The sea was black, but it shimmered beneath the moon as it danced, spray flashing white against the darkness at random across the expanse. Bare feet sunk into the sand, only toes to show—she could feel the coarse and gritty texture on her skin, damp in the wake of the receding ocean. Her hair whipped in the wind, the thundering roar the only sound in her ears, and she was stuck. Every part of her was still—relaxed, as though she had never tried to move at all—but it did not panic her like it should have. There were no worries at all. Instead, it was peaceful. Completely and utterly peaceful.
She'd forgotten what it felt like to be in this kind of tranquil state. Her body lulled with the tide, swaying gently side-to-side, satiated. Then, a tug. No—a push? A blink and she was closer now, the salt water warm as it lapped at her ankles, the sand retreating and settling beneath her feet. The sea was black but it was visible now, its creases and folds and crashes. A presence loomed to her right. It pressed against her side as though hands pushed at the meat of her torso but it was empty space.
Still, she could feel it—someone was with her. But she couldn't turn her head, neck stuck but relaxed in its position, her eyes forced to roam the water instead. Finally, a sound broke the never-ending barrage of the ocean's war with itself, and only then did she stiffen. It was melodic—as tranquil as the ambience surrounding it—and its volume increased gently. Though, the sound moved quickly, bouncing off the wave breaks from left to right and back to center, until it was everywhere all at once. The tune was unrecognizable, yet the familiarity soaked through to the bone. Where had she heard it before? Her chest ached.
Light flooded her vision to the point of momentary blindness and she could feel the burning, the constriction of her lungs, the sound forced into silence abruptly. But, most importantly, she could feel the water. She squinted against the light as she forced her lungs to inflate, inhaling a deep breath. As they enlarged, she couldn't help but cough, the sound reminiscent of a kind of seal. The weight of her own body pushed down at her knees, braced against something semi-solid—and the voices suddenly all reached her ears at once.
Her vision returned to the sight of her own hands, palms pressed into the dirt beneath her to brace against the weight of her body, and her muscles trembled. The voices she attempted to count, but there was truly no need—they were all easily recognizable even over the harsh sound of her hoarse coughing. They were family. Where was she? How long had she been there? Why did they all sound so scared?
The first she could truly understand was Carlisle's, speaking louder to silence the others, urging them to calm down and be quiet so they could speak with her. Though, Morgan wasn't sure how well her voice was going to work. She could feel his hand on her back, a gentle and soothing gesture that helped to further ground her there. "Morgan, sweetheart," he attempted to get her attention, some sign that she was lucid and cognizant. "Are you alright? Are you in any pain?"
Morgan shook her head as the urge to cough subsided enough for an uninterrupted breath, allowing her eyes to relax as they closed. "I'm fine," she whispered, a quiet level she knew was audible to them still.
"Honey, what were you doing in there?" it was Esme's voice now.
Then, Rosalie's, angrier than the others, "You could've killed yourself! What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?!"
"You don't know that it was intentional," Carlisle pointed out.
"Yeah, she could've fallen in from up there and hurt herself," Emmett agreed, gesturing vaguely toward the top of the waterfall. Hearing them argue was like nails on a chalkboard, and Morgan couldn't help but grimace. To be ripped so callously from the safest place she'd felt in years, only to be brought back to this? The knowledge of what she could have was excruciating.
Though she wondered where she'd gone and for how long, it felt like a genuine loss to be taken from it, and she could still feel the ache in her chest—a souvenir, the only thing she was allowed to keep. "I slipped," Morgan finally spoke up, her voice a slight rasp at a normal volume, and she pushed off the dirt to sit back on her feet. The change in elevation was just dizzying enough to notice. "I fell in."
"Oh my god," Esme was beside herself. She moved quickly to kneel beside Morgan on the damp dirt along the river and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for the tightest hug Morgan had felt from any of them in a long time. It almost felt like having a cold weighted blanket. An ounce of comfort was felt in the pit of her stomach despite the other place still gnawing at her. Instinctively, she weakly lifted her arms and placed them around her mother, but the thought to do so felt empty.
