All characters that are from the TWILIGHT saga by Stephanie Meyer belong to Stephanie Meyer. All others belong to me. I do not receive profit for these stories except for the joyous enjoyment of reviews.
This story follows right after When I'm Gone: Third Installment to GONE Saga, so if you haven't read that one or the two before, please do.
The timeline of the story will coincide with Gabriel Michael Laskaris' growing up years, starting at Seth and Rosa's wedding day, April 12th and will progress from there.
Chapter Seventy-Six (16 yrs old)
July 25th
She hadn't seen him in almost two weeks. Yeah, they'd spoken on the phone almost every night but he'd broken off the last three dates, saying he was tired from working full time, not to mention the situation with his family. As for their conversations over the phone, she might be crazy stupid, imagining things but…it felt like he was pulling away from her, emotionally as well as physically.
Letting out a sigh, she played with the small box on her desk as she watched her computer screensaver –a slideshow of dozens of pictures from the last year –working hard at not crying. It was stupid, it really was but it almost felt like he was pulling away in preparation for breaking up with her and now…now this…she felt like everything was crumbling around her.
If her suspicions were confirmed, this would be when she would need him the most but the sick feeling in her stomach told her it would be the final wedge between them.
Letting out a sigh as the pictures on her screen looped to the beginning, she stood up, box in hand, and headed down the hall to the bathroom. She had asked him to come and he would be here in half an hour, unless he found something else to get in the way of seeing her, and she wanted to make sure before she told him. If it wasn't true, she preferred he didn't even know but if it was…
The setting sun spilled over the ocean waves, gilding them in molten reds and oranges, causing them to glitter like diamonds in melted gold.
Sifting his fingers through the sand, Zak let out a long breath as he watched her crashing onto the surf, murmurs of a deeply hidden heart, one he wanted to completely own but knew he never would. Despite knowing the impossibility of it, he had no plan at stopping his endeavor in discovering every one of her deeply held secrets.
"How's your grandmother doing?"
He looked away from the constant shifting of the water, a small smile appearing as his best friend sat down beside him, her long brown curls spilling over her shoulders with the motion.
"The doctors don't know if she'll ever wake up," Zak sifted through the sand, occasionally finding a pebble, which he added to a small pile at his feet, "And if she does, they're not sure if she'll be okay."
Abby pulled her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms around them, green eyes glittering with empathetic pain, "I'm sorry. Have they found who did it?"
Zak shook his head, adding another small pebble, a rare purple hued one, to his current collection, "Grandpa's still looking…mama says they got video from the security cameras but whatever hit my grandmother, it was moving so fast it was a blur."
No more was said as they sat side by side in comfortable silence, shoulders occasionally touching as Zak kept seeking for pebbles, Abby removing her sandals to dig her toes into the cool sand. There was no need for any words between them, no need to explain why Abby was there when she had already had her two week vacation with Daisy and Brandon. Without asking, Zak knew she had asked her parents to bring her after his email where he had shared what had happened to his grandmother last week.
Their comfortable silence was shattered by a loud voice calling out to them, Zak and Abby looking over their shoulders as a boy, about fifteen, approached them. His copper hued skin and chin length hair identifying him as a Quileute youth, one Zak knew vaguely as being one of those close minded racist bigots raised by equally close minded bigoted racists.
"She's not allowed to be here."
Zak rolled his eyes, knowing well enough he was purposely speaking Quileute, probably thinking he wouldn't understand but definitely because Abby couldn't, "It's a free country."
"This is Quileute land," he stopped a couple of feet away from them, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to make himself bigger, "We have our own government and our own law enforcement –we're not a part of the white man's world. Hidden Beach is not open for outsiders."
Zak rose to his feet, tired of having the older boy looming over him in an effort to intimidate but even with his own impressive height of five feet five inches, seemingly tall for an eleven year old boy, the boy definitely had a good three inches on him –not that it mattered because Zak didn't intimidate, "She's with me."
A dark eyebrow rose in that arrogant way self entitled jerks had, black eyes giving him a once over clearly meant to make him feel like he wasn't worth much, "Like I said…it's not open for outsiders."
Abby reached out to stop him as he took a step forward, her small hand on his upper arm enough to remind him violence wasn't the answer.
"Come on, Zak," Abby's soft voice carried in the sea salted breeze, his blue eyes never once wavering from the idiot's smirking face, "Let's just go. Your mom told me dinner was going to be ready soon."
