Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, have no rights to Twilight, Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
A/N: Ok, just did a quick fix on this. Hope you like it. And, since I've forgotten to say this so many times before, to my reviewers--- THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!
I felt like I was standing on the edge of a revelation. A familiar dull ache filled my stomach and a thick stupor chased through my mind, just as I was about to grasp the truth—whatever the truth was. Everything was shot through with vivid violet streaks of light, and I couldn't be sure if I was waking or dreaming. As hard as I willed myself to, I couldn't pull myself away from the grasp of sleep. It was like a poison running slowly through my veins, leaving me victim to my subconscious. And then the real dreams began.
They started as wraiths of the things that I had done that day. My hands folded laundry, washed the dishes, held the iron that pressed my clothes. Again and again, a never ending domestic cycle. And then I caught sight of my reflection in the flat glass of a picture frame. The face there was not my own: it was my mother's, but much older, lined and… twisted somehow.
And suddenly I knew why she had left Charlie, what her fears had been.
With that realization, my mind jerked away again, this time to a warped half-forgotten memory. Shadows seemed to creep out from the desert, rising from the hollows carved in the rock by the lonesome wind. The once friendly sun had turned traitor and sank down behind the horizon. The sky seemed to be on fire, as if Hell itself had come to dwell on the crust of the Earth. Sound echoed oddly off of the canyon walls surrounding me: I could hear the blood of the dead crying from the dust, and the voices were oddly familiar. Something in the tenor of them reminded of Jacob. And then I knew, saw the adobe dwellings carved into the red rock. Quileutes had never dwelt there in the waking world, but now, in this dream state, I somehow knew what waited behind those walls and in the recesses of this canyon. Dark eyes that pierced the darkness, lithe bodies that stalked vampires effortlessly. Something dashed across the corner of my vision, and I spun on one heel. Panic began to grow at the base of my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe with its relentless grip.
A bone-chilling growl echoed up the walls, dwelling in the hollows and assaulting my ears. And then Jacob stood before me, looking as he had before the transformation to werewolf had ever occurred. His hair lay unbound across his shoulders, and he looked at me out of those dark eyes, but there was a feral glint there. Adrenaline coursed through my body, and I saw him lift his head, sniff the air. I thought of Laurent and the meadow that day, saw my protector become predator. I knew that Jacob could smell the fear.
This wasn't the Jacob that I knew.
I took a step back, heart stuttering wildly, and heard the growling again.
He looked…wounded. Like an animal caught in a trap. There was a movie I had seen once, where a fox was snared between the sharp metal teeth of a contraption. I remembered the way it shivered in fear and pain, wildly snapping at anything that came near it. Remembering that, I took another step back.
He advanced, and the voices from the dust grew louder. Goosebumps broke out along my skin and I began shaking. He stopped, a puzzled line between his brows.
For the first time, I looked past him. There was Emily, wolf-girl, her wounds still fresh and bleeding. The scarlet fluid tainted her dress, ran down her limbs in brilliant rivers. The flesh was tattered, brutally savaged. Her eyes turned to mine, brilliant with pain. I saw myself, terrified, reflected in them.
I woke with a soft cry as a bolt of lightning pierced the sky and thunder rumbled, closer now than ever. My hands were twisted in the fabric of Edward's shirt and shaking feverishly. Tears began falling from my eyes, fast and thick as the rain outside. I couldn't even hear Edward's voice as he murmured consoling words, but I saw the worry and concern in his eyes and the movement of his lips. My breath rushed into my lungs with sudden gasps: it felt so much like drowning beneath the breakers of the ocean again. That brought Jacob back into my mind, a blazing, burning personage.
Edward seized me tightly, the cool strength of him quenching the fire. His lips were brushing my face, banishing the tears that slid across my cheeks even as new ones sprang from my eyes. I could feel the sweat springing from my pores and clinging to my skin. The fabric of Edward's shirt felt damp in my grasp, but I couldn't pry my fingers apart enough to release it.
His voice was suddenly in my ear, fierce with worry. I couldn't make out the words yet, but the rich texture of it flowed through me, quelled the trembling muscles, softened the sharp edge of panic. My heart still beat a relentless tattoo against my ribs, but the thick bulk of Edward's body kept it from flying through my chest.
"Bella," he said softly, "I'm here. It's alright. Shh, Bella, shh. You're not dreaming anymore. Please, listen to me. Tell me what's wrong."
My hands still trembled, and my teeth threatened to chatter. I lifted my eyes to his, and something he saw there caused his face to twist in pain.
"Bella, I can't stand to see you hurting like this. Tell me, tell me please what it is that is upsetting you." His voice was rich, pleading. The voice of a destroying angel, there to banish all my demons.
He pressed his lips gently to mine, and my lips trembled against his. That simple touch restored some of my sanity to me and I managed to release the fabric clutched in my hands. My breathing slowed marginally, but I still couldn't manage words. Edward was looking more and more distressed as time passed.
"I think I need to sit up," I murmured. It was all I could manage. Slowly, Edward pulled himself away and helped me rise into a halfway upright position. Regardless of the danger, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my body slump against his. My forehead settled against the cool flesh under his neck and it relieved some of the pounding in my skull. Tears dripped slowly from my eyes. His arms were around me again, securing me to him, my bastion, my fortification against the emotions that swept through me.