Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 14: Fine & Dandy
BPOV
Today is the first day I have been alone in the house. It's been a week, I think. Someone has been with me every hour of every day, but this morning I have woken up to an empty house. I vaguely recall someone telling me this would happen today, but still, it's a bit of a shock.
I used to love getting the house to myself. I guess its still okay. Its just that I obviously hadn't appreciated the quiet and unobtrusive support that I had been getting. Until now.
And I should probably check my emails at some point as I am fairly sure the empty house is a precursor to my returning to work. And life in general. Which, I hope, I am ready for.
Life seems to happen in stages, and I guess a new stage is starting for me today.
As I shuffle about in my bathrobe making coffee and breakfast my brain, which has obviously been on recess but passively recording input for later, slowly comes back online.
I have been incredibly lucky in my friends, old and new and I owe them a great debt. But the one I keep coming back to is Edward. He found me in the forest. He brought me home. He stayed with me while we waited for news and it was his lap I crawled into, his arms that held me, when Carlisle broke the news about Charlie. I don't remember anything that Edward said to me, but I remember feeling safe. I haven't seen him since.
As my coffee brews I glance absently out the window, lost in my thoughts until it finally registers that someone is waving at me.
Paul?
I open the door and he hops down off the hood of the massive truck I also hadn't noticed was squatting in Charlie's . . . my . . . driveway.
"Morning," he says with his usual cocky grin as he approaches, "you okay?"
"I am, I think. What are you doing here?"
"Guarding you."
"Guarding me?"
"Yes. You know, like Kevin Costner in the movie with the singer."
"What?"
"Whitney Houston."
"Ah," realisation dawns, "Bodyguard?"
"That's me."
I have questions, of course I do, when don't I these days?
"Do you want breakfast?" I ask instead.
"Of course," he replies, his grin widening to epic proportions.
I admit him and he follows me into the kitchen, sniffing the air appreciatively.
"I should thank you, " I manage awkwardly, "for saving my life."
"No worries," he says as he inspects the pans on the stove. "Bacon?"
"Yes."
"Pancakes?"
"Yes."
"Eggs?"
"I suppose I could . . ."
Satisfied, he flops into a chair, nearly breaking the legs off. Must be a wolf thing.
"So," I begin as I prep what will now be a breakfast of champions. "To what do I owe the honour of a bodyguard?"
"The Pack and the Forks Leeches have agreed that you need round the clock protection from Sam and The Renegades and today, till 4.30, is my shift."
"They have, have they?" I ask, my voice and my eyebrow rising as I turn to face him.
"To be fair," he says easily, "you were there when we had this conversation but possibly not entirely dialled in, as it were."
"I was?"
"Yep."
"And I didn't object?"
"Nope, Jake and I were real surprised, since we know what you're like about shit like that."
Quite. I recall a fight from when Jake and I were dating, and he had Paul 'keep an eye on me' at the State Fair. This was about the time my 'rebellious period' started, but that's a whole other story.
"Look, Bells," he becomes abruptly serious, "I know you hate being told what to do or having other people make decisions for you, or being what you think of as a burden. But Sam is dangerous, and you can't protect yourself from him. The Pack and the Forks Leeches can. We want to. Let us and maybe don't be a pain in the ass about it."
He's right. I can't fight wolves or vampires myself, so I am lucky to have friends that want to do it for me, even though they are not obliged to. And, hopefully, don't really need to. Again.
Jesus. What a mess.
In silence, apart from the radio which Paul's switched on, I make the biggest breakfast I can muster, saving some for myself. Although my appetite has pretty much gone into retreat. Bodyguards put themselves in danger to protect someone else, if that someone else is merely me, then is it worth it?
"Who takes over at 4.30?" I ask when he's done eating and politely fighting the urge to lick his plate.
"Line-backer Leech."
"Emmett?"
"That's the one."
The thought of spending some time with Emmett is an interesting prospect.
Paul amuses himself watching TV while I shower and dress and then accompanies me to the grocery store. Curious stares follow us up and down every aisle but there's no one in the store who is brave enough to approach us and give vent to their nosiness. Which is fine by me. And no one asked why a woman living alone bought enough food to feed an army.
When we get home, I ask the most pertinent question; "Who is guarding me at work tomorrow?"
"The Head Leech."
"Carlisle?" I ask, surprised.
"Dude took two of The Renegades out on his own, he's badass."
Carlisle and badass in the same sentence has given me a bit of a headache.
"I think I need a lie down," I decide out loud.
"You want a comfort blanket?" Paul asks, waggling his eyebrows at me. "I run at a toasty temperature and can get furry on command."
"Ew."
"I know," he sighs, "you got an education and I got fleas."
"Paul! No!"
He waves me away with a smile.
"Go, nap, I got your back."
"Thank you."
"You are more than welcome. We won't let anything happen to you; I promise."
I am not in the mood to argue about this now, but I will be. After a nap and a couple of shifts back at my job. When things get back to normal.
…..
The next few days are a blur.
I return to work, day shifts only. I learn that Emmett is as awesome as I thought he'd be, but is best appreciated in small doses, I take my hat off to Rose for managing to be married to him. Above all I try, extremely hard, to pretend that everything is fine.
I miss Charlie more than I thought was possible.
…..
