Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. I am only putting my spin on Stephenie Meyer's already created world of the supernatural.
Warnings: Violence/Gore, mentions/attempt of suicide and character deaths
"Welcome, Leah. Please, come—oh my goodness! You look terribly exhausted. Did you walk all the way here?" It was Carlisle's mate—Esme, that was her name—who ended up allowing me into the house. I'd texted Carlisle hours ago that I wouldn't need a ride. I'd thought I would have my own car to come in.
I'd thought wrong.
"Yup," I muttered, shifting my weight on my feet. My boots squelched, still not dry from the earlier downpour. If I'd been able to run, I would have beat the rain. The glass in my foot slowed me way down.
It should have been a five-hour trip, but it ended up as a thirteen-hour walk. That was still faster than anyone could have even driven to the Cullen house, but it was just slow enough that the heavens could open up to spit on me. I couldn't even be angry when it happened because it was so fitting for how my day had gone up until the point.
Esme held a pale, dainty hand over her heart, audibly gasping. It was funny to watch a cold one act horrified on my behalf. "Oh, Leah, you should have called. We would have been more than happy to give you that ride, after all."
I would have called, had my mom not taken my phone hostage. "It's fine."
The rain had made it harder to find the Cullen house, but Jacob's memories had helped me find my way. The cold one stench that punched me in the nose when I got close let me know I'd arrived. Being on the actual doorstep of the Cullen house made my chest sting with every breath. I was dreading going in more and more every second.
So, even though I was exhausted and my foot hurt like hell, I stalled. "What time is it?"
"It's five past three."
"In the morning?" Subtracting the travel time and the excursion with Emily, I realized I'd argued for eight hours with my mom.
I deserved a freaking medal for that.
Sam had ordered food during the fight, had pizza delivered right to the door. Emily had nodded off. These were all signs that the fight was lasting way too long, that it needed to end. Yet, every time one of us had tried to end it, my mom would come up with some new points to make. I could never roll my eyes when she said she was the best in her high school debate club again.
The funny thing about that fight was that I didn't think anyone won it. It just sucked and then it ended.
Esme checked her wristwatch at my disbelieving question. "Afraid so."
The only reason I'd been able to get away was that my mom got a call from work about taking an extra shift. Money was too tight for her to pass that up, especially. Fast as I tried to leave after my mom went to work a shift, taking my van and the keys to her own car with her, Emily pounced. Sam had woken her up from where she'd passed out on the couch, like an idiot, and she refused to leave until we talked for a bit.
Now, she'd said "a bit", but she'd meant over two hours. Essentially, it was a two-hour apology that continued even when I forgave her over and over again. Nothing I said would make it end. She had to come to the conclusion, by herself, that it was better to move forward than rehash the past. But then I still wasn't allowed to leave until I gave her a hug. She fell asleep in my arms, Sam had had to carry her out.
Despite it all, I was glad it put Emily and me on the right track to being on ok terms again. It was the only other positive effect of my imprinting than Edward, himself.
"Leah?" Esme tilted her head to the side in another signal to come in. "Are you coming inside?"
I rolled my shoulders and picked up my suitcase. "I am." After taking a deep breath, I charged through the entrance.
The cloying, chalky smell flooded my senses, so icy it felt like a brain-freeze for my nose.
I was pretty sure my eyes were watering as I croaked, "Nice place."
Edward's scent was like a needle in a haystack, but it was also the only thing that was keeping my nose from fall off of my face. A tentative sniff told me he wasn't here and hadn't been all day. I tried to push down the instinct to worry. Victoria was after Bella, not him. And, anyway, I'd already seen how Edward could take care of himself in a fight.
"Thank you. And I hope your mother isn't too upset with us for stealing you away for a little while. Shoes off, please." Esme closed the door with a gentle hand, not bothering to lock it.
The vampires weren't afraid to leave their doors unlocked—go figure. Plus, it was difficult to even find this place so off the beaten path, they didn't have to worry about robbers. No one would be able to find the Cullen unless they knew about it already.
I started to unlace my boots when I realized I hadn't responded and gave a quick, "Yeah." I saw the smile fall off of her face in my peripheral.
What had she expected? My people hadn't suddenly stopped hating hers because I imprinted. The pack had to help me protect Edward if I ever asked, but they wouldn't go out of their way for me the way they did for others. I was the pack member no one liked and Edward was a cold one, it put us at a big disadvantage.
Esme twiddled her fingers as she walked, human-slow, to my side. "Carlisle warned me off of calling to apologize, but I wasn't sure. Do you think your mother would like to discuss your stay here with me?"
"Nope. She hates cold ones." Seth was the only person who knew about the existence of cold ones and didn't automatically despise them. But, really, Seth had a hard time hating anyone.
Esme's eyes focused on the floor for a moment before she nodded her understanding. She even continued to smile at me while I kicked off my boots and then walked further in. "One day, we'll all be great friends, Leah. I know it."
I stifled a laugh.
She was either being willfully stupid, or she actually believed what she was saying. I wasn't sure which option made her the dumbest, but it shouldn't have surprised me that the cold one who wanted to play house and chew on deer wasn't in touch with reality. At least, she only wanted to play house—her mate liked to play doctor. Somehow, a vampire performing open-heart surgery seemed like a bad idea.