With one last contemptuous glance, Zak turned and walked off with Abby, giving her hand a squeeze to thank her for reminding him of who he was.
"You don't belong on our land, Laskaris. You're not one of us."
They kept walking, Abby's hand gripping his tightly as they made their way towards the forest bordering one side of Hidden Beach.
"The Clearwaters are traitors to their blood; you shouldn't be allowed to live on our land, you half-breed..."
They almost made it into the forest, both aware the fifteen year old was following behind them with his taunting words, but neither looked back or stopped –that is, until the boy said the words guaranteed to get Zak's calm demeanor to fly out the metaphorical window.
"Your mother's a whore."
Abby gasped as she let go of Zak's hand, knowing there was no stopping him now –no one, absolutely no one, got away with insulting Leah Laskaris, especially not within hearing of her husband or sons –not that Emmie and Tyra wouldn't react just as viciously to an insult hurled at their mother but the boys…might as well dig a hole because they sure as hell were going to make use of it.
Zak didn't rush or demand for the words to be taken back. He simply approached the smirking boy, blue eyes glittering with rage. Without much fanfare, he hauled off and punched him right on the mouth, putting his body weight behind it, just the way his father had taught him.
The fact he now laid sprawled on the sand, blood running down his chin from a split lip, was enough to prove Zak's reaction hadn't been expected, considering he was just an eleven year old boy, scrawny and quiet, which had been interpreted as weak and cowardly.
Without a word, Zak turned and headed back to Abby, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the woods, neither saying anything as they followed the trail between Hidden and Second Beach.
They both heard the steps rushing behind them, Abby giving him a wide eyed look filled with panic as Zak gave her hand another squeeze before whispering for her to get out of the way. Abby let out a shriek as the boy tackled Zak, moving further out of the way as she watched her best friend take a fist to the face before he flipped the bigger boy off him, jumping to his feet just as the fifteen year old got off the ground.
Another shriek escaped her as Zak ducked another flying fist, burying his own into the boy's stomach before landing another on his jaw. Covering her mouth with her hands to keep in another scream, she scrambled back further out of the way as they both hit the ground, flying fists followed by low grunts of pain letting her know damage was being doing.
"Hey…hey…hey!"
Her green eyes widened even more, which at this point would seem an impossibility, as Ian Hatch –a boy she knew as being a friend and occasional date to Zak's older sister –pulled Zak off the fifteen year old boy, "What the hell's the matter with you two?"
Zak was breathing hard, his left eye swelling and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, "He came at me from behind."
Ian kept a grip on the fifteen year old, looking over at Zak before his dark eyes settled on Abby, "Are you okay?"
Abby nodded as she lowered her shaking hands from her mouth, "Yeah…but I'm not the one bleeding."
"Right," Ian nodded, the copper hued color of his skin keeping his embarrassment from showing as he looked over at Zak, knowing from the pissed off look on the kid's face it wouldn't be smart to ask him if he was okay so instead, he turned to the fifteen year old, "Just go home, Deek."
"That little bastard punched me first," Deek wiped the back of his hand over his bleeding lip, dark eyes glaring at Zak as Ian rolled his eyes and pushed him further back.
"And I'm sure you deserved it," Ian pushed him back again, dark hair falling over his forehead as Deek pushed back, "Seriously Deek, just go before the kid embarrasses you. Or have you forgotten his dad's a black belt who teaches them his tricks?"
Deek glared at Zak, hating the fact the eleven year old boy was not afraid of him, which was obvious from the way those ice blue eyes never once wavered from his own. Shoving aside Ian's restraining arm, he turned and walked away but not before giving Zak the finger.
Rolling his eyes, Zak stopped Abby as she reached out to wipe at the blood dripping from the torn corner of his mouth, "I'm okay."
"Your mom is going to flip," Abby whispered as she gently touched his swollen eye with her free hand, "She doesn't like it when Gabriel gets in a fight –I imagine she won't like you fighting either."
Zak flinched, the pain radiating over his eye and down the side of his face despite Abby's attempt at being careful, "I'll deal with the consequences."
"Was it worth it," Ian asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, Abby looking over at him for a few seconds before turning her attention back to Zak, hoping the older boy hadn't caught the way she'd looked him over, noticing the handsome features of his face, the hint of a broad chest and shoulders, not to mention strong looking arms.
"When it comes to my mama," Zak finally wiped the trickling blood from his chin, only to find it had dried, "Anything's worth it."
