Falling Beyond Redemption
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Chapter 49
Fates Requiem
Charlie's POV
I stop in the doorway and watch Alice and Bella, my head reeling from what I just overheard, though I don't really know why. Something different, I guess, about speculating that Bella's not getting any better, and hearing it straight out of Carlisle's mouth. Something different as well when you know things in your head than when you're watching them play out in front of your eyes.
Alice's small fingers run through Bella's hair, the motion almost hypnotic in the way her white skin looks against all those dark strands, the TV lights flickering over the room and them. Bella looks peaceful sleeping, all those little lines in her forehead smoothed out. The lines I know now are there because she's in constant pain. The sight in front of me should ease my mind, instead my heart hurts. How many times had I stood over her crib when she was a baby wondering how something so precious could exist, and thinking how I'd do anything to make sure she was safe and happy? I'd learned right quick the day Renee packed up and left with her how powerless I was. I remember feeling like a failure. It feels a lot like how I feel now.
I hear him coming up behind me, maybe because I'm expecting him, or maybe because he's moving in a way that lets me hear him. I can never tell with Edward. Heading down the hall without acknowledging him, I make my way to the kitchen knowing he'll follow after he's had his own minute to check on her. I want a beer but settle for coffee, the actions of making it helping to soothe my rattled nerves, though I don't need the caffeine. When I turn around he's standing at the large, sliding glass door that leads out to a huge deck. It's dark now and I can see his reflection in the glass. His eyes seem focused on something far away.
"I'm sorry you overheard that," he says quietly without turning around. I lean against the counter and take a drink from the mug in my hand. The liquid sloshes a little in the cup. My hands are trembling.
"Not like I didn't know she's not getting better. I have eyes." My voice is gruff so I clear my throat, feeling awkward and half afraid my shaking hands are going to make me spill hot coffee all over myself like an idiot. I sit at the table, setting the cup down but keeping my hands curled around it. They're cold and the heat is nice.
When I look up he's sitting across from me. It's some kind of testament to how much I've adapted that I don't jump out of my skin. Still, I haven't adapted so much that I don't have the ingrained desire to offer to make him a coffee, stupid as that is. Politeness and consideration drilled into me through an entire lifetime of normal protocols are hard to shake. I take a gulp of my own to smother the urge and scald the roof of my mouth and the lining of my throat, wincing a little despite myself. I don't see him move, but there's a bottle of cold water in front of me when my eyelids open on a routine, split-second blink.
"I'm still sorry you overheard," he repeats. "Apart from her condition, I said some things that perhaps a Father may be uncomfortable hearing."
"I'm waiting, Carlisle, for the day when something as simple as making love to her on a sofa doesn't create shadows in her eyes."
I clear my throat again and wisely drink out of the water bottle this time. The cold soothes the lingering sting from the burn and I manage a small, noncommittal grunt in reply. He smiles a little in response; his eyes, so much damn older than he looks on the surface, reminding me yet again what he is. As if I need the reminder.
My head spins through a bunch of thoughts I know he can hear, and his eyes turn dark at the last one I couldn't say out loud if I tried.
She's dying.
I watch his left hand curl into a fist, but his face stays locked down in that emotionless void he's so good at projecting.
"I understand that it feels that way to you."
"Do you?" My tone is less than friendly and I regret it instantly. I don't want to do this with him, but it's like falling back on old habits to blame him, to hold him responsible. "I'm sorry," I tell him, instantly contrite. "I just... I want to... I can't seem to..."
"Charlie."
I look up and his eyes are so damn black, I feel like I'm getting dragged into them. His jaw is clenched and he leans forward. The action and the look of him should be menacing, but instead it's the opposite.
"I understand," he repeats, the emphasis on the words conveying so many different things, reminding me that I'm not the only one who blames himself, who struggles with what's going to happen. This is hard for him too, and for the first time I get it. I really get it. It's actually harder for him. I might have to accept her choice, but he's the one who actually has to make it a reality.