Finally, Morgan lifted her eyes to look up at the others. Rosalie appeared less angry than she sounded, though she was doing her best to let go of it respectably, shifting her weight and relaxing her features only during a nonchalant glance away. She was worried, Morgan knew. They all were. Emmett consoled her with an arm around her waist, hand at her back, but his focus was on what was happening. Jasper and Alice were here now—where had they gone before?
Alice looked like a nervous wreck, rocking ever so subtly on the balls of her feet, hands clasped and fidgeting where they stayed at abdomen level. And Jasper stood near her with a blank stare, but his head tilted to the left, and Morgan knew he was thinking about something. It intrigued her. What had him so stumped? Was it the trajectory? How she could've possibly slipped and fallen down the waterfall? Did her story simply not add up?
However, his eyes were not on the water or the fall itself—they lingered on her and her alone, and not a word escaped him to explain. She was making eye contact with him and he did not move. Did he not see her? Did he not notice she'd looked up? "I'm so sorry we weren't here for you," Esme apologized profusely, pulling away enough from Morgan only to carefully smooth the wet hair out of her face, and it forced her eyes back down. "Are you sure you're okay, honey? You're so pale. Oh-! and your lips have lost color-"
Carlisle interrupted gently, placing a hand on Esme's shoulder then. "Why don't we get her home and into some dry clothes? We'll go from there."
Though visibly hesitant, Esme nodded quietly, before standing once again. Carlisle snaked an arm around Morgan's torso, the other hand holding her arm as he stood, hefting her up with him—and she groaned at the weakness of her legs. Her fingers gripped at the fabric of his sleeve as she found herself leaning against him as her feet shuffled beneath her to regain their balance. "Hey, I got this," Emmett's voice drew her eyes, and they lifted only to see him approaching them now.
Esme stepped back as he came to take her place, wrapping an arm around her torso from behind to take the weight from Carlisle, and Morgan let go of him if anything just to give her fogged mind a chance to catch up with the situation. Foresight was lost on her in the rapid slosh and mess of her thoughts. But she didn't resist Emmett when he bent to scoop her legs out from underneath her with his other arm. Why would she? Out of all her siblings, she trusted him the most.
He hefted her up into his arms bridal-style, though her weight was more akin to picking up a piece of paper when measured to his strength, and she wound her arms around his neck and shoulders only for peace of mind. "You know, it would actually feel better if you acted like I was at least a little heavy," Morgan joked dryly, breathing the quip through an exhale.
"What—like this?" Emmett's knees buckled then and he bent forward, the quick snapping movement eliciting a yelp from her, but he continued forward. Taking awkward steps too far left and too far right, he feigned a shudder in his legs as he dramatically began to huff. "Oh my god! Guys! She weighs a ton! Aarrgh. Did you eat an actual fish while you were down there? Gotta be at least a twenty-pounder."
Morgan laughed deliriously, allowing her head to fall back on her shoulders to ease the tension in her neck. "And the Oscar goes to…"
Emmett righted himself, the act fading quickly from his frame, and the others began following behind them as he carried her back toward the house. "Thank you, thank you. Almost forgot I was acting there for a second," he replied, in jest.
She resisted the urge to playfully swat at the back of his head. Though, behind them, the hushed discussion taking place was far less playful. It started when Rosalie asked how she could've been so careless as to fall from the top of the waterfall, and suggested she might've jumped. After all that's happened, it wouldn't have been a complete surprise, though the rest were adamantly against the idea.
However, Jasper was still silent. He'd moved his eyes away, to the trees or the floor or anywhere they happened to fall—but his train of thought had not yet stopped. It was baffling to him. Only Alice had truly noticed, what with everyone so trained on Morgan, understandably so. But it prompted her to ask. "Jas? What's wrong?" she finally inquired, a few yards from the river. The question drew attention from the others.
They looked curiously, worriedly, and Jasper's lack of facial expression didn't satisfy either reasoning. Instead, it worsened them. "I can't feel her," he answered. There was an inflection of confusion to his voice, though his demeanor remained the same.
"What do you mean?" Carlisle stopped walking, turning to face the others behind him fully now.
Jasper met Carlisle's eyes with a shake of his head. "I can't feel Morgan."
Cleaning the fish tanks at the back of the store was never quite enjoyable, but now? It was almost unbearable.
