PART Three: Alliance
His Choice
Wednesday, December 8, 2004
Edward Cullen collapsed to the ground, falling to his hands and knees. But to simply stay down would not do, so he crawled slowly to the trunk of the tree and leaned against it. The rough, weathered bark helped to keep him here, along with the constant burn in his throat. It was as if he were back in that Chicago hospital, drifting in and out of consciousness. He laughed wryly at such a very human feeling, coming to him now of all times.
In the distance he could see two young men pushing their canoe into the water, cheering when they hopped in seconds before it floated too far away from the shore. He watched idly as the pair paddled away, the way the last bit of sunset glittered on the lake. He thought of the river in Forks, the one stretching behind their home. He'd never fully appreciated its beauty when he was there, but now that he could not return, it all felt like a dream.
CRASH!
A jagged split ran across the trunk of the tree as if it had been chopped with a somewhat blunt ax. The top of the tree tilted over for a fraction of a second before finally giving in to gravity and breaking off with another thunderous crash.
Above Edward stood Emmett, grinning like a madman and taking an exaggerated breath of air (as if he needed it, an odd habit he never fully abandoned). "Hey, brother."
Edward could hear a few stray visitors by the lake asking each other about the noise.
A second later, Jasper joined them. "I said to tag the tree, not destroy it."
"Potato, po-tah-to," Emmett said, climbing on top of the tree stump he created. He laid a fist over his heart with mock seriousness, as if giving an impassioned speech. "If a tree falls in a forest, and no one's there to hear it, does it really make a sound?"
"Someone's there alright," Edward muttered, gesturing to the people in the distance. Though the day was coming to an end, three canoes were still out on the lake. A few stragglers were still sitting on the other side, too. They were in a more populous area of the Adirondacks, which drew out campers and hikers, even on a cool day like today. "I don't think we're allowed to go around chopping trees in this area," he added. Though he didn't really care one way or another, Emmett's antics anchored him to the present.
"'Spose it wouldn't have mattered if we didn't have to follow you," Jasper stated, but Edward could hear the concerned tenor of his thoughts. At least that sense hadn't been stolen from him.
"I didn't ask you to," Edward told them. "I needed to hunt."
Yes, he needed to hunt. But since the conversation he'd had with Echo and Carlisle that morning, he had yet to do so.
"All the way out here?" Jasper wondered. Upon seeing the harsh glare Edward gave him, the blond vampire casually threw up his hands. His mind was on Esme who had stayed home all day waiting for Edward to return, and Carlisle, who'd told him the details of his meeting with Echo. "Hey, you left without explanation. We were worried."
Edward sighed in defeat, feeling rude. "Thanks, Jazz."
Emmett hopped down from his trunk and began to bury a small dead animal. Edward hadn't noticed his brother had been feeding on a squirrel. To most of the family, they weren't particularly appetizing and provided too little sustenance to be worthy of hunting. Still, Emmett, who would sink his fangs into nearly anything, liked the novelty of them. Once, during a school fire drill, Edward had to stop him from snatching one off of a tree and challenging himself to drink it in under a second.
"So is it true?" Emmett wondered. "Can you really not smell a thing?"
"I can smell," he snapped, not able to hold back his irritation. "But it's human blood that eludes me...it has hardly any appeal. The burn in my throat remains, but when I pass them, it's about as distinct as white cedar and about as appetizing, too."
How could he have not noticed? That little by little, he'd been losing one of the most integral aspects of being a vampire. Then again, ever since the move, he'd spent most of his days holed up at their Ithaca residence, writing compositions that would never see the light of day or worrying about Leah. If he had taken one second to look outward instead of pitying himself, he might have realized this sooner.
"But with animals...it's still there, right?" Jasper asked, deep in contemplation.
"Yes, and I do enjoy the kill once I've tasted it. But some of those animals, especially the carnivores, are similar in scent to humans. I feel that's faded, somehow..." It could be paranoia, but he wasn't one to go into hysterics.
"Edward, we did not rob you of your senses. We minimized your craving for human blood."
How much of that should he believe? After what she'd done to him…
But she couldn't tell a lie. Nearly physically impossible. Could that in itself be a lie?
Frustrated, Edward turned to the stump he was leaning on and punched a hole through it, muttering a swear under his breath.
Both Emmett and Jasper were watching him curiously.
