A/N for 2020-08-14: Many, many thanks to Chayasara for her generosity in beta-ing this story. As well, my thanks to Eeyorefan12 for sharing her insights and pre-reading. I'm very fortunate to be able to work with both of them.
- Erin
The drive south to Rome passed in a numbed haze. At any given moment, Bella half-expected to wake from the resolution to this nightmare and find Demetri waiting for her, coffee or dinner plans or further bodily violations at his disposal.
As he had always done so, Edward drove quickly, the world around them whipping by in a distorted blur. At several points, he asked her if she needed to stop, and finally, if she was feeling all right. At each, she shook her head, offering a quiet, "I'm fine." There was no other conversation. Why would there be? Now over the shock of their departure, Bella was keenly aware of how much Edward must resent having to take her along, too. Because surely it had been Alice who insisted he do so. After what Bella had done, she knew that Edward would loathe her.
When they reached the outskirts of Rome, Edward pulled off the highway and parked in front of a large mall.
He didn't look at her when he spoke. "We can't go through customs without any luggage or without anything in our luggage."
"Right." Bella knew she'd spoken, but it felt like the word had escaped from someone else's mouth.
"Alice brought this for you." Edward held out a plain and unfamiliar handbag.
She took it, carefully avoiding his fingers. When she peered inside, she found her wallet, keys, and passport. All her cards were still in her wallet, along with the lira they'd purchased at their stopover in Chicago. Bella had been so sick with worry for Edward and had only said yes to finding the currency to placate Alice. She wondered now if Alice had seen her needing it, but she dismissed this thought quickly. Alice only saw the outcome of decisions, and there had been many between then and now.
"Thank you," Bella said. For all the resentment he must be feeling towards her, he was still treating her with courtesy and dignity. She rather wished he would give up the pretense and wondered if or when he would. Whatever the case, she knew she was an unwanted obligation. It was Alice, she was sure, who would have pressed her brother to accept this duty.
She would do her best to lessen the imposition she was making on him then. "I'll meet you back here. I'll try to be quick." Bella hooked the purse strap over her arm, a hand on the passenger door handle.
"If you prefer," Edward said.
Nodding, Bella left as quickly as she could.
She was a fast shopper, hindered only by the soreness in her body, which affected her far more than she wished. She had to pause several times as she moved through the building and give her body time to express its several throbbing aches.
When she couldn't find the jeans she was looking for, she asked a sales associate for help, and the woman eyed her with curiosity. She supposed it was strange, having a couture-clad American who knew Italian, shopping at the GAP.
After making her utilitarian selections, Bella moved further into the mall and located a shoe store. She bought running shoes and socks and then went in search of a pharmacy, purchasing a toothbrush, her favourite toothpaste, and scented deodorant.
She wasted no time in getting to a bathroom, changing into a t-shirt and jeans, leaving the old clothes in the garbage. Her feet felt strange in the sneakers, almost as if they were too comfortable, too unconstrained. The notion made her laugh aloud. A passing woman stared, and Bella looked down again, swallowing the rest of the laughter. She needed to hurry, anyway.
Beside a garbage can on the way back to the main area of the mall, Bella stopped and looked at her left hand. Her fingers were sore, along with her wrists—along with so many other things. Twisting at the ring, she struggled to dislodge it, hands shaking as she finally succeeded in removing it from her finger. She looked at it for a solid minute before throwing it into the trash.
She continued her sojourn through the mall, feet still feeling strange. It was like learning to walk again, moving in her new footwear, and she padded carefully back the way she'd come, still hobbled by the limited movements her body allowed. The memories that accompanied such discomfort were ones with which she did not wish to currently contend.
With her eyes steadily down in front of her, she didn't realize she was being summoned until the accented, "'Signorina'," was right beside her.
"Signorina?" a tall man asked.
Bella blinked at the face in front of her. For his looks, he might have been Nordic, strong cheekbones and fair hair with a wide, white smile.
"Si?" Bella asked.
"Did you drop this?" the man asked, holding out Bella's wallet.
She patted her pocket. She was sure she'd put it in the front pocket of her jeans—
"No, she didn't."
