Title: Natural

Summary: An unknown batter named Edward Masen takes a losing baseball team to the top of the league. Edward lives out his fame but can't seem to shake the idea of the mysterious woman he meets on the train.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this work.

A/N: Thank you to my amazing mind soulmate and awbffe, LoveBadBoyVamps, for beta reading this chapter. *muah*


The field was packed with the players. I stood against the mesh fence watching Emmett Hale hit a few against the pitcher. The team was actually good they just lacked spirit when it came to the games. Emmett hit a few into deep right field as the outfielders caught them.

"That's my boy," Carlisle whispered as he stood behind me.

I smiled. "Where did he get Hale from? Is that Esme's maiden name?"

"Hale is his wife's name." He shook his head. "Rosalie Hale, one of the most beautiful women to walk this planet. Second to Esme, of course."

I laughed. "How'd he get away with that one? Don't the boys rag on him?"

"They don't know. Emmett married her very young. Took her name right away so that he could make it without having to think it was 'cause he was my son."

I crossed my arms and watched after Emmett. "You must be very proud of him."

"I am."

After a couple more pitches, Phil Dwyer walked out onto the field and stood beside me. "Alright, Masen. Get in the cage. Let's see what you can do." He called after Emmett. "Get out of there, Hale!"

Emmett hit one last ball—a grounder to third base—and eyed me as he made his wait out of the cage. I practice swung with my bat a couple of times before stepping into the cage and readying my stand.

"Show us what you can do." I heard Carlisle call.

I stood ready for the pitch as the pitcher chuckled to himself. "Try this one, Grandpa."

He wound up and pitched the ball. My bat made contact and sent it right over left field and into the bleachers. The field watched in silence. Pitch after pitch my bat continued to make contact sending balls all over the stadium. This was a feeling I had grown accustom to. I knew where I wanted the ball to go and I sent it there.

Phil had me practicing with the guys, sending the ball to where they stood to get them to catch it. No matter where he told me to send it, I put it there. When I finished the team stared after me in shock and Carlisle had a huge smile on his face.

"Come here!" Phil ordered.

I walked over and placed my bat over my shoulder. Phil stared incredulous at me and held out his hand.

"Let me see that bat."

I handed it over to him as he examined it with his eyes and hands.

"Not bad, kid." Carlisle stated.

Guess that meant I proved my worth to Carlisle. Just as I knew I would. Now that I had Carlisle's trust I could get somewhere in this game. They had to see my talent and know I was worth something.

"Where did you get this?" Phil asked gesturing to the bat.

"Made it from scratch from a tree in my hometown."

He read the titling on the bat. "You put that there?" I nodded. "What's it mean?"

"It was a special bat. I wanted it to be important. Made it when I was a kid."

Phil pointed to the tiny lightning bolt near the neck of the bat. "And this?"

"The tree I made it from was split open my lightning. I saw it as a good omen."

He shook his head in disbelief. "All those years…. How come you never played organized ball?"

"I got sidetracked."

"You gonna get sidetracked now, kid?"

I shook my head. "No, sir."

He put the bat in Carlisle's hands. "Measure that and weigh it." He turned to me. "If it comes up to specifications, we'll let you use it. Now, go shag some flies."


After practice I was called into Carlisle's office. I went in and he sat there twirling my bat in his hands. He told me to sit in the chair across from him and I did, waiting for him to speak. I knew that bat would meet specifications, I made it that way. There was no way I'd play without Wonderboy. It was a superstition, but I believed Wonderboy was what made me good.

"Your bat passed."

I smiled. "Knew it would."

"Something you said out there stuck with me." He paused. "What had you sidetracked? I mean, you've got talent, obvious talent. What could stop you from that?"

I took in a breath. Someday, I knew I would have to talk about Bella but I still wasn't ready for it. I didn't think I'd ever be. Bella had wounded me and took away the only love I ever knew—baseball. Carlisle waited for my answer with an honest look on his face and since he trusted me so inexplicably I believed I owed him the same courtesy.

"I met a woman on a train here sixteen years ago," I began. "And it was a mistake."

I had begun to think of Bella as a mistake—a huge one. She was the reason I was in the position now. The reason I thought about her and her alone. It didn't matter how beautiful a girl was, she never compared to Bella.

"Do you mean when you first left?"

I nodded. "I came here to try out for the Knights. She was the beginning of a lot of mistakes…"

"What mistakes?" he asked with sincerity.

"Like bombing my first ever tryout. I coulda been better. I coulda broke every record in the book."