I relax back in my chair and the silence stretches out between us, not really uncomfortable, just heavy with all the things not being said. I break it tentatively.
"Tell me what happens. What it's like, what it will be like for her, to...?"
"No."
A part of me that doesn't really want to know is grateful for the answer, another part is frustrated. I've lived so long now with my own head up my ass. It's part of what led us here in the first place. All the secrets and lies. He sees the look on my face and knows by the thoughts running through my head that I'm about to argue.
"Charlie, listen to me. Nothing can be gained by you knowing. It cannot comfort you or help you accept this."
There's a clock on the wall and my eyes are drawn to it as though it will answer what he won't. Or at the very least give me a time. Not that I want some hellish deadline looming over my head, dictating the countdown of my daughter's mortality. Right?
"I'm not looking for comfort, Edward. I just want answers. I just want to be in the goddamn loop."
He's quiet for a long minute, those jet black eyes moving back and forth over mine while I fight like hell to give him nothing, keeping my mind as blank as a sheet of paper. His lips quirk a bit and he sighs. I think I see some of the dark go out of his eyes, but he looks away before I can really tell.
"You have no idea how infuriating that is." He returns his gaze and yep, his eyes are definitely lighter, the quirked lips forming into an easy smile that transforms him from menacing to beautiful. I blink, more than a little uncomfortable with thinking that way about my daughter's husband, but damn the kid is good looking. Not that he's a kid...hell.
I shake my head and he laughs quietly, before turning serious again when I let him back in my head a little.
Tell me. "I already know too much, Edward; you've all said that repeatedly. So why should this be any different?"
He answers me with a question. "You overheard my conversation with Carlisle. One part of which was very personal. Would you have asked me to explain that?"
I balk and literally cringe back a little, feeling the heat in my face. "Of course not," I answer gruffly. "That's between a man and his wife. Personal like you said, private. Of course I wouldn't."
"This is the same, Charlie. Bella's change is no less intimate or sacred to me than that. It is solely between us. Our decision. Our time. Our choice. I am no more comfortable in discussing the details of it than you would be in asking for details regarding the comment you overheard."
Maybe I just really don't want to know, but I find myself hearing what he says and deciding to let it go. I respect his answer, even if I don't like being denied. If I'm being honest what I really respect the hell out of, is him. And not only respect but also trust, and damned if that doesn't take a second to fully sink in. When it does, I realize something. I didn't get a chance to walk Bella down the aisle. Didn't get to formally put her hand in Edward's and give my blessing in the traditional way I always imagined I would, but I don't need a ceremony or an audience. What I need, all I ever really needed, he's already given me. He is her life now and it's time for me to give her to him and walk away, just like any other father.
"It's time for me to go home, Edward." My voice falters because as much as I know it's time, it still hurts like hell. I know when I walk out that door it could very well be the last time I ever see her. Edward may not have given me details, but I'm a cop, well versed in reading between the lines and hearing what's not said. This is dangerous. She might not survive. And if she does, well, she won't be the same; I have to face that, too. With a tight throat I push up on my feet and take my coffee mug to the sink, dumping the liquid I couldn't swallow now if I tried.
"There is time yet, Charlie."
I nod, because I know that. He'd told Carlisle he was waiting for Bella to decide, and even I can see she isn't quite ready yet no matter how sick she is. She wants more time. More time with Edward, the way they are now, probably more time with me as well. I feel bad that I can't give her that, but I understand my limitations. I can be strong enough to accept this; I can be strong enough to forgive myself and maybe even to forgive Jacob Black one day. I can be strong enough to understand that this is how it is supposed to be for her.
But I can't watch her die.
Not even knowing that she'll be reborn as something...else.
I can't do it.
Edward's hand lands on my shoulder and I know he's seen and heard all of that in my head. He doesn't say anything else, but the light squeeze of his fingers tells me he understands.
From the other room I hear Emmett calling for me, like he doesn't know where I am, which I highly doubt. It's more likely that he's letting me and Edward know he's on his way into the room. He's a bit of a stickler for routines and doing things his own way, and the clock on the wall tells me he's been about as generous as he's likely to get as far as any leeway in my schedule.
