A/N: This chapter is very long, way longer than I expected it to be, but everything was just spilling out.
I ended up cutting off the original ending because the chapter would have been even longer, so the bright side is I have the next chapter mostly written, so it will be up before the end of the week! :D
I'm liking the weekly Sunday updates; what do you guys think? Never mind; enjoy the chapter! Let me know your thoughts!
Again, PSA reminder I am not positive on how human hospital protocols work so forgive me for any incongruence or missteps.
Chapter 20: Waiting Room
"What surgeries is she getting?" Jessamine asked after a few minutes of silence of watching the humans run between doors, heading toward the operating room where Edythe surely was.
"A spondylosyndesis for her back; they're going to fuse two of her vertebrae together to fix the break," Carine answered, "And an arthroscopic repair is where they reattach the tendon of her shoulder to the bone. It's not a major surgery, only a very small incision. But the spinal fusion will leave a large scar on her lower back. She'll probably have another few incisions on her side and chest from the internal bleeding and punctured lung." As she provided a visual for them, the Cullens flinched ever so slightly.
"She'll have to relearn how to do things, like moving, walking...it will take months for her to get back to normal," the doctor continued but paused when Beau spoke.
"Will she have brain problems, memory loss?" he asked. Carine grimaced.
"Amnesia is possible, but none of us will know until she wakes up, which they will be keeping her sedated for a few days, at the minimum. She will be intubated and on a ventilator, because the damage to her lungs is substantial and she won't be able to breathe on her own. Depending on how she does, she will be weaned off it and then they'll work to waking her up."
"So there's a chance she won't remember anything?" Eleanor asked, her eyes wide. "Not the accident, the last few months, anything?" They all knew when Eleanor said 'anything' she meant 'anything about vampires'. Carine shook her head.
"It depends on the extent of damage, but I really don't know," she admitted. "Regardless, she will need at least six months to heal. She's not going to be able to return to school; we'll have to speak to the principal once this is over…" Carine deliberated, forcing herself to focus on the far future, refusing to dwell on the immediate present, but instead making plans.
"She is going to be in so much pain," Earnest lamented; Carine squeezed his hand but said nothing. She could almost guarantee this; the extent of Edythe's injuries was so long that expecting her to be in anything other than agony was ill-sighted. She only hoped Dr. Vernetti would keep Edythe on heavy pain medications to keep her comfortable; she would have a word with him otherwise.
Carine asked Archie a few questions about possible futures, but found his visions were merely cloudy, blocked by the uncertainty of so many futures, none of them concrete. He expected everything would clear once Edythe was out of surgery and awake. He did explain the full cover story though: he and Earnest had used deer as a cover-up for the accident, shoving the truck doors into more convincing frames before the police arrived. Charlie, of course, had been on the scene and he had called Beau on their way in the ambulance. Beau had called his father back to let him know he was fine, but that Edythe was in surgery. Charlie promised to come to the hospital immediately after processing the scene, only slightly appeased that his son was relatively uninjured.
When the Chief of Police came through the emergency room doors two hours after the call, the Cullens looked up. Beau stood slowly from Carine's side, moving forward to allow his father to survey him for himself, demanding details. Beau repeated that he was fine, but Charlie did not accept it.
"He has a moderate concussion and some tenderness in his shoulder and neck, but otherwise is unharmed," Carine interceded before Charlie could press Beau further. The man looked where Carine stayed sitting besides her husband, only her eyes moving to meet his. She managed a small half smile while adding, "I examined him myself, Charlie." Charlie's sporadic, panicked energy seemed to subside in the solemn, quiet wake of the Cullens. He looked them over again, his eyes turning soft.
"Carine, Earnest," he nearly whispered, "How is she?" Carine had to work not to cringe.
"She's in surgery now," she replied, refusing to provide anything else. Charlie nodded silently, accepting the answer. He was used to consoling family members in many car accidents, but the superimposition on a family his son was so close with, when it was his son's girlfriend on the table, her life in the balance, he couldn't find it in himself to murmur the customary words he rehearsed. Instead, he turned to Beau.