I still remembered how my people had boycotted the hospital after they'd hired Carlisle. I could still smell the burning wood in the bonfires that were lit in celebration of the Cullens leaving. It was a dark day when they came back, months later, and Jacob got rejected by Bella for a second time. And now, I was in their house. I was going to live with them.
Old Quil would never forgive me, neither would Billy. Charlie, the only other male role-model left for me, would never understand. The pack was only managing the alliance because they got to kill the many for sparing the few. None of us were going to end up "friends".
I replied with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "Yeah, I'm sure we'll all be playing paddy-cake soon. We'll be making macaroni-necklaces together, too, by the end of this."
"One should hope. Perhaps we'll even sing a round of Kumbaya," she replied, earning an amused snort out of me. It seemed like she wasn't completely unaware of the world around her. "Would you like to unpack upstairs? We can make up an air mattress in Edward's room for you and you can go straight to sleep."
"Don't you have any guest rooms?" The house was ginormous, it could've eaten my house. No way did it have no guest rooms, the question seemed stupid to even ask.
Esme winced, though, like it was a painful subject to broach. "We didn't build the house with the expectation of overnight guests in mind. Considering our disposition, we thought overnight guests weren't the best idea."
I pictured the family of cold ones pacing in their rooms, anxiously waiting for the sun so that they could "wake up". Funny as it would've been, it made sense why they didn't want to go through that. It just sucked for me, per usual.
"So, it's Edward's with an air mattress or the living room's couch?" I gave a vague gesture towards the wide, open living room.
"For the moment, yes."
I walked further into the white house with a south wall made of glass. Mornings were going to suck so hard.
Esme offered as I was glancing around, "I can clean the mud off of your boots for you if you'd like. You had quite a walk."
I wanted to ask her not to because I didn't want them to smell like her, but I bit my tongue and settled for a nod. No point in offending my host so early on. If she spat in my food, it would probably burn my throat.
She disappeared, along with my boots, and I heard her swift footsteps as I wandered the house.
There was a raised area just for a grand piano, pushing what could've been something normal into the absurd. The entire design of the first floor was weird and sort of over the top. There was an office under the stairs, but I could smell a whole lot of books from somewhere upstairs. No clue why the books weren't in the office. Maybe the real question was why not? By the looks of it, they could've had a second house just for their for paintings if they'd wanted.
The piano drew me in, though, stealing my attention away from the tempting couch just waiting to be slept on. It smelled the most like Edward than out of anywhere else on the first floor. I'd pressed a few of the higher keys when Esme came running back into the room. I had to suppress a groan as the concept of more conversation started to become a real possibility.
And I especially didn't feel like talking to a bloodsucker, of all people.
My hatred for leeches didn't evaporate when I imprinted, but it also wasn't pure hate anymore. They kinda just annoyed me now, more than anything. Unless they had red eyes. Eye color changed everything about how I perceived a cold one now.
"Could you tell that it's Edward's?" She asked, a new sparkle in her eyes. "He's a wonderful player." She looked proud, that's what it was. She had the same exact look in her eyes that my mom had whenever I would bring home a good report card.
Jeez. "You all take the big, happy family thing really serious. You realize you don't have to pretend around me, right?"
Her smile dimmed for a moment before she responded with beaming pride, "It's not a pretense. We are a family and we are happy."
So, Esme actually acted as Edward's mom. Maternal instinct and vampirism made for an odd combo. And, obviously, now I couldn't have been a jerk to her even if I wanted to. Edward wouldn't want that.
"Is that too strange for you?" She asked like she was actually worried over my opinion.
I told her as I came back down from the platform, "Nothing's too strange for me anymore."
"Ah, yes. You're a very pretty wolf," she complimented, running an idle hand over her light brown hair. "You have a very glossy coat."
"Uh, thanks?" No one had ever complimented my wolf-form before. I didn't know how to feel about that. I didn't care enough.
She seemed a bit embarrassed as she rushed to say, "Of course, you make a lovely human, as well. I'm sure you clean up very nice."
"I guess." This was Edward's mom, I had to do a little better than that. "Uh, you, too. You're pretty."
I didn't notice looks that often, so what stuck out to me the most about Esme was actually her voice. She used this soft, high-pitched tone like she was trying not to wake someone in the other room. It was the least threatening voice in the world, it was saccharine—almost as bad as her scent. I wouldn't have believed she was a cold one, if not for the lack of a heartbeat and the unnatural shine of her skin. She was way too…gentle.
Esme gave a soft little smile at my lame compliment and murmured, "Thank you." She straightened out the shirt she was wearing, smoothing out a wrinkle. "I'm not sure how it all works, but I know that you'll do well here. Let me know if anyone bothers you, including Edward."
"Sure. And if you ever have any questions about me or imprinting..." I said, trailing off a bit like I had something else to say. Not a single follow-up sentence came to me.
Clearly, I was way too tired to be having this conversation with her.
Esme seemed to get the implication. "Thank you, but I'll leave the questioning to Carlisle. He'll tell me all about it anyway since he'll be too excited to keep it to himself. He's looking forward to getting his hands on your blood."
