*Chapter 5: Unveiled
*Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. SM does.
*Song: "Love will keep us alive" by The Eagles
*My beta and I do the best we can grammatical and punctuation wise. We apologize for any errors not corrected in this chapter in advance.
*So an update so soon? In the words of the great Bruce Springsteen... "Oh oh oh...I'm on Fire..."
-*-Bella-*-
I was standing
All alone against the world outside
you were searching
for a place to hide
Lost and lonely
Now you've given me the will to survive
When we're hungry...love will keep us alive
I stared at him from across the small distance he had put between us. My face must have mimicked some form of horror or renewed fear, because his eyes softened and his eyes closed tightly. I could hear his sigh as I placed my hand across my heart.
"I'm so sorry, Isabella," he apologized, his eyes still tightly closed. "I…there is no excuse for my behavior." His eyes fluttered open slowly, and his hand shot out to place his hand over mine that rested over me heart. "Please forgive me."
"Yes. Of course," I said, studiously appraising his face. "I should be the one to apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything."
"Isabella, please don't say your apologies because you think I didn't want the feeling of your fingers across my skin. It isn't that. I have already told you the effect you have on me," he smiled, bu the smile did not reach his eyes. Instead, if at all possible, it seemed to make him look forlorn and tired.
"Just the same. I…I know better than to do this," I stammered, my face turning away from his tortuously steady gaze.
"Isabella, please don't blame yourself…" He hesitated, and then went on. "Let me at least show you what your blaming yourself for," he responded, pulling his hand from mine and placing his fingers around his top button of his white shirt.
He slowly unbuttoned his shirt with his eyes falling firmly closed. His hand went to open this shirt wide when I reached my hand that had been across my heart and grasped his hand, scooting closer to him on my knees. He opened his eyes in startled haste. He found my eyes staring at his; the tears falling slowly but silently from my eyes and dripping on the back of my forearm.
"Please, Edward, don't. Don't drag old memories out in the open. No, please listen to me-," I said when he made to interrupt me, "-whatever made you react like that…whatever upset you, it doesn't matter to me. I don't care. I don't want you to hurt yourself because you feel the need to explain things to me," I said, retracting my hand and placing it on my knee.
"You're crying," he said, bending over to wipe away the stray tears that fell from my eyes. "I made you cry. Awesome."
He closed his eyes and shook his head forcefully. "Isabella, old memories are just that…old. Besides, I promised you I would tell you things tonight. Things not normal," he,-eyes still closed—reached down and retched the shirt open to bare access to his secrets.
I squeezed my eyes shut before I could see anything. Did I really want to see this? Did I want to know his long buried secrets? To see them reflect back to me?; to resurface. I felt a light pressure on my lips. I opened my eyes and could see Edward as he pulled back. He had kissed me so lightly on the lips, I almost wasn't sure it was a kiss. He took my hand and moved it toward his open shirt.
"Understand," he pleaded, bringing my hand to touch his cold, taught skin where his ribs were located. "Understand that I want you to know. Don't worry about old wounds, Isabella. They heal after awhile and drift away."
My hand quivered with the softest of touches as I moved my fingertips along where his ribs rested. I could feel ragged, bumpy skin. My eyes fell upon the tattered skin and roadmap of the ravaging fire that licked his body and made its permanent mark. The texture was hard and thick as my fingers lightly traced his chest. The contours of his muscles seemed to congeal into a hard mass of rocky skin; the dips and indents felt like relief paper. He was burned there. He backed away earlier because I had touched some of his deformed skin. I understood now and it saddened me.
"I can touch it now, but before...," I started to ask, opening his shirt further so I could look at the scars of his past; the source of his nightmares and his hesitation.
"I'm sorry. You did it without warning. I know it looks…horrible," he replied, making a face as if he, himself, was repulsed.
"Tell me how you got them?" I asked, rubbing the burn scars as if I could take them away. "Was it when you went after Rosalie?"
He nodded. "Grafted from my lower leg. I don't remember the actual pain of it. I remember the flames flicking up as I crossed the threshold of her door. When I awoke in the hospital, there were bandages across my ribs. I remember thinking that I wasn't perfect anymore. Dented," he smiled at me as I continued to run the burn marks that unperfected his body.
