A/N for 2020-11-27: You know who rocks? Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 do. You may thank them for this chapter being as spiffy as it is.
- Erin
Bella was sleeping when Carlisle arrived, the inky night dark enough to match Edward's mood. He resented the light the moon threw his way. There was not enough darkness to obliterate his despair.
When Carlisle met Edward at the edge of the property, there were no recriminations, no angry remarks, and no questions. Carlisle simply embraced his son.
As he held his father, Edward could only marvel again at the moral wonder that his father was. Even though Edward had abandoned his family without warning, Carlisle held no grudge. He was simply grateful to be near him. This feeling rippled over the worry he had for Bella.
"She's sleeping right now." It was superfluous information. Carlisle had already heard the familiar sound of her heart—its off-kilter beat making it slightly less familiar but recognizable nonetheless.
"Jacob," Edward said, when Carlisle considered the second heartbeat. The smell alone had told him it was a werewolf, and Edward had heard his father sorting through the scents of the ones he knew.
This was not a surprise to him either.
"Alice can't see us when we're with him."
Of course, Carlisle thought, moving beside Edward towards the house. That explains the previous gaps in her visions.
As Carlisle looked at Bella and read through the information Edward had gathered, his thoughts only confirmed what Edward already knew, and it took all of Edward's restraint not to bolt from the room.
Knowing that his son had already read his mind, Carlisle's verbal "I'm sorry" was an indication of the sincerity of the sentiment.
Edward looked at Bella and swallowed, the venom tasting bitter as he did so. He had loathed his nature before, but he could not quantify the loathing now. That his body instinctively responded to the notion of turning her made him cringe. They had worked so hard to spare her from this very fate, and now her choices were whittled down to this: death or deathlike—like him.
It was that stark realization that made him flee from the house, stopping at the boundary he had determined was the furthest point he could go without alerting Alice to their whereabouts. He couldn't be certain that he had covered all his bases in getting Carlisle here without detection, but he had to believe that he had. He refused to even contemplate what failure would look like now when Bella's life hung in such precarious balance.
He stared at the ombú tree before him, taking note of its rippling roots as they were darkened and then illuminated by clouds and moonlight. He smashed his fist into the thick footing closest to him, watching the soft pulp explode. It was her favourite tree, not that it was even a tree. He didn't care. He destroyed the next root and then the next. He'd shredded the entire trunk and limbs before Carlisle's voice reached him.
"I know this isn't what you wanted for her."
Nothing of the tree was left to destroy, not that the action had brought him any satisfaction. It was useless to attack something that couldn't even put up a fight.
There was no justice in the world, and there was no justice now. He would continue to exist but she would be lost to him forever, taken from him by her natural but cruel ending. Was this his recompense for his life? Had he sinned so greatly that he could have no happiness in this interminable night?
As he turned to face Carlisle, his rage found a convenient target. You made me, he accused silently, and you made me for this—for a life surrounded by endless death!
And just like the ombú tree he had destroyed, Carlisle did not fight him.
With a roar, Edward sent his father flying, watching him sail into the splintering embrace of an exploding pine.
Calmly, always so calmly, Carlisle picked himself up and faced Edward. I know you're hurting.
Edward flew at him again. It was testament to his deranged state of mind that he didn't even anticipate Carlisle side-stepping his mindless attack.
Carlisle could fight him. With his own thoughts so disordered that using his gift wasn't even an option, Edward knew that Carlisle could subdue him, too. He had before in his newborn days, and he remembered with something like longing the brutal way his sire had done it. He wanted that brutality now.
"FIGHT ME!" he roared.
It won't help. Carlisle's face was creased with distress. In his thoughts, Edward saw his own wretchedness mirrored back at himself.
It was pointless. With his initial volley of fury spent, the futility of any kind of protest was beyond obvious. His anger vanished, and like a balloon punctured, Edward's rage deflated, and he crumpled to the ground, his hands yanking at his hair. The pain inside was worse than anything Jane had ever subjected him to. He was going to lose Bella, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"I can't bear it, Carlisle, I can't!" He rocked back and forth.