"Shit," I mutter. "I don't suppose you could tell him I already left? Maybe let me hide out in a broom closet until he gets tired of looking for me?"
Edward laughs and the sound is soft and surprisingly genuine. I haven't heard him laugh in a long time. He pats my back in sympathy. His touch is damn gentle in comparison to Emmett's; guess he's had a lot more practice.
"You can laugh, son, but one more of your brother's 'rubdowns' and Carlisle's going to have some serious patchwork to do on my joints and bones."
"Hey. I heard that," Emmett quips as he enters the room, carrying the liniment oil he uses in my nightly torture in one hand and the beer he uses to bribe me not to whine in the other. "I'll have you know, my Rosie says I give the best massages ever."
"Your wife is made of stronger stuff than me, Emmett, literally and figuratively."
Emmett guffaws, winking at Edward. I see something more serious pass between them and Emmett's voice is quieter when he speaks this time. "All right, Pops. I'll tell you what. You can spend twenty minutes in the hot tub tonight instead, deal?"
I snag the beer out of his hand and grin back. "Deal."
Bella's POV
Charlie's been gone for three days, and the house seems so much quieter now that I'm the only human. I never noticed before how much noise everyone made in an effort to help Charlie be comfortable around them until the absence of it.
I miss him. Being able to spend time with Charlie here had been incredibly precious. The last few days before he left, we completely cleared the air between us in our usual quiet way. We ate together in the kitchen, the same as we had at home before everything went to hell. He complimented my cooking, or Esme's if I was too tired for the effort, and helped me clean up. We sat together in the living room and watched sports on the satellite where he'd comment occasionally on the game, and every now and then pat my hand. The normality crossed the last of the gulf between us, more being said in the quiet than could ever be voiced out loud.
On his last night we sat in the kitchen long after the dishes were washed and put away, sipping the peppermint tea I made. Even though I know he didn't really like it, he did a good job of hiding the grimace that came with every forced swallow.
"I think I'll have one of those brownies. You want one, kid?"
I smiled as I watched Charlie's eyes dart to the doorway as though he expected Carlisle to swoop in and tell him brownies weren't on the preferred diet list. The one thing I know Charlie has hated more than anything is being limited on what he can eat. Red meat has been off the table completely, and I'd caught him more than once scowling down at a chicken breast on his plate with the look of a condemned man.
"Sure, Dad. I'll get it..."
"No, you just sit and finish your tea. I've got it." I watched him move around the kitchen gathering plates and napkins. He selected a small piece from the tray on the counter, sliding it on the plate with minimal mess. I frowned a bit when he placed the cover back on the tray without taking out a second, wondering if he'd changed his mind, only to see him head straight for the cupboard with the secret stash of 'magic' brownies. He placed one of those on the other plate and set it in front of me before sitting down with his own. My mouth had fallen open, and he looked up at me with laughter in his eyes, my secret stash apparently not so secret.
"How did you...?"
"I've been around a while, Bells, and I wouldn't be much of a cop if I didn't recognize the smell of marijuana," he answered with a grin. "It's been all over the house a time or two, and what with Jasper pulling that stunt with switching them around the first week I was here? Well, let's just say, they're all damn good at keeping secrets, but they're lousy at hiding a stash."
I felt a blush burning up the sides of my face. "Aren't you upset?" I asked him incredulously, wanting to know who he was and what he'd done with my police chief father.
The grin faded and his eyes looked a little sad. "I know about medical marijuana, Bella. I might be a cop, but I'm always going to be your Dad first, you know that right?"
I nodded then, feeling tears prickle the edges of my eyes as I reached out for his hand. He took it and squeezed a little too hard, but I didn't care. "I love you, Dad."
"Yeah, me too, kid, me too." He pulled his hand back and swiped at his eyes. "Listen, while we're being all mushy anyway, I have something for you." He took a small box out of his shirt pocket, the flannel snagging a little on the edge before he placed it in front of me. "I got this for you, thought it'd make a good birthday present, but then you didn't want any birthday presents, so I guess now's as good a time as any to give it to you." He huffed out an exaggerated breath and pushed the small white box towards me with his finger.
