Thanks to addicttwilight2 and everyone kind enough to give me their input.
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it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be,i say if this should be-
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
e.e. cummings
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Chapter Fourteen: Helpless
His fingers ran haphazardly through the mess of his wife's curls, gently pulling and detangling. In response, she adjusted her head, snuggling deeper into the crook of his neck and placing a soft kiss against the point where his pulse had once beaten.
He closed his eyes and for a while he felt as though they two were floating through a haze of bliss. Bella's feet were twined about his calves, her small body curved to fit against his, her soft hand resting lazily on his chest. There were no words between them as of yet, but he could feel her small puffs of air against the skin of his throat, could sense her every movement, could have told her that the soft, lazy kisses she scattered routinely against his skin were timed in almost-perfect three-minute intervals.
He wound his fingers through her hair and wrapped his free arm around her waist, tugging her more securely against him. And he wondered if this longing, this ache to be as close to her as possible would ever let up. If he would ever feel like he'd had enough, that he'd like some alone time now, please.
No, he decided firmly as her fingers traced slow patterns above his heart. No, there would never be enough of this. And somehow the thought both terrified and soothed him.
"Edward?" she mumbled against his skin, her voice deliciously sleepy.
"Mm?"
She glanced up, and their eyes connected, and it didn't matter that hers were red while his were black. "I love you."
He swallowed. He felt as though she'd brushed a kiss against the worst of his pain.
"I love you too, Bella," he croaked, and bent his head to kiss her.
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"I remember something."
She propped her chin up on her arms, which were placed across his chest. He ran his hand through her hair. Having been absent when she had changed it, he was determined to acquaint himself with this new style as quickly as possible. He liked it, he thought, he definitely liked it, the way it curled so softly and gently against her face, the way it stopped just at that place on her collarbone where he knew she loved to be kissed...
She swatted his chest lightly. "Did you even hear what I said?" she asked, her eyes alight with humour.
With effort, he focused his mind. "I'm sorry, love. What do you remember?"
She bit her lip, looked at him through her eyelashes, shyly. "I remember talking to you in school. For the first time. Properly."
Hello, my name is Edward Cullen...
"Ah yes," he laughed. "I'm afraid I was somewhat less than eloquent."
She smiled, her eyes moving over his face in a way that made him catch his breath.
"I don't remember it that way," she said softly.
He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone. "You've always thought more of me than I deserved."
She smirked at him. "Hello, pot. This is kettle. You're black."
He should possibly had been saddened, or irritated, that she was once again denying how deeply he esteemed her, but at that precise moment he was unable to feel anything but the joy bubbling in the pit of his stomach. So he chuckled with her, watching her face relax for the first time since she'd returned.
Their laughter subsided and they lay for a while in silence. Her hands on his chest felt as though they were electrifying him slowly in the best possible way. He stroked her hair, kissed each of her fingers, thinking thank you, thank you.
"Edward?" she asked, and he heard an increased sobriety in her voice.
"Mm?"
"Does it bother you that I might not ever get my memories back?" she whispered, staring at his chin.
His hand, which had been rubbing slow circles on her back, stilled.
"Sometimes," he admitted, exhaling in a sigh. "I can't pretend that I don't want to know the reason for all of this, Bella. I believe you, and I trust you, but I still need to know why."
He saw her swallow, knew his admission was tearing her apart, and hastened to relieve the sting of his words.
"I'm willing to wait," he said softly, watching her face. "I will wait for as long as you need me to, love. I do believe that you will eventually get your memories back... that's usually how it works. Whether you remember ten minutes or ten years from now, I'll be there."
Her face relaxed, and she smiled.
"It means so much to hear you say that," she said, beaming at him.
He grinned back on her, and bent to kiss her, but before he could a very unwelcome thought prickled at the back of his mind and he felt his every instinct whisper danger. Pulling Bella to sit at his side, he sat bolt upright in bed, his muscles humming, his mind whirring.
"What is it?" she asked, alarmed.
He shushed her, intent on figuring this out, on –
Edward, I need to talk to you...
And then hatred, pure and fierce, was washing across his body, and he was out of bed and bent in a defensive crouch, snarling, staring straight at the spot he knew the intruder would emerge...
Bella was beside him then, her fingers digging into his forearm brutally hard.
"What's wrong?" she cried, and when he turned to face her, he could see her face fall, utterly – could only imagine that his own was full of loathing.
"Jacob," he spat bitterly, "and his mate. They're coming."