"The truck is totaled," he told him, as if it weren't obvious, "I never thought anything could take that old thing out, but I guess a herd of stupid deer finally did it." Beau didn't respond immediately, knowing it was hardly deer that had ended the truck's lifeline far past where it probably should have lived.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he tried to say, knowing the truck being a gift from his father, but Charlie cut him off.
"Don't, Beau," he said fiercely, "It wasn't your fault. It's just a car."
"Cars can be replaced," Earnest emphasized, squeezing Beau's shoulder, "You and Edythe can't be."
"We'll get you another once this is behind us," he added, but before Charlie could completely open his mouth to protest, "Charlie, Beau probably saved my daughter's life. It is nothing for us, I promise you."
"He did," Carine confirmed, her eyes still downcast at her hands holding Earnest's. Charlie wanted to argue, that the Cullens shouldn't feel obligated to provide such a gift, but found he couldn't. Instead, he clapped Beau on his uninjured shoulder once more before mumbling something about calling the station for an update on the scene. He stepped away, giving the family their space.
"You really don't have to do that," Beau began, halfheartedly, but Archie cut him off.
"Shut up, Beau," the vampire said shortly. It had a slight hint of teasing, and Beau felt a little better; he knew he wouldn't be getting out of the car, but he had known from the beginning it would have been useless.
Time passed slowly as the Cullens and Swans waited for updates; once, Dr. Kaiser, one of the anesthesiologists, emerged and spoke to Carine for a few minutes, letting her know the surgery was going well and Edythe was stable; Dr. Vernetti would come out once she was on her way to recovery. Carine thanked him profusely, which, of course, he waved away. All the doctors at Forks Hospital were more than happy to help, knowing how often Carine had stepped up to help them on their cases. The matriarch was slightly thrown by their generosity and behavior; of course, it was part of their job, but it was not usual that humans were so amicable and outgoing toward her or any of the family. They often stayed on the edge, no more than cordial, put off by their better primal instincts. She had a feeling Edythe's new humanity and their involvement with Beau had blended them in more completely within the human town, not that she necessarily minded. It was a strange sensation, to be a part of the community, to have others working to help her and her family; she appreciated it immensely.
It was nearly four hours after the start of Edythe's surgeries that the relative quiet stillness of the emergency room was interrupted. Charlie was on the phone with his deputy, who was overseeing the process of the accident, when the swinging doors opened to reveal two copper-skinned faces. Charlie was surprised by their appearance, his expression confused while the Cullens all visibly tensed from across the room, golden eyes narrowed on the new arrivals.
Bonnie Black held her hands tightly on her wheelchair, her fear and anger equally potent as she took in the vampires staring at her from across the room. Jessamine let out a low hiss, but Carine hushed her; only the eldest Cullens looked back at Bonnie evenly, thoroughly slightly wary. They weren't sure what the Quileute elder was doing here. Only Beau seemed to have an idea, and he didn't like the feeling it gave him. His eyes went briefly from Bonnie to her daughter.
Julie Black was almost unrecognizable compared to the last time Beau had seen her; her long dark hair had been cropped short, above her ears. She had grown at least a foot and her body was held completely differently to the shy, happy-go-lucky girl that he remembered. There was a poise, an agility there that was absent before, but she held her arms tight, her shoulders square, both in anticipation of a fight while also wanting to flee the room. She was a mere shadow on the girl Beau had played with during his summer months in Forks and the girl who had unknowingly provided Beau the clues he needed to piece the mystery of the Cullens together.
"Bonnie, what are you doing here?" Beau heard Charlie ask her, his father's voice slightly taken aback. Bonnie's response was low and Beau could not make it out, but the vampires around him could.
"I heard Beau had been hurt," the older woman said stoically, though Charlie could see the tension in her jaw. Charlie could hardly see how Bonnie could have known about the accident, but he knew that gossip, especially this kind of gossip, spread like wildfire through the small town.
