This one's a little shorter, but it's more of a history lesson/ bridge chappie. The good stuff's on its way, I promise ;).
Disclaimer: My Angst, my plot, SM's characters and whatnot. Yes that rhymed
If you want to know what that was like
I'll tell you first, it was way too quiet
It rained a hundred nineteen days of the year
I spent my time falling down the stairs
- Swingset Chain, Loquat
Rule five: Trust no one. Not even yourself.
They sit on opposite sides of a slab of rock, staring at the ground furtively, as if all the mysteries in the world are printed upon that small piece of earth. Occasionally, they will glance upwards at the other, the turn of their heads too fast for human eyes.
But just slow enough for vampire sight.
Bella breathes deeply in through her nose, his potent and unique smell assaulting her like it has been for the past ten minutes or so. So short a time to feel so long-every breath in is like an eternity of recognizing the must, the vanilla, and the tangerine. The urge to bite into him is strong and, oddly, nonviolent. She wants to lick him. She wants to kill him. She wants to get the hell away from him.
If vampires could get headaches, Bella would be screaming in agony.
Edward is pensive and patient, slowly tracing swirling shapes upon the gray slab. He doesn't realize it, but he's tracing the letters of her name: a craning "B", a graceful "E", two loops, and a lonely "A". Then he repeats the pattern.
He clears his throat. The silence between them is unbearable. Especially considering the fact that the ridiculously irresistible electric current between them is urging him to get closer, which would be a terrible idea.
Or would it?
He stares at her, taking in the graceful curve of her body, the softness of her hair in the breeze, the pale, porcelain skin- so similar to the skin of the Isabella he remembers….
Fragile, broken beauty hiding under indestructible flesh.
She ignores his stare, although she can feel it upon her like a ray of light. It is warm, but, as it is with sunlight, she is afraid it may burn her. So afraid, always so afraid. Nothing good seems to be within reach to her anymore; all she can do is exist and do so half-heartedly. Her fingers clench as he clears his throat again.
"What?" Her eyes stay trained on the ground but her tone is short, clipped, harsh. She waits for a response.
Silence.
Her head slowly tilts up and she glares at him.
His eyes meet hers, and she watches as they narrow contemplatively.
"You know, I never had much empathy as a newborn." He suddenly blurts. Her eyebrow quirks. He winces.
"Well, I don't suppose any newborn can be considered empathetic… but I was heartless. And I embraced it." His eyes take on a far away sheen.
"I was changed in 1901, not too long before I came across you," he glances at her slowly, "I'd been on my way home from the local college; I was trying to get a degree in music, I think."
"My parents never approved of what I wanted to do, but I loved playing the piano. That's one of the few things I remember from my human life- the feel of the keys beneath my fingers and the sound of my thoughts becoming reality." He shakes his head, the wistful expression on his face turning somewhat sour.
"It was late, and I lived in New York. I was walking home at night, not the smartest idea. But I was a physically strong guy, so I wasn't worried. Little did I know that something worse than a mugger was coming along."
Bella sits silently, trying to act uninterested, but being pulled in by his silky voice all the same. He sounds so bitter, so sad. Part of her revels in his pain, and another part of her sympathizes with him, wants to comfort him- even though he was her 'something worse than a mugger' once upon a time.
"There was this park, small and somewhat dead looking. I remember that the slide was rusting and that the woodchips underneath were mixed in with the pieces of flaky metal that had fallen off. The only thing that seemed in good condition was the swing set. It was missing two seats out of four, but other than that it was fine. The metal gleamed in the moonlight and the chains made a squeaking noise. There was a little girl sitting on the swing, in the middle of the night, on a cold, winter's day. She didn't have a coat. I thought to myself, 'she must be an orphan, I'll offer her some warmth or food.' I felt like I could sympathize with her, you know; an abandoned orphan in a park, all alone. I was so stupid. She wasn't even shivering… that should have been the first clue that something wasn't right."
She doesn't even try to pretend she isn't listening; the clarity with which he remembers the events leading up to his change is so similar to her own. Little incongruous things, like clouds passing over the sun and rusting slides, they become so important in these memories. Like, if they'd been different, those little facts, then maybe the events of that small piece of time would be different too.