"All this time, I've been their science project, and I didn't even notice what they've done to me…" He wasn't sure where he was going with that. For once, he wished he could be like Jazz, have his powers go both ways so they could see what he was thinking and he wouldn't have to put it into words. "It's not what they did, really, It's how they did it - no questions asked. It disturbs me."
Jasper nodded. He was a soldier through and through, and his skeptical nature often led him to side with Edward's pessimistic view of things. But still, he wondered. 'Not sure I'd look a gift horse in the mouth, like that. If I could have it easier…' His thoughts turned to Alice, how she wouldn't have to fret over him anymore, how she would relax instead of checking his future for mistakes. They'd all stop hovering over him, holding their breath when any human was too close.
Edward decided not to comment on Jasper's shifting feelings about the matter. He had his own past struggles with bloodlust, but nowhere near to Jasper's, who had the misfortune of spending his early newborn years raised on human blood and taught to kill without remorse.
"Look, kid," Emmett told him. "You can still hear, you can still see, you can even freakin' read minds. You'll get on just fine. Let's hunt and head back home."
"Go without me," Edward said, firmly. He felt weak, emotionally and mentally. But a new sense of clarity was coming to him as he remembered his purpose. "I need to get to Leah."
'This again?' Jasper thought. 'A one-track mind. We've got more pressing issues.'
'He's got it bad for that human girl!' mused Emmett, half-exasperated.
Edward rose to his feet. "She's a victim in all this too, remember? Those fairies meant to use her as a bargaining chip. They tried to push us together as if it were a gift! Who knows if she's safe?"
Instantly, a wave of calm washed over Edward. Jasper eyed him warily. "We understand that you want to ensure her safety. But let's process what we've learned before making our next move. We were banned from Forks. We won't want to start a war without knowing all the facts."
Emmett flanked Jasper, his mind decided. The temptation for a little excitement was still there, but he knew it was a bad idea for Edward to jump headfirst into trouble. "You've gotta come with us."
Edward brushed past them and walked towards the parking lot he left his car in. To them, he was creating more complications for their family than necessary. If Leah was harmed by their choices, it was merely a negligible casualty. They wouldn't see her for what she was - his friend, even if for a brief time. After the way they parted last year, when he lost her trust, he needed to help her, to guard her, at the very least.
After a moment, Jasper mollified, "Do what you think is best. Just check-in with us."
But Emmett was getting frustrated and considering knocking out another tree. "If this is all fake, you could be walking right into a trap, and we'll all end up in it, too. How can you help Leah, then? But if this Echo chick is even telling the truth about this spell, don't you want Carlisle to test it out? He knows way more than you do."
"Right into a trap…"
"He knows more than you…"
Edward stopped. Emmett's frank approach was often his strength. He spun things around in a way Edward wouldn't consider, too blinded by his goal.
No. He wouldn't be a fool about this, leaving his family out as he had made the mistake of doing in the past. He wasn't strong enough on his own to make it through this. He felt at a loss. Even after all his time, over a century on Earth, he still acted like a teenage boy, trying to play the hero when he was nowhere near strong or smart enough to do so.
Slowly, he turned on his heel. He could hear both Jasper and Emmett mentally sigh in relief.
Emmett slung an arm over his shoulders and the three vampires headed home.
Monday, December 20, 2004As soon as her head hit the pillow, Leah Clearwater fell asleep and stayed asleep, the weight of her sorrow pulling her quickly under. For the rest of the night, both the light of the moon and the watchful eye of her vampire shone on her. At dawn, he climbed out of her window and scurried across the vast expanse of woods, wishing to undo what he'd done.
Sure it was quiet now, but any moment he might hear the howl of a wolf coming after him. He'd been so lost in getting back, getting to her, playing the hero, that he had failed to account for the faint yet revolting odor that hung in the air, characteristic of the Quileute wolves. The signal of what was to come should he not be so lucky. However, he mustered the optimism to hope that his scent was not so distinct to them that they would suspect him to be part of the banished coven.
A few minutes later, he sat on his old black leather sofa, staring at the empty shelves lining the walls. Hardly anything was different, except for the absence of his music collection and his clothes. He didn't have many belongings. The few keepsakes he collected over the years could fit into a small safe.
It was unusual to find silence in his own home. He hadn't experienced this level of solitude since he abandoned Carlisle and Esme to experiment with a more natural diet. Just as he did nearly eighty years ago, he attempted to assure himself that he was doing the right thing.