Her very hackles rose. She'd imagined herself free and clear of all vampires, but the voice—Edward's—was so perfectly formed, it made her shiver in the midst of all the humanity around her.
When she looked in Edward's direction, he was glaring at the man in front of Bella.
"I'd appreciate it if you would put back everything you took out of her wallet." His voice was dangerously formal.
Bella began to tremble, her body not liking the conflict her mind was imagining unfolding. She pointed her voice in Edward's direction. "It's fine—"
"It's not fine. He's taken your license, credit cards, and cash."
"I have returned her wallet. I am no thief!" the man stammered.
But Edward had stepped closer, blocking the man's exit. "All of it," Edward hissed, low enough to avoid attracting attention from any passersby but just loud enough for Bella and the man to hear it.
"I didn't—"
"Now," Edward growled. His face lost all its human features.
Bella watched the stranger's hands fumble for her money and cards. He apologized quickly and profusely in Italian when he dropped some of it, bending over and handing it all back with shaking fingers. He scurried away once it had all been returned.
"Are you going to hurt him?" Bella asked. She clutched the awkward bundle of cards and cash to her chest.
Edward didn't answer immediately.
She wasn't afraid for the man, but she was afraid for Edward, and in the fraction of the moment it took him to answer, she feared for the man she'd once known. The one who had worked so hard to maintain his humanity. Principles she'd thrown aside in bargaining for his life—
"Of course I won't hurt him," Edward said softly. He sounded offended by the suggestion.
She let out her lungful of air. "Good." She didn't know what else to say.
"Did you really think I would?" he asked.
"No."
But it wasn't a very certain no. Perhaps his time with the Volturi had changed him. Perhaps the time before then had changed him. She hadn't considered that. He had left. She'd thought she knew him then. Perhaps she'd never really known him at all, because he'd said he never loved her. She was just a distraction.
A distraction he had shoved at Demetri.
She shook her head, abruptly wordless.
"We still need suitcases," Edward said, lifting his chin towards her shopping bag.
She nodded, and still carefully avoiding eye contact, walked parallel to him, dodging into the first store that had luggage in its window. She picked a small wheeled bag, and he, a duffel. When she went to pay, he blocked her path.
"I'll pay," he said.
"I can pay myself," she said, almost instinctively, making the mistake of meeting his gaze.
It was the relief in her midsection that hit her first, but then as he moved, the very perfect way his body angled itself, not to do anything threatening but simply to move, the revulsion clawed its way up from her stomach to her throat. He was a vampire, and her body could not yet forget even though her mind wished to, what vampires were so incredibly capable of doing. Without fully realizing it, she twisted her torso a quarter turn away from him.
A volley of feelings rippled over Edward's face before he spoke. "I think you've paid enough for my mistakes, but I don't want to force the issue. Any issue."
What?
She stared at him as he paid. His words made no sense, or perhaps her brain was making no sense, or perhaps she was attributing to his words more meaning than they deserved.
Edward didn't give her much time to ponder this. "We should get to the airport." He paid for both bags, Bella saying nothing, trying not to pull more from his statement than was present.
As they drove towards the airport, she told herself that it was normal to feel confused and unfocused. Her body was grappling with the effects of several shocks, after all. So when Edward took charge of the tickets and the bags and all the interactions with people, she didn't attempt to interfere, standing numbly behind him as dumb as the luggage.
"You haven't eaten," Edward said, as they waited at the gate.
"I don't need to," Bella replied. She didn't. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't anything.
Edward looked frustrated.
Was he worried she'd pass out or something?
"I'm fine, but thank you." He would be free and clear of her soon enough. Through the increasing haze, that sliver of a thought stung.
Edward nodded, but his lip remained firmly curled downwards.
Their seats were adjacent to each other, the spacing in first class not requiring any physical interaction. Edward only asked her the most pragmatic of questions, and she asked him none.
By the time they landed in Chicago, her legs had begun to ache, adding their vague complaints to the louder ones in her groin. Things throbbed. And while she might have been able to ignore the more focused pain inside, the growing restlessness in her limbs completely fractured her ability to focus on the second flight.