"He's alright," Charlie worked to assuage her, gesturing to his son across the room, "There was a bad accident but Beau's fine. It's Edythe that wasn't so lucky." The Cullens' eyes tightened at the mention of their youngest family member, their own bodies locked to mirror the tension of the Quileutes.
"He was with one of them? A Cullen?" Bonnie asked balefully, nearly spitting the surname.
"Of course, Bonnie. You know Beau has been dating Edythe for months," Charlie said almost reproachfully, his eyes now wary as he recalled the last time he and Bonnie had discussed the Cullens. It had resulted in a weeks-long feud, where neither of them spoke to each other.
"Charlie, I told you about the dangers of fraternizing with those people," she said; though her tone was full of forced calm, her mouth twisted around the last word, as if referring to the Cullens as people was beyond her tolerance. The tone Charlie heard though, was that of a person trying to explain why someone shouldn't play with bonfires after continuous attempts to joke around one, deprecating, superior. Charlie bristled.
"We've already had this talk, Bonnie," he warned. "I am not and will never go along with it."
"Beau could have been killed," Bonnie replied bitterly, "And the circumstances are very suspect, Charlie."
"What are you insinuating?" Charlie challenged, his anger rising.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Bonnie pressed. But she couldn't finish as Beau had stepped between them.
Beau hadn't been able to hear most of the whispered conversation between his father and the Blacks, but he had a decent idea what was being discussed. His own anger had grown steadily as the seconds went by, despite Jessamine's half-hearted attempts to calm him. Finally, he'd had enough; he stood up from his place besides Carine and Earnest, ignoring the low whispers of his name behind him. Now, he stood besides his father, eyes focused on the Blacks, his sudden appearance taking Bonnie off guard.
"Dad, can I talk to Bonnie and Julie alone?" he requested shortly. Charlie, who had already reached his limit on his patience, immediately agreed, stepping outside the doors to continue his call in front of the hospital entrance. Beau turned stiffly to meet their gazes, Bonnie's baneful, Julie's unsure but unhappy.
"Bonnie," he began, "I don't know why you're here." Bonnie cut him off.
"I am here to make sure you were okay," she emphasized, acid dripping from her voice, as if insulted he would think her presence was nothing more than concern for the son of her friend.
"You could have gotten that information with a phone call," Beau pointed out, refusing to sidetrack and give Bonnie time to play the superficial card game she was aiming for.
"You haven't learned your lesson, Beau; you didn't listen to my warnings," Bonnie said curtly, her eyes flicking over the Cullens again.
"I have learned, Bonnie; I have learned to make my own decisions, with my own observations," Beau replied.
"You are making a mistake," Bonnie insisted, the anger still there. Beau had no trouble matching it.
"I'm not. The Cullens have done nothing to earn your prejudice, Bonnie. Either then or now," he countered. Bonnie looked slightly shocked; she had never asked the details of how much Julie had told him about the legends, but seemed to understand the depth of his awareness. Beau knew about the treaty, and he knew that treaty had been put in place when the Cullens had been hunting. It was a gesture of peace offered by Carine nearly a hundred years ago, one she and the rest of her family had honored.
"Their very existence is unnatural; do you realize how close you were to dying tonight?" Bonnie countered. Beau snorted, no humor in the sound.
"You have no idea what happened tonight, Bonnie. I am in no more danger with the Cullens than I am with you. They're people, Bonnie, and they are hurting. So I think it would be best if you left." Bonnie's eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared at the insinuation; Beau had lost his mind, as far as she was concerned. But she wasn't giving up.
"They're monsters, Beau, they don't care about you. They never did," she growled.
"They've shown me that they are more human than most people," Beau returned, his tone not angry or uncontrolled, but firm, as solid as a sharp blade.
"You're lying to yourself," Bonnie spat, "You stay with her the same reason others would, because of her freakish beauty and her money; it's all she or they can offer you."
