expletive slipped past his lips of its own accord, and I could only stare at him in shock. That was nothing, a mere tremor compared to the sucker punch of his next words.
"He loved you, Bella; I mean to say that he really, honest-to-God loved you. He was grieving for you."
James had loved me, truly.
James might still love me.
The cabin had not been just an illusion. The tender moments and the gentleness, the love, it had all been very, very real. He had loved me, and I'd left. My promises, empty promises, rang in my ears. Empty promises to James as well as Edward. I promised James I would never leave him, but I promised forever to Edward. I had begged to spent eternity with him.
The nightmare flashed through my mind again: my two loves, dead and ravaged, James looking far more tortured than Edward. Why couldn't I figure out what I wanted? Why was it so hard to figure out whom I wanted to be with? My dilemma pushed to the forefront of my thoughts, demanding attention.
Happy did not even begin to describe my feelings when I learned James was still alive.
But Edward loved me more than life itself.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything.
The world went black as I passed out.
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James' POV-
Bella. Bella. Bella.
A deep breath.
Bella. Bella. Bella.
Another breath.
Bella. Danger. Need to check on Bella. Now.
I rolled over on the little cot, pressing my palms tightly against my ears. It wouldn't help silence the instincts thundering through my mind, but it sure as hell made me feel better about it.
Bella doesn't want me, remember. She chose Edward. He is going to take care of her.
Doesn't matter. Save Bella. Bella. Bella. Bella.
She's not mine to save.
The internal chant finally quieted, and I went back to breathing. I inhaled deeply in hopes of feeling even a faint burn in my throat. It was the last chance of there being any sign of Bella left in the cabin.
Nothing.
The grief tore through me ruthlessly. It completely over-shadowed all of my other thoughts.
That is, all but one.
Bella.
Bella.
Bella.
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Bella's POV-
The nightmare revisited me several times during those murky hours of deep sleep. After that, I had the same dream almost every night. Sure, there were differences, but they were always human, and they were always dead or near enough to it. One particularly awful night, James had still had some life in him-- his eyes begged something of me while his mangled jaw and bloody tongue moved, trying to speak to me. I'd turned away and begun to cry, just like every other time.
The dream haunted me even when I was awake. I never shut my eyes without seeing the ruined faces of the two men I loved. Most often it was James, but sometimes it would be Edward staring blankly back at me, his emerald eyes startling amongst all the gore.
I knew I was supposed to be getting something from the dream, but I just couldn't. I couldn't open my eyes and look again, I couldn't hear whatever James was trying to tell me. Sometimes it felt like the answer was at the back of my mind, just waiting for me to figure it out.
The days passed and became weeks, the weeks passed and became months. Senior year started, holidays passed, graduation came, and still I had no answer. I tried to figure it out. It came almost to the point of obsession. The only thing that could take my mind off of it was James. I thought about where he was, what he was doing at that particular point in time. I wondered if he ever thought about me. There were times when my arms absolutely ached for want of holding him. I missed him so much.
Edward, and everyone else for that matter, noticed the differences in me. "It's like you're not even here," they would say after I zoned out in conversation, "like you don't even care what's going on here."
I tried to make up for it. When I actually paid attention, I was the doting girlfriend, the perfect daughter. I felt guilty, but it couldn't be helped. I had my own problems to deal with, like the god-awful dream that just wouldn't leave me alone.
More and more often, I found myself questioning my situation. I just couldn't understand why Edward wasn't enough for me. He loved me with all the passion of first-love. He thought I was beyond perfect. I mean, he even suffered immense pain just to be near me. He called it his "sweetest torture," once. I knew we were soul mates; two halves of one person, the ideal partner for one another. I knew that just like I knew two and two make four. Girls would kill for a love like his, and yet I sometimes contemplated throwing it all away. Surely this meant there was something wrong with me-- didn't it?
It doesn't torture James to be with you. It saves him, my thoughts would remind me. What tortures him is being without you.
A few days after graduation, Alice took me to Seattle on a shopping trip in hopes of keeping me in the moment. She knew I needed a break from Edward. Her peppy attitude had become a lifesaver over the past few months, so I was happy to get out of Forks to spend the day with her. I threw myself into our conversation, hoping to keep James and the dream from my thoughts for just a few hours. It worked brilliantly, but after going to the hundredth clothing store, I raised my arms in surrender.
"Please, please no more, Alice. Let's go home, ok? I miss Edward." I didn't actually, not exactly anyways. I was anxious being away from him for so long, but I didn't miss him. I thought the plea would help get her back to the car, but she simply shook her head.
"I'm going to this store. There's a wonderful dress in there I'm going to buy that looks fantastic on. Jasper absolutely flips. The time away from Edward is good for you, really, Bella. You've been in a much better mood today; maybe you were feeling smothered?" Her eyes pierced mine, waiting for an answer.
"Well, how about you go to that store, and I'll run to the bookstore real quick?" I needed to pick up a few books. My Wuthering Heights had disintegrated a few days prior. "I'll be safe, I swear."
She was silent for a moment but then agreed. "Alright. I just want you to be happy. I'll meet you there in a little while; I know exactly what the dress I'm buying looks like," she said with a wink, tapping her forehead once.
With that, we parted. The silence was refreshing after so much talking; I just wasn't used to all the conversation. Lately I had been even more silent than usual. Regardless, I had to admit that it was nice spending time with Alice.
I found the store easily. I inhaled deeply when I entered, feeling at ease immediately amongst the shelves and shelves of books. There was no nightmare here. Not mine, anyways. Here, I was safe. I had to resist the urge to run my finger over the spine of every book I passed. Each book, filled with "just" words but capable of transporting me to an entirely different world better than movies ever could. The power of words, of language, never ceased to amaze me.
I wandered through the store for awhile, just taking it all in. The bells over the door jingled, and I looked up reflexively.
My heart froze. My hand flew to cover my mouth.
Clutching a brand new copy of Wuthering Heights and walking very quickly out the door, his head tucked low and body held impossibly rigid, was a man that looked like James.
No.
It was James.
My body knew it before my brain did; every instinct I possessed was screaming that I run to him. The door closed as he continued to walk with his face still turned away from the shop. I stood rooted to the spot as the feelings and memories rushed through my thoughts.
The first time we kissed.
When he held me pinned to the door.
When he told me he loved me.
The morning we spent cuddling in the kitchen.
When I promised I'd never leave him.
The look in his eyes as I left with Edward.
In my dream, his body tattered, surrounded by gore as his mouth struggles to form words that I don't want to hear.
My own voice, whispering. "It doesn't torture James to be with you, Bella. It saves him. What tortures you is to be away from him."
It all clicked, like I'd been handed the most important piece to a puzzle. Everything made sense. The answer to my problem was clearer than ever. I'd had the pieces all along; I just hadn't been able to make sense of them.
My pulse thundered in my ears; it felt like there was no oxygen in the bookstore. Oh, God. I needed to find James. I ran from the store, barely making it into the street before I began gasping for air.
I raised my head only to see Alice running towards me with her arms outstretched. She gathered me tightly into her embrace, both comforting me and holding me up.
"I didn't see it until it was too late, Bella. I'm so sorry."
I sighed deeply, collecting my thoughts. "It's alright, Alice. I'm fine."
It was true. I finally had the answer. I knew what I needed to do.
I just hoped it wasn't too late.
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