Ian chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes moved from Zak to Abby then back, noticing how close they were and wondering if it were really possible for a girl and boy to simply be friends, "You and your brothers are such mama boys."
"You better believe it."
Marc let out a heavy sigh as he placed his Camaro into park, letting his head fall back against the leather headrest of his seat.
It was time for him to put an end to it –he hadn't wanted to which was why he'd dragged this out by continuing to have conversations with her but avoid seeing or being alone with her. Ever since that night, he had known it wasn't right to keep their relationship on hold like this. He needed to make a decision, either way, and stick with it.
Looking at the empty driveway of Betty's grandparents' house, he let out another sigh before removing the keys from the ignition and stepping out of his car, the lock engaging automatically as soon as he shut the driver's door.
The distance between the curb and her front door couldn't have been more than a couple dozen feet yet it felt like he'd walked miles by the time he reached the front door, a few more seconds passing before he knocked.
A minute or two passed before he heard her, probably coming down the stairs, and in his mind's eye, he saw her –blond hair falling straight and thick down her back and over her shoulders, probably held back from her face by a headband. Her eyes would be a bright, beautiful brown that made him think of sunflowers and Lazy Susans. She would probably be wearing a tank top, some bright color matching her headband, along with jeans hugging her long legs.
Once she opened the door, he saw he had been partially right –instead of wearing jeans, she had on the tiniest pair of denim shorts he'd ever seen in a girl, her long legs on display. Swallowing hard, he smiled at her as he leaned in and kissed her cheek, "Hey baby. How are you?"
Betty gave him a small smile as she stepped back to let him in, "I'm okay. You?"
"Exhausted," Marc moved into the living room, sitting down on the couch as Betty closed the door and followed after him, "I've been working overtime at the store –there's a lot of tourist hikers in the summer and Mr. Newton asked if I could use the extra money, which I could."
Betty nodded, sitting on the edge of the armchair usually commandeered by her grandfather, hands tucked between her thighs, "Right…how did the baseball tryouts go last weekend?"
"I made the team," Marc leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped loosely between his knees, "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to come –"
"It's alright," Betty brushed off his apology, not letting him see it had hurt her when he'd turned down her offer to go with him up to Seattle University for try-outs.
The silence was awkward, neither one knowing how to start what they needed to say.
"We need to talk," they both said at the same time, their eyes –which had been looking around the room in an effort to avoid each other –meeting across the room.
"You go first."
"No," Marc shook his head, giving her a smile lacking its usual charm, "You go ahead."
Her eyes dropped away, focusing on her hands, her heart beating fast as she thought over her words, trying to figure out how to tell him, "I…I'm…"
Marc's dark eyebrows dipped between his dark brown eyes, watching the way she twisted her fingers, wondering what could have her so nervous, "Just tell me, Betty."
Sucking in air, she unlocked her fingers, wiping her sweaty hands on her denim shorts, "I'm not sure even though I…I mean, it's not like it couldn't be wrong –"
"Betty."
"I might be pregnant."
The combination of fear and panic was nearly suffocating as the small space he occupied along with his sister seemed to get smaller, waves of movement pushing him against the soft surfaces surrounding him, his forehead bumping against hers as another shrill scream echoed inside what had been his home for the past six months.
He could hear the quick boom-boom of her heart, could taste the fear running through her blood…rushing into him. Looking over at his sister, he realized what was happening, another wave of movement quickly followed by a scream pushing him against her.
Her eyes were closed, small fists held against them as her heart beat rapidly in response to what was happening, its rhythm an echo to his own beating heart, both of them a soprano harmony to her bass melody.
Another wave of movement, pressure squeezing them from all sides, followed by another scream…her heart giving a jerking sound, stuttering then silence. It was the silence –that loud, echoing silence –letting him know something was wrong…terribly wrong.
Looking at his sister, his fear spiked at the rapid beat of her heart and the slight tinge of blue to her lips. He too was feeling the lack of oxygen flowing from her to him, his heart beating frantically as he struggled to push past her but he couldn't, not with the way they were positioned.
The sound of her beating heart was slowing down and he knew if he didn't do something, it was going to stop and he couldn't stand the idea of complete and utter silence, not when his entire existence was the rhythm of two hearts beating with his own.
Without further thought, he did what he had to do –used what he had to save his sister…
To save himself.
She realized he had stopped breathing, the shocked look on his handsome face something she had been expecting but it hurt. She looked into his dark brown eyes, realizing he was no longer with her, his mind somewhere else –somewhere she wasn't allowed to follow.