She tried not to twitch or thrash in her seat, but she eventually gave up, standing in the semi-dark airplane and beginning to pace, finally moving to the front by the lavatory where there was a tiny bit of space in which to stretch. She caught several passengers glancing at her and then the flight attendants, too. Looking down at herself, she wondered if she'd spilled something on her clothes. No. She shook her arms, trying to get rid of the itchiness the restlessness seemed to bring on.
"You don't want to try to sleep?" the flight attendant asked when Bella requested coffee.
"No," Bella said curtly, taking her coffee from the woman and sipping at it. The warmth felt good, but the aches and restlessness continued to spread.
They were two hours from Seattle when her eyes began to water. Her stomach churned with anxiety. The lightheadedness kept her bound to her seat.
When he wasn't pretending to sleep, she knew Edward was eyeing her. It must be uncomfortable, she thought, having her so close.
She closed her eyes, breathing in and out, trying to focus on the air, but her nostrils hurt and she gave up, opening her eyes. A flight attendant was partially leaning over Bella, intent on conversation with Edward in the window seat. Her suit-clad body arched towards him, practically shoving her chest in his face. She was almost purring out her words. "Of course, sir. I'll make sure it's taken care of."
Ugh.
Snapping her eyelids shut, Bella folded her arms and angled away towards the aisle, pushing her knees into her midsection. She didn't need to see that performance.
Her entire body was now a wave of aches and pains, one ending as another began, arms and legs pounding and then prickling with itchy heat. Her clothes were damp with sweat, and her intestines were beginning to burble threateningly.
By the time the plane landed, Bella's hands had begun to tremble constantly. Her vision refused to stay still, spinning and twirling at will, the light from the windows making her wince each time someone lifted a shade.
"Here," Edward said. He handed her a pair of sunglasses.
"Thank you," she mumbled. She felt so miserable, she barely cared who she was with.
As the other passengers began packing up their things, Bella tried to reach for her purse, but Edward already had it in his hand. "I'll get it. Just wait. They're bringing a wheelchair."
Was her physical misery so obvious? She supposed so, nodding at him, stomach tightening with guilt. How he must want to be free of her, and yet she knew he was noble enough not to leave her when she was so vulnerable. She rather wished he would be less so.
Wrapping her jacket around herself, she leaned over, trying to put pressure on her unhappy midsection.
They'd cleared customs in Chicago, so all they had to do was pick up their bags, but Edward bypassed the luggage carousel.
"Our bags?" she asked, regretting it almost immediately. Her own voice sounded too loud in her ears.
"Someone can get them later. I need to get you to Carlisle." He spoke softly and moved quickly, and she kept her eyes shut, hoping it would lessen the pounding in her head.
As he slowed to a stop, Bella heard Edward say, "Don't touch her."
She cracked her eyes open a slit, and they were all there. All of them except Alice and Jasper.
With a fresh jolt, she realized just how much they all must loathe her. She closed her eyes again. It was cowardly, but she wanted to run away from this ugly confrontation. Doing so would have the virtue of sparing the Cullens the discomfort of being polite to her. She'd cost them Alice and Jasper, bringing a traumatized Edward in their place.
Pushing herself up on the handles of the wheelchair, the dizziness struck afresh, and she decided it would be better to remain seated. In the act of lowering herself, her arms gave out, and her body toppled forward, where she was caught by a very cold pair of arms.
She could barely summon the energy to flinch away from the temperature she'd so come to despise.
"Bella, please stay put," Edward said.
She made the tiniest of nods, even this making her brain bounce painfully against her skull.
"How long have you been feeling like this?" Carlisle's voice was low and soft.
Edward answered for her. "She's been febrile for the last six hours. The shaking only started in the last three."
Abruptly, Bella's eyelids seemed to have acquired their own will, opening and closing as they pleased. Blink, blackness. Open, mouths moving. Blink, darkness. Open, Cullens staring.
Then she vomited. Her eyes were open for that. Each of the Cullens seemed to have stepped nimbly aside, missing the stream that projected itself from her mouth.
