The moment I wake up
Before I put on my makeup
I say a little prayer for you
While combing my hair, now
And wondering what dress to wear, now
I say a little prayer for you

Say A Little Prayer - Aretha Franklin


The wind was utterly knocked out of her lungs. The sounds of footsteps and garbled chit-chat behind her ceased, replaced with an oppressive silence that seemed to fill her ears and surround her body as if she were being held underwater by her ankles. All thoughts evaporated, all cares or even basic functions came to a grinding halt. Her legs threatened to give out underneath her, and she remained upright only by bracing herself against the corner of the phone booth. She very nearly dropped the receiver when Seth's voice tried to coax her back to consciousness.

"Bella? Are you there?"

"Mhmmm," she replied

"I'm sorry, Bella. This isn't how I wanted you to find out." His voice was sympathetic, but under it ran the same tension that was threatening to snap her own vocal chords in two.

"When?"

"His dad got the news about a week ago. We're not exactly sure when it happened." He sucked in a deep breath, the strain palpable as he kept his voice even. "They didn't have much to tell us, only that they don't know where Jake is, and that Jared and one of their friends are missing, too."

Her hand clasped over her mouth, she tried to contain the pained cry that was brewing in her chest. The images from the evening news flashed before her eyes again, all ear-splitting sounds of death and destruction, fire and mayhem. The nightmare Jacob charged head-first into without a second thought.

Missing.

Like a broken record, the word played over and over again in her head. She knew what "missing" really meant. Eric definitely knew what it meant. It was a euphemism, a way to sugarcoat an icy truth: they don't know where he is, and they don't think he's going to come back.

Missing. Missing. Missing. Missing. Missing.

It became the sound of her pulse, both syllables of her heartbeat, and the world began to twist and blur, until she finally descended into pitch black nothingness.

She awoke with a start, as if she had fallen from the sky and crashed back into her own body. The surroundings were foreign: a dorm room, but not hers. A bed, but not hers. Clothes and shoes scattered about or in heaps along the dusty baseboards, but none hers, save her own dark blue sneakers arranged neatly on the floor beside the bed. She sat up, or tried to at least, only to feel the dizziness force her onto the pillow again as it tried to wrestle her consciousness away yet again, and it very nearly succeeded. Rubbing her eyes, she gingerly propped herself up, still too foggy to make out where she was or how she got there. It wasn't until she heard the loud guffaws of baritone voices that she realized she was in a boy's dormitory.

"No thanks, guys," came another, somewhat muffled by the peeling wooden door. "I'll catch you next time." The door handle twisted, opening stiffly with a dull creak.

"Bella?" he called softly. 'Oh, thank goodness. You're awake."

Relief washed over his face as he slipped in, closing the door behind him so as to not draw attention to himself. He glided over to the bed and placed a glass of water at her bedside before settling into the chair. Taking a deep breath, she eased up against the cold metal frame, squeezing her eyes open and shut over and over again, trying to get a grip. The back of her head throbbed, and strands of hair were sticking to her cheek. Even with such limited information, she knew she must be a mess. Edward, on the other hand, was a vision, like what Sleeping Beauty must have seen when she woke.

"Are you alright?" His amber eyes scanned her all over, as if he could diagnose her condition with a fully clothed once-over. Well, he was a doctor's son, after all.

"It's hard to say," she replied. "I'm kind of dizzy. How long have I been out?"

"Not long. About an hour. I'm glad you came-to when you did. I was getting worried. Here," he said, handing her the glass with a reassuring smile.

She sipped slowly, letting her eyes wander about the room now that her vision was clear. She'd never been in Edward's room, even when they were dating. There was something oddly intimate about being there, seeing his socks and crumpled papers scattered about and the sleeve of his forlorn letterman jacket poking out from the back of the tiny wardrobe. She didn't remember what she pictured when she imagined what his room would look like, but it wasn't this.

"What happened?"