Reaching out to touch his unusually cold hand, she whispered his name, "Marc."
"No," Marc jerked his hand from hers, rising to his feet and moving away as he ran his fingers through his hair in agitation before turning to look at her, "You can't be pregnant –you told me you were taking birth control."
"No birth control is a hundred percent effective," Betty couldn't help feeling defensive, standing up in an effort to keep vulnerable feelings at bay, "And the way we've been…going at it, I'm surprised this hasn't happened sooner."
"This shouldn't be happening at all," Marc shook his head, completely oblivious of what his ranting words were doing to Betty's heart, "You can't have that…not you…I can't…I can't do this to you."
Betty blinked back the tears filling her eyes, her stomach and chest hurting from the effort to keep back the building sobs as she whispered, "What do you suggest?"
"You can't have it," he finally focused on her, his eyes nearly black as he fought back the suffocating fear –the same fear he once felt long before he had taken air into his lungs, "I won't let it kill you –not the way I killed my mother."
"Marc –"
"No," he shook his head, moving across the living room to grip her upper arms and give her a slight shake, "You're not having it."
The tears could no longer be held at bay, leaving behind wet trails as they rolled down her cheeks, "You're talking about an abortion."
"Whatever it takes," he let her go, taking a step away from her, "You're not having it…with or without me."
"I'm going to find her and when I do, I'll kill the bitch."
"Leah –"
"No," she pushed him away, not wanting any comfort, knowing if she let him touch her with the tenderness she saw in his light blue eyes, she would break and she so was not ready to do that, "No. My mother never did anything –anything to anyone, she never hurt a soul."
He watched as she yanked a black dress off its hanger, stepping aside to let her pass him by, her lithe body covered in black lace boy short panties and a black lace corset, her hair –which she'd allowed to grow past her shoulders despite not being pregnant –pulled back with a gold clasp he'd given her for her last birthday.
She looked beautiful and his body didn't fail to respond to the sight of her but it was the pain and anger in her brown-green eyes that had his complete attention.
Today was going to be a hard and sad day. Despite the days bleeding into weeks and their hopes of a positive outcome slowly dying, he knew Leah wasn't ready to do what had to be done today –she wasn't ready to lay her mother to rest.
In a sense, this was even harder than they day she and Seth, along with Charlie, had made the decision to shut off life support, knowing Sue wouldn't want to live without truly living life. It was harder because this would be the final good bye –it would be the end of life as she's always known.
"How dare she take her revenge out on my mother," Leah yanked the black wrap around dress over her arms, ruthlessly wrapping the soft fabric of her body, tying the sash into a bow over her left hip before she shoved her feet into black heels, refusing to think of what she was doing and why, "My mother is not involved in this –"
She let out a gasp, wide eyes staring at Rick as she realized it was no longer about present tense when referring to her mother –from now on, everything concerning her mother was in the past.
He watched as her eyes filled up with tears –tears she had refused to cry from the very first call when they'd been told of what had happened. From that moment weeks ago, she had held her anger close to her, refusing to let him touch her or hold her, refusing to let of the rage inside her.
"I can't…" Leah shook her head, biting her bottom lip to keep the tears at bay but it wasn't working, "I can't…"
"Baby," Rick reached out, expecting her to push him away, as she'd been doing, but instead, she fell into his arms, her entire body shaking as wrenching sobs escaped her despite her attempts to hold them in.
Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight, kissing the top of her head as he gave her the comfort she hadn't wanted but definitely needed.
"I can't do it," Leah sobbed into his neck, her hands fisted on his dark gray shirt, her tears soaking the fabric, "I can't."
Kissing her forehead, he gently lifted her into his arms, knowing there were no words that could help so he simply laid her in the center of their bed, stretching out beside her and pulling her into him, her back to his chest, his chin on her shoulder, their cheeks pressed together.
Minutes of her crying passed, the sobs shredding his heart, when the first of their children quietly walking into the room.
Three year old Erick didn't understand exactly what had been happening but he had known something was wrong with his mama and now, listening to her cry, he worked his way up onto the bed by grabbing on to his father's leg. Once he was on the bed, he clamber over their legs before wiggling close to her, his blue eyes welling with tears as he snuggled his face into her chest, mama's arms wrapping tightly around him.