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken," I recited. "Even imperfect ones."
"Dostoevsky. Interesting quote," he said, the smile fading a little. "Mind if I quote?" he asked. I shook my head and smiled. "Good."
He cleared his throat, to which I laughed at. He winked at me, then took my hand that was rubbing his scars in his own and held it firmly.
"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul," he quoted, pulling me to him firmly so that his lips could reach my ear. "And my soul is yours, too, if you would like it," he whispered, pulling his head back to look at my face.
In that moment; that instant, I was his. I felt it. All the reservations I had about him as more than a friend crashed down upon me like a building in an earthquake. His eyes were not sad as they had been for so much of the time that I searched and dug through them, but rather happy; mischievous even. His face seemed to glow softly in the weak light of the moon. The smile that was draped across his handsome, genuine face literally made my insides kindle with desire. My body began to shake slightly at the closeness of his body to my own. He mistook this, though.
"You're cold, Isabella," he said, standing up abruptly and reaching down for my hand to help me up. I held my hand for him and he pulled me gently to me feet. "I brought you a afghan," he explained, not letting my hand go as he lead me back through the path to the clearing. "There are some sandwiches, too, but I'm afraid I may have squashed them."
He walked me in silence through the bare, innocuous darkness, his humming the only sound until we found the familiar path that lead into the clearing. He let my hand go as we stepped inside the clearing, the only light a beam from the moon hitting the center table. I proceeded slowly to my log, and he to his.
"I have something for you, Edward. It isn't much, but I found comfort in it, and I can only hope you will do the same," I said, reaching down to untie the small present from its place on my belt loop. I got up from my long and walked to him, handing him the small wood wound with colored thread. "It's a dream catcher. Indian theory is that it makes bad dreams go away. It worked for me when I was young, so perhaps you can put it to better use," I said, watching his face as he inspected the small dream catcher. The colored threads of red, green and tan littered it and three red feathers hung from the bottom. The beading was made into the spider web of thread that surrounded a small, round opal in the center.
"Isabella, it's beautiful. Thank you! I have a few things for you," he said, carefully tucking his newly acquired dream catcher against the log so as to not smash it. He reached behind me and produced my white backpack that I had left with him this afternoon. He unzipped it and stuck his hand in, and then produced the blue afghan. "Here, wrap up in this."
He handed me the afghan. I unfolded it and swung it around like a cape until the soft fibers rested upon my thin, square shoulders. It was very warm and smelled like Edward. He smiled at me and reached back into the backpack.
"I apologize, but I think I did indeed smash the sandwiches," he said, handing me a Ziploc with a sandwich tucked inside. "It's just bologna. I hope you like that," he looked at me with concern. I laughed.
"It's fine, thank you. That's thoughtful," I said.
He pulled his sandwich out and pulled it from the Ziploc. He took a bite, chewing slowly as he watched me do the same with mine. I chewed slowly, watching him watching me as an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. I was a long time before we spoke. We had both finished out sandwiches and successfully discarded the bags when he spoke softly.
"I'm afraid you will leave me," he admitted, picking at the material on his jeans as a distraction. "I mean, I would not blame you, Isabella. I hope that you won't, but there are no surprises anymore. I will tell you whatever it is you would like to know."
"Well, whatever it is you want to tell me, Edward. I promise not to leave," I assured him. And I meant it.
He was silent a moment, then began.
"Fire is a great thing, Isabella. But there are things even greater. Things your mind can only assume to be fairy tale. When Rosalie first was burned, I wanted to…use my advantages for her. To help her. She knew of the consequences of my ability and refused. She wanted to save me," he paused to clear his throat, which had grown thick. "I stood in the hospital and waited for her to fall asleep; to use what was given to me by a higher power for good. Each time, she stopped me," he chuckled darkly. "My father, Carlisle, insisted that I 'save her', as he likes to say. He would pressure me to do it while she was on Morphine, which rendered her incoherent. I refused. It always bothered him as to why I refused to use what I have. He never understood…still doesn't. He resents me, Isabella." He said with a sad sigh.