Something snapped inside Beau at that moment and, for a moment, he thought he saw red ring his vision. He felt the small trills of Jessamine's influence trying to calm him, but he ignored it easily. When he spoke again, his words were low, calm, but dangerous; it was the voice of someone who was angered past anger.
"I love her, Bonnie. I love her and I love them. Not because they're beautiful or because they're rich!" Beau spat the word at her, and Bonnie recoiled slightly, her eyes wide as she took in the expression on Beau's face. "I'd rather they were neither one. Because even if they had none of that, they would still be some of the most loving and unselfish and brilliant and decent people I've ever met. How hard is that to understand?"
"It's impossible to understand," Julie murmured. Beau turned his eyes on her; he knew if they could, the blue would have been replaced by black. Or red.
"You wouldn't have said that a few months ago," he retorted. Julie did not meet his gaze, not wanting to see the anger at her in his face. "You didn't mind the Cullens when I first met you; you thought of them no differently. I can see that's changed."
Julie looked up at his face for a second, the hair on her neck bristling at the insinuation.
"I got smart," she responded coolly; none of them needed to directly speak out the obvious truth in front of them. Carine and Edythe had told Beau long ago about the werewolves the Quileutes could become, believing the line had died out. But Beau could see it; the change in Julie was undeniable, and definitely not something that could be written off as a growth spurt. He could sense it, the supernatural alteration, and he knew that Carine and Edythe had been wrong; the Quileute wolves still lived, and one of them was standing right in front of him. But that didn't change anything for him; he still saw only Julie Black in front of him, not an untamed, wild-eyed half-canine beast. Just as he didn't see the same of the Cullens. But he could see the damage beyond the physical; he could see how, when Julie had changed, her mind had accepted all parts of the legends, without hesitation. It saddened him, but her words angered him more.
"I preferred the girl that didn't allow such groundless, shallow, unenlightened views obscure her view," he replied icily. Julie's eyes widened in shock, not expecting such callous, unkind words from the sweet boy she'd had a crush on. Her jaw nearly unhinged but he had turned away.
"I am never going to be able to convince you, Bonnie. But that's not my problem. And I am not going to allow this anymore. I am not going to allow your twisted, prejudiced views cause my family any more distress. So please listen when I ask you to leave, and back the hell off."
Bonnie did not say anything, seemed equally stunned into stillness. After a long moment though, she turned her wheelchair toward the door. Julie did not follow her, her eyes still on Beau. His expression was hard, unrepentant.
"Beau," she murmured; she didn't know how convey what she felt, the hurt. He met her gaze and his expression relaxed; it was not a softening, but rather a hard acceptance.
"I tried, Jules," he told her, "But you made your choice, and I made mine. That choice will never change. For either of us." Julie broke the eye contact, her face turning down. She glanced at him one more time before following her mother out the door. Beau took a deep breath, his hands uncurling from the fists he had made, and moved back toward the Cullens. The vampires were gaping at him, their eyes wide with surprise and another deeper, more tender emotion. Jessamine recovered first, washing Beau over with relaxed calm as he sat besides Carine.
"You didn't have to do that, Beau," she told him, her voice offhand, still shocked by the conversation she had just heard. But Beau looked up to the matriarch's face, meeting the honey eyes.
"Yes, I did," he said firmly. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true."
None of the Cullens responded, but Archie clapped him on the back lightly and Carine snaked her free arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a tight embrace for a moment. He let her, a small smile on his face. The vampires did not really know how to respond; the anger had been obvious in Beau's tone. He believed every word he said; they were his family and he did love them. It gave them more peace than he probably realized.
Edythe was out of surgery only an hour later; Carine and Earnest were given the good news together by a very tired looking Dr. Vernetti.
"She is on a ventilator, and heavily sedated," he warned again. "I'm keeping her under a lot of analgesics to keep her comfortable so her body can heal enough to breathe under her own control." He turned to Carine specifically. "I know it is ill-advised for a physician to treat their own family, but I am more than willing to have you as a consult for all the decisions I need to make during her case. I doubt anyone will contradict."