She was so miserable, she didn't even care, and when Edward picked her up, her body refused to cooperate with her instruction to get away from this source of danger.
The blinks became longer, darker and more painful.
She was aware of voices and phrases. " . . . tipping point . . ." was one, and " . . . keep her warm," was another.
It was the hot water that brought her back for more than seconds. Where were they?
A tub. She was in a tub. They—she, Esme, Rose—were in a bathroom.
And she was naked. Her entire body tensed, preparing to fight.
"What's happening?" she croaked. What were they doing?
"Just try to relax your muscles, okay?" Esme said. "We're cleaning you up and keeping you warm right now. Carlisle's getting some medicine for you."
Bella wondered at the source of the loud clacking, but then connected the sound to her aching mouth. As for relaxing, there was no choice. Her initial struggle had melted into limp weakness. She could barely move.
The tap squeaked as Esme turned it, more hot water running over Bella's feet.
Why they hadn't dumped her at a hospital, Bella could not fathom, but as she looked down towards the tap, she was distracted by the florid bruises that flowered over her body. If they didn't hurt so much, she half-thought they looked rather artistic.
Rosalie and Esme gave her the modesty of averted glances, but when they did bring their eyes to Bella's body, their mouths turned downward.
The rap on the door was soft. "We're ready." Edward's voice.
"We're going to get you dressed, Bella," Esme said. "But I'm going to have to pick you up first, okay?"
And though her touch was cold, Bella was warm enough from the bath to tolerate it. She didn't think Esme would hurt her, and this insulated her against the shivers that wanted to ripple over her at the frigid sensation. There was gentleness in Esme's fingers, and in the midst of all the pain Bella's body was producing, she let out a single sob.
"It's okay," Esme said, wrapping her in a towel, and then another one. "You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."
She nodded. She would believe those words. For now.
She still couldn't place where they were. Rose pulled clothes onto her jellied limbs, Esme carrying her to a bed and piling covers on top of her. The shivering seemed to have stopped, but her head still felt like it was going to explode. She closed her eyes, but the ache in her head and body only seemed to intensify with the irregular beat of her heart.
"Quickly!" Edward said.
There were more cold hands on her arm, this time with the sting of a needle. "I'm going to put in an IV to manage your pain and dehydration." Carlisle's voice was smooth and low.
She wanted to nod, but was afraid of how much it would hurt. But why were they helping her? Surely they could have left her at a hospital?
Everyone seemed to have lowered their voices, and as she struggled to grasp at their motive for caring about her, she found that she was in too much pain to care.
"How long?" Edward asked.
"I don't know," Carlisle said.
Someone growled.
"I told you what I saw, Edward." Carlisle was calm, his voice tinged with something meant to be soothing. "I'm sorry. I have no idea."
Emmett's voice was slightly louder than all the rest, and Esme tried to shush him as soon as he began to speak. "Why don't you just give her some and figure the rest out later, before it gets bad again?"
Give me what?
Edward huffed out a frustrated breath.
After an uncertain period of time, whatever Carlisle had administered began to work.
"What'd you give me?"
"Saline and morphine," Carlisle said, coming closer and sniffing, "which you seem to be reacting well to."
She sure was. Sort of. The pain remained, but her consciousness was skipping over it, touching down occasionally but able to lift off again. Up, down and touch. Up, down and touch. Repeat—
". . . put it in a cup and she can drink it," Emmett said, as if it were obvious.
"It doesn't work that way," Edward said, sounding exasperated.
"Drink what?" Bella asked.
The Cullens stared at her and then awkwardly at each other. They knew something she didn't, and it was apparent they were only just realizing that.
"You didn't tell her?" Carlisle asked.
Edward shook his head.
"Why am I sick?" she asked.
Edward was the only one moving, taking a step away and pacing back, hands restless as he pinched the bridge of his nose and then made angry fists. "You're not sick, Bella. You're going through withdrawal."
"From . . . what?"
She watched Carlisle and Edward exchange a long and meaningful look.
"Venom," Edward said.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.