Slowly and carefully, Carlisle approached, crouching down beside him and wrapping him in his arms. Carlisle was remembering his own emotional struggle the day he'd found Esme, but it was nowhere near the anguished helplessness overwhelming Edward now. Even as his father sought to comfort him with thoughts of turning Bella, just as Carlisle had chosen to do for Esme all those years ago, Edward was shaking his head at the futility of the suggestion. "She doesn't want that, and I won't force it on her," Edward said fiercely.
Both of them considered Rosalie then, each with his own particular pain. Carlisle thought of how Rose was now—in the present—but Edward was remembering his talk with Emmett as well as his own awareness of the bitterness his sister still harbored. While her lingering hostility was mostly reserved for the men who had taken her human life, there were moments—ones he was never meant to be privy to and which he would never share—where it was directed at her sire for bringing her into this life.
"No." Edward was adamant. He pushed himself out of his father's embrace and stood up, shaking his head as he began to pace, his chest hollowed out by the tortured knowledge of what was coming. As always, half his mind was attuned to the irregular beating of Bella's heart. She was safe for now, but it didn't matter. Her heart had been irreparably damaged by venom—by his or by Demetri's, he could not tell. It didn't matter. It would not beat for long.
"They won't kill you, Edward, if she dies," Carlisle said, observing Edward's distress and thinking of the Volturi and Aro. Their brutal ways and means were clear in his mind as he mentally discouraged his son from considering a repeat of his last visit to Italy. But Edward was too valuable to the Volturi to lose. Edward knew this. Carlisle knew this. If Edward attempted suicide via the Volturi, he would be forced to live and to serve them, his family members' existence held hostage by Aro.
Underneath it all, hidden even to Carlisle himself, Edward was forming a much darker plan. "No. You're right. The Volturi won't kill me."
Carlisle stared, his mind suddenly going blank with horror as he heard the implication in Edward's statement.
Edward uttered his next words with grim and bitter conviction. "You'll do it." And he could see the truth of it. Carlisle would not allow him to suffer at the hands of the Volturi again. It would be the kindest thing for Edward and the cruelest for Carlisle. But Carlisle would do what he asked out of love for his son, and a tiny part of Edward's pain was lessened.
- 0 -
When Bella opened her eyes again, it was to brightness and then to the startling beauty of one Carlisle Cullen.
"Carlisle?"
"Edward will be back soon," he said softly. He had on his gentle doctor's smile as he raised the head of the bed so that she was upright. She was in a hospital bed now, she realized, looking around and noting that her former bed was nowhere in sight. Shifting her body a little, she felt less pain and discomfort than the other times she'd woken. How many times had that been? It was difficult to recall.
"Edward gave you a large dose of venom before he left. How're you feeling?"
"Fine." Surprisingly so. A little light-headed and a little weak, but this was par for the course these days. In fact, she was hungry, too, and very much needed to use the bathroom. "Um," she said, glancing towards the ensuite.
"Let's see if you can walk there," Carlisle said, his tone gentle.
She felt a wave of gratitude for his kind bedside manner as well as his discretion when he supported her only as far as the door to the bathroom. After taking care of her human needs, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Carlisle was here. She'd been too disoriented to grasp what his presence might mean when Edward had told her. Now though, she tried to remember what he had said. He had made Carlisle's travel arrangements, so they might be safe for now, but what would happen once his father went home again? Could Carlisle really control his thoughts well enough to keep Alice in the dark, or would the Volturi soon know where they were as well as the fact that she was dying? Carlisle hadn't said anything to contradict Edward's initial diagnosis, and she knew that Edward would have told his father his worst fears, given the risk he'd taken in exposing them all.
She was dying.
And Edward wasn't here. Edward was gone.
Her heart began beating faster. She knew it from the clench in her gut and the way the room began to rotate.
"Bella?" Carlisle sounded worried.
She opened the door, keeping one hand on the jamb to balance herself.
Carlisle didn't ask before picking her up and carrying her back to the bed. The cannula was back under her nose before she was even fully reclined.