Carine smiled and agreed, thanking Paul once more. She was intensely relieved it had been him who had taken Edythe from her in the ER; his kind, genuine nature was deeply comforting, and allowed him to be open-minded and aware of how much Carine wanted to be involved. The Cullens and Beau moved automatically toward the recovery unit; Charlie abstained, knowing Beau would be fine with the Cullens so he could return to work.
Dr. Vernetti ushered them to the private room at the end of the hallway, gesturing silently, with a small but sad smile. Carine had an idea of what she would expect, but she knew her family would probably not. As they all stepped into the room, Dr. Vernetti closed the door, leaving just a small sliver of light coming from the brightly lit hallway. As the Cullens laid eyes on Edythe, Carine could hear their sharp intakes of breath.
Edythe's hospital bed was raised only a few degrees, not wanting to have too much bend in her spine. She lay on her back, covered from her waist down in one of the many blankets the hospital provided. Her top half was predominantly bare, only her chest covered in a thin fabric, the rest of her skin bare as it brandished the graveness of her injuries. There was a long white bandage on her left side just beneath her brassiere, a similar one down by her left hip, a product of the doctors' work to fix her perforated lung and alleviate the internal bleeding. Carine knew they covered the sutured up incisions from the emergency surgery.
Edythe's right shoulder was covered in similar tape, as well as small bandages closing the lacerations that covered her from forearm to bicep, no doubt from the shattered windshield. There was an IV in her left arm, the one the EMTs had set up in the ambulance, and it pumped colorless fluid into her veins quietly. Her finger had a pulse oximeter, the EKG nodes taped to her chest and sides, all of her vitals being recorded and displayed on the large monitor next to the bed.
Edythe's face had cuts similar to her arms, though thankfully not as deep. Her hair had been washed and was tied up for her, but her lips and cheeks were swollen around the clear plastic tube that was protruding from her mouth, a piece of plastic wrapped behind her neck to secure it in place. The tracheal tube was attached to a set of hoses, crossing Edythe's body to a machine besides the bed; the metal whistles of the contraption sounded every few seconds as it worked to breathe for her.
It was an unsettling sight, Carine knew, as she had seen many family members react to it numerous times over the decades. And nothing she could have said could have prepared for her family to see Edythe like this. Even she, a doctor who had treated and nursed thousands of people in the past century alone, had a hard time swallowing the scene before her, of her youngest daughter in such a state.
Carine stepped forward, knowing none of them would dare to, for fear of interrupting the monitors. The matriarch said gingerly on Edythe's left side, her hand reaching out to brush her fingers along Edythe's skin. She could feel how weak it was, and it saddened her. But she was thankful, because she knew Edythe had survived, she had fought. All she needed was time to recover, and Carine would give it to her.
"Her scent," Earnest murmured, his voice strangled. Carine looked over and lifted her free hand to him; he stepped to her side cautiously, as if being within a two foot radius of Edythe would sound the monitors.
"They gave her blood transfusions and a lot of medication," Carine explained calmly. "She will smell normal in a few hours." She could smell the familiar O-negative flowing through Edythe's bloodstream, intermixed with Edythe's unique smell, the scent of many strangers that had donated the life source to give Edythe a fighting chance. She could also smell the typical drugs she expected, thankful the higher labels were being used for pain management.
"She looks…she looks so bad," Eleanor whispered, at a loss of what to say. Carine encouraged her to step forward, leaning out of the way as Eleanor came closer.
"You can touch her; it's all right," she told them. "Just be careful to not disturb the wires. Modulate the pressure in your fingers." Eleanor was cautious, overly cautious as she reached out to brush her thumb gently over Edythe's elbow, finding a small portion of undamaged skin, before stepping away. Beau stepped forward, and Archie pushed one of the hospital chairs over to allow him to sit. Beau sunk into it beside where Carine sat on the edge of the bed, Earnest behind her. Beau just gazed at Edythe, his face and eyes blank, but also full to the brim with emotions he could not convey.