He had a lot to think about but he wouldn't change his mind. Despite the promise he made himself only days ago, he was certain of a few things: Leah could not be harmed. His family could not be harmed. And he was alone in achieving this.
If only he could be certain how it would all turn out.
His phone rang.
"Hello?" he answered.
"No, I can't see," said Alice. His sister was one step ahead of him as always.
His heart sank. "Maybe if I got Leah away from the shapeshifters, do you think you will see her future then?"
Alice considered it. "It's possible but unlikely. I never saw Echo coming. What if I can't see fairies, either? Have they really gotten to her, Edward?" Her high voice sounded pained. She was referring to the clipped text messages he'd left them earlier, preferring to focus on his plans. In retrospect, he felt a bit guilty. After all, Alice cared about her too, and they were all worried about him returning, too.
"As far as I can tell, she seems very much the same. She's more durable, there's that," he said, recalling the horrifying moment she'd struck him and how he'd feared the injury that never followed. "She has these powers, that woman, Ella, gave her… Apparently, there's something special about her, because no other human could handle them."
Even as he explained to Alice what he gleaned from Leah, his mind was trying to solve the oddity of the fairies, of Leah's transformation. A few pieces of the puzzle were missing, and only then would he see the picture.
On the other line, Alice was considering this revelation. "Didn't they say there were plenty of human-fairy hybrids? I suppose it's not quite the same thing, is it, if it's in their bloodline? Oh, hold on, Carlisle wants to talk to you."
Carlisle asked him, "Are you safe?" Having his first son and companion throw himself in the face of danger heightened the doctor's already astounding level of fatherly concern.
Despite the lack of accusation in Carlisle's tone, Edward felt ashamed as he answered, "Yes, for now."
The past week had been spent with Carlisle watching Edward like a hawk while he researched extensively on fairy magic. The poor doctor nearly exhausted his usually reliable resources and only managed to find similar histories and accounts to what Echo had given them. All the while, the fairy in question once again seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth.
And Edward didn't feed once.
Carlisle had tested Edward with blood bags from the hospital, trying to gauge his thirst for it. All the while, Edward abstained from drinking blood. As Carlisle would open blood varying distances from him, each day Edward grew weaker, and the challenge harder. Despite the lack of bloodlust, his throat was in absolute torment and the effects of starvation had drained him of his wits and strength.
But he managed to resist it time and time again.
They didn't have all the facts, but now they were sure that Echo was telling the truth. The fairies were a force to be reckoned with.
What Carlisle hadn't approved of, was Edward leaving yesterday, with a mission to violate their agreement with the Quileute tribe. But now, all the older vampire told him, "Thank God. We were all so worried."
"I hope you understand why I had to do this, Carlisle."
"I know. You needed to be sure. And I know there was little chance of us stopping you from seeing her. How is she?"
Edward recounted the details he'd gleaned from Leah last night - from Ella's 'fairy-godmother' wish-granting to their current argument. "Carlisle, she expects us to cooperate with these witches. In exchange for them convincing the Quileutes to allow us back."
"That's a lot to take on. Even Jasper had no idea about them. We'd be putting ourselves at risk."
"Yes. I'll protect her myself if I have to. But I can't ask that of you."
Carlisle paused. "Well, I never said we were going to reject the offer."
He couldn't believe it. "What?"
"Leah's idea sounds like a fine one to me. Esme and Alice agree."
That sketchy plan? "You're telling me you think we should ally ourselves with a people that have shown themselves to be untrustworthy twice in exchange for them requesting the Quileutes allow us back?"
"Son, I don't think they made the best decisions, but my concern for their plans with Leah now outweigh my reservations. It sounds like the Quileutes aren't well-informed, either. Someone has to look out for the human girl. She has my trust."
"And mine!" piped up Alice, in the background.
"Mine as well," confirmed Esme.
"Is everything there listening?" asked Edward. He felt tense, knowing that he was dragging more drama into their lives. He wondered if he should have abandoned them, instead, no matter how much it hurt them.
"I can't believe you got there so fast! That girl has you whipped!" exclaimed Emmett.
"Thank you for that contribution, Emmett," Edward snarked.
"Remember the rules," Esme gently corrected. "Only worthwhile contributions during family meetings."
Edward tensed, fearing that he would be strong-armed into a decision he did not feel to be the right one.
As if sensing his indecision, Carlisle told him firmly, "Edward, it'll be up to you and Leah. I won't decide for you. But if you need us, we'll come back instantly." As if it were all that simple.
His father continued to speak, but only a part of Edward was listening.
When he hung up, he unpacked the trunk of his car sitting in the garage. The few clothes he brought had been shoved haphazardly into a suitcase. He'd have to go into town to buy a few things soon (though likely outside of Forks where he'd be the target of suspicion and speculation after the sudden departure of his family last year).
His errands could wait while he deliberated over his exchange with his family and Leah's request.
Somewhere deep down besides his irritation with them all, was a gnawing sense of responsibility. He attracted the fairies' notice...that day in the bookstore. It was his loneliness and emptiness that had stirred pity in Ella's heart. That made her curious about him...about Leah. The fairies must have been watching both of them very closely, for who knows how long.
But to what end? No one would give so freely (and that's what they felt their interference to be - generosity). There was something sinister about their selections - robbing a vampire of his bloodlust so he could pursue love. Giving supernatural powers to the sole person connected to both the Quileute wolves and the Olympic coven to help her forget her pain.
What was the catch?
At least amongst the ruckus, he could take pleasure in the simple things. Edward ran a hand over the hood of his new car, a Volvo S60R. Somewhere around Indiana yesterday, he'd grown resentful of the roundabout paths he'd had to take to get back to the reservation in order to not be seen running, briefly regretted not taking a flight, then finally caved and bought the long-coveted vehicle. He'd calculated that he saved himself about three hours altogether, and that was enough to convince him it was a worthy investment.
Though it was not totally necessary, especially in such a new model, Edward set about giving the Volvo a proper inspection. That's what he told himself, but he spent the next hour in great fascination, messing around like a child with his Christmas present. He was no great mechanic like his sister, Rosalie, but after all, he was the one that taught her the basics.
When he grabbed a rag to clean the oil off his hands, he sensed a presence. Chagrined that he had been so wrapped up in his abstraction he hadn't suspected any interloper, he faced her with a practiced mask of calm.
Leah laughed lightly. "Hey, thanks for not hitting me," she said by way of an apology.
Edward grimaced in distaste, preferring not to be reminded of their frightful morning, especially when she'd sent his dead heart racing in fear.
She strutted about the garage, very gracefully, in her hoodie and yoga pants ensemble. He thought she looked very well-rested, though she couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours, and he recalled a human needed more than that.
He should've been happy, or at the very least relieved, that her steady pulse was not accompanied by the sweet perfume of her blood calling his name. But as the phantom thirst stung his throat, he felt a sudden weight on him. He wouldn't have even have known her, may have even murdered her, if it weren't for Ella's spell. How much of this friendship was built upon something that never should have happened?
"I'd ask if you need any help here, but the car looks great. What'd you do to it?" Leah asked, pulling the vampire back to the present.
Edward scoffed. Were they looking at the same vehicle? "It's new."
Leah scrunched up her nose, her mind shuffling through memories. "Is it?"
"It's a completely different model!"
She held her hands up and raised her eyebrows. "Easy there, red."
Edward sensed her next move, so he headed to the door, but Leah blocked his path.
"So. Have you thought about it?" she asked, suddenly all business.
She was referring to the monstrous task that awaited him. To answer the fairies. Leah was so sure about it. Carlisle, Alice, and possibly the others would be soon. Which left Edward alone as the last sane person he knew.
He muttered, "I'm trying not to think of it."
"I know I'm asking a lot of you, of all of you, but I don't ask it lightly. You have to understand why, Edward." Leah shifted, not even trying to sweeten the sour glare she shot at him.
"I'm not sure I ever will," he told her bluntly.
'Hey, I should be upset with you if anything! You crept up on me last night,' she inwardly seethed.
Edward was surprised at the bit of venom in her tone. There was some anger under her teasing manner, which sparked his own vexation. It might not have been fair, since she hadn't directed that thought at him intentionally, but it frustrated him that she seemed to find another reason to fault him. "I needed to make sure you were okay. And clearly I was right to, because you aren't."
Leah's dark eyes flashed. "No?"
"Leah, look how protective you are of these creatures, these strangers. You let them manipulate you while you were in a vulnerable state. You're their victim."
"Excuse me, I think I can make that assessment on my own. I don't need you creeping into my house and getting all sulky with me. If we're going to be friends, you have to trust me and respect my choices," Leah barked.
Shaking his head, Edward slid past her and headed into the house.
A now seething Leah followed him, saying, "What? Is that so much to ask?"
"Yes, it is, Leah. You don't make smart decisions."
"So I'm such a dumbass you should have free reign over my life, huh?"
"I was protecting you!" he hissed.
Leah faltered. She recalled Sam Uley telling her those same words. Sam Uley - the boy that lied and cheated without a care, leaving destruction in his wake. The very thought of the shapeshifter pricked at her heart. All of the grief and torment had been sealed in a vault inside her, but that simple phrase had cracked the door open.
Edward cursed, hating that he was causing her pain. That he was an irritant rather than a salve to her injured feelings.
Why did he always meet her in the cracks and slips of her life? Why could he only be with her when she was suffering? He longed to see her smiling and teasing as she did before.
Once she recovered from the embarrassment of having Edward see her relive her turmoil, she spoke again. A strange look crossed her face, and her mind was all over the place. "Do you think I don't worry about you? That I haven't been on edge since last December, when you and your family were forced to leave? That your safety and happiness isn't my concern? 'Cause that's all true. But under all that, I have faith in you. To be brave and to be smart. That faith is a lot stronger and it tells me you're going to be okay, with or without me. And I wish you had that same faith in me."
Edward started to protest but she held up a hand.
"Stop, please," she continued. "I don't want you to say something you don't mean. Or think will make me feel better. I know things are beyond complicated and I know we're both just trying to handle it the best we can, but with this hailstorm of utter crap swirling around us, I could really use a friend. A real one."
Since when did protecting others become an imposition, a sign of disrespect? He was a loyal protector for his family and that was never a fault. For nearly a century, he'd looked out for the coven, through his telepathy, especially. Careful to steer them away from humans on hunting trips, sensing when neighbors became too suspicious. And that was not counting the times they encountered dangerous vampires with designs of their own.
That was what was needed of him. A companion and a guard to all who needed him. It suited him better than moping around, at least.
Yet the person Leah wanted him to be, needed him to be, acknowledged her independence of mind and spirit. It was not in her nature to cower behind another, but to fight for herself and those she loved. If he wanted any scrap of her friendship, it would not do to act as her lord and master. Honestly, such behavior was bordering on boorish, no matter the intentions.
Did he not trust his mother or sisters to keep themselves safe? Then why not the woman before him, who had faced unpredictable werewolves, thirsty vampires, and plotting fairies? Who made a choice - a frightening, ill-planned one, but a choice all the same - and was willing to move forward with the consequences, while he shook in his boots, not half as daring.
He could never be her hero, but he refused to be her villain. Locking her in a tower, barring her windows, jailing her under a guise of guardianship. Even if she was too human for her own good and so predisposed to obstinacy it made him want to tear his hair out.
He could help her live to see another day, yes. But would she be happy? Would she thank him for it? If the roles were reversed, would he thank her for it?
Did she thank him when he hid the truth about Sam?
Beside him, Leah sniffed. Several minutes had passed in silence. School and trivial matters now flitted through her head.
"Stay," he told her.
"Are you asking me or telling me?" she griped.
"Asking." He turned to face her. "Leah, there are few people in this world I care for, and you are one of them. I was trying to protect everyone, especially you."
Leah rubbed her temples and sat on the kitchen countertop, due to the lack of chairs in the room. "I get that. There are people I need to protect, too."
"It's hard for me. One minute I'm fighting to keep you safe from myself. And ironically when I became less of a threat, I returned to find you've still got a target on your back." He shook his head. "The world is really an awful place to live in. Especially for a human."
"It is," she relented.
"I'm sorry," he said, surprised that he meant it, too.
She thought briefly, 'I'm sorry, too'. But all she told him was, "I really am glad you're here. Believe me when I say you couldn't have come at a better time."
'Don't make me your enemy', her eyes pleaded with him.
"I'm not sure what will happen. Not even today," she said. "But I think we're going to be just fine. We don't really have a choice." Leah placed her hand over his where it rested on the counter.
It was the lightest of touches, so chaste. Unusual but not new for them - he had touched her skin a few times, but those were incidental and purposeful. This time, it sent a jolt of electricity up his arm, nothing like he'd experienced before.
Leah squeezed his hand to signal she wanted a verbal response.
"I suppose we've come to an understanding, then," he said, trying not to revel too much in the warmth of her skin.
She smiled so brightly he found himself doing so as well, her bit of hope now reflected in him.
Outside, a hailstorm beat roughly against the house.