"I just decided, I'll take the couch." Closer to the front door, where I could run if a mad, vampire doctor came running at me with a bone-saw.
"One second." She flitted off, the sounds of doors closing and opening filling the silence of the house. She was in front of me with two stacks of bedding in each of her hands before the sound of the last door closing had reached my ears. "Which would you prefer?"
She was so close, closer than she'd been since I'd gotten there. The stench was too strong. I coughed into the inside of my elbow, my nose stinging like I'd snorted powdered dry ice. In less than a second, she was across the room.
"I'm so sorry!"
"It's—"
"I didn't even take the smell into consideration. I should have lit candles and put in air fresheners. Oh, I should have baked cookies! Silly me." She shook her head, her brown waves swaying around her remorseful face. "My deepest apologies, Leah."
I remembered a time when I'd taken a moment just to appreciate the look on Laurent's face when his arm came off. That was last week.
God, was I really about to reassure a vampire?
I let my arm fall off of my face and muttered with shriveled lungs, "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that, it's not even that bad. I just gotta get used to it."
"And I suppose I'm the lucky one in this situation. I don't have to breathe," she joked, earning a chuckle out of me. She continued, "If it makes you more comfortable, you're welcome to sleep on the couch. But, Edward's room is getting a real bed that will be here by tomorrow."
Esme was awfully welcoming, but I needed to know what Edward thought. There was no way I could sleep in there until I knew what that was what he wanted.
It wasn't so long ago when Sam had wanted to kill himself after what he did to Emily, but he couldn't. He couldn't until he knew she wanted him to. I remembered wishing he had, accusing him of using the bond as an excuse to be a coward. Now, I understood.
"Good to know," I said, going for a noncommittal answer. The next step was to change the subject. "Hey, what's the food situation? Edward said you had some, earlier."
"We tend to keep far too high a volume for Bella and so much of it spoils, so we have lots."
"Yeah, that won't be a problem anymore." I would've gone for the food right then, but I had no energy left. If I'd had any leftover after my walk here, it was spent checking out the piano.
I planted myself on the couch, letting out a moan of relief. Esme came around from the back of the couch and gave a sympathetic smile. "Would you like me to make up the couch for you before you sleep?"
"I can sleep like this."
It was a perk of being a shapeshifter. I could've slept on a stone slab through the apocalypse if I wanted to. Sleeping on command was something people were able to do once they started phasing. Old Quil claimed our deep sleep was because of our stronger connection to our spirit-guardian ancestors. He said if we really wanted to, we could astral project again and pick another animal with a willing spirit to help. He was always saying things like that…
I would miss his crazy theories the most.
I closed my eyes, breathing deep through the hasty homesickness. Esme mentioned while I was exhaling, "We'll all be going out tomorrow night. We're hunting one last time before the army arrives."
"Ok."
"We would just love it if you chose to come along," she added, an expectant look on her face.
I wasn't really sure who she was talking about since I knew Edward wouldn't "love it" and no one else cared. Witnessing a slurping session didn't exactly excite me, but if Edward was going to be there—even if he didn't want me…
"Sure. I guess I'll come." The incessant need to see his face decided for me, the bond pulling me any direction that was closer to him. I guessed that was the one rule I could break. I had to stick close, regardless of his own desire.
"Oh, that's wonderful news! We were hoping to give Edward and Bella some alone time, but we'd worried it wouldn't work out now that you've moved in so fast. Everyone will be so thrilled you're coming." She clapped her hands lightly, grinning in a way that made her look as young as me.
Of course, Edward wasn't coming. Of course. Would it really be my life if anything happened the way I wanted it to?
A little more awake than before, I asked, "When's this happening again?"
"It's tomorrow night. Please, sleep-in. I can make whatever you want for breakfast or pick up something from the store in the morning." I grunted in acknowledgment and she gave a tinkling little giggle. "I'm going to continue reading my book in Carlisle's and my office. He'll be up there with me, holler if you should need something."
"Where're all the others?"
"Rosalie and Emmett are out on a date. Alice and Jasper are out at the clearing, discussing details about the battle. It's just the three of us here tonight."
"And Edward?" I asked before she could flit off.
Ugh, did that sound as desperate as it felt?
Esme just smiled and told me, "He's staying over at Bella's, as he often does." And then she was gone.
I tried so hard to sleep, but it was impossible to when every breath I took was so gross. After a while, I gave up and switched on the TV with a remote on the couch's left side-table. I laid on my stomach across the length of the couch and watched the movie through slits of vision. My eyes burned when I opened them any wider than the width of a pin.
Pajamas were always helpful when trying to sleep, right? It was a way to tell your brain to shut the hell up because it was time to pass out. I picked up my suitcase with a Jason mask painted on the side of it and set off to find a bathroom to change in.
Esme and Carlisle were quiet, but I could hear her flip a page every now and then and hear him write things down. They were on the top floor, so I sniffed out the bathroom on the first floor and locked myself in to change.
The two of them spoke in soft tones, too quiet to hear as I changed and went to the bathroom. It was a relief that they sounded completely distracted by each other. I was able to get through my whole nighttime routine without feeling self-conscious. That was hard enough to achieve on the reserve, but it was even harder here where there weren't acres of space.