None of the rest of the Cullens moved toward Edythe's bedside, too shocked by the sight to get any semblance of control. None of them, save for Carine, had ever seen Edythe vulnerable; only her creator had seen her sick, dying from the influenza in the hospital in Chicago, so many years ago. But, even then, Carine recalled her being conscious, though so, so sick. Now, though she could hear Edythe's heartbeat, it almost felt worse than. The first time, she had only begun to develop affection for the young girl who had lost both her birth parents to the epidemic. Now, Carine wasn't just watching a human suffer; she was watching her youngest child, her little girl, fight for her life. And, despite her familiarity and her logical mind trying to assure her that Edythe was past the worst of it, her chest was tight, pained.
The stillness was broken as Royal strode from the room silently; Jessamine looked after him, feeling the mixed feelings swirling about him. Eleanor watched his departure, glancing for a moment toward Edythe's face before following him. It was past the middle of the night now, and Royal was running before he had hit the treeline besides the hospital. He heard Eleanor behind him, but he kept going, pushing his legs farther and farther away from the room where Edythe lay.
His mind was swimming, trying to absorb all the details of the past few hours, while still struggling to accept the changes of the past few months.
Royal had at first been enraged at Edythe's change, jealous and envious beyond all imagination. He never could have imagined such a situation being possible, that reversed humanity was ever achievable. If he had, he would have sought it out decades ago. But, as he had processed the information, he still found it difficult to accept, especially in Edythe of all people. She and he had never been the closest, though his wife had always been very close with their former telepathic sister. Royal and Edythe had very fiery, opinionated personalities that often butted heads; he often wondered how much of that was influence was due in part to Edythe's extra ability, though, of course, he had never brought it up.
But besides their frequent and colorful spats, he still thought of her as his sister, and did not relish watching her struggle in the early weeks. Though he never made an effort to try to talk to her—having no idea what he could say—he was unsettled by her nightmares, hearing her scream in terror, and seeing her so unsure. It was not something he, or any of them, had ever seen in Edythe before. But she got better, she got a handle on it and the rest of the family had fallen into step with their new normal. He couldn't though; he never targeted her, but never sought her out either. He preferred to stay away, because looking at her just further showed what he had lost, what he thought he could never have.
She knew her transformation had been the point of a sadistic attempt at retribution against Carine, but he failed to see how such an act would cause such distortion. Of course, Royal knew as well as the rest of them the supposed consequences of Edric's gift, but Edythe's change had hardly been tragic in the supernatural sense. She seemed to have slid by without consequence, an idea that unnerved Royal to no end, mostly because it just didn't make logical sense. He had written it off that most vampires, save the Cullens, despised humanity and would never wanted to 'downgrade' like that. His family was the one exception to that rule, probably much to Edric's and Allison's dismay.
As the weeks had gone on, Royal had been working himself up to try to make amends; not to apologize necessarily, as he didn't feel sorry for his behavior, but more to move past it. Edythe had never commented about his absence, though Archie did tell him she didn't blame Royal for it, and understood how this could upset him. And he knew he was the cause of the tension and turmoil in his family; living with it all the time was unpleasant, and he wanted to make amends, with some limitations, of course.
He had almost made his decision when the accident had occurred, and he thought Edythe was dead. In that mere hour, a guilt unlike anything else he had ever known, was coursing through him without a break. Even now, he knew Edythe could take a turn for the worst, and never wake up, and he would never get the chance to talk to her again. He was on the same level of worry and panic as the rest of the family, unable to imagine the little vampire that had more than once come close to ripping his head off, reduced to the fragile, barely there state as what he saw when he walked into that hospital room. In that moment, as he ran from the room, the scene remained in front of his eyelids, but instead of Edythe, for a moment there was a vaguely familiar face, with blond hair and brown eyes, so similar to his own.