"I'm sure that's not true," I inputted. I wasn't so sure, but I wanted Edward to feel better.
"It is," Edward replied, shaking his head. "He doesn't get it. There are no second chances. No do-over," he said, bringing his knees up and hugging them. I must have looked confused, and that expression was probably right.
"Edward, I'm missing something here," I said, shaking my head slightly, "What does he have to do with this…abnormality you talk about?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
"He says he is trying to find a cure for my nightmares down there in the basement," he laughed, "but really, he is trying to find a way for me to use what I have and still have a son that's not fucked up or completely gone," he replied, his face twisting into a scowl. "I can't say I won't give him hell if he does concoct a fucking miracle. Probably turn me into a tree for laughs," he said, snorting at his joke.
"I am still not following you, Edward. Actually, you're starting to scare me," I said, looking at him as if he were mad. His insanity seemed to be bordering into full blown madness.
"Come here, Isabella," he commanded softly, his eyes swung searchingly into the darkness around him, and then back to me. I got to my feet and shuffled over the dead twigs and leaves, my shoes crunching the ground in small steps.
"Kneel down in front of me, please," Edward asked.
I did as he asked, falling to one knee and looking him straight in his onyx eyes; the wind began to pick up, making the afghan fall from my shoulders and drop to the ground. I ignored it, maintaining my gaze upon his fevered face. His face took on a serious, almost unnatural look as he stared back at me.
"Isabella, you must listen to me. You can't touch me. No matter what happens, you cannot touch me. Do you understand?" he asked his face unmoving from the serious expression he held. "Do not place your hands on me anywhere, alright?"
"Edward—" I began.
"ISABELLA!" he roared, "I am asking you to please listen to me. DON'T TOUCH ME."
"Ok, I won't," I replied, not quite knowing what to make from his shouting.
"Promise me…"
"I promise."
Edwards's eyes fell closed. He lifted his right hand in the air. I felt the need to reach my hand out to touch his palm, but beat the urge back. His face was calm. My eyes swung over his face; from his eyes to his nose and back again. His facial expression began to change slightly, as if he was swimming underwater. His body started to shake almost unnoticeably, from his legs, traveling slowly up his body in waves of vibration. I could hear a soft humming, as if electricity was flowing through power lines; hissing and humming about. I realized it was coming from Edward. His body began to shake violently now.
"Edward!" I screamed. "Edward! What's going on?" I demanded, the scream fading with the sound of the humming coming from his now violently trembling body.
Edward did not respond. Instead, the wind began to howl and whip angrily; leaves picked up and swept violently in a tornado; the branches of nearby trees snapped and fell to the ground in waves. The log in which I had occupied groaned and cracked with a mighty sound. Edward's face, what I could see in the fierce wind, was still calm but stressed. In that instant, I saw it. The hand that he still held suspended in the air began to glow. The bluish-white light started from his fingertips and slowly spread to his palm and the wrist. With a mighty hum, the light became so bright; I had to bring my arm up to shield my eyes. The ground shook and the cracks and groans and snaps of twigs, leaves and trunks filled the air, singing with the humming that emanated from Edward's body. It reminded me of how people describe near-death tunnels of light. There was Brilliancy and illumination; peace and comfort. The odd sensation in my own body was nothing I could describe. I felt weightless. I stumbled back and fell on my backside, rendered completely immobile by the scene before me. The trees became illuminated backdrops as the light pierced through the broken, dead limbs. The clearing was completely engulfed in the brightness. Edward was gone from my view as the light spread out from his hands to a beam of unfiltered rays. The humming was so loud, that you could barely hear your own thoughts. Edward groaned loudly as his fingers began to falter in the air, spreading the light to the ground as his hand began to fall from the air. His face, no longer impeded by the brilliance, was twisted in a tired, stressed expression. His teeth had ground into his lip, which now lie bare to a cut. With a groan and a deafening crack, his hand fell limply to his side.
I waited for Edward to open his eyes, but he did not. Instead, he swayed on the log, his body seemingly moving on its own. I wanted to help him; to touch him, but he had warned me not to. The horror that rose in me was not from what he just showed me, though it was a spectacle, it was the way he looked unnatural sitting there with his eyes closed swaying to the cold wind. Edward shifted forward and fell to his knees, his body flying forward.