"Dad..."
"Just open it, Bells."
I slid the lid off and pulled a blue velvet box out from inside. My hands were sweating a little as I rubbed my fingers over the soft material before opening it. Nestled inside, a daughter's pride ring caught the overhead lights, the three stones sparkling in the white gold band. Pretty but simple, and very me. Charlie and Renee's birthstones offset mine like an embrace, and the tears that prickled spilled over like rainfall.
"I know the choices you're making aren't easy ones, but I know they're the right ones for you, Bells. I can see that now. I can let you go..." The words choked in his throat, and I was up off the chair and in his lap before he was done, my face buried in his neck while he patted my back and rocked a little like he used to when I was little. "I just wanted you to have a little something so that no matter where you go, you'll always remember where you came from, okay?"
Pulling my mind back to the present, I spin the ring on my finger as the memory fades and smile, hoping I'll never forget it. I've taken to writing down things I don't want to forget in another journal Jasper gave me. I don't know what happened to the first one, and that's for the best. I suspect Jasper or Edward has put it away somewhere for safe keeping, but it doesn't really matter. It served its purpose, and I doubt I'll ever want to read what I wrote again.
My mind drifts for awhile, something that seems to be happening a lot lately. Fighting against it, I get up to add another log to the fire. It doesn't really need it, but moving helps me stay grounded and resist the pull of my head which seems stronger than my will power anymore. The last week has been the most difficult in that regard, and I know I'm no longer capable of hiding what's happening. Not that I'm intentionally keeping anything a secret. I promised Edward and Carlisle I would tell them if anything changed. I just don't know how to explain this.
I suppose this weird feeling should be scary, but oddly enough it isn't. Maybe I'm not capable of getting freaked out anymore, I think with a smile. And anyway, it isn't really a new feeling or experience, it's just...stronger.
I drift down the hallway, my hand running lightly over the walls, not really seeing the honey coloured oak panels that feel like little ripples under my fingers. What's in front of me fades out and is replaced by another hallway. The one in my head. The one that keeps calling me back no matter how hard I try to resist. Although the truth is, I'm not trying very hard. It's a compelling place. Like a puzzle. Endlessly long with dozens upon dozens of doors, it pricks and prods at me, wanting to be solved...
"Bella?"
I blink and the corridor dissolves. I find myself in Carlisle's office, standing in the middle of the room. I don't know how long I've been there, or if I intended to come here at all.
"Bella," Carlisle repeats, and he's standing in front of me now. Was he there before? "Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine," I tell him, and behind him the ghost corridor opens wide, one of the doors rattling gently in its frame. Carlisle's door. Of course. It's so obvious now...
"Are you certain? You seem distracted."
With a monumental effort I haven't exuded in days, I drag myself out of my head and smile at him in a way I hope is reassuring, willing the corners of the room and all its various items to become solid. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit tired, I guess. I wondered if you'd read to me, my eyes are sore."
"Of course, sweetheart."
I settle into the window seat, pulling a blanket over my lap, realizing for the first time there actually is a book in my hand. Had I intended to come here then? I hand it to Carlisle, careful to keep my expression unsurprised by its appearance. He takes it and smiles at the cover, though honestly I have no idea what it is. "Are we starting at the beginning?"
Are we? "Um, yes, I think so?"
Carlisle's eyes narrow speculatively, and I realize I'm going to need to focus before he starts to become really concerned.
"Do you not know, Bella?"
I peek surreptitiously at the cover and see the familiar Wuthering Heights title. Instantly comforted by the sight of my favourite book, I settle myself against the pillows and shrug at Carlisle sheepishly. "It doesn't really matter. The beginning is good."
He nods, opening the cover and settling into the chair closest to me. As the familiar words in Carlisle's soothing voice fill the room, I feel lulled and peaceful. The corridor beckons, but it's easier to resist now, which is good. It's giving me a headache.