My moisturizers were still drying on my skin when I got up and went back to the couch. I turned off the TV and took the blanket off of the top of the stack of bedding Esme'd left me.
In the middle of straining to pass out, I decided that Edward would want me to sleep in his bedroom.
The battle was in two days and tomorrow night, I'd be out all night. The night after that, I'd be keeping watch for half of the night with half of the pack in the middle of a blizzard. How could I fight efficiently and not die if I was falling asleep in the middle of a cold one's snarl? And if I died, that'd be one less person protecting Bella—plus, Edward had said he didn't want anyone to die.
I had his express permission to sleep in his room. Pretty much.
Anyway, it was easy tracking down Edward's bedroom. I pushed the door that was open a crack and it swung out, wafting his alluring scent through the hall. His room had golden carpet that his sweetness clung to, almost the shade that his eyes had been the last time I saw him. His furniture was nice, too, compared to my hand-me-downs back home.
Every time I learned something about him, it gave me a little thrill and a tiny doubt. He was amazing, but he was unexplainable. Why him? Why me? There didn't seem to be any rhyme to the two of us being imprinted. I mean, at least Emily and Sam were good when they were together. Edward hated the fact that I existed almost as much as I did. So, I guessed—
I saw the sofa and everything else went out of focus.
"C'mere, you," I muttered to the black, leather sofa as I went into the room.
I closed the door with my foot and waddled inside, the glass a distant throb closer towards my heel. I bellyflopped onto the sofa, the blanket draped over my back since I'd been wearing it like a cloak. It was like laying on a cloud, the cushions were so soft.
Not two seconds passed before I was out like a light. And it felt like it was only two more seconds before something woke me back up.
I hadn't even gotten to dream.
A few blinks into being awake again, I realized it was a presence that had disturbed me. My muscles started to tense, ready for a fight.
"It's me." I could've recognized Edward's voice anywhere.
Endorphins reacted accordingly to the sound of him and my stomach quivered with excitement. This was probably how puppies felt when their owners came home after a long day at work.
"You're running a fever," Edward stated, his tone clipped and cold.
"I get hotter when I sleep." There was also the fact that I hadn't gotten sick since I phased, but, hey, maybe this was just another gift from karma. The rain on my walk could've finally done the impossible.
"You walked here?" I gave a drowsy nod. He sounded frustrated when he asked next, "Why didn't you call for a ride?" I replayed my day in my head, flinching at the sharp sigh he gave out in response.
"I'm sorry."
"What for?" Because he was unhappy, because I existed, because he was stuck with me. He could take his pick. "You never asked Carlisle to remove the glass in your foot." My eyes searched for him in the dark, but they were still too bleary to spot him.
I sat up, keeping my palms flat on the sofa. "I forgot." It hardly mattered. Edward was in the room, who cared about my foot? "Uh, how are you?"
There was a small pause before he answered quietly, "I'm fine."
"Why aren't you still with Bella? Did something happen?"
"She's sleeping, perfectly sound. I came to change, but I'm going back soon." I wished I could see him. "There's nothing to see."
I argued, "There's you."
Another sigh came and then the light in the ceiling switched on. I squinted against it for a moment before my eyes adjusted and I could finally see him. He looked like a Calvin Klein model, wearing a crew-neck t-shirt under a long-sleeved v-neck tee with loose tan pants. His hair was more brown than red in the light, it made his eyes look lighter.
"Carlisle," Edward said in a conversational tone. The blonde doctor appeared by the open door, a case in his hands and an eager look on his face. Cold ones were so quiet, soft-spoken with soft footsteps. "Would you mind?"
"Not one bit." Carlisle came over to where I was sitting on the couch, making more sound now that he was on the carpet. He crouched down in front of me and I managed an owlish blink before he smiled and said, "It's nice to see you again, Leah."
"It'd be nicer to see you if you weren't about to cut me open." He chuckled, the sound warm and deep. For some reason, it reminded me of a cello. Why was it so musical?
"I hope you don't mind, but I'd also like to draw some blood while I'm here. We want to begin learning everything about your unique biology as soon as possible."
I rubbed my eyes, watching him open up his case that he'd laid on the floor. There was an assortment of sharp things, tubing, and vials. In other words, all very reassuring things.
"Don't be nervous. Carlisle is very good," Edward reassured me. Any hesitancy I had at the sight of the vampire picking up his scalpel melted away. It was unnerving, how much a single sentence from Edward could change everything.
"The bottom of this foot is very dirty," Carlisle said under his breath. He cleaned off the bottom of my foot with an alcohol wipe, ginger about it around the area where the glass was. He took my ankle into his freezing grip, holding my foot steady.
"I cut it open with a jagged rock, at one point. The glass was too slippery, though, and it just jammed further up there."
Carlisle's eyebrows rose to his hairline and his mouth opened in what looked like pure horror. "The cut could have gotten infected, you could have contracted a flesh-eating bacteria. Worse yet, you could have given yourself blood poisoning! That was so dangerous and irresponsible of you, Leah."
I snorted. "Yeah, and I guess that fighting an army of newborns is safe and reasonable."
"She makes a fair point." My eyes instinctively shot over to Edward, where he was still standing in the corner of the room. Our eyes met for just a second before pain broke my focus.