"Oh. My god," I said, watching as the light from his hand began to slowly fade; the wind stopped the fierce whipping and the humming sound faded as well. It was as the last bit of shaking stopped in his body that he collapsed onto the orchard floor, unmoving.
-*-Edward-*-
Don't you worry
Sometimes you've just got to let it ride
The world is changing
Right before your eyes
Now I've found you
There's no more emptiness inside
When we're hungry…love will keep us alive
I heard nothing distinct as my face lay across cold, long dead twigs. My body was frozen in a state of paralyzed confusion. Everything around me sounded muffled; unidentifiable. As my ears adjusted my surroundings, I could hear her voice. Even though she sounded far away, her voice carried comfort to my tired, weak body.
"Isabella?" I managed to gasp through dry lips. I could not move my body very much without effort. I heard her muffled steps across the clearing, the dead leaves crunching under her weight. I felt something warm touch my back.
Her hand?
"Edward," she cried out. She sounded as if she was crying, but I could not move my head to see if this was the case. "Edward!"
She moved to my head and knelt down upon her knees on the ground. She hesitated touching me; her hand had reached slowly, then retracted back toward her body.
"You can touch me now, Isabella," I whispered. "It's okay."
She took my head and tilted it up, positioning her lap under my head. Once she knew it was okay, she placed my head on her lap, her hand stroking my cheek. I could only feel the light scratching of her fingernails.
"I just need to rest. It tires my body so much," I said, closing my eyes with each pass of her fingers.
"Edward, are you sure you're okay?" Bella asked her voice thick with tears. "What just happened?"
"Everything is fine, Isabella," I assured her, my voice becoming more defined. "You didn't leave me, Eve. You're here." I smiled a pitiful smile. "I showed my gift to you. Who I am, who I will be. There are no secrets anymore, Bella. What I have shown you is what I am," I told her.
I was getting stronger; I could feel my body become heavier, and my mind get clearer. I turned my body ever so slowly so that I could see her face, the back of my head resting upon her warm lap. I gazed up at her; into her eyes. They were not full of fear or unbridled horror, but of curiosity and complex concern. Her pupils had become a little enlarged, but otherwise, she looked like the Eve of Eden that I had come to fall in love with. I knew I loved her as soon as she promised me she would stay and not abandon me at the first sign of difference and adversity. Her fingers still traced my cheek, her lips curved into a relieved smile as she looked at me. Her eyes held the same flicker of love as mine did. She was looking at her Adam.
"You scared me, Edward," she murmured, cupping my cheek with her palm. "You look so tired."
"Why did you stay, Isabella?" I asked her, reaching a tired arm up to grasp her forearm. "Why, after what I showed you, did you stay here with me?"
"…because I made you a promise, Edward," she explained. "I'm not sure what that was, or why it's a 'gift', but you're going to need more than that to chase me away from you," she chuckled softly. "I wasn't scared of you," she rolled her beautiful eyes at me; "I was scared for you."
I looked at her staring down at me, her eyes unwilling to break from mine. Overhead, the moon stood lowly in the sky, raining down a beam of its grey light to illuminate the place in which we lie.
"Eve of my Eden, how you mimic desire," I said softly, using all the strength I had to bring my head off her lap slightly and reaching her cold lips to my own.
I pulled her bottom lip between mine. I didn't care if my bottom lip was sore and cut; it didn't matter because when I touched her lips to mine, all feeling of pain or despair left my body. My hand moved from her forearm to her soft cheek, cupping it with my palm. Her lips moved with mine, pliable and soft, and her hand fell from my cheek to my still open shirt. I had to stop this before it was too late. I had to explain this all to her, because it involved more then she knew. She still had no idea how fucked up I was.
"Isabella," I said, pulling my lips from hers reluctantly, "Please. Listen to me. I…I need to explain things to you," I told her, swinging my body up with everything I had to rest against the log that rested just behind us. She scooted to sit beside me, but placed her hand into mine.
"You have questions. I want to answer them," I told her, stretching my tired legs out in front of me. "Anything you want to know, I will tell you."