"You fainted in the phone booth," he said. "One of the girls saw you and went to get help, and she found me."

"Shit," she whispered. As she leaned her head back, it tapped the wall behind her, making her yelp. The throbbing was even more pronounced now.

"I think you hit your head on the way down. You'll probably have a goose egg tomorrow."

"I fainted? I thought that only happened in movies. Are smelling salts real too?" He chuckled.

"Yeah, but I was fresh out."

She glanced out the window, but could only see branches and grey skies.

"So how did I end up here?"

"I carried you," he said matter-of-factly. "I live in Dunham, so it was closer than going all the way to your room. I hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," she said, conjuring the better part of a smile for him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He became quiet, watching her shift squeeze the glass in her hands until she set it down, as if he were waiting for something else to happen.

"Bella," he started, sounding uncertain. "Is everything alright with your father?" She cocked her head.

"What do you mean?"

"You were on the phone when you fainted, right? I was hoping you hadn't gotten any bad news."

Her blood turned to ice as the memory of Seth's voice rematerialized, and then his words.

Missing. Missing. Missing.

She tried with all her might to hold it in, to keep herself upright and held together, and it was not going very well. It must have been painfully apparent, because Edward immediately rose to sit beside her, catching her as she finally dissolved into his shoulder.

"Shhh...Bella," he crooned. "Please don't cry. It'll be alright." She shook her head, her eyes still buried and soaking the sleeve of his shirt. "It will. I promise. Please, is there something I can do?"

"I wish you could," she squeaked, trying to speak through a shuddering inhale. "It's not that simple."

He held her tightly, gently stroking her hair as she struggled to regain some semblance of composure. As deep as her despair ran, his touch was soothing, patient. It was the safest she had felt in months, and the most complete, though the void left by Jacob still pricked and stabbed at her heart every opportunity it got. She could only wonder how long it would be before it finally gave out altogether; Or, maybe it would persist long after she reached the breaking point of her endurance, purely out of spite for what she'd done to it on her own. After righting herself, Bella dabbed at her eyes and offered a weak and grateful smile.

"I think this is the moment where I'm supposed to offer you my handkerchief, but my valet is having it laundered," he said, making her giggle over her own sniffles.

"I appreciate the sentiment all the same, Mr. Cullen." He grinned. There was a familiar warmth in his amber eyes, like the sun coming through the stained glass window of a church, and it warmed her as well.

She might have been Marianne Dashwood, delivered from the pouring rain in the arms of a valiant gentleman and brought to safety. It was a very odd thing to be reminded of at that moment, and whether her rescuer was Willoughby or Colonel Brandon remained to be seen. Perhaps she would learn which was which by the time this ordeal was over. If it would ever be over.

"I should get out of your hair." She stirred and went to stand, but was gently held back, his brow knit in concern.

"Are you sure you're alright to walk?" he asked. "It's not a problem. You can stay as long as you need to."

"I'm fine, really. I'll take it easy." She wanted to reassure him, but he didn't appear convinced. "I'll lie down again when I get back, I promise." He pursed his lips.

"Will you at least let me walk you there?"

"Fine," she huffed in mock annoyance.

The walk back was slow going, though this was more her own doing than Edward's. He filled the air with pleasant talk of springtime plans and Dr. Zhivago in fulfillment of their wordless agreement. It was a welcome distraction, allowing her to traverse the lumpy walkways to her dorm without risk of anything other than tripping, though she was confident that she would not be allowed to literally hit the bricks. When they arrived, he released her in the foyer, as he would be forbidden from going any further into the girl's building.

"Thank you, Edward."

She didn't know what else to say. What else was there to say? It still sounded insufficient. Before, she would have been annoyed by his insistence on accompanying her all this way and his unspoken belief that she could not manage on her own, but today, it seemed that he was right. Maybe she wasn't as strong as she thought. Maybe this was what it took to open her eyes, to see that she had vastly overestimated her abilities. She didn't know, and that day, she didn't particularly care. If there ever was a time that she could tolerate being treated like a faberge egg, this was one of them.