Morgan put all her strength into scrubbing the green off the inside of the glass, perched on the third rung of the step ladder, and the fish inside were displeased. The voices were all but non-stop from the second she walked through the door to start her shift. Some above, some below, but all were insatiable. It was almost laughable how much time they spent talking about or asking for more food. Every time, she was forced to remind them that they'd already eaten. A few minutes later, they would ask again.
She did her best to ignore them now as she scrubbed one of the last tanks. Though, it was then that the bell above the door chimed, and she sighed. "Welcome in!" Morgan called, unearthing her glove-covered hand from the filthy water. "Can I help you find anything?"
"No, that's okay. I think I can manage."
The voice was feminine and distinct—where had she heard it before? She stepped off the ladder and turned to start toward the front, but the customer was already standing at the end of the aisle, a few feet from her. It was Bella. Her hands in her pockets, she smiled casually, almost timidly. Morgan returned the polite smile as she pried the gloves from her hands. "Oh, hi. Does the Sheriff have a dog he never mentioned?" she asked her, in jest.
Bella shook her head, huffing a chuckle. "No. No dog. Actually, I heard you worked here, you know, at school. Thought I'd check it out."
"Well, you're just in time to watch me drain and refill the tetra tank," Morgan pointed a finger in a gesture, weaving faux excitement into her demeanor, before turning her back to Bella to face the tanks. The hose remained hooked to the side of the ladder, just waiting for placement inside a tank to drain its contents into the tub-sink in the back room.
Morgan climbed the ladder once again, getting in a stable position, and unhooked the hose. "So, you take care of all of these fish by yourself?" Bella asked, her eyes following the hose into the tank to the left of Morgan.
Once the hose plunged inside, the dirty water was sucked up into it like a straw, forcing all the feces and old fish flakes from the rocks up and out to make room for the clean water. "Not all the time. I'm just here a couple days a week," Morgan answered, glancing over her shoulder. "But they only need cleaned out once a week or so, and the rest is just feeding and turning off the lights before I lock up."
"I guess that's not too bad."
"Also, I get to see at least one really cute dog every shift, so it makes up for it."
"Any cats?" Bella asked, mostly in jest.
But Morgan appeared to light up at the question. "Okay, okay, hold on," she replied, pulling the hose from the tank. She hooked it back onto the ladder and climbed down, instead moving quickly to the back to turn on the water. The faucet in the tub-sink shot water through a secondary hose, pouring it into the newly half-drained tank. Once it began filling, Morgan trotted back out to where she'd left Bella, and dug into the pocket of her jeans for her phone. "You have to see the kitten I'm fostering."
She opened the photos on her phone and sifted through, stopping only when the picture she'd taken of Bugs appeared on the screen. Then, she turned the phone toward Bella and held it out toward her for better viewing. Bella gave an airy scoff of disbelief as her eyes settled on the kitten. "That's not a cat, that's a…cotton ball with legs," she commented.
"I call him Bugs, after Bugs Bunny. The guys suggested the rest of the litter get similar nicknames to keep the joke running. Although, I'm not sure if anyone would adopt a cat named Porky."
Bella genuinely laughed, though she raised a brow. "'The guys'? Is that, like, what you call your brothers or something?"
For a split-second, Morgan paused internally. The guys? When had she said that? Is that truly what she just called them? It was startling. But, at the same time, warmth bubbled up in her chest at the idea. Outwardly, she simply shook her head, waving a hand. "Oh, no, sorry. Jacob found the kittens, and a couple of his friends are helping take care of them," she explained, nonchalant.
"Really? Do you guys hang out a lot?"
She couldn't tell, then, just what kind of visit this was. Bella's question seemed harmless on paper, and her expression didn't read as anything other than genuinely curious—trying to make small talk. Though, it was difficult to sift through the instinctual apprehension to questions. Too many in a row sent a shrill jolt down her spine that speckled her arms with bumps.
However, this was just Bella. What nefarious use would she have for asking, anyway? Exhaling through her nose, Morgan shrugged up one shoulder, "I mean, I wouldn't say a lot. We're not exactly next-door neighbors. But we hang out when we can."