And I would. The truth.
She looked apprehensive, but nodded her head.
"Your 'gift', you said that I couldn't touch you when it….expels. Why?" She asked, placing her hand on my knee. "Is it dangerous if I did touch you?"
I sighed. Complicated explanations were not something I perfected. It was more than likely that she would get upset with my beat-around-the-bush explanations, but it could not be helped unless possible.
"Your healthy, Isabella. If you were to touch me when I…what did you call it? Expel? If you were to touch me when I am expelling, I would waste my gift and that would be the end. There would be nothing left to do."
"Healthy…" she trailed off. After a moment of silence, comprehension unfurled across her features and her hand flew to her mouth.
"Holy shit! You can heal people?" she gasped, her eyes enlarging and her face reflecting awe and understanding. "That's it isn't it?"
I chuckled at her use of curse words.
"I can make the sick well, I can make the dying live. I can do it, yes, but it is not without consequences. To make one better, means to make one sicker, Isabella," I replied darkly.
"How did you find out you could do this? Did something happen that you had to use it? Or did it happen by accident?" Her hand squeezed mine, and I returned the pressure.
"When I was five, Rosalie had fallen from a tree house Carlisle had built in the backyard. Her leg had a compound fracture of the Fibula. No one was around. Carlisle was practicing at a doctor clinic in town, and Esme, my mother, was at some friends. I remember thinking that if I could make it go away, disappear, I would be a hero," I laughed at that, and then continued, "I stuck my hand over her fracture and concentrated so hard. She was screaming in pain, which made me focus even harder. I remember blue light reflecting through my skin. The blue light absorbed into her leg and her wound. I pulled back when she stopped screaming to look at the wound, but there was…nothing. It was gone," I smiled halfheartedly. "I knew then there was something wrong with me. Imagine being five years old, and knowing you would never be normal again."
"So, you can't heal someone unless you concentrate?" She looked on in fascination as I explained.
"I have to want to heal you. I have to call upon the energy to do it…the will to do it. I can touch you," I said, touching her arm, "and it will do nothing unless I want it to," I brought my hand to her face. "I can control it. Not without effort, but it is controllable."
"Why would you not use it on your sister, Rosalie? You could heal her scars, right?"
I knew this question would come. I banked on it. I sighed and dropped my hand from her face. I looked down and my shoes and frowned. This was a topic I hoped she would not wonder about, but I could not be angry that she asked. I told her I would tell whatever she would like to know, and I was true to my word. The memories and pain of it would surely inflict more damage to my already guilty heart.
"Rosalie didn't want me to do it, Isabella. I would have done it with no hesitation; with no regrets or guilt afterwards. I would have taken what I deserved. But she refused. She knew the consequences. She knew, and how I wish she didn't," I explained, turning to her now.
"And Carlisle?" She used his name for the first time.
"He resents me. He thinks I should heal Rosalie, even without her permission. My selfishness goes without saying. He wants his daughter 'normal', and he would risk that for anything. I'm not even a fucking son to him anymore. He spends all his time down in the basement, trying to use his medicinal knowledge for finding a way around the very thing stopping Rosalie from letting me do it." I finished, letting her absorb what I was trying so hard to make her see.
"What about the nightmares? Are they part of the healing, too?" She looked up at me and her face fell. She was saddened by my problems. I frowned. It made me upset to think I make her sad feel pity for me.
"The nightmares are just that, Bella, nightmares. Traumatic events warp a person's mind, but no, they are nothing to do with the healing part. At least not directly," I added. Pausing to gauge her face, I began to see her expression change. Curiosity changed into need, and need changed into consumption. She was consuming the information slowly, and the hints were catching up to her.
She bent over to press her lips to mine, taking me by surprise. Her lips moved unyieldingly against mine as I opened to let her tug my lip with her teeth. Her hands came up to push the shirt off my shoulders. She bent down to my burned skin that was taut against my ribs. Her lips kissed the burned skin. She took her lips off my skin long enough to ask another question.
"Why can't you heal yourself, Edward?" She asked, returning to kissing the burnt flesh.
I laughed.
"It would do no good, Isabella."