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Fully dressed now, and standing with his wife outside the house, and she was trembling and he knew he should comfort her, but all was focused on –
Edward, I need to make sure she's all right...
You touch him, leech, even look funny at him and I swear to god I will rip you limb from limb...
"Don't say anything," he ground out, not even looking at Bella. "Don't say anything to him. Let me handle this. Please."
He felt her fingers begin to entangle with his, but pulled his hand away, unable to deal with that particular distraction.
"It will be all right," he heard her whisper. "Jake is my friend. He's our friend. Edward, he helped me."
That was true, he knew it was true, and also knew that his hostility made absolutely no sense, but he could not stop his chest from rumbling with a low and predatory growl, could not ignore his every instinct which screamed that this man had once taken his wife away from him and might do so again.
He took a step forward, shielding her, and when she moved with him he flung his left arm across her chest to ensure that he was at least half a step in front of her. He was grateful when she didn't object. He didn't think he could have dealt with any argument from her, right now.
There – in the trees – the bright sun glinted off bronzed flesh. He stiffened, and, as Jacob and Leah appeared into full view, drew himself up to his full height and locked his body as if for impact. Behind him, he heard Bella draw a choked breath as their scents hit her, but could not turn his back on his enemies to check on her.
Wisely, the two mutts kept a large distance from him. He noted coldly that Jacob's arm was locked around his mate's shoulders, that his face was drawn and ashen and that his walk had a barely-noticeable limp to it, and that Leah was staring at Bella with the deepest expression of loathing he'd ever seen on a human face. A low growl rumbled in his chest in return, and his hand reached out and grasped his wife's in an iron-tight grip.
The silence between the four was heavy. He could hear Jacob deliberating as to what to say, but did not bother to attempt civility and break the tension, as he might have done, once.
Once more he was confronted with multiple flavours of thought. On one hand, the dog had helped his wife, possibly saved her life and brought her back. On another, Bella had run to this man instead of to him, Edward, in her time of need, and Jacob had taken her away to Volterra, and the thought of that made him want to beat the dog till he squealed for mercy. On a third, the only sense he could hope to make of the mess of the past year lay in Jacob's thoughts and memories, but on yet a fourth, he knew that on some level, Bella loved her Quileute friend, loved him deeply, and for that reason alone he wanted to tear him to pieces from pure jealousy.
So he was reduced to staring at this man he hated and owed his happiness to, unable to move in any direction, conflicted and torn, and scared.
Most of all scared.
Because, his traitorous mind whispered, because maybe there was another reason Bella left with this boy... maybe she'd not only loved him but been in love with him... maybe she'd never stopped feeling torn between the two of them, not even after her marriage, their honeymoon... maybe she'd needed to indulge that side of herself before reconciling herself to the notion of eternity with he, Edward, and maybe, just maybe, they had...
Jacob cleared his throat.
"It's good to see you, Bella," he said softly. At his words, Leah started, and drew closer to him.
Edward chanced a glance back at his wife and noted that her lips were almost white.
"Jake," she said quietly. If Edward hadn't known better he would have believed her in danger of fainting.
He tightened his grip on her hand, keeping her slightly shadowed by his body. Still vacillating on whether he should rip Jacob's head from his shoulders or shake his hand in thanks, he addressed the mutt in a hard voice.
"What do you want?" His voice did not waver or betray anything of what he was feeling. He was grateful for that, at least.
Then the dog's eyes met his, and despite himself, Edward was shocked at what he saw there.
Jacob's eyes were tired. No – more than that – they were weary, they sagged under the weight of too much. They'd seen too much and done too much to fit in his still-youthful face. His thoughts, as they flooded into Edward's brain, suffered the same brutal burden. And that was his first hint, the first thing that prevented him from killing the mutt immediately. Jacob did not want to be there, as much or more than Edward did not want him there.
"I'm fulfilling a promise I made," he proclaimed quietly, and again Edward saw a shadow of hatred pass over Leah's face – heard her fervent wish that the love of her life was just a little less honourable.
"What promise is that?" Some of the venom had leached out of his voice as curiosity set in.
Jacob's gaze flickered between he and Bella, finally landing on his wife.
"You asked me," he said tiredly, "to come back here, when it was done, and explain as much as I was able."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Bella's hand rested at her throat, squeezing as if she intended to choke herself.
"I remember," she whispered. He could hear the effort it took her to push the words from her lungs.
Jacob's dark eyes landed back on his own black ones, and slowly he began to speak.