I am in the memorial garden at the hospital getting some fresh air and fighting the packaging on my lunch one handed, when Edward finally puts in the appearance I hadn't realised I'd been waiting for.
"Hi," I offer in what I hope is an appropriately neutral tone.
"Hi, Carlisle thought you might want some company."
"And yet he sent you?" I observe with a degree of frost that almost shocks me.
"May I sit down?" He asks, a small smile tugging at his lips.
I sigh, which apparently means yes.
I had been storing up questions in my mind for him since his high handed decision to cut me out of the Cullens' lives but I also now feel . . . a kind of low grade pull to the comfort he gave me that I don't know how to deal with. So, I know how this is going to go . . . I am never going to ask him any questions or open to him in anyway . . . in essence he will be all but dead to me now . . . except I won't ever have the courage to tell him that. Passive aggressive Bella will run this house.
"Would you like me to open the sandwich for you?" He asks after watching me struggle for a while.
"No."
"You are not hungry then?" He wonders, that irritating smile still tugging at his lips as if he's reading my stupid mind.
"Fine," I sigh after a brief internal struggle, "if you wouldn't mind."
He takes my modest hospital sandwich, opens it, and hands it back with a smirk.
"Thank you."
"You are welcome."
He watches me eat, which is annoying, and a palpable tension builds between us until my cell erupts into life.
"Dr Swan."
"Bella, Mrs Todd's results are back. Are you free?"
"Yes, be there in two."
…..
Mrs Todd has cancer, so she wins the 'shittiest week' award this time. Poor woman isn't even forty.
Everything sucks and I drive home with my mood somewhere round my ankles, hovering despondently in the cold area of the footwell that the heater never seems to reach.
I get a text as I throw my belongings down on the kitchen table. Alice wants to know if I need company.
Do I? I am building up to getting them all to leave me alone, but perhaps tonight isn't the night for that? I have no shift tomorrow and I am of a mind to get blind stinking drunk.
Another message.
Okay then. It is quite useful not to need an actual conversation with Alice.
An hour later she pulls up in her little yellow Porsche with Leah, who can drink, beside her. There is no atmosphere between them, they look perfectly comfortable together.
"I call dibs on bartender," Alice says as she and Leah plonk a bar's worth of bottles down on the kitchen counter. "Pick a cocktail."
"We'll need pizza," Leah informs me, "I phased today and could eat a scabby horse you don't look like you've eaten for a week. Alice has bought enough booze for the mother of all benders and I am not having you passing out on drink two."
Once we've ordered enough pizza to feed twenty people, we sit down at the table with the Moscow Mules Alice made. She was salty about my lack of copper mugs, but what can you do? This is Forks.
"How's your mom?" I ask Leah.
"In bits," she sighs, "I got her to admit she was in love with Charlie, but it doesn't really help the grieving process."
"I should go down and see her."
"Leave it a while," Leah advises, "you'll only set each other off."
I nod, she's probably right.
"How are you?" Alice asks, and Leah nods.
"I don't know," is my honest reply, "I'm kind of okay, and kind of not. There's so much to process. But, please, I don't want to talk about Charlie all night . . . I can't."
They both nod in understanding, which kills the conversation, so we sip our drinks in silence.
Alice is making round two, Cosmopolitans, when the leaning tower of pizza arrives.
The delivery boy wants to say some nice words about Charlie, which I appreciate, but I am in floods by the time Leah gently shoos him away.
"Here," she orders, shoving a slice of double pepperoni at me as we return to the kitchen, "eat."
The mood lightens as I find myself surprisingly hungry and Alice's perfect little mouth drops open at the sight of Leah chowing down on her pizzas.
Next up, Sex on the Beach.
"So," Leah asks me between slices, "what's the deal with you and Edward?"
"There is no deal."
She snorts and Alice laughs.
"What?" I demand, reaching for a slice of the BBQ chicken before Leah eats it all.
"You like him," Alice observes with a wink.
"He seems like a good kid," I hedge.
"He's not a kid," Leah scoffs, "he's an old man, a hot, young looking, old man."
I scowl at her because she isn't entirely wrong.
"He's a senior in High School," I point out.
"So am I," Alice chuckles, "but here I am making cocktails in your kitchen."
"How old are you?" Leah asks.
"One hundred and nineteen." Alice replies, "I died in my twenties, we're not sure when exactly."
"Is it weird," I ask, "to be that old?"
"Not to me, I love it. I have travelled the world several times over but there's still so much more to see and do, so many changes to take in. So many things yet to come, it's exciting."
"What can you see in the future?" Leah asks and Alice laughs.
"Bella is going to be very sick at about 2am tomorrow morning and I am going to hold her hair like the good friend that I am."
"Nice," I grumble. "I thought you couldn't see anything when the wolves were around?"
"I couldn't," Alice admits, "but it's starting to change. I can see around Leah fairly well now, and Jake and Paul to a degree."
"So, you can see Sam?" Leah wants to know.
"No, I don't think so, it's not an exact science." Alice says regretfully. "I still get total blank spaces and I wonder if that's him, or his pack, but I don't know for sure. It's very frustrating."
That sobers us all for a moment, so she mixes another cocktail. Screwdrivers.
To add color to Alice's early morning experience I snag a slice of veggie pizza and the conversation moves on to other things.