"Could you do it?"
"…Of course. I don't want to, and even if I did, it would be as much a waste as me healing a healthy person. To make one healthier means to make one sicker," I repeated my earlier statement. I pulled her chin up so that I could look her in the face.
"When I first saw you walking among my trees, there was no other thought in my mind but that you were Eve in Eden. You were beautiful walking along, your hair flapping in the breeze. The moon would hit you when you came between trees, and it would illuminate your body, making it glow and shimmer. I knew that you were here for me. Someone had sent you to me, and I had to talk to you, had to know you. I've known about you for months, Isabella. I would follow you to your resting place and watch you sleep. You were a wanderer, Isabella. You still are," I smiled at her and dropped my hand from her chin so I could delve into my jeans pocket for her present.
"I made this for you," I said, opening her palm and placing it inside, closing her fingers over it. When I released her hand, she looked up at me and then down at her fingers.
Slowly, she opened her hand and looked at what I had promised her.
"It's a carving," I said, pointing to it. "There is the Apple of Knowledge. I am handing it to you under the moon of night. You look beautiful even in wood," I smiled widely. She smiled.
"I love it, Edward," she said, falling silent a moment. "I love you, too," she whispered.
"I love you, Eve. Read the back," I smiled at her again. I watched her turn it over. She read the engraving aloud:
To My Eve,
Wander the garden,
For it is yours,
Taste the fruit,
For it is ours
The tears started to fall from her eyes as she finished. I pulled her into the circle of my arms and held her, trying to stop the tears from slipping. I decided then that I would not tell her the most important part of all; the very reason for my brittle existence; the reason that I could not heal myself or Rosalie without dire consequences. I would not ruin this moment for her or myself. Instead, I took her by the hand and stood, grabbing the afghan on the dirt floor to my right. Searching her eyes for approval and finding it, I pulled her along the trail that led into denser wood.
Behind the wood of her Eden, in the shield of the darkness, on the afghan, we made love for the first time. After the pain subsided, she has succumbed to her desire and became one with me. The rhythm was slow, unhurried, and she lay across my chest afterward, wrapped in part of the afghan. I had explored her, and she had explored me, and we were spent. She had cried and I had held her close. I would never let her go. My arms would always be hers should she need them, and my heart was hers, too. I had given everything to her tonight, and she had given everything including her innocence to me, too. In the light of the moon, she fell asleep beside me, her cheek resting on my burned skin, and her arm draped over my waist. It was as the clouds rolled in across the moon that I spoke softly the poem that I had learned many years ago, when Rosalie had recited it to me. I pressed my lips to her ear as I heard her soft breathing:
"I wrote your name in the sky;
but the wind blew it away;
I wrote your name in the sand;
but the waves washed it away;
I wrote your name in my heart;
and forever it will stay."
And I watched the moon drift…
I would die for you
Climb the highest mountain
Baby, there's nothing I wouldn't do
I was standing
All alone against the world outside
You were searching
For a place to hide
Lost and lonely
Now you've given me the will to survive
When we're hungry...love will keep us alive
When we're hungry...love will keep us alive
When we're hungry...love will keep us alive
A/N:
Two of you were correct in your assumption that Edward's gift was healing. *hands chocolate*. And one was correct in assuming he had a skin graft... BRAVO!
Let us review:
He explains why he cried out when she tried to touch him and why Carlisle is upset with him, What his gift is, how he controls it, how he found out he had a gift, why he cannot heal himself….There is still the biggest secret of all…what could it be? Two of you guessed right that he was a healer….but what else is he hiding? Something makes him more than a healer…
The sexual contact is not detailed. Why? Well, because this story is flowed in a more beautiful, natural kind of way. He's making love to her, not fucking her, guys. Yeah, I could have detailed it more...but then again, there is more story to come ;).
Edward's quote to Bella is by Judy Garland and Bella's quote is by Dostoevsky. The poem is by Jessica Blade.
And as always, to my lovely Beta, Juli. You are amazing honey! I wanted you to find out with everyone else what his secret was...
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Withering the Ferns by AngstGoddess003 (Aurthur of "Wide Awake")
REVIEW AND REC…..