"Can you tell me what just happened there?" Carlisle asked. He was putting in—ugh, she looked away—another IV.
I realized I'm dying? "How long?" she asked. "Months? Weeks? Days?"
The careful mask that Carlisle wore flickered for a moment. He pretended to pat down the tape on the IV. She allowed him the pretense of the gesture, not taking her gaze from his face.
"I think you should—"
"How. Long. Carlisle?"
He frowned. It took him a moment to lift his own gaze to meet hers. "Weeks. Maybe two or three."
Her head fell back against the pillow. She hadn't realized how hard she'd been working to keep it upright. Weeks. She'd hoped for so much longer. And Edward, he'd hoped for a full life for her—a life in hiding but a life nonetheless. She shook her head. This wasn't fair. Oh, Edward—and then she sucked in a breath. "Where is he?" She didn't need to specify who.
"He's hunting nearby. He'll return shortly."
Her mind spun with fearful suppositions. He'd tried to kill himself before when he thought she was dead. She'd only just managed to stop him then and at such a cost. Her heart raced along with her thoughts. Snapping her gaze back to Carlisle, she reached out and curled her hand around his wrist with all her strength. "No matter what happens to me, you can't let him hurt himself!"
For the briefest moment, his eyes widened—just the suggestion of a widening, really, but it was enough for her to see the truth that he so obviously wanted to hide. He knew exactly what Edward would choose to do.
"It will be alright." Carlisle's tone was as smooth as his lie.
No. It wasn't enough. "Carlisle, I need you to promise me. Please. He loves and respects you. He'll listen to you. You have to promise me you'll make sure he's okay and doesn't hurt himself."
Carlisle laid a hand over hers where it still gripped his wrist and looked into her eyes. "Bella, please try to be calm. Yes, I will watch over my son."
She felt the relief building, ready to wash over her, but she couldn't give in to it yet. He still hadn't said the words she had asked him for. "So, you promise?"
"I promise." He was still looking at her, and his voice was quiet and calm. "I will do everything in my power."
Although his pledge was meant to soothe her, there was a nagging sense in the back of her mind that she had heard these words from him before. Suddenly, she remembered. Were they not the exact words he had used when Edward's mother had begged him from her deathbed for her child's life? Was he telling her now that he would do anything it took to keep Edward from harming himself, or was it the opposite? Was he in fact telling her that he would do everything in his power to ease Edward's pain, including giving him what he had asked of the Volturi?
Bella continued to hold Carlisle's gaze, searching his eyes for answers while trying desperately to keep her inner turmoil from showing. She recognized the expression on his face because she felt exactly as he did. Either one of them would do whatever they could to protect Edward from any pain because they each loved him fiercely. Only Carlisle's love was one that would allow him to physically destroy his son if he thought it would save him from something worse. In that moment, Bella realized that she was right to be afraid. Not only would Edward choose not to survive without her, but he had the means to do what he had failed to achieve in Volterra. Carlisle was not only able but also willing to help him if Edward's grief proved too much for him to bear.
As calmly as she could manage, she released Carlisle's wrist, bringing her hand back to rest on her lap. She had a lot to think about now, but she was feeling very, very tired, too tired to even keep herself from blinking heavily. She fought the pull of sleep. "I'm sorry," she said, meaning so much but only having the energy to utter those two paltry words in place of the many regrets she felt.
- 0 -
For him, it was the ultimate irony of her addiction. Though it poisoned her, regular application of his venom kept her symptoms and the strain that came with them at bay. He'd gone from the stingiest application every four to five days to bathing her with his tongue at the merest suggestion of symptoms. The tiniest distress strained her heart, and the withdrawal was her greatest source of discomfort at the moment.
He hated it.
He hated everything about it, and he struggled to conceal these bitter feelings from her.
So when Bella woke from another long bout of sleep, he had trained his features to lie to her.
"Hey," he said softly. He would not poison her final days with his bitter feeling. Just your venom, he reminded himself disdainfully.