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Carlisle has changed my medications, again. Whatever he's done with the colourful cocktail of pills has made it easier to ignore the strange corridor. It's fuzzy now, no longer clear, and I'm mildly frustrated by that. I sense if I could just figure out the labyrinth of hallways and doors, I might be able to get a handle on my so-called shield.
A nightmare early this morning at 3 a.m. had me shielding everyone in the house and sending poor Alice into the vampire equivalent of a panic attack. Something I'd like not to do again anytime soon. Both for myself and the miserable excruciating headache that it caused, and especially for the fear and misery I put poor Alice through.
Edward and I aren't the only ones carrying around excess emotional baggage from what happened.
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"Do you miss Charlie, Bella?"
"Is Alice feeling better today, Jasper?"
We speak over top of each other and Jasper chuckles. I get up off the huge overstuffed chair I was curled up in and join Jasper on the piano bench, running my fingers over the cool, ivory keys. We're in the music room today because it's too cold for our usual walk, at least for the human, and I'm feeling a little claustrophobic and restless.
"Alice is fine, sugar. You know her; nothing gets her down for long." He accents the words with a heavy southern drawl in an effort to make me smile, which it does. Taking my hand, he uses my fingers to play a slightly discordant version of chopsticks, and the smile on my face grows. Edward, even all the way at the other side of the Lodge in the huge garage with Rose and Emmett, is no doubt cringing at the abuse to his precious piano.
They're changing the tires on the vehicles today, preparing for the onslaught of snow a purple-bruised sky is threatening to unleash sometime between now and nightfall. Edward, striving as always to give me some semblance of privacy during my time spent with Jasper, even if it means enduring Emmett's relentless ribbing about our sex life.
"I do miss him," I offer in reply to his question about Charlie. "But I'd be lying if I didn't say it's easier now that he's gone."
"How so?"
I shrug, striving for the right words to explain. "He worries about me. It's hard for him to accept all this. I mean he has. I think he understands for the most part, but..."
"But he's always going to be your Daddy."
I nod at Jasper's simplified answer. It's as good as any. "It's better that he goes back to his life, back to all things normal. Or as normal as they can be with a wolf pack looking out for him," I add with another shrug. "And now I can just…relax."
He smiles at that as my fingers fidget some more over the keys, plucking out several notes, nervous energy my only type of energy these days. He chooses not to comment on that though.
"And Renee? Have you made any decisions regarding her?" he asks instead.
Renee has been a popular topic of discussion between Edward and me as of late. He thinks I should consider seeing her, before I can't anymore. Carlisle doesn't agree, though he hasn't said as much out loud. They both agree it's my decision in the end, but I've read enough of the silent looks that pass between them to know what side of the fence Carlisle is on.
For myself, I've been hopelessly divided. "I want to see her, Jasper, but I don't think I can." I run my fingertips lightly over the scales without actually playing them, trying to sort my thoughts and put my new conclusions into words that will make the best sense. "She'll know I'm not right," I continue. "Renee can be flighty, but she'll take one look at me right now and she'll now. Carlisle says I can tell her I'm anaemic, it's close to the truth and shouldn't freak her out too much, especially if we tell her its under control, or getting there."
"But?" he prods when I trail off, getting distracted by the small smears of oil the pads of my fingers leave on the otherwise pristine and smudge-free keys. I use my sleeves to wipe them off and then shove my hands under my legs on the bench to keep from leaving any new ones.
"I don't want to lie anymore, Jasper," I tell him with a huff, not knowing if he'll understand. Vampire lives are all about lying, so maybe I'll sound naïve to him. "Not to her," I add to try and clarify. "Not straight to her face, and I would have to if I saw her now. It isn't like before, when I could just be evasive."
Unable to sit still any longer, I get up and go to the window. It emits the cold, radiating it through the glass, and my breath fogs on its surface in small opaque circles. I find the sensation of cold instantly soothing and resist the silly urge to draw sad faces in my breath induced condensation. The clouds keep brewing up above, looking more tempestuous by the minute. I bet the air smells like snow, and once again I wish we were outside.