I gripped onto the blanket, breathing deeply as Carlisle made his incision. "What the hell, pale face? No warning?"
"I didn't think you would need one. You cut open your own foot earlier."
"Is this a punishment?" He chuckled and widened the cut a bit. "Ah!"
Carlisle made a soft tsk-tsk at me. "Oh, don't be a baby. This is far less painful than a jagged rock, I'm sure. Although, you're a very heavy-bleeder. Do you have anemia?"
"A little warning would have been nice, Carlisle," Edward said, his voice sounding strained. I looked up, out of curiosity, and caught the grimace on Edward's face.
He could feel what I was feeling. Did his foot hurt?
"No," he replied. Would he be ok during the fight? "Yes. I tend to respond to pain in minds I've been in more than once. The newborns won't bother me." What about their thirst? "That won't, either."
"There's no need to be concerned for Edward, Leah. Everything will go well on the day of the battle. Let there be no doubt," Carlisle said, digging tweezers into my foot with a steady hand and a singular focus.
To spare Edward, I thought about other things. Holding Seth for the first time on the day he was born. The first time I noticed how animals liked me more after I'd phased. Riding my first bike. Imprinting for that one, perfect second.
Edward cleared his throat. "Carlisle's finished."
"Indeed, I am," Carlisle reaffirmed, pulling out the huge chunk of glass with a wet sound. "Now, for the blood."
I held my arm out for him with a sigh. "Careful. You already know I'm an easy bleeder, but I'll spew like a fountain if you do this wrong."
"That's very vivid imagery, Leah, but I'll be fine. I've been doing this for a few years now." He tied off my arm with a rubber band thingy and I sighed, making a fist for him.
The blood was drawn in relative silence. It took long enough that my eyes naturally wandered away from Edward. I looked towards a row of floating shelves, spotting a picture of Edward and Esme, all dressed to the nines. They were posed in front of a big, fancy building where other people dressed like them were heading.
"It's the Teresa Carreño Theatre, in Venezuela. Carlisle thought it better if we didn't go since we'd only recently relocated. Esme indulged me," Edward said, something like a smile flashing across his face before he got rid of it.
"We'd moved recently, it's better to stay put, for a little while, after a move." Carlisle switched out a vial, watching my blood pour into it, filling it up quick. "The pianist performing was a man Edward had introduced to the instrument as a boy. It was his last show before retirement after a long and fruitful career. Edward couldn't stand the thought of never having seen him perform once and Esme couldn't say no. She's always believed in keeping tabs on people from our human lives."
Every time I learned something new about them, they became less threatening and more…sad. It was just sad.
I felt Edward's eyes on me, but I didn't look. I closed my eyes instead and took a deep breath as my warmth slowly poured out of me and into another glass vial.
"Leah?" I opened my eyes again and saw Carlisle was gone, along with his case. Edward was still in the corner, standing dead still with his arms crossed. "Take the pills beside you."
I looked down and saw pills and a glass of water on the cushion next to me. It was easy enough to take a few pills if that'd made him feel better, even though I wasn't sick.
Once I'd taken the pills and downed the rest of the water, Edward murmured, "Your fever should go down now."
"Really? So, these are the cure to shapeshifting? I knew you guys were rich, but wow—I guess money can buy you anything."
Edward's lips curved up for the first time since we'd met. My heart gave a strange twinge at the sight and then suddenly, he took it away. I wasn't even allowed a smile. "You should be careful with humor like that. I only knew you were joking because I can hear your thoughts."
"Yeah, well, people aren't a big fan of me, anyway. What's one misunderstood joke?"
Next to him, on one of his shelves, was something I had on my dresser back home. I wasn't sure what'd made me look but it was a pleasant surprise to see it there.
"You recognize the lupinus polyphyllus?" Curiosity made his voice less harsh.
"Yeah, I have one in a pot back home. I have a lot of plants in my room." I tried to remember all the pots back home, but my mind stumbled when I remembered the dried rose from my dad's wake. Edward flinched in perfect unison with the pain that lashed at my chest. "Crap. Sorry."
"It's fine, you're just…very loud." He winced slightly and then shook his head like he was trying to shake my thoughts of his head. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you interested in botany?"
Easy question, easy answer. "I run so much through nature and it feels disrespectful not knowing what any of it was actually called. It's nice to know the names of the flowers I trampled. It's like remembering the names of the dead."
"I see."
"Yeah. I'm not out to try and kill them." I could feel the last gasp of a flower under my paw when I stepped on it, it always made me feel a little worse. I was already unwanted and hated by the pack, I didn't want to add flower-murderer to the list.
Edward gave a curt nod as he put the pot back and then fell into a stony silence. It continued for over seven minutes. I knew it was seven minutes because I started counting the seconds, hoping to make time go faster. I kept thinking that, at some point, he'd face me again and say something, anything, but he never did. The silence got so overbearing that I decided to speak first.
His eyes flicked over to me, expectant, and I lost all train of thought. I could breathe again when he looked away, but it left us with the same problem. We were at a complete standstill in conversation with absolutely no momentum incoming.
Oh, dear God. Why was this happening?