Bella nodded in understanding and her eyes wandered to the displays on either side of the aisle curiously. Morgan took the opportunity to move back to the ladder, to check the water level in the still-filling tank. It was almost done. "Speaking of your brothers," Bella began suddenly, and the phrasing turned Morgan's head a little too quickly. "I couldn't help but notice you're down one this week. Was it something I said?"
She chuckled at the last question, shifting her weight nervous on her feet, and Morgan blinked. But she was forced to keep moving, so she held up a finger in a gesture before hurrying to the back room again to shut off the water. On the way, her mind raced ten times faster than her feet, and it spun with questions. What did Edward have to do with Bella? Was it really something she said? After all, didn't Carlisle say Alice's vision had something to do with Bella moving to town?
Her fingers moved absentmindedly to turn off the faucet and her feet carried her back to the fish department at a regular speed, but she fought to shake off any residue on her face—any proof that her thoughts weren't as innocent as the question presented. "Why, what did you say?" Morgan chuckled through the counter-question, playing along with the conversation as casually as possible.
"Wish I knew," Bella shrugged, biting at her lower lip. "He's my biology partner, and he was just…kind of rude, to be honest. I wasn't sure if I did something to upset him or anything."
Morgan sighed, her shoulders relaxing. "No, it wasn't you. That's just Edward. I'm sorry—he can be a dick sometimes. He's just visiting family in Denali right now, but he'll be back at school tomorrow."
"Oh, okay. Thanks. You're from Alaska?" Bella asked, going with the flow of casual conversation. Anything to get the topic away from Edward again. Little did she know just how thankful Morgan was for the diversion.
"Yeah. Funny story, I was actually born in Canada. I was what the kids call an 'oops' baby. I bet Jessica couldn't give you the scoop on that one."
Something dashed across Bella's features then. It was regretful, apologetic, with a shifting shadow of shame as the memory of the lunch table hit her square between the eyes. She'd genuinely felt bad for listening to Jessica's gossip, though she wasn't quite sure how to bring it up to Morgan without admitting her complacency. With a shallow exhale, she shook her head a little, voice teeming with guilt. "Hey, I'm really sorry about that whole thing. I should've said something to Jessica-"
But Morgan interrupted her, quick to speak but soft in word choice, "It's okay, honestly—you're new and she took advantage of that."
"What's the deal with you two, anyway?"
"She's always been pretty judgemental. I'm used to it, for the most part," Morgan began, with a heavy sigh. "I have a pretty intense skin condition and, of course, that's always the topic of conspiracy theories. I think she would still be bitchy anyway, but it didn't help that Edward hasn't tried to hide his dislike for her. She can't handle the rejection. I was just having a bad day. Otherwise, I would've just ignored it."
Bella bobbed her head slowly in a nod as she took in the information. It did make her wonder, what was it about Jessica he detested so much? Was it simply her treatment of his sister? Her appearance, attitude, personality? Or was it her, alone? Perhaps he was seeing whatever it was in Bella, too? It would explain his automatic dislike of her as well. Though, it seemed like far too strong a reaction for having not said two words to each other.
In the lull of conversation, Morgan folded up the step-ladder and carried it to the storeroom behind the register. Bella absentmindedly moseyed in that direction, coming to fold her arms and rest them atop the front counter as she leaned into it, sighing stress through her nose. The overcast sky rumbled outside the glass storefront, giving the interior an ambient light fitting for her low mood. It was disheartening to learn that Edward had begun treating Bella how he treated her, and it left a bitter taste on Morgan's tongue.
He'd left Bella with the same confusion and questioning thoughts—the desperate search for the answer to why does he hate me?—and it burned at Morgan's throat. "So, you came by just to see where I work?" she attempted to make small talk as she put the ladder away, sending a knowing smile through the open doorway. "I'm sorry it's so boring today. It's not usually like this, I promise."
Bella gave a soft chuckle as she righted herself a bit. "Yeah, I can tell this place is usually hopping."
"Ah, a rabbit joke! We get those in sometimes."
Morgan exhaled sharply with the ladder finally in its spot between the shelving and the wall, a space far too tight for it in reality, and exited the storeroom. "Well, you look very official now," Bella joked, as Morgan came to stand behind the register across from her.