One by one, they came into the room, piling into the bed, all of them dressed for the funeral, all of them hurting but most importantly, all of them wanting to be close to their mother, to remind her despite feeling like it, she was not alone.
Port Angeles, Two Days Later
He stood up as the door Betty had gone through an hour ago opened, his girlfriend walking out with arms crossed over her chest, blond hair held back in a ponytail. He didn't move to meet her, simply stood there until she reached him, her brown eyes –ringed in red from crying on and off the past two days –finally looking up from her feet to look into his questioning eyes.
"I'm not pregnant," she whispered, swallowing past the tightness in her throat as she handed him the results of the blood test done on her, "The home test was a false positive."
He looked over the information on the paper, nodding his head and folding the paper to hand it back but she'd already headed out the front door. Slipping the paper into the back pocket of his jeans, he followed behind her, reaching his Camaro in time to unlock the passenger door for her.
The silence between them was awkward and tense, too much having been said with even more left unsaid.
Marc knew this was the end, and although he had planned on breaking it off with her -for her own good, of course -this was definitely not how he had wanted it to end. They had shared so much for so long, as friends and as a couple.
It didn't seem right to have it all crash and burn this way.
The closer they got to Forks, the harder it was getting for him to keep quiet, to not explain his rather harsh reaction to her news of a possible pregnancy. Now, in hindsight, he knew he should have thought before speaking but the memories of his mother's death had left him horribly shaken, making it impossible to think past the fear of, once again, killing a woman he loved.
Turning into the street Betty's grandparents lived in, he slowed down the Camaro, coming to a stop at the curb, no longer able to contain himself, "Betty -"
"Don't," Betty stopped him, refusing to look at him as she reached for the door handle, "You've already said enough, Marc."
"Betty -"
She pushed the door open and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut before he could say anything more.
He would have let her go but he didn't want it to end this way -she was his best friend, "Betty, I'm sorry. What I said -"
"What you said is exactly how you felt," she spun around, her hair golden in the rare sunlight falling across the lush green lawn, "There's no point in making excuses or apologies."
"I didn't mean to hurt you -"
"Well, you did," she yanked her hand way from his, "And the worst part…you had planned on breaking up with me anyway."
"You're my best friend -"
"Was," Betty wiped her wet cheeks, taking in a deep breath as she swallowed back a sob, "After this...I thought you loved me, Marc. I thought you cared."
"I did -I do," Marc pulled her into his space, easily holding her by the upper arms despite her struggling, "It's why I was planning to end it...you deserve better than me, Betty. You deserve to have someone who can give you a future, a family -"
Betty jerked away from him, swinging her hand and smacking him hard across the face, "You son of a bitch! What did you think you were promising when you told me you loved me? Did you think it was just a passing thing for me, that I wasn't giving you everything when I told you I loved you, when I gave myself to you? Is that why it was so easy for you to say it back?"
"I said it because I meant it," the words came out through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched so tight it was hurting but the pain was nothing to the way his chest was feeling at the sight of her crying, her beautiful brown eyes filled with anger, "I thought I could be what you needed, that I could give you the world but…I can't, Betty. I'm not enough for you…I don't think I'm enough for anyone."
"You're right," Betty angrily wiped her hand over her cheeks, pulling strands of hair away from where they clung to the corner of her mouth, "You're not enough, Marc…I'm sure you never will be."
He stood there as she walked away from him, throat tight with the struggle not to cry as her words dug into his heart.
The drive home seemed never ending, her words echoing in his mind, causing the gaping hole in his chest to widen just a little more.
She was right –he wasn't enough, never would be.
He was nothing but an empty shell of a man, without a soul and apparently, without a heart.
No matter how hard he tried, how much he pretended, he had nothing to offer because there was nothing worth offering in him.
Turning into his street, he cursed under his breath at the sight on his front driveway…his sister, leaning against her car, making out with Gabriel.
Perfect way to end a shitfest day.
He wasn't stupid –he knew his sister had crossed the line but he'd kept his mouth shut because, after all, she had every right to fuck up her life as she pleased. It had been long in coming, but she was all grown up and he had no place in whatever decisions she made, no matter how much he knew they would hurt her.
Pulling alongside the curb, he threw the car into park, deciding to just ignore them both and go into the house.
Of course, all that changed as soon as he opened the door, the light breeze in the air bringing to him a scent he had never smelled before –one that told him she had done much more than just screw around with the mongrel.
It was a scent that had him seeing red for reasons he didn't take the time to think through much less define.