"This could be your last chance for closure, Bella." Jasper draws me again back to the present. He's playing devil's advocate; he has to know I've made up my mind.
"I've thought this through, Jasper, and I think I've gotten all the closure I'm going to get. Seeing Renee now, it's dangerous, for her, for us. It's one thing to have Charlie know, that's bad enough, but the Pack - what's left of it - can't protect Renee and Phil in Florida." My heart hurts saying the words out loud, admitting that the things I suspect worry Carlisle the most are valid. Renee and Phil can never know about this world. The last thing I can do for my Mother before I give up the life she gave me, is protect her from the darker side of my choice.
I feel the tears burn hot in my eyes and knots form in my throat that try to prevent me from saying the last part of my conclusions out loud. Blinking and swallowing them away I take a deep breath, dragging the air through my lungs roughly.
"Maybe I can't get closure, but I can try and give it to her," I whisper.
Jasper is quiet, but I feel him move closer to me.
"I'm going to call her, tonight," I tell him, my vision beginning to blur until the dark swells of clouds blend together like one. "Tell her that Edward and I've eloped, and that we're taking a sailboat around the coast of Maine for our honeymoon. I'll tell her we'll send her a postcard from Swans Island, she'll love that." I try to laugh at my precociously simple mother, but it just comes out like a sob. "When it doesn't come, she'll get worried, but not right away."
Jasper's cold hand curves very gently and carefully around the nape of my neck, and I press my forehead to the even colder glass. "After a few days she'll call Charlie, and he'll have to tell her that he's sorry, he's been waiting to hear, not wanting to worry her, but no one can reach us. Maybe we'll get lucky and a storm will brew up somewhere, maybe Alice can see that ahead of time and put our imaginary sailboat on that path…" My voice breaks.
"Hush now, darlin. It's okay," Jasper murmurs as my throat closes tighter around every word.
I work on my breathing, slow ins and outs. Tasting the vanilla and sandalwood lushness that makes up Jasper's particular prey allure, feeling the waves of calm he emits, proud of myself for being able to keep my shield down. It isn't every day one plans their own death, after all.
The room is quiet except for my sniffling, Jasper giving me time to regain my composure. I feel better for finally having said the words out loud, which he'll know.
"Maybe Alice and I will have to piggy back on this romantic yet ill fated imaginary adventure of yours," he chuckles quietly, as though he doesn't want to completely break the silence. "I've been itchin to try out one of those new aliases Jenks made up for us last year. What do you think of the names Jackson and Ashley Rathbone? Pretty upper class sounding, don't you think? Maybe I should be Jackson Rathbone the third, or something equally pretentious," he jokes.
"Rathbone?" I can't help but smile around my sniffles. "I guess that's better than Edward Long Wong," I tease, referring to one of Edward's less than dignified aliases thanks to Emmett's interventions.
Jasper snorts. "Serves him right for letting Emmett have control and not checking up on him. He's damn lucky Emmett still can't type worth beans. Not that he was the only one who got suckered in by Emmett's twisted sense of humour. Carlisle walked around for nearly a year once as Doctor Armand Hammer in the 60's. Alice intervened and saved herself from becoming Anita Goodman and Esme from being stuck as Ella Vader. But she was a tad bit cranky with me that day, and I almost ended up as Jack Goff, her suggestion not Emmett's by the way."
I shake my head with a grin, feeling an unfamiliar giggle tickle my throat. "Wow, you must have really made her mad."
"Let's just say she had a little Austen Mini Cooper that she adored which may or may not have gotten wrapped around a tree after a bet with Emmett went awry."
"And you didn't end up as Jack Goff how after that?"
He winked at me, taking my hand and tugging me away from the window. "Simple," he answered, his grin large and dazzling. "I just told Emmett I wouldn't tell Alice about the bet, and even better, I wouldn't tell Rose that he'd seriously been considering for a second giving her and him the aliases, Rhoda and Seymour Bush."