I could hear Esme drawing on paper upstairs. I heard crickets and a family of deer running miles away from the house. I heard Carlisle moving a mouse on a mousepad, clicking away. I could hear my own uncomfortable swallow and I cringed at the shock of the volume in such a quiet, quiet house.
"I can taste the difference in the air between cloudy days and when there's sunlight!" I blurted as soon as it came to me. Edward looked at me in surprise. Before the silence could start again, I went on with, "It's not something the others notice, but I enjoy it. It's one of the only things I enjoy about phasing."
"That's interesting," he replied before looking out of the wall of glass again.
Silence. Cold, dead silence. Sweat started beading up on the back of my neck.
"I noticed earlier that your thoughts about phasing come off as begrudging," he said out of nowhere. "You don't like to talk about phasing. Do you dislike it as a whole?" He could sense the tone of thoughts, too. Good to know.
"Kinda—I dunno. Sometimes, I want to rip trees out by their roots and other times, I just wanna smell the flowers. It annoys everyone in the pack." Phasing wasn't completely awful, but it also wasn't completely amazing. The ratio shifted, day-to-day, of terrible to terrific.
The pause between my comment and his next response started to grow and stretch, distending on and on. He gritted his teeth, the sound unmissable with the lack of activity everywhere else.
"Interesting," he said again. His lips parted like he was going to say something else, but then he pressed his lips together into a tight line. He looked back out through the glass.
Talking wasn't working. I decided to get up, look around for anything—God, anything—that we had in common and could talk about. He had a huge bookcase, so I scurried over to it, hoping that within hundreds of novels, we could find one to talk about. I picked out a random, worn one, experiencing the let-down of a lifetime when I saw it was poetry. I'd never liked poetry.
…Screw it, I'd start.
I flipped the book open to a random page, reading a poem by Christopher John Brennan. It surprised me by being beautiful and easy to understand. In fact, it was relatable.
"'Because she would ask me why I loved her' is one of his better works," Edward commented. I turned around, excited that he was speaking again. "It's a very loyal, undying love that he's written about."
"Kind of like imprinting."
Edward grimaced and looked out of the glass— "This isn't exactly easy for me," he snapped in the middle of my thought.
"I know," I mumbled, closing the book with care. "But, you're making it hard on yourself for no reason. You should just talk to me like I'm a friend, 'cause I am one. I'm your most loyal friend."
"No." He clenched his jaw, creating a harsh angle before he whispered, "We simply need to break the bond."
"I—"
"Sam had a theory based on compatibility. Perhaps it's our upbringing that will bear some sort of resemblance." I turned around to put the book back, fighting off a hopeless sigh that kept building in my chest.
Sam had a lot of theories about imprinting. He'd come up with most of them when he was still with me, to try and find some reversal effect. "None of them panned out with him, but sure. Maybe we'll get lucky and our mutual love of the hacky sack in our youth will be the root of our connection."
"Please." I turned back around at the pain in the voice and his eyes were bright with unspeakable sadness. "Please, humor me."
I would've done anything to get him to stop looking at me like that. "Ok. Yeah, let's see what we can find. Tell me about what you've done, where you've been. Esme said you played piano, was that something you did when you were human?"
"It was. I enjoy music immensely—not just listening to it, but studying it." Music had never been my forte—pun intended. I took a few clarinet lessons when I was six and then gave up. "I tried to give up. My mom wouldn't let me, she made me push past what she called, 'the wall'. All kids who practice an instrument reach 'the wall' and concert soloists were those who dared to climb it."
Intense mother. "That's something we have in common."
He frowned, dumping another heap of stones into the pit of my stomach. "No, my mother was sweet. Too good for this world where monsters like her own son exist."
"Who the hell called you a monster?"
"Does it matter?"
It did to me, but I doubted that meant anything to him.
Our ongoing, extended silence gave me time to play a game I liked to call, "What's worse?". With the pack, there was never a moment of silence when I phased. With Edward, I received lifetimes worth of silence. I honestly couldn't decide which was worse.
"It's quite amazing," Edward decided, eyes hesitantly meeting mine. "How you all come to share a mind is nothing short of amazing. So, I imagine I'm worse."
"Try 'annoying'." It's annoying with them." Beyond exasperating. It was hell sharing a mind with a bunch of little boys going through puberty. It was worse when one of those boys had disturbing dreams about you. "And traumatic."
He gave a short exhale that I realized was a voiceless laugh after a moment. I smiled at him and he gave a timid smile back. "I would think it's more convenient than this, though."
"Nah. At least when I'm with you I don't have to learn things I don't want to know. The amount of knowledge I have about Yu-Gi-Oh! cards is just—" I cut off, Edward's chuckle making my breath catch in my throat. The sound was so musical, melodious in a way that music itself wasn't. It sent electricity spiraling around my bones and glued a smile to my face. "Laugh it up, cold one. Just wait until—"
"Until I overhear disturbing thoughts about myself, then I won't find it funny anymore. Leah, that's my everyday. No one is quite so aggressive as middle-aged women in a grocery store—their minds would shock you." I started to laugh and he joined in with me.