It was then that Morgan put her hands on her hips in fists and struck a vague post, leaning aside and forcing her features into a serious expression. In a deeper, slightly quieter voice, she asked, "Paper or plastic?" and Bella snickered.
"Um, are you gonna sell me dog food or steal a diamond?"
"You're right. Too James Bond," Morgan's body slacked back into a normal stance, leaning forward into the counter on her forearms. Her eyes darted to the computer monitor and her chest swelled with relief. "Oh, thank god. It's closing time. I can finally go home."
She sidestepped to better stand in front of the computer, fingers moving quickly over the keyboard to sign out for the day. A thought came to Bella's mind, a curiosity finally remembered, and she twisted in her position to glance through the storefront glass at the parking lot. The only car parked near the store was Bella's truck. "Hey, how did you get here? Did you walk?" she questioned, in disbelief, as she turned back to face Morgan.
Morgan shook her head. "Oh, no, my brother dropped me off. I usually walk home, though."
"But that's such a long way, and it's pouring outside," there was a sense of urgency to Bella's words, as though it were an epiphany and a warning at the same time. Then, reeling herself in a bit, she offered, "I can give you a ride. I don't mind."
Morgan was hesitant to accept. Carlisle's words kept repeating in her mind, reminding her that Bella arriving was a vision, and something about that vision was enough to put the whole family into disarray. She had no way of knowing if Bella was simply involved at random, a force for good, or someone to avoid, and it made her wary of interacting with her in general. But the wariness angered her.
It only reminded her why she told Alice not to tell her about the visions. She never wanted this knowledge. Knowledge that overshadowed a person long before they even did what Alice saw in the present. It was like poison, clouding her judgment and everything in between—and spite surged through her gut like an eruption of magma. "Alright. That'd be great, thanks," Morgan replied after a beat.
She gathered her belongings from the storeroom and fastened her coat over her shoulders, put her hat on her head, before tugging her hood up over her head to cover it all. They stepped just outside and sheltered beneath the short awning while Morgan locked the front door. Then, it was a mad dash for the truck, clamoring in onto the seats and pulling the doors closed a little too quickly behind them. The sudden franticness of the sprint elicited a chuckle from both girls as they eased into their seats and buckled in.
For a brief moment, Morgan felt normal. Amidst the constant changes and stress, it was almost enough to depress her, the thought that this is what she could've had. She could've had friends like Bella, with normal teenage experiences—normal human experiences. Instead, she was given an alter-ego-esque secret to keep and one confusing new ability after another. But she did her best not to let it squash the genuinely uplifting moments. They were far too rare to waste.
Bella drove through town at Morgan's direction. Given she was new to town, Morgan pointed out places she liked to go and recommended stores in Port Angeles, and she found herself rambling a bit—but Bella didn't mind. She liked to listen. The way Morgan described things she appeared to care about, even in the slightest, left a faint glow in the wake of the words. You'd think it was magical for a minute, and that was enough to intrigue her.
That, and she seemed to be the only member of her family that was open to conversation and unabashedly friendly. What was so different about her from the others? Was it simply that she was the only biological child? Bella contemplated a few theories that almost made enough sense to stick. Either way, the girl was genuinely pleasant to be around and that was more than she could say for the others in her grade. It felt comfortable with her.
Morgan guided Bella to follow the long and winding road up to the Cullen house. The trees opened to the front of modern architecture and Bella's eyes were nearly glued to the glass surfaces as she exhaled a breathy huff of surprise. "Wow," she commented, easing the truck to a stop in the driveway. "Your house looks amazing."
Unbuckling, Morgan smiled politely. "Thanks. I'll have to bring you over some time—if you like the outside, you'll drool over the inside."
"Yeah, sure, that would be cool," Bella bobbed her head in agreement.
She chewed at her bottom lip absentmindedly as Morgan slid out of the truck, her hood pulled back over her head and hat to keep dry against the downpour, but she gave a closed-mouthed smile when their eyes met while she closed the door behind her. It was a brief acknowledgement before she scurried for the front door of the house, disappearing inside the pseudo-mansion.