"Months ago, Bella came to my house – our house, now," he amended, looking down at Leah with a smile, "and requested my help. She was upset, and crying, and begged me to help her. She told me that both her family and mine were in huge danger and that she was the only person who could stop their deaths."
His still-rusty management of his gift and Jacob's surprising control over his thoughts made it almost impossible for Edward to see where this was going. He gritted his teeth, dropping Bella's hand to rub at his temple in impatience.
"What was the danger?" he asked, somewhat less than politely, and again Leah bristled, her thoughts broadcasting such venomous hatred that Edward was surprised his face didn't immediately erupt in blisters.
Jacob gazed warily at him.
"She wouldn't tell me," he said, and his tone was almost apologetic. "She told me that the less people knew, the better, and that she couldn't risk you finding out from my thoughts."
His fists clenched and he compressed his entire body tightly. As a result, what had been meant as a roar of pure frustration at still not understanding escaped from his lips as a mere hiss.
He was so wrapped up in himself and his own petty impotence that he did not notice Bella taking a step forward.
"Jake," she said, and her voice was full of the tears she couldn't shed, "Jake, they hurt you, didn't they?"
Jacob's mouth formed a hard, bitter line. He squared his shoulders and remained silent. Leah, noting his unwillingness to express his own hurts, turned to Bella and finally spoke, her eyes flashing.
"Yes, they hurt him," she said, and Edward could see what an effort it was for her to abstain from cursing his wife with every swearword she knew. "He went with you on this goddamned foolish trip, stood by you when you told him you wanted to go to Volterra, of all places – and don't pretend you didn't know what a risk he was talking by just setting foot inside that city! – and for a finish, ended up with a body full of broken bones for his trouble..."
She would have gone on, Edward knew, but for the fact that Jacob drew her gently into his embrace and murmured something unintelligible to her. And that still would not have stopped her but for the fact that in hurting Bella, whom Jacob still loved, she was also hurting Jacob.
He almost laughed aloud with the irony of it. From the first moment he'd met Jacob he had resisted the urge to maim and kill him, because his hurt would hurt Bella, and now Leah was doing precisely the same thing for Jacob. What fools love makes us, he thought bitterly. What utter fools.
The dog was speaking now, his voice grave and deep.
"When – the crux of this whole mess was that Bella had to go to the Volturi to be changed," he said, and the quietness of his voice did not in any way mask the disgust he felt for that act. "I don't understand why, or how, I don't understand any of it, and believe me, it went against every natural instinct to let her go, but she was so certain that it was the only way to save us all... and then, when she was – when that red-eyed maniac was changing her, he got carried away, and..."
"He would have killed me," Bella interrupted, her voice rushed and breathy.
Jake closed his mouth and nodded.
"You... you saved me. You jumped at him, you got him off me. And they almost killed you for it." Her voice was full of awe.
Jake nodded again. And Edward was faced, once again, with the crushing weight of all he owed this man.
"They wanted to kill me – thought they'd killed me," Jacob admitted, the carelessness of his voice belying the tremor beneath, "but the leader's gift didn't work on me, and so they didn't understand enough about us – didn't realise how quickly we can heal..."
Bella was trembling beside him, harder than ever. She took a step forward, and stopped. And for the first time in a long time, Edward knew what she was thinking as clearly as if he could have actually read her mind.
The stench of putrefying flesh and animal blood that emanated from Jacob and Leah was unbearable from where they stood. Bella could not quite hide her instinctive revulsion to it, and Edward knew her body was revolting against taking her any nearer to the scent that screamed danger.
At the same time, she was aware that she smelt the same, if not worse, to Jacob now – that her body had been altered to something completely alien and disgusting to him. Combined with this fact was Leah's presence, her protective stance, her clear hatred. Edward could tell that there was no way she would let Bella within a foot of her mate, and could tell that Bella knew this also. The door had finally been closed, and there was no way she could turn back now.
"Jake," she whispered helplessly, her hand reaching out to her best friend over the no-man's-land between them, "I can never tell you how grateful I am..."
-I can never tell you how sorry I am –
"...for all you've done for me, all you've given up, and... and..." Bella struggled for words, her voice thick and utterly sincere. "I won't... this is over now, you and I. You've done everything I could ever have asked for, and now... now you have nothing left to give. And I wish you... every happiness."
His wife glanced at Leah as she said this, and in that moment Edward could sense a silent \communication between the two women, a mutual acknowledgement.
There were no more words spoken. Jacob smiled sadly at them both, and, tugging at Leah's hand, disappeared with her from whence he'd come.
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