Maybe a clear sun would have helped her see his unnatural skin. Maybe a shiny slide would have taken his attention away from the swings. Or maybe whatever happened was meant to happen, and no matter the little details, the bigger picture would still be the same.
"I decided to approach her, offer her some company. I did so carefully, not wanting to frighten her off. She continued to swing as I got closer- higher and higher, her toes reaching up beyond my head. I remember the chain squeaking and thinking how strange it was that they were using metal in swings. I remember thinking how when I was a child, I'd had a rope holding me up. No squeaking, no creaking. Just smooth sailing through air."
"My breath was cloudy in the cold air… she was breathing too, but I couldn't see any clouds. I figured she was just swinging too fast. I said to her, "what's your name" and she told me her name was Bree. I told her my name was Edward. She smiled at me, it gave me chills. Something was wrong with her, this small, unnaturally pretty girl. She tilted her head at me and asked me to come closer. I couldn't resist, she was just so… innocent looking." His mouth quirks down and his brows converge in a delicate v above his wounded eyes. She stares at him unabashedly, openly admiring the set of his shoulders, the sheen of his unnaturally shaded hair. She can only let her guard down when he does the same.
It's kind of funny, the way she watches him when he's hurting.
"She said that she was nine years old. I told her that was great, asked how long she'd been nine; that I was nineteen. She smiled, saccharine sweet. Then she crooked her finger. 'I have a secret to tell you, Mister Edward.' She had this adorable lisp that made her 's' sound like a 'sh'. I leaned down." He takes a deep breath, his eyes close and his hair clings to his forehead.
"She… she leaned in and she said 'I've been nine for a lot longer than you've been nineteen.' And I noticed her red eyes, and her sharp teeth, and I froze. Then she leaned in even closer and bit me, right here." He rubs his finger against the curve of his neck, below his jaw. There is a tiny crescent shaped scar. It is the exact place Bella had bitten him only a half hour before.
"I woke up dazed, confused. I was in some sort of alleyway, curled up between trash cans. It was the middle of the night, the sky was clear and dark, and there was rustling around nearby- a homeless man. Needless to say, I killed him. Drained him, and I felt tremendously disgusted with myself afterward. But I'd always been good at pushing things away. Still am…"
"I didn't want to deal with it. Refused to. So I just when along with whatever I was doing, not taking responsibility for my actions, figuring this was the natural order of things. I was a vampire; I took what I had to in order to survive. People kill animals and vampires kill people- it became as simple as slaughtering livestock. Because that's what they became to me; me, the person who should've known better." His gaze suddenly snaps into the present and zones in on her wary one. The gold flames and flares.
"Then you came along and turned it all upside down."
His eyes shine in honesty, sparkling in the spare sun, molten gold over tempered steel. She can't help but be drawn to them; the way a tourist is drawn to what looks like a small, golden coin glinting beneath foreign waves. The taste of adventure, mystique, and promise is in the air when the sun shines on discoveries. And so it is that way when Bella spots that small gem of truth residing in the depths of Edward's desperation.
"You were so innocent, so pure…. So quiet and beautiful. I didn't want to soil you, and when I couldn't stop myself I realized that I really was a monster. And that I didn't want to live that way anymore."
"I pulled you into the woods in my frenzy. Then I left you there, and I am so sorry; I was out of control, I wasn't thinking straight. All I remember is screaming to myself, at myself to get away, and running as fast as I could. I just ran and ran, thinking if I ran far enough, my problems would cease to exist," His eyes fall to the ground and he chuckles ruefully.
"How very wrong I was." He sighs and stands then walks over to her, crouching before her tentatively.
"After you, I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't kill; I couldn't be void of regret. I had to care. Every human was you, with your big eyes and rosebud mouth. All innocent, thinking, sentient beings that deserved to live and serve a purpose greater than feeding my demonic needs. I was starving and desperate when I heard of the animal drinker, Carlisle. He was in Italy at the time, and his presence amongst the Volturi made him somewhat infamous." His eyes shine brightly, the gently glowing orbs so close and still so far away.