Two steps in and Morgan could feel how the energy had shifted since the morning. It caused her pause, halting while she carefully shut the front door, easing it closed as not to give her entrance away. Though, she knew they'd been able to smell her since the end of the driveway. No amount of silence was going to distract from that. Still, it was human instinct to slow down, take light steps, and attempt to blend any sound in with the background noise.
Despite her instinctive camouflage, she was found rather quickly. A rush of wind proceeded Jasper's frame by less than a second, causing Morgan to blink hard in a controlled startle, sighing as she finally stepped away from the door. "Good, you're home," he said, eyes following her to the coat closet. "Carlisle needs to speak with you in the study."
"About?" she raised an eyebrow confusedly, but cold drained through her body to her toes as her stomach twisted. What else could it be about?
"These new…changes."
There it was. Morgan closed the coat closet once she'd hung up her jacket and turned to face him, chest too stiff to inhale a proper breath. "You still can't feel what I'm feeling, can you?" she asked him, rhetorically.
He gave a small shake of his head. Then, he tipped it to the right in a brief gesture, silently urging her to get going—almost like a father telling his child to come when their mother calls. There was no point trying to stall. Though, admittedly, she did linger an extra second on each step on her way to the study. The subject of this 'talk' was clear. What specifically regarding the topic this was about remained lost to her. What more was there to say? What more could be done?
Perhaps he'd done enough research to know why this happened? Why, for the first time in her life, Jasper could no longer sense her emotions or alter them in any way. How she became one of the only people alive no longer starring in Alice's visions. That was the more startling revelation. Alice could no longer see Morgan's future. It was such an extreme side effect to swimming in salt water, and there was no telling what any of it had to do with what she saw in the darkness beneath the surface.
When she finally arrived at the study, the door was left half open, hanging still in the unnerving quiet of the room as she reached the doorway. It was a tangibly sudden hush. A conversation cut pointedly short, leaving silhouettes of the words in the air like wisps of smoke. Though she didn't need to, she lifted a hand and rapped her knuckles against the wood of the door before stepping inside. Carlisle stood on the other side of the table in the center of the room, the chairs neatly pushed in at both sides and still, but his eyes were already settled at her height as she entered the room.
The smell of the old books still wafted from the bookcases along the walls and, along with the warm but closed-mouthed smile he gave, it was almost enough to keep her eyes to the left. Movement pulled her eyes to the right in a dart almost immediately—and her features sank. Edward stood near the far right corner, inches from the bookcase walls, and his head hung. Still, his eyes were on her immediately as well, though they were much more periled. Shocked. Concerned. Confused. The mixture swirled in the black of his pupils, visible from across the small room.
Morgan inhaled sharply. "You were supposed to come back tomorrow."
It was a reminder. As though he might've genuinely forgotten his own travel plans. As though he was not welcome to come home yet and, therefore, he was trespassing. Perhaps he was? She hadn't been prepared to see him earlier than the following day and any sooner felt like a violation. "I know," he vaguely pursed his lips. "Carlisle told me what happened—I came as soon as I could."
"Well, that's rich, isn't it?" Morgan's brows furrowed as she sneered quietly, head tilting in her expression ever so slightly.
"Morgan," Carlisle gave a gentle warning, a vague deterrent.
"No, no—you wanted to talk? Let's talk about this," Morgan sarcastically insisted, blood running hot in her veins now as she argued. Her eyes snapped back toward Edward as she continued. "You didn't give two shits last week when you left in the middle of the night, but now you rush back home like I'm actually important? When, in between existing and nearly drowning, do I start to have value, Edward? Explain it to me."
Edward's eyes fell to the hardwood. "I know you're upset-"
"Congratulations, Einstein. Answer my question."
"Morgan," Carlisle voiced her name more firmly, carefully volumed so as not to overshoot his intentions, and she blinked. "Edward can't hear your thoughts."
Every muscle in her body stiffened. Had she truly heard him correctly? It made perfect sense that Edward's abilities would not touch her just like Alice's and Jasper's—but to hear it out loud? Relief twisted within the shock and insistent disbelief that gushed into her chest cavity like a burst pipe, and she exhaled a trembled breath. But it was physically painful to see the divine release relaxing her features, the way her body seemed to finally put down its own weight—Edward spared a single glance and it was too much.
