Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me.
Enjoy!
OPEN
Bella
We're having noon meal together. See you at the gazebo. Don't make me look for you. Edward.
I mulled over the note he'd left as I mopped the floor in my assigned area.
He was persistent, I had to give him that. I had no doubt that if I didn't show, he'd come looking for me. And he'd keep coming until I gave in.
What worried me is that I was getting tired of fighting him. Tired of being constantly bombarded, tired of being at war with him, with myself. He was wearing me down.
It would be so easy to give in. But if I did that, I'd lose whatever respect I still had left for myself. It wasn't a pride thing. It was about having a choice. I still wanted to choose my life. Giving in meant giving up my choices. It meant accepting something I didn't believe in. It meant accepting a life I'd never wanted, a life I hadn't chosen but had been chosen for me. I'd lose something of myself, something fundamental. And that would eat me up over time, I knew.
He had no idea. How would he, I hadn't talked to him. He didn't know how I really felt about all this, he just knew I was angry at having been brought back. He didn't know why I'd done it, didn't know what it had meant to me, didn't know why it was affecting me so much to be back, didn't know why I was fighting him so much, fighting the bond so much. I'd been taking it out on him without ever telling him why.
I'd shut myself in and shut him out.
I didn't want him in. I didn't want to explain myself to him or anyone. But Jacob was right. If one person deserved it, it was Edward. Not because he was my mate. Not because I'd wronged him in some way. Not because I owed a debt. But because he deserved respect. He deserved honesty. He'd been nothing but honest with me. Nothing but respectful. And he deserved it back. I couldn't put him in a cage just because I was in one.
I ran a hand through my hair.
If I left it, nothing would change. He'd keep battering at my doors, keeping wearing me down. I'd give in at some point and live with self-loathing forever after.
And if I spoke? I didn't know what would happen. I didn't know how he would react, what he would do, if anything.
Fuck it.
It was time we talked. This had been going on too long.
OOOOOOOOOO
"This way, my beloved." He grinned, opening the gazebo door with a flourish.
I stared as I entered.
The gazebo had been transformed. There were forest flowers everywhere, in the windows, alcoves, hanging from the ceiling, scattered across the floor. A large rug was spread on the floor with plenty of cushions and there was an array of food spread over it, fruits, breads, nuts, sandwiches, cheese, small pastries, flagons of juice. It was clear he'd done it all himself, it hadn't been set up by housestaff, because it was personal, not perfect.
Without warning, a lump rose in my throat.
He'd been watching my face and was smiling gently.
"You like?"
"Not bad." I said, affecting nonchalance, but my husky voice gave me away and his smile widened.
"Come." He took my hand and entwined our fingers before bringing me around to the cushions and seating me, then himself.
"I haven't been on a picnic since I was a child." He said. "How about you?"
"I spent most of my time in the forests, a lot of my meals were picnics." I said, watching him pour a cup of juice from one of the flagons. "But we used to do picnics when we were studying."
"We, as in your little group? Damian, Karline, Emily?" He handed me the cup. I nodded.
"And Seth and Jacob." I sipped the juice, sweet and yet tangy.
"Your closest friends."
"Not sure they would say that now. But yes, they were." I said, looking around at the flowers. He must have spent hours in the forest gathering them, there were so many.
"They still are. They'll get over it." He said gently. I shrugged.
"You said you went on picnics as a child?" I prompted. He nodded slowly.
"When my mother was still alive." His tone was neutral, but I knew him well enough now to see beyond it.
"Tell me about those picnics." I said softly. He was silent for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer me, but then he spoke.
"They were a weekly thing for us. No matter what else was going on, we'd have a picnic every week. She took charge, deciding where we'd go, planning the food and the games, sometimes having a theme she wanted us to follow. We grumbled about it but that was always for show - every picnic was an adventure. She'd do scavenger hunts or obstacle course races, one time she left us clues to find the picnic spot, another time she had us dress up as historical Clan figures. Her venues were equally interesting - one picnic was up in the trees, another was by this waterfall I didn't even know existed." He smiled at the memory of it. "She and Father liked to tease me by saying they'd conceived me on one of their picnics, so it was only right I should enjoy them." I chuckled.
"I think I'd have liked her."
He rubbed our entwined fingers with his thumb absently.
"You two would have got on like a house on fire. She was spunky, like you, not afraid of anyone and so loving."
He lapsed into silence for a while.
"How old were you?" I asked quietly.
"Fifteen." He said briefly. And then after a long while, "It was hard to see. She faded before our eyes. One by one her dignities went and she hated it. She hated being cared for like a child, hated not having control over her body any more. In the end, she was relieved to go, genuinely relieved." His fingers had tightened on mine as he spoke and it was my turn to gently stroke his hand. "We took her on a picnic the week before she died. She was so frail, Father had to carry her. Father and I had arranged everything, our first time doing so. It was in the garden, we decorated with flower petals and we had tomato sandwiches and lime cordial. But she said it was the best picnic she'd ever had."
He looked back down at our fingers.
"I haven't been on a picnic since. Until now." He said softly. He lifted our hands up and kissed my hand. "It's the first time I've wanted to."
I didn't know what to say to that. He looked at me and smiled, amused.
"Have I rendered you speechless?"