The giggle in my throat bursts out at that. It's too easy to envision the horrified look that must have come over Emmett's face at the thought of Rose finding that one out. She would have dismembered him.
"I'll have to remember that," I laugh shaking my head. "Future blackmail if he keeps making snide comments about me and Edward and our…"
The words die in my throat as Edward suddenly comes around the corner, the strangest look on his face. He's in front of me before I can blink, his hands tangled in my hair, fingers wrapped gently around my skull as he tips my face up, scrutinizing me so intensely it makes me breathless.
"You've been crying."
I bite my lip, and his eyes dart down, watching me do it for a moment, conflicting emotions crossing his face too fast to read properly.
"Why?"
"I made my decision about Renee," I tell him quietly and without hesitation. "I've decided to do what we talked about, the sailboat…" I can't quite finish the rest, but I don't need to. A small hiss washes my face in his sweet breath, and he rests his cool forehead against mine, closing his eyes for a moment.
"You're certain?" he asks so quietly I barely hear him.
"Yes." The tears come back sharp and stinging, my roller coaster emotions so damn hard to pin down, though this time I'm not crying out of sadness. It's more out of relief, as though having finally made this last decision I can let go even though it hurts like hell to think of what this will do to Renee. And yet, this is Renee. She'll mourn and grieve, and a piece of her heart will always be broken, but she'll have the best closure I can give her. She'll move on, I know she will. She has Phil, she's not alone, she will be okay.
As horrible as the idea of her facing my death is, the alternatives are something I truly can't bear. I won't fill her life with lies, one after the other as she begs me to come see her, to spend time with her, to visit as years go by, each passing month that I avoid her killing everything that was ever good and right between us. The holidays, the birthdays, the long weekends she won't understand my avoidance of. The endless weaving of lies and illusions I will have to spin that will never be enough in the end to keep her from being devastated by my absences, the uncertainty of what she did wrong to cause my cold dismissals growing over time to eat her alive.
And I won't, I can't, ever ask her to carry the burden Charlie does. To know the world is nothing like what she thinks, to take away her innocent happy belief in harmless magic and friendly guardian angels and replace them with vampires and werewolves from her nightmares. I won't tear away her child-like wonder with the world and fill it with fear, or ask her to bear secrets she won't be able to keep. Not Renee whose mind is too trusting, too innocent, too naïve, always believing in the goodness of everyone. She'd slip eventually. I know she would. And then the consequences will brutalize us all. Forcing us at best to be bodyguards, never leaving her side, stifling her in our constant presence and the constant threats that she'll never truly be able to comprehend. And that at the very least, for the other consequences of her inability to keep our secret could be so much more horrific.
Edward's thumbs instantly brush away the few small tears that escape before I blink the rest back. His eyes open, and though our foreheads are still pressed together the angle of our heads makes it easy to see the same emotions I feel reflected back at me. Sadness, regret, relief, acceptance. They change again an instant later to something more hopeful.
"You were laughing." Not a question, but a hesitant and hushed almost reverent observation.
I blush a little and smile. "Oh, yeah, a bit. Jasper was telling me about the almost alias fiasco with Emmett, you know. Long Wong, Rhoda and Seymour Bush…"
"Do it again," he interrupts, his tone full of need, his eyes darkening and once again focused on my mouth as though by sheer will he can make me recreate the sound. I shake my head at him, too confused to do anything else.
"Never mind," he murmurs, one of his thumbs caressing my cheek. "It doesn't matter." His mouth comes down over mine then, rough and urgent, shocking me and making pleasant butterflies swoop around in my stomach. His taste is so cool and sweet as my mouth opens under his insistence, and the touch of his tongue against mine makes my pulse race, heat spiralling all over my skin.
Edward breaks the kiss to turn his head slightly away without letting go of me. His voice is a rough snarl. "Jasper, get out."
He's backing me up now, slow even steps urging me backwards until I feel the edge of the sofa bump the thin skin behind my knees. Only his hand, now on my waist, keeps me from falling down on the cushions.