Rosemarie and Rachelle were a few years younger than Royal, but he had always been close with them. With his father always working at the bank, he had taken on the role of the man of the house, and he helped his mother care for his sisters. They, like the rest of his family, never knew what became of him; he watched them from afar for a few years, making sure they continued on and were happy. Rosemarie married a soldier in the War and became a widow, spending the rest of her days as a seamstress, while Rachelle, the elder daughter, went on to marry rich, to carry on the Hale name until it died with her children some twenty odd years ago. Royal missed them terribly, though the ache had dulled as the decades wore on; his attachment to his human life had allowed him to remember them, and they were a large part of the reason he longed for a human life so badly.
For some reason, seeing Edythe like that brought back the memory of his sisters in full force, superimposing them on her face. As if to remind him that his vampire life had become closer to his human life. He had a little sister, one that needed protecting. She had been left unprotected and had nearly died because of it; in return for her life, she would have fight to get any semblance of normalcy back.
The desire to protect, a long buried sibling urge that he thought had died with him reawakened. It wasn't the same as wanting to defend Eleanor, or his family as a whole. It was directly connected to Edythe, to her humanity. He didn't completely understand it, as Edythe had an entire coven of vampires to protect her, but he didn't fight it. He felt the urge, the desire, to hunt, to track, to tear apart the creature that had hurt Edythe. In this feeling, he could feel that, through this sudden, unexpected change in psyche, he would be settling his inconspicuous, in-distinguished thoughts about his and Edythe's relationship, that this would be how he assumed his part, how he would make it up to her for, how he would establish his new role in the family, as the rest of the Cullens had.
Royal slowed, allowing the two pairs of feet to catch up to him. Eleanor and Jessamine slowed as he did, coming to stop a few steps away from him. He turned back to look at them; Eleanor was wary but forlorn. She had been the one to try to help Royal move through these mixed emotions and feelings; thought not having much luck, her presence seemed to help him, so she provided that, anything she could to aid in his progress. Jessamine had followed to help calm Royal down, but as she approached him, she had felt his emotions change through his mental internal monologue, the anxiety and guilt and fear replaced with resolution, and a deep fierce protective edge. He met their gazes.
"We're going after him," Jessamine said quietly, looking only at Royal. The blonde vampire nodded once; Eleanor looked between them, taking only half a second to catch up. Then she grinned; not joyous or playful, this terrifying expression fit that of a vampire. She shifted into a crouch, mirroring her husband and sister, and the three of them started off, their path heading for the scene of the accident. As they ran, Eleanor's phone buzzed. She answered on the first ring, greeting Archie.
"I will let you know if there's any changes," he said shortly. "Be careful."
A/N: I don't usually like to put these at the end of a chapter but I felt it needed to be said.
I never swallowed Beau/Bella being that oblivious to the whole werewolf thing, which is why I changed it. Also, if you couldn't tell, I'm not a huge fan of the love triangle as a whole. This is the one and only time the Quileutes make an appearance in this story, merely to answer the unspoken questions and put that small part of the story to rest. It may have seemed outlandish in your eyes, but Beau has shown he is fiercely protective of Edythe and that overcomes his passive shyness, so I felt like it wasn't too out of character. I liked being able to use that quote from Eclipse; I always really liked it (did you notice it?)
Also, Midnight Sun gave me a lot of sunlight into Rosalie/Royal's character; I don't think (or at least I don't like to think) a person could be so vain their entire life to act the way the limited amount of material we had on Rosalie. So I am taking a different approach; I hope that's alright with you. Rose/Royal really aren't as shallow as she/he lets on in Twilight through Eclipse (BD I'm not considering), so I feel like Royal would come around, but having a little incentive would help.
Anyway, I think you know where Eleanor, Royal, and Jessamine are going ;) Would you like a separate chapter where that whole scenario plays out, or a more shortened version from a secondary standpoint? This story is far from over; there are dozens of more chapters to come, so it is up to you guys! Please let me know what you thought!