She blinked and then eyed him, something like suspicion flickering briefly over her features.
He held the mask in place, wondering if he'd missed some crucial aspect in his expression. Persisting in the lie, he brushed his hand over her hair, wondering if she was yet too tired to speak. Had she eaten while he was gone?
"Are you hungry?"
She nodded slowly, still watching him silently.
"Soup? Or something more substantial?" He wanted to hear her voice.
"Pop-Tarts."
He smiled. He couldn't help himself. Here she was. "Sure." He could hear Carlisle opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen, looking for them. Though he hadn't seen Bella eat them since before he'd left last fall, he'd made sure to have some in the house. Just in case.
Just in case.
It was only briefly, but his features fell, and he watched her watch him.
"Can you get Jacob?" she asked.
Jacob?
What did she want Jacob for? "Of course."
"I'll wait." She smiled a little and waved her hand over the bed. "Not, um, going anywhere. Promise."
He pretended to smile again and then turned to go find Jacob. As expected, he'd already heard Bella's request, and they met partway between his end of the house and theirs.
"She cannot be stressed at all." Edward nearly growled.
"I know." Jacob eyed him darkly, and in his thoughts, Edward heard the surprise and resentment at his harsh tone.
Edward sighed. "Please excuse my behaviour and my words. I am—"
"Upset. Worried. I get it. We all are." Yes, Jacob was all that and more. Edward could see it now that he was paying closer attention, watching Jake's mind replay the moment Bella had collapsed on the balcony and how Edward had carried her inside where Jacob waited to confront him, wrongly, on Bella's behalf. The memories and images that followed, of the moment her heart had stuttered briefly and fallen silent, of both of them calling her name before Edward had commenced CPR with icy determination—no, Edward didn't need to relive that with him now.
"I don't know why she wants to see you, but please be . . ." Be what, exactly?
"I'll be careful." He walked warily past Edward, stopping by the kitchen and taking the tray Carlisle had prepared.
Edward listened as Jacob approached the room and Bella.
"Hey," Jacob said, nudging the door open with his shoulder. "I figured I'd come eat these in front of you," he teased, setting the tray down with a wink.
"Get your own Pop-Tarts," she said playfully, attempting to swat at his hand when he pretended to take one. If he had noticed that her hand hadn't even left the bed, he didn't show it.
The self-loathing swirled in Edward's gut, morphing and growing. How easily Jacob could be with her, and how much Edward envied their equally easy banter. He wasn't poisoning her.
Jacob was silent for a bit, pretending to look around the much-changed bedroom. He was curious, too, trying to piece together the purpose of each machine. More subtly, he listened to Bella's heart, taking in her altered appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was paler than usual. She would have no more rosy cheeks, Edward realized along with Jacob. Not now—not with her heart failing. The medication would help temporarily, but the venom . . . it would continue to erode her heart's functioning. And ultimately—
"I don't think you'll need to be here for very long, Jake." She looked apologetic as she said it.
"Getting tired of me already, huh?"
She smiled weakly, shaking her head, all joking gone. "You're the best friend anyone could have, Jake. Really. You've always been there for me." She fingered the bedding and then put her cool hand over Jacob's warm one. He didn't like how cold her fingers felt, and Edward could hear him wondering if it was the venom or her heart or both. Jacob, too, was struggling under a weight of sadness. She was dying.
Edward leaned against the wall in the hallway, sliding down to drop silently onto the concrete floor. He carried a double weight of grief, his and Jacob's together.
Jacob struggled to find words. He was near tears. He felt the same way about Bella, only . . . there was more to his friendship. Edward had always seen it for what it was—a longing that the boy knew would never be returned.
Bella squeezed Jacob's hand. Edward could see the effort it took. She'd need more venom soon. It would halt the tremble in her fingers and briefly steady the beat of her heart.
"But I'm going to ask for even more from you, and I'm going to ask for something you won't like."
Jacob tensed and so did Edward. What was she going to ask for? Thoughts like his own, of a quick end, made him stand up quickly. No. She wouldn't, would she?