Even still, there was hope in this. Opportunity. He clung to it as though it were a buoy in a heavy storm, the tips of his fingers red and bloody where they dug into the metal, frantic in his one chance to make it to the other side. Now, desperately, he thought, things could surely change. And at the very same time, the idea that something had changed so drastically was terrifying. Was this truly a good sign? Or, could it be a sign that they were missing something? That something had gone horribly wrong? Was Morgan simply shifting more toward her true nature, or was she in danger of something sinister?
It was nearly impossible to know either way with what little knowledge was available for her condition. They had never encountered a mermaid before—perhaps this would be the same with all others? Morgan folded her arms loosely over her torso as she leaned back on her heels, taking in the idea of total freedom. "So, what does that mean for me, exactly?" she asked Carlisle.
Shrugging gently, he gave an honest answer. "I'm not sure. I've asked a few friends we've made over the years for any information on mermaids they might have, but there won't be a response for at least a few days. For now, I suggest we take precautions, in case this isn't a positive development."
For the first time since she discovered her true nature, Morgan didn't cringe at the mention of its proper title. Instead, it was easy to ignore it, to brush it off as simply part of the full sentence. Just another word used to convey a thought. "What kind of precautions?" she raised a brow.
"Well, I think its best to remain on dry land until we know what we're dealing with," Carlisle explained. Despite its gingerness, the statement forced both her brows together in a harsh furrow.
"What? I'm just supposed to sit around and shrivel up while we wait for your vampire besties to send us a carrier pigeon?"
Edward spoke up then, joining the conversation with a relatively quiet voice, "What would you have us do instead?"
Morgan's eyes flitted toward his form in a quick double-take of disbelief. But, despite the shock lingering, she was quick to respond with a shield of faux confidence. "Put me back in the water," her tongue nearly tripped over itself in reply, the words coming out before she had time to convince herself not to. "Supervise if you have to, but I need to go back. I need to know more."
The shift in desire for information was sudden, unexpected. Carlisle raised a brow, head tilting an inch in intrigue. "What happened when you went into the water?"
There was no easy way to describe. What did happen? Her mind went somewhere else, body enveloped in peace and safety, and she was drunk on it. Nothing could possibly measure to the sense of belonging that standing on that foreign beach elicited. Nothing could feel so familiar yet so new. Her chest still ached with longing for something she couldn't quite put a finger on and, while it was terrifying, it was utterly electrifying. Maybe she just wanted to go back to feel it all again, and this was its own gateway drug—but didn't she owe it to everyone who had cared for her since her infancy to finally stand on her own legs?
To find out who she was and where she was meant to be all along? Didn't she owe it to herself to no longer deny her own being? This was reality. It was time she waved the red cape and faced its horns head on. So, she inhaled deeply, as she attempted to find the proper words. "This is the second time I've felt this…cold feeling. It felt like something was reaching for me. When I was underwater, it was like I was somewhere else—a beach. I could see it and feel the sand on my feet. But it was so familiar it hurt. Then you pulled me out, I guess, because it all went away so quickly."
"When was the first time?" Carlisle asked her. He did his best not to show his concern with the description, the admission that she'd kept this kind of information from them for almost a week. Who knew how long she'd kept it from them that she'd felt it once before?
Though, it wasn't Morgan that answered him. It was Edward. "With Jacob," he mumbled, a certain undertone of disdain to the words. "When she skipped school."
"Oh, you mean 'when she was treated like shit by her brother and the guy her family hates was the only one that cared'? You mean then?" Morgan questioned him harshly, challengingly, daring him to argue once more, before turning her eyes to Carlisle. "I was trying to keep it together after what he pulled on the way to school, I felt that feeling looking at the ocean, and I lost it. It felt like a hug."
Carlisle bit his tongue to the first half of what she'd said—he would deal with Edward later. This was too important to be derailed by their bickering now. "So, this feeling has been positive both times?" he asked her, mostly for confirmation as the wheels in his head turned quickly. Morgan nodded.
Again, she inhaled, sharply this time as she allowed her arms to fall to her sides, "I'm going to go back and do it again. If you want to supervise, come with me—but I'm not waiting for a bunch of vampires to tell me who I am when I can figure it out myself."