"Edward, Bella and I weren't done yet. I was right in the middle of telling her a very amusing tale..." There's laughter in Jasper's tone when Edward cuts him off. Without turning, his eyes locked on mine, his voice turns from a snarl to something much softer yet oddly more dangerous sounding.
"You have five seconds, Jasper. I'm about to make love to my wife, so I suggest you leave and leave quickly. Unless you have some sick desire to see my naked ass..."
"Perish the thought," Jasper laughs. "Shall I close the door behind me then?"
Edward's answer is another growl that nearly drowns out both the sound of Jasper's amusement and the sound of the door closing. I don't even think it's all the way closed before Edward has us on the sofa. Whatever small amount of embarrassment I might have been about to feel at his rather shocking declaration vanishes the second his mouth meets mine.
"I need you," he groans against my lips, fingers already deftly undoing buttons and snaps and zippers. I think I hear something tear then his hands are on my bare skin. Somehow mine are on his as well and nothing else matters.
Nothing else at all...
. . . . .
Edward's POV
When the sound of Bella crying softly reached my ears, filtering through the mental wall I erect whenever she's with Jasper, I'd frozen where I stood. I strive always to give her privacy when she's with him, but there is no off switch to my talent, nor is there any off switch to my need and desire to know at all times where she is and how she fares. Still, I always do what I can, focusing on her heartbeat and not her words during those times. Keeping my hands busy and my mind full of other things helps, even if those other things have to be Emmett and Rose's company and minds.
To keep from invading her privacy, I gnashed my teeth together and punctured the tire in my hands with curled in fingers. Stale air released in a hiss, rubber shredding like tissue paper while the metal frame warped into something unrecognizable. Emmett had placed a restraining hand on my shoulder and Rose had looked up in sympathy. Somehow I'd managed to stay in my place.
But the sound of her laughter? That soft, somewhat hesitant, throaty little giggle that I haven't heard since before the night our world had imploded around us? That sound I was powerless against, not an ounce of resistance in me. I flew through the house and up to the music room using all my speed, not caring that the wave of air disturbed in my wake rattled artwork on the walls and toppled items from shelves.
I'm across the room in less time than it takes her heart to complete one beat, sliding my fingers into her hair to cradle the fragile warmth of her skull. She's too beautiful with her tear stained cheeks and ivory skin, her soft cupids bow mouth quivering with so many mixed emotions. Her eyes tell the tale of her feelings; feelings echoed in the thoughts I no longer attempt to block from my brother's mind.
Careful, Edward. She's incredibly fragile right now. Don't upset her. His warning thoughts are unnecessary. I can see for myself the storm brewing behind her pain filled eyes. The bravery she tries to emit as I ask her why she's been crying, though I already know.
I cannot imagine the strength and selflessness it has taken her to make this decision. To give up her mother years before she should ever have to. To give up her entire life and walk away from nearly every one she knows and loves, allow them to believe she is dead so that she can protect not only them, but us as well, humbles me to the breadth of my being.
When I ask about the laughter, some of the shadows pull away from her eyes. The web-like pressure I began to feel around my mind pulling back as she smiles a little. I ask her to do it again, and she looks confused. She cannot know what it means to me to have heard her laugh, and I instantly regret the demand, kissing her instead.
The taste of her fills me as she responds to the hungry coercion of my lips. I tell myself to be gentle, but my need is too great for me to find the same level of restraint I normally use. Oddly, I have no fear that I will hurt her, only concern that I will overwhelm her with the force of my feelings that so desperately need an outlet.
I should regret the way I snarl at Jasper. I should regret the way I lay her down on the couch, and tell her I need her before giving her the chance to choose this for herself. Perhaps if her breathing didn't escalate and her body didn't stir to life beneath mine in the way I've become so addictively familiar with, I might have. At the very least I should regret the way her I ruin her clothing, but as she arches against me, her hot little hands running over the skin of my body as I strip us both bare, nothing else matters.
Nothing at all…