"You're very welcome."

He hesitated. He was standing awfully close. Not enough to arouse a reprimand from the housemother, but enough to be very, very aware of the distance between them.

"Bella," he began, clearing his throat. "I realize it's none of my business, but I hope you'll talk to me, if you need it. I'd like to help." Her eyes dropped to her feet, and she nodded.

"I will. Thanks again."

Surely, this would constitute a 'white lie.' There was no denying that bearing all of this alone was intolerable, that even one more hairline fracture in her world would send her tumbling down, but she would sooner let herself fall than lose Edward's friendship to the truth. There could be no redeeming herself in his eyes with the knowledge that she had fallen for someone else, and to add insult to injury, for someone who she never should have been involved with in the first place. No one would understand why she would let Edward go, a kind, handsome, successful man with great prospects from a good family who adored her, to be with a poor truant, and an Indian to boot. Of course she knew, and Jake did too, once. But even as the lies and omissions weighed heavily on her shoulders, she knew that the truth could only set her free in one way: She would have absolutely nothing left to lose.

The alarm clock went ignored. When she was forced to join the living, it was nearly eleven, and her room was just as empty as when she arrived the day before. One could not call it rest; she tossed and turned, losing track of how many times she was awoken by the sensation of falling, clutching the edge of her mattress for dear life.

And the dreams. The dreams haunted her like nothing else. She wandered Forks on foot, ankle deep in snow, but there wasn't a soul in sight. She looked for Charlie at their house, but it was empty. The school was a ghost town. The reservation was much the same. She wandered endlessly, calling out for someone, anyone, but there was no sound but the echoes of her voice over the mountains. She found the garage in much the same state as it always was, dusty, cluttered with tools and boxes, the ashtrays filled to the brim with cigarette butts, but the radio and laughter and bickering was eerily absent. The only sign of life in the entire Olympic peninsula was the light creeping through the closed blinds of the office. If only she could reach the door before she was jolted back awake.

She had class in a half hour. It was of little consequence. It was ludicrous to think that she could give a rat's ass about Tolstoy in these circumstances. People were dying. How was it that everyone around her could just keep going on their merry way when their friends, their neighbors, their brothers, were in such constant danger?

The same way you did it tried not to think about it.

The waistband of her skirt had cut an itchy red imprint into her hip, and the bottom of her sweater was hiked up just under her bust. A hazard of sleeping in one's clothes. She stretched, and a small ray of sunshine bore through the window to catch onto her bracelet. The baying wolf seemed to glow a richer russet in the light, each tiny feature in the polished wood so intimately defined. The music floating by on a warm summer breeze. His hand on the small of her back, holding her securely against him. His calloused hand pulling her face in for the last kiss he would ever give her. She could still feel it all, but it was beginning to feel more like a beautiful dream.

Rolling over, she buried her face in the pillow to muffle her weeping.

Come back. Please, let him come back. I'll do anything, anything at all. I'll be good. I'll do what I'm supposed to. I'll let him go forever if I have to. Just please bring him home alive.

Her eyes swollen, all her tears finally used up, she summoned the remnants of her strength to simmer in the tub, put on the thickest sweater she owned, and force down a few Saltine crackers before leaving the safe confines of her room. To hell with class; She was going to go open that office door.

First, she suspected that the crunch of gravel under the tires must be drowning out the usual commotion in the shop. What she found instead was almost a low murmur hovering over the clattering of metal. The boys were fewer, even given the obvious. Sam was crouched beside a car, under which sounded like Paul, and the top of Seth's head was peeking over the open hood of another, listening to rapid-fire instructions from his sister. Sam looked up from his work as she approached.

"Bella."

It became suddenly still as he rose to his feet. Leah, firmly lowering the hood, met her gaze directly.