"I was weak and hungry and incredulous. I wanted to meet this man, but I had to cross an ocean first. I hunted some sharks down and was parched enough to not even flinch when I first tasted the foul things. Little did I know, sharks are considered a delicacy compared to all the other stuff I usually eat." His beautiful features screw up in disgust and Bella can't help but smile. She doesn't want to, even bites her lips punishingly to stop them from curling upwards, but she can't help it.
He's just so lovely looking, and so earnest, and so much like a little boy in his pleading gaze. And the fact that she can think this and still hate him at the same time is somewhat insanely amusing. Maybe because she's insane. Or maybe he's making her that way.
Edward notices her grin and his words become even more energetic.
"It wasn't good, but it was good enough. I managed to get to Italy and Volterra, and I managed to find Carlisle. He was ecstatic to find someone like him; someone willing to compromise selfishness for conscience. I never told him about you and he never asked. But you are the reason I even searched him out in the first place."
"You are the reason I have these," he motions to his golden eyes, "and I'm not trying to make excuses or justify what I did because it was wrong, more than wrong, evil. I'm not asking for your forgiveness because, frankly, I don't think I deserve it. All I want from you is a chance- a chance to prove that I've changed. That you've changed me. And a chance to show you another way, an alternative to this life you've been living these many years. I promise you won't regret it; following Carlisle was the only right decision I've made since I was changed." He is heartbreakingly sincere, his hand an inch away from hers and tensed as if he wishes to touch her.
She is stock still, shocked, wary, afraid. Hopeful. She relishes his words, the possibility that she might be part of something better, something good. The probability that her existence might have saved a life rather than destroying one is almost as tantalizing as human blood. Especially when he looks at her like that.
His eyes are not lying; his voice is not cajoling, but brutally honest. He couldn't be more vulnerable if he'd ripped open his chest to show her what lay inside. She feels powerfully helpless under his beseeching plea. She doesn't owe him anything, but he owes her. And maybe, just maybe, his debt can be paid.
Maybe she wants it to be.
She stands. He crouches before her, on one knee. An outsider would look upon them and think of a marriage proposal: bended knee and upturned face, shocked female.
This is a proposal, but it is more binding and everlasting than marriage.
They are eternal beings who feed on mortality. Stolen moments like these are what tether them to a world that repels the untarnished. People and animals and plants die, the earth spins and quakes, vampires go unchanging. Little things like this, instances in which they abandon their treasured routine, are the only things that make their existence in this unforgiving reality permissible.
Bella smiles sardonically. Edward shakes apprehensively.
"Okay. Bring me to Carlisle." He grins, she grimaces. Baby steps.
They stand and run, him leading and she following.
The vial clinks softly against her not so empty chest.
~C~
She clears the trees uncertainly, her footsteps cautious and afraid compared to Edward's
almost casual stroll. His shoulders are tense with worry, but his strides are long and relaxed. A contradiction, of course; Edward is the ultimate paradox according to her.
She keeps her body curled inward, protectively, as the foreign scent around her grows stronger. It is musty and varied and like stepping through a haze of heat. The air before her seems to shimmer with the multitude of scents.
So many vampires… What a large, unusual coven.
She glances furtively at Edward as the lights of the house flash on and burn dimly against the still rising sun. A stray ray flashes across his face and he glitters as if his skin is made of crushed diamonds.
She barely holds back her groan.
So beautiful, so irresistible, so perfect and at the same time terrible. Terrifying beauty…
He glances back at her, observing the way she hugs the shadows with a tilt of his head. She glares back defensively. So what if she enjoys the dark?
She is just about to say something, ask him what seems to be the problem, when she hears an oddly familiar gasp.
"Bella?"
She turns and gapes at yet another pair of shocked golden eyes.
"Jasper?"
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
Oh my Edward! What's a certain scarred and Southern someone doing with the Cullens? And how does he know dear Bella?
Guess you'll just have to find out next chapter. (I'm evil personified, I know)
P.S. I'm quite fond of reviews.