But no. She spoke softly. "My heart is going."
Jacob swallowed. "Yeah." His voice was raspy with emotion.
"I have a few weeks, at best."
Jacob nodded. Yes, he'd heard.
Bella studied her friend's face, her expression shifting subtly. Was it relief? Good Lord! Edward thought, even more alarmed. Was she suicidal? He was readying himself to bolt towards the room when she spoke again.
"If I die, he'll try to kill himself."
Jacob thought how he might be willing to help with that, and Edward stowed away this bit of information. If Carlisle failed, if he was unable . . . it was useful knowledge to have.
"Do you want me to promise not to do that?" Jacob asked. He would obey her wishes, no matter what she asked of him.
Edward swore silently, still tense and waiting to hear her request.
"You said that when you changed into a wolf, you made a choice to let Sam be the pack leader, right?"
Both Edward and Jacob were confused by the change in direction.
"Yes." It almost sounded like a question.
"Does that mean you should be the leader—the alpha?"
"Yes, but—it's, well, it's kinda a moot point." Jacob didn't want power. He knew the responsibility that came with it. "But yeah, I should be, I suppose. Sam was already there though. He's . . . he's a good leader, Bella."
"Hmm." In Jacob's thoughts, Edward watched Bella smile a little.
What was she doing?
"Then you can alter the treaty, right? The one with the Cullens?"
"Yeah, I guess. Are you worried about them, Bells? They've kept the treaty; they won't be in danger. Not from us. Not after—" Not after you die, Jacob thought. The words stabbed at both Jacob and Edward.
"You're sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." He was testy in his grief, offended that she would doubt him.
"Good," she said. Her shoulders relaxed a little. "That's good. Because that means you can give permission for me to be changed."
"What?" Both men thought it though with remarkably different emotions attached to the word. Only Jacob uttered it out loud.
"I don't want to die." She stared at Jacob.
Edward's mouth opened and closed in shock and confusion. Where had this come from? She hadn't wanted this. All their careful planning had been to avoid this. What had—?
"Carlisle," he said urgently, knowing his father was nearby, "what did you tell her?"
Redirected from his own eavesdropping by Edward's question, Carlisle's thoughts cycled through his brief conversation with Bella. Edward clenched his jaw as he listened to the information she had demanded of him. And as he heard the words his father had unthinkingly spoken aloud—words whose meaning Edward knew would have been obvious to her—he watched the recognition appear in Bella's eyes and then the understanding that followed. She knew. Of course she knew.
Edward's footsteps rang in his own ears as they carried him towards her and Jacob.
"No," he said to Bella without preamble as he burst into the room. "You will not do this for me."
Her heart rate ticked up a notch. Nothing dangerous normally, but now . . .
"Would you prefer I died?" She stared at him, her chin tipped up in defiance, and he understood that she meant the question in complete seriousness.
"I will not see you damned against your will." He wouldn't. Not ever. He made his tone soften before he spoke again. "But I'll go with you when and wherever you go."
"So suicide pacts are cool, but we're taking living forever off the list of options?"
Was she joking about this? He curled his hands into fists as Bella's determined stare continued to meet his own.
Abruptly, she turned to Jacob again. "Will you?"
Edward wasn't the only one who was angry, and he was just now realizing the true volume of resentment Jacob felt towards him. Combined with the young wolf's helpless fury at the thought of losing the woman he believed himself in love with, it was a powerful combination of vindictive rage—all directed at Edward.
"Will you respect what I want?" Bella asked him again.
If Edward had ever underestimated Bella, he knew he'd underestimated her now. She'd known Edward would hear her request, and she'd have known how it would anger him, given all that they had done to keep her from this fate. If the two of them had planned it together, his storming into the room to tell her what he would not allow could not have been timed more perfectly. Jake might have been undecided before, but he wasn't any longer.
"Yes." Jacob turned to face Edward, daring him to challenge his answer.
"I won't do it." Edward growled at both of them.
Carlisle's voice was soft as he spoke from the doorway, but it rang with quiet authority. "Then I will."
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.