The two of us ended up laughing together, destroying the quiet we'd involuntarily maintained. And it felt good to laugh. There was so much more relief in it than when I cried, especially because he was laughing with me. His eyes sparkled, warmth and honey until he covered them with a hand. He let himself keep grinning, even when I noticed and loved it with every inch of my soul.
When we'd both regained our composure, he crossed the room with two long strides of his legs and sat down on his sofa. I held out a hand and he tossed me the blanket without either of us having to exchange a word.
I was wrapping the blanket back around my shoulders when I asked, "Where were you born?"
"I was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1901, and I was named after my father." Edward jr.? He gave a soft smile. "Just Edward."
"Were you close to your dad?"
"No. He was a very successful lawyer, hardly ever around and distant even when he was. It felt, at times, like I was being raised by a single mother."
"Must've sucked. Sorry," I said, my voice this weird, soft thing it'd never been before in my life.
Edward didn't seem to care. "Your turn. Think of your childhood."
The first thing that came to mind was how spoiled I was until Seth was born and soaked up all the attention. It'd been difficult adjusting from being an only child to the only responsible child. In the end, though, I enjoyed being a big sister. Next, came my relationship with my mom. She'd given birth to me on the reserve with no epidural, like an insane person, and worked hard to make me tough. She'd always told me women had to be twice as tough as any man since we only got half the credit.
"I see what you meant by intense," Edward murmured, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Yeah, but she could also be sweet."
She'd always helped me with my homework, even if it was a last-minute thing and she needed to work early the next day. My mom was the one who'd taught me femininity didn't mean weakness. I could like face masks and moisturizers and the spa, but mess up anyone who stepped to me. She'd taught me how to punch and how to paint my nails.
He smiled as I recalled my frustration with learning how to braid my hair beside my mom in a mirror. "You had an eventful childhood."
"Yeah." My dad flickered through my mind again and Edward flinched, holding a hand to his head. "I'm sorry. I'm trying not to think about him."
"Please, don't censor yourself for my benefit." He closed his eyes for a moment before he met my worried gaze. "I'm fine, I swear. I can take a lot worse. You tend to dish out a lot worse to your pack."
I figured that'd come up, at some point. There was no point in lying, so I said, "A lot went into the decision to make them suffer. It's just instinct now."
"It's malicious."
"I'm malicious, but I blame it on the circumstance."
He furrowed his brow at me. "What circumstance?"
"Being alive." Life wasn't fair. It sucked and then you died—and sometimes you lived again before dying again. "Anyway, did you have any conditions or deficiencies as a human? Odd birthmarks?"
"I was a healthy, normal child. I grew up strong—I wanted to join the military, patriotism having been sown in me from the time I was young."
"The first world war was happening when you were a kid, right? What was that like?" He shrugged and I guessed, "You weren't scared of it."
"I tried to join the war every year. I was living for the day I turned eighteen." His eyes hardened, turning severe with grief in a split second. "Then, the Spanish Influenza came and killed whole families faster than any army could. When you see something like that, everything turns small in comparison. War became so very small and pointless when my mother started coughing."
"Did you get sick, too?"
His answer came in a weak whisper. "I did." How old had he been? "Seventeen."
"That's so young." I wouldn't have pegged him for being seventeen, but no other age came to mind when I looked at him, either. "Do you think you would've liked to be frozen at a different age?"
"Twenty-five. Your brain's technically fully developed then…and it would be nice not having to go to high school ever again." He smiled to himself, eyes still shining sadly.
"I'm surprised you can date a high schooler. I would want to rip my hair out if I had to date a seventeen-year-old and I'm only twenty."
He frowned and I could tell I'd hit a nerve. God, why did I have to be so good at that? "Bella's eighteen and she's wise beyond her years."
"Ok, ok. I was just stating my opinion, I wasn't challenging yours." He relaxed a little, but the air around him became a little more guarded for the misunderstanding. "I'm completely on your side, y'know. You don't have to be so defensive, we're fighting on the same team now. The same way we'll be on the battlefield."
"Actually, I won't be fighting. I'll be staying with Bella during the fight and so will Jacob."
Wait, wait, wait. Jacob was out? "If neither of you fights with us, how can you still guarantee that it'll be an easy win? You may trust your seer—sister—whatever, but the pack can't take a vision from a cold one and run with it. We need our best fighter out there with us."
Not to mention that the pack had gotten into this mess because Jacob loved Bella. Now he wouldn't even be fighting? How the hell did that make any sense? We weren't the almost-alpha's little lapdogs. I wouldn't fight if Jacob didn't. If I didn't fight and Jacob didn't have to, Paul wouldn't. From there, the rest would cave into not fighting out of fear they couldn't win without us.
"Leah, please. I need your help." He used his eyes on me, turning the full intensity of them onto me.
It was impossible to withstand. "Fine. I'll do it, but I won't like it. Jake's second-in-command and if he isn't there, then the pack won't be as supported."
Edward groaned like he'd been stabbed. "Don't you think I know that? No matter what I do, it's wrong, but she asked me to stay and I couldn't say no! Leah, I almost killed her." That seemed to be what bothered him the most, which made the gold of his eyes burn with regret. For me, it was the fact that he'd almost died. "She's just a girl. She doesn't deserve this war, she doesn't deserve this life I've doomed her to. And if all I can give her as consolation is myself and my presence, then I must. I must."