"I'm sorry," Bella began. "I just-I don't know what to do." She could feel it rising within her again, the scalding pressure of Sam and Paul's presence only making her crumble faster. "Leah-"

What words couldn't express, Leah seemed to read it in her eyes. Her own lip trembled, and she abandoned her post to seize Bella in her muscular arms. She was struggling to fight back tears, perhaps in the hope that Bella could cry enough for the both of them, as if there was such a thing as "enough." She didn't fully understand Leah, but there was some kind of telepathy, some understanding that overlooked her barking and snapping. Sam watched carefully, unsure what to make of this display.

"You came back," he said. His voice was low and even, but his surprise was not completely undetectable.

"Of course she did," Leah replied sharply. He looked taken aback.

"I didn't think she-"

"-Of course you didn't. That's why you're such a goddamned idiot."

"Hey!" snarled Paul as he emerged. "You better watch your mouth and show some respect."

"Paul," Sam warned.

"No, Jacob might've let you get away with that shit, but Sam's in charge now, and you're going to have to mind your manners."

"Last time I checked," Leah replied through gritted teeth, thrusting her finger towards the ceiling. "'Clearwater,' not 'Uley,' was the name on the sign. I don't care about your little 'line of succession;' I'm a Clearwater. When you're in here, I am the king of this castle."

"Couldn't wait to take that away from Jake too, could you?" Paul sneered.

"She's the oldest!" Seth shot back, striding to his sister's side. "Dad always said he wanted the shop to go to her. Jake thinks so, too."

Bella watched helplessly, glued to the spot as the scene began to unravel in front of her. These people were family. They used to look so happy together, even Paul. Now, they were all ready to come to blows, triggered just by her very presence. Trouble was following her everywhere she went, spreading like a disease, breaking people apart. It was then that her darkest thought, the one she stuffed into the furthest corner of her mind, the one that was too painful to even acknowledge, was dragged out into the open for all to see:

"It wouldn't matter if she hadn't chased him away from his family, away from his tribe! Then Jacob would be here instead of dead in a jungle somewhe-"

The she-wolf had had enough. Despite the height difference, her fist landed squarely on Paul's jaw, knocking him on his heels. The shock on his face quickly turned to rage. He drew back his own fist, but before he could let fly, he was caught around the wrist by Sam, who seemed to dare him to try anything else. Their eyes locked, they seemed to be having a fight of their own.

"Get. Out," she growled.

Sam released him with great reluctance, and Paul wasted no time in yanking his arm free. There was murder in his eyes, sharp daggers reserved for Bella and Bella alone. No one had ever looked at her like that, so thirsty for her blood, and it sent a chill down her spine. Spitting on the ground, he gave the rest one more sharp glare before stomping away.

"Leah, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice wavering. "I didn't mean to-I shouldn't have come."

Bella fled, stumbling back to her truck over Seth's objections. She probably wasn't fit to drive, but the idea didn't even cross her mind. There wasn't room for it, only one thought.

You did this.

The truck came to a halt in the dirt lot behind the school. She groped blindly in the glove compartment, eventually pulling out an almost new pack of cigarettes. It was a relic of another time, a time that seemed so far away that it could have been years. And she smoked every single one.

They were right. They were all right. This is what happens when you go places where you don't belong. Stupid girl. Selfish girl. How sickeningly naive. A headstrong child blundering into other people's affairs, thinking her idealistic nonsense could overcome the will of the world. She should have stayed put and lived her life. It was a good life before; She just didn't appreciate it enough. She was surrounded by family and friends, people who loved her and took care of her.

And you fucked it all up.

Every move she made, every stupid daydream she let come true, left destruction in its wake. How many more people's lives did she have to upend before it was enough? And, in the end, what was it all for?


A/N: I swear, I'm not trying to bum you all out. Things are rough, but I promise you that it's all going to be okay in the end.

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