The fact was, I only had so many years left until I couldn't play anymore. If I had started when I wanted to—when I was going to—I could've been the best there ever was. I would've had time to break records and make a name for myself the way Emmett and the others did. But, no, I had a time limit. My body wouldn't be like this forever and I was already at the end of my rope.

Carlisle spoke. "And then what? What do you get for breaking records?"

I stood up from my seat and began pacing. "You get a name for yourself you get to walk down the street and have people look at you and say, 'There goes Edward Masen, the best there ever was in this game.'"

"What if that's not all there is to this game?"

I stopped pacing and ran my hand through my hair. "I've accepted it. I just want to play. Some mistakes you don't stop paying for. This is one of them. I just want to play."

I sat down, pulling at my hair. Carlisle hadn't spoken he just kept twirling my bat in his hands. I heard him stand and walk over to the tack board behind him. It was a picture of him and Charlie. He merely sighed.

"Listen, Carlisle, it took me sixteen years to get here. You play me, I'll give ya the best I've got."

He turned to look at me. "I believe ya."


"Hale! Hustle out there!"

I was sitting in the dugout as we played Philadelphia. We were leading, giving us a golden opportunity to break the losing streak the Knights had kept themselves under. I watched our pitcher pitch the ball and it made contact with the Phillies bat. It was a long fly ball right to Emmett and he knocked the ball with his glove sending the ball rolling to the wall. That error allowed the Phillies to tie it up. The batter made his way to third and with a bad throw to the shortstop the batter got a walk-off homerun. Phillies up one.

"Come on, guys! You're not stapled to the ground! Move! Move! Move!"

It seemed like no matter what we tried we just couldn't get a handle on the ball. We finally make our third out and as Emmett makes his way in Phil is right in his face.

"Stay put, Hale. You're sitting this one out!"

Emmett got engraged. "What! What are you trying to do! I'm the best we got!"

Phil poked his chest. "If you're the best we've got then say goodbye to your pennet dreams, ladies!"

"I'm not apologizing!"

Phil got so close his face. "Listen to me. Are you listening?"

"Yeah."

"I'm the manager you're the player. You sit down and shut your mouth." He turned away from him. "Uley, Clearwater, help Mr. Hale find his seat. Masen you're up!"

That really got Emmett. "What is the matter with you? You're putting in a grandpa instead of me!"

"Sit your ass down, prima donna."

The umpire called out to our dugout. "Need a batter up here!"

Phil whirled on me. "Masen, get your ass out there. You're up!"

I quickly grabbed my bat and walked towards the plate. Carlisle grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear.

"Knock the cover off the ball."

He let me go and stepped up at the plate. We had a runner at second and the pitcher checked him before looking back at me. He wound it up and pitched a fast ball, inside. The umpire called it a strike—a call I didn't agree with. I shook it off and stepped back up.

This time I was ready for it. Fastball, inside corner. I made contact with it and sent the cover right off the ball flying into deep left field. Everyone watch in awe as the cover fell right before the short-stop. Who looked down and stared at it. I kept running.

Pushing the other player in front of me we both made it home, once again taking the lead. The umpire stopped the game as the Phillies coach walked out on the field.

"I want to see that ball!"

His shortstop handed him the covering.

"Not that junk! The ball!"

Several of the players walked forward holding pieces of the ball. One stepped forward and spoke. "That junk is the ball."

"Jesus he shot it to pieces!"

Carlisle and Phil made their way out to where the Phillies coach and the umpire were. They stared in disbelief at the various pieces of the ball that I just broke.

The Phillies coach turned to Phil. "Was that real, the cover coming off?"

"You were there weren't ya?"

"You saw it." Carlisle added.

He shook his head still staring at the pieces and then turned to the umpire. "Explain that cover coming off."

Carlisle called me over and I ran to stand beside him.

"How did you do that?" The umpire asked.

I shrugged. "I just hit it as hard as I could."

The umpire turned to Phil. "Is it true he just walked in one day?"

We all nodded.

"Can we see the bat Masen used?"

Carlisle called over the bat boy with my bat and he came running. He was a scrawny little kid named Seth Clearwater. He seemed to be always following the players around asking a bunch of questions. Seth ran right up to us and showed the Phillies' coach my bat.

"There's no way to grease them." Phil added.

"Miracle." The Phillies coach breathed. "It's a God damn miracle."

He walked away and we made it back to our dugout. I knew the ledgends and myths with knocking the cover off a baseball. It was seen as an omen. A sign of luck to come. It was just what this team needed.

It was just what I needed.