Bella. Rejection.

Cate. Abandonment.

Roxy. Manipulation.

Sara? Unfathomable.

How long could love hurl him through its short period of happiness- then crippling torture that Jacob knew would continue to throb until his death. