Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 2 : Oh, Those Cullens
BPOV
Ah, Sunday, and a mild hangover. Which means they are definitely easing me in gently at the hospital. But at least I have had the chance to sort my room out, clean the house and get some washing done. Actually, quite a lot of washing as it seems like Charlie's been saving his since I announced I was coming home three months ago. How many uniforms does that man have?
I also got a chance to chat with mom and exchange some absolute nonsense with Clarence on Facetime.
Charlie and I are now staring at the TV and nursing our extended bellies, neither of us cooked, we went to the Diner.
"Dad?"
"Hmm?"
"What do you know about the Cullens?"
My question seems to perk him up slightly, as he straightens himself in his recliner.
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, anything you can tell me really."
"How many of them have you met?"
"How many are there? Just Dr Cullen and his son, Edward."
The family moved here about a year ago when Carlisle took a job at the hospital. His wife, Esme, is an interior designer although nobody around here can afford her services. They built their own, modern, house on a massive plot well outside the town boundaries. Rumour has it that it is state of the art, environmentally friendly and carbon neutral. Charlie's been once but can only describe it as a bit clinical and too terrifyingly chic to feel comfortable in. Carlisle and Esme are quite young but have five adopted teenagers. Three who graduated together, Rosalie, Jasper and Emmett. And two graduating this year, Edward and Alice.
Rosalie and Jasper are twins apparently. Rosalie and Emmett are dating, according to gossip, and so are Alice and Jasper. He is not sure what Alice is to Edward but apparently, they are 'joined at the hip'.
Charlie understands that they are all, apart from the parents, quite aloof but otherwise uninteresting. Scuttlebutt is that there is more to their adoptions than mere altruism since they all share the same golden eyes and are all insanely gorgeous.
They are welcomed, rather than popular, in the town since they spend generously and are unfailingly polite and kind. And, no, Charlie is not aware of any incident or story that separates Edward out as being in way special or difficult.
But yes, the Quileutes do seem to have problem with them which Charlie suspects has something to with land ownership, since he can think of no other cause.
…..
"Bella! I hear you delivered a beautiful baby on Saturday night?"
"Good morning, Dr Cu-Carlisle, yes, thank you. I did."
"Are mother and daughter doing well?"
"Yes, I visited them yesterday morning and they were happy not to have to come into the hospital."
"Nothing like a home birth to get the juices flowing!"
"Um, yes, quite. What is on the agenda for today . . . ."
…..
Yes. They were definitely easing me in gently. I am shattered and I think I have seen or treated almost every condition known to man on the first shift alone.
The week does not improve.
By Friday I am nothing but a Golem, lumbering along with 'continue' written on my forehead.
My one bright spot was Emily and baby Mia coming in for their check-up. And whatever I may think of the towering hulk that is Sam, he and his new family seem extremely happy.
It has not helped that I have not been sleeping well this week, plagued by weird dreams that randomly seem to involve an angry Edward, various unseen assailants and the constant green gloom that is Forks.
At least I have the weekend off.
….
"Port Angeles?" Charlie chuckles as he checks his fishing gear. "The lure of the Big City already, eh?"
"Right," I drawl. Because, really? PA could not lick a small city's shoelaces, but it has a book shop, a Starbucks and a grocery store that is part of a national chain.
"Welp," he observes, "at least you have a proper car now instead of that old truck."
"Humph."
That old truck is a bit of a sore point. He got it for me when I first came back for school and though it was an antique, old and permanently on the verge of dying, I loved it. Which was why I was quite pissed off when he sold it for scrap mere seconds after I had left for college.
I am pleased with the car I bought last week, but it is to character what my old truck was to reliability.
"Whatever, do you want anything from the big, scary, city?"
Of course, he does, mainly beer and fish related . . . .
…..
The sun is shining as I wend my way along the road to PA, straining through the looming trees, dappling the road and occasionally blinding me. One of the many reasons to drive carefully around here. Bears, deer, rain, fish-tailed logging trucks and lunatic tourists being the other main ones.
I literally have not been here since I finished school, my last trip was with Charlie and mom to pick up supplies for college, which was not awkward at all.
It has changed quite a bit, gentrified is how Charlie described it, and that fits. There are new iron railings and bollards everywhere, marking the space between gawping tourists and focussed locals. Two speeds, drink everything in, and I only want a damn battery.
As a returning local I am caught between the two and quickly decide to park up and use my own two feet to get around and explore.
I bought a couple of books, some flavour essentials for our larder at home, a couple of bottles of wine and a new bedside lamp for my room. I had an overpriced coffee as I wandered around, and later, an overpriced lunch. Eventually, after much deliberation I decided to catch a movie, in part because Charlie had gone fishing down at La Push and probably would not be back until the sun came up.
I picked a romantic comedy which I did not really understand and an oversized tub of salty popcorn which I barely made a dent in.
When I emerged from the theatre the sun was long gone, and the street was quickly deserted as my fellow movie goers dispersed. It does not bother me to be alone like this, but the cold and a hard rain are tearing in off the sea which quickly has me seeking out the protection of my car.
Disorientated by the changes to the town it takes me a few minutes to get my bearings, by which time I am the absolutely the last person on the street, apart from the small group of men lounging around and drinking in the parking lot entrance.
Bella, Charlie says in my head, what the hell?
Quite.
Oh well.
"Hey, beautiful, wanna partay?"
Not very original. I shake my head and soldier on.
Their comments get louder and cruder as they crowd around me, but I keep walking, head down, my car is only a few feet away at this point.
Someone grabs my arm, but I shake it loose, speeding up until I am practically running.
Jesus, Bella, Charlie whines in my head, did you not listen to anything I ever said?
"No."
"You don't wanna party with us sweetheart? That hurts, you wouldn't wanna hurt our feelings now would ya?"
My arm is grabbed again.
"Get off me!" I shout, pulling away as I fumble in my bag for my keys.
This sets them laughing and jeering but I manage to press the button on my keys and all but fall into my car, slamming the door behind me. And I bless the start button as the engine purrs into life and the lights come on.
They crowd around the car, seemingly more of them than I had seen before, but I inch my way forward regardless, until suddenly the way ahead is clear, and I gun the engine.
I still do not really know what happened next, a shambling figure waving a bottle appeared in front of me and I swerved to avoid him, my tyres losing their grip on the wet asphalt. I hit one of the lovely new railings head on with a loud bang and rending of metal.
Somehow, I am out of the car again, my head pounding, buffeted by a howling gale and the now horizontal rain. The group of men, now angry are bearing down on me but Charlie is curiously silent.
Suddenly they are illuminated by powerful headlights and a car screeches into the lot, scattering them and slamming to a stop just in front of me.
"Get in!" Edward demands.
Without another thought I scramble into his silver car, slamming the door behind me, hanging onto the handle for grim death.
Outside Edward stands in front of the car as the men approach him, even more angry than before. But then, inexplicably they begin to back away, one by one, turning and fleeing into the night. After an interminably long time, he joins me in the car.
"Are you alright?" He demands.
"I think so.
"You think so," he snorts. "Are you injured?"
"No, not injured. Just . . . ."
"Just?"
"Shocked. Not physically shocked, " I add hastily as his face darkens from angry to violent, "just, shocked."
"Here," he says, setting the heating in the car to full blast. "Are you warm enough?"
"Um?"
Still angry, does he have another mood, he grabs his cell from the dash and dials.
"Carlisle?"
"I need your help; Dr Swan has been attacked."
"No, I do not think she is injured, but she is not making a lot of sense.
"Yes, shock, she has mentioned that a few times."
"Yes, perfectly safe."
"Alright, I will."
He turns his attention to me, and we study each other in silence for a moment. He really is extraordinarily good looking, how foolish of me to think of Dr Cullen as the epitome of good looks. His hair is like a living bronze artwork, placed specifically on the top of his head to frame his beauty and bring out the dark gold of his eyes.
And I am in shock. Obviously.
"Carlisle says I should take you home," he says eventually.
"Um."
"He thinks you may be in shock."
"Yes, shock. What about my car?"
He looks forward to study the wreckage, from which steam is rising gently in the light escaping through the still open driver's door. Coincidentally affording me a view of his sculpted profile.
"We can get someone to fetch it in the morning."
"Okay."
"Put your seatbelt on."
"Okay."
I like his voice, it is musical with a hint of steel, which I suppose comes from all the unresolved anger.
In no time at all we are speeding along the road back to Forks.
And in not much time after that, proper physical shock sets in causing me to shiver and shake inside my coat.
"Turn the heating up," he suggests, leaning forward to do himself just as I finally move.
"Gah!" I exclaim, snatching my hand away, "Your fingers are freezing!"
"Yours are not exactly toasty," he snaps back, "hold them over the vent."
"I am sorry," I eventually mutter into the tense silence. "Thank you, for saving me."
"Humph," is his only reply.
Sometime later it occurs me that I may have had a lucky break in not having to explain this to Charlie and I must have said so out loud because Edward laughs, transforming his pinched face momentarily at my expense.
"No, Carlisle will have called him by now."
"Great."
I do not know what kind of car this is, but it must be much faster than mine, because in no time at all we are pulling up outside my dark house.
"Charlie is not home yet," Edward observes,
"No, but I am sure he will not be long. Thank you, again."
"I cannot leave you on your own while you are in shock."
"Edward, thank you, but I can assure you that you can."
"Dr Swan . . . ."
I think this argument would have gone on for quite some time if Charlie's cruiser had not screeched into the driveway at that point.
The handover from rescuer to parent is very slick and in the blink of an eye I have had a hot shower and been tucked up in bed with cocoa.
What a day.