I shook my head, gathering my thoughts and my courage.
"I just...thank you for sharing that."
He played with my fingers.
"I'll trade you."
I looked at him enquiringly.
"Your turn to share something with me."
"What do you want to know?" I asked hesitantly.
"What do you want to tell me?"
I smiled wryly.
"I don't usually tell people things, Edward."
"Why is that, do you think?"
I shrugged.
"Private by nature, I suppose. I'm not very comfortable around people, always so much better with animals."
"Yes, I noticed." He picked up a plate and began to put a little of everything on it.
"If you mean Sentinel, he's easy. He's like his Master - he just needs food and a good scratch under his chin and he's putty in your hands." I said keeping a straight face. Edward looked at me, his eyes dancing.
"Flirting with danger, my mate." He drawled slowly. "Besides, I wasn't thinking about Sentinel."
"No?"
"I was thinking about that forest cat in Clenlevin."
"I didn't know you'd seen that." I glanced at him as he handed me the plate.
"You gave Emmett a heart attack." He grinned. "His hands were shaking when that cat had you pinned. And then it licked you like it was a kitten. He nearly fell out of the tree in shock. It listened to you when you commanded it. You weren't afraid at all. If we hadn't had other things going on, I'd have asked you about it ages ago."
"I have an affinity to animals." I said, a little uncomfortable. I'd never talked about this with anyone before.
"That's what Jacob said. That you've never been afraid of wildlings, you've always been comfortable."
I shifted a little in my seat.
"Like those two feral wolves. It didn't bother you that they could have killed you, did it?"
"I knew that they wouldn't."
"How?"
He looked curious, genuinely interested and it didn't feel like an interrogation, so I answered him.
"I don't actually know, to be honest. I've always known the wildlings would never harm me. Just as they know I'd never harm them. A sort of mutual understanding."
"I see." He looked intrigued.
"It's like they know I'm as much a child of the forests as they are. Maybe it's because I spend so much time there, I don't know." I mused.
"And you've always done that." He popped a grape in his mouth and I was distracted by his lips for a moment before mentally shaking myself back. He seemed to have caught my momentary distraction, the smile he gave me was a little mischievous as he popped another grape into his mouth.
"You must have worried your parents growing up." He said.
"They were used to it." I moved the food around in my plate, finally spearing a piece of fig and biting into its juiciness. "I was in the forest more than I was at home, always bringing back berries and herbs. I can't tell you how many times I must have poisoned myself. And I was bringing home animals every so often too."
"Quite the wildling yourself." He said smiling. The words were teasingly said, but they hit an old wound and I glanced down at my plate, surprised at how it still ached after all this time.
"Was it hard to fit in?" Edward was watching me, the question was asked gently.
"Pass, next question." I replied, smiling faintly to soften my refusal to answer.
"Alright. Tell me more about your parents then." He seemed to accept my response, grabbing a sandwich and leaning back against the wall.
"They were good people."
"Were?" He stopped mid-chew and looked at me.
"They died when I was 14."
"I'm sorry." He was quiet for a while. "What happened?"
"Same thing that happened to your mother." I said briefly. "First one, then the other."
He put his hand on top of mine and entwined our fingers again.
"I'm sorry." His voice was heavy with genuine sorrow and I felt in that moment, for the first time, that someone really understood what it had been like.
"Who took care of you?" He asked softly.
"Healer Prixa. Carmen's predecessor and mentor." I said, glancing up to catch his frown.
"No family?" He asked slowly. I shook my head. "Clan leadership approved this?"
"It was Prixa's idea. She was retiring anyway, handing over to Carmen. She came and stayed with me until I turned 16 and considered independent." I saw the shock on his face. "It worked out well. She found out about my forest forays, my herb hunting and experimentation and she was the one who figured out I might be Healer-made. She spent those two years teaching me, training me. I apprenticed Carmen a year later and moved into Healer's Quarters."
"No wonder you're so fiercely independent." He murmured. "You've had to be so strong."
"Nothing as dramatic as that." I said amused, strangely touched by his obvious concern. "Life happened, I adapted. That's all."
"You're very matter of fact about it." He said, rubbing a thumb over my fingers.
"It isn't a big deal. Everyone adapts to the circumstances of their lives." I shrugged. "You did."
"I had Father." Edward raised our entwined hands and put them on his lap, making me shuffle my position closer to him so I wasn't twisting my body.
"Don't dare feel sorry for me. I'll brain you, mate or not." I tried to diffuse things with humour but my feeble attempt fell short, he didn't look up or smile, just continued to rub the fingers of my hand almost absently.
"I'm not sorry for you. I just...wish it hadn't been that way for you. That you hadn't been alone." His fingers tightened on mine. "And I'd wish that even if we weren't mates."
I was silent, looking down at our hands. His words warmed a part of me I didn't know needed warming.
Everything I'd told him was true - I had had to get on with life, so I had accepted what was thrown at me and tried to roll with it, trying not to feel too much or let feelings get in the way. There'd been no time to feel much anyway - and no-one to turn to either, so what would have been the point?
And now, years and years later, here he was, by my side, caring.
It didn't seem like the right time to bring up our unresolved issues. Next time, I told myself.
For now, I kept my fingers entwined with his and let myself be.
A/N: Thoughts?