So, she'd asked. Sitting out wasn't just something he'd opted to do. That made me feel a bit better. "Why did she ask you to stay?"
A rueful smile worked itself on his angular face. "Not all are desensitized to the thought of losing people like you and me."
"That's not fair."
"How so?"
"I'm scared of losing people, too! Do you think I like the thought of Seth going out there? It kills me. It kills me that I'm the reason he phased, I'm the reason our dad is dead and if Seth dies on the battlefield, that'll be my fault, too. You don't think that terrifies me? It does."
Seth was so young, so eager. He hadn't even considered dying, he was too young to feel his mortality even as it came racing towards him. And the immortals wanted my fourteen-year-old brother to fight for them, instead of with them.
Edward sat up from where he'd casually draped himself on his couch, an urgency in his eyes. "I don't want that. I don't want any of this, but you must understand. I have to keep Bella safe—"
"Then, you've gotta understand that I have to keep Seth safe. At all costs. If I have to break off from the fight to help him, I will." He gave a slow nod, but there was something different in the way he was staring at me. It niggled at me, digging deep under my skin. "What?"
He still hesitated, even after my prodding. Eventually, he said, "I find the way you think quite interesting." His gaze lingered on my face, analyzing it for something, clearly. Before I could find out what he was looking for, he looked away, toward a specific point.
I followed his line of sight to what looked like a candid photo of Bella laughing, her hair a long braid over her shoulder. She was very pretty with a heart-shaped face and big, chocolate brown eyes crinkled with a joy that I knew well. She was definitely looking at Edward.
"Who took the photo?"
"Alice. I have to hide the picture every time Bella comes over or she'd get embarrassed, so this is our little secret." He went over to the frame, picking it up with the gentlest touch I'd ever seen.
"I'm good at secrets." I watched him for a moment. I would've been content to watch him forever, but I had to ask, "How'd she take it?"
He glanced back at me and there was something about the way his eyes dimmed. It was like an alarm, registering in my head like I'd known him for years and seen the look a million times.
No way.
"You haven't told her about me." Even saying the words felt wrong.
He looked back to the pretty little photo. "I'll tell her soon."
"How soon?" The sooner, the better.
"I need to wait until there's not a chance she'll be able to do something reckless at the battle," he explained to me. And I understood his thought process, but it was dead wrong.
If he waited until after the battle, it would be too late. If he knew for three full days and didn't tell her, especially with an all-out war happening, it would hurt her, deep. And I didn't want her to be hurt. I didn't want her to be me.
"She'll never be you." He put the frame down and turned toward me, his temper making another show. "I would never leave her, not for anyone—least of all, you. I don't even know you. You're nothing to me."
There it was. The turn, the point where whatever I'd been enjoying bent and twisted into another ugly memory. It found me again.
My heart tore itself to shreds, screaming in my chest. My lips said without any thought from my mind, "Ok. Understood." He had a wary look on his face as he stared at me, watching me struggle to stand. It was like I had no strength left in my body. "Speaking of Bella, you should be getting back to her."
"Leah," he started, wincing. Always wincing, always grimacing. That was all I did for him, I made his life uncomfortable, unpleasant. "I shouldn't have said that the way I did. I only meant that Bella is the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Not—… I mean, we do hardly know one another."
"It's ok, you don't have to explain yourself to me."
He stood there for a while longer, staring at me as I stared back. I forced myself not to think about anything other than sleeping when he left. I would sleep when he left.
Sleep when he was gone. Sleep in his absence. Sleep once he le—
"I want you to sleep in here, so you may be well-rested," he told me, holding my gaze for a moment. "Ok?"
"Got it." I wanted to lock it down, to be strong just until he left. It was so simple, all I had to do was hang on until he left and I would be good. But, I couldn't do it. "It's not exactly a new concept for people to hate me, to not be able to stand me when I walk in a room. I'm used to being the unwanted one, the one everyone wishes would just go away. Thing is, I'm not going away."
"Carlisle will find eventually a cure—"
"No, he won't. You know why? Because this isn't a disease! This isn't a sickness, Edward, this is a bond. I'm yours forever and—screw it! I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but that's the way it is! I love you like you're half of me and I always will. There's nothing you can say to make me go away. This isn't going to just disappear. So, you need to tell her because I'm good at keeping secrets, but I won't be one. Not for anyone, not even for you."
There was a fleeting moment, this space between seconds where I thought he was about to say something. He hadn't moved an inch, his lips were still sealed together, but I had this feeling like he was going to speak. And then he left.
Once I was sure he was gone, I sank back down to the floor and let the tears fall.
A/N: So, this took forever! Sorry. I edit by myself and I kept deleting and restarting this chapter because I couldn't get it right. I hope you like it because I worked really hard at it. I'm still building the base of the story at this point, so I'm sorry if it's not so interesting just yet. The next chapter will be a lot more fun, though. Buckle up!
I'd also like to give a special thanks to UltimateGoldenSpider for encouraging me to keep writing. And, of course, thank you so much to everyone who reviews! Thank you for the favorites and the follows, too, because it means a lot. Please, continue to follow this story because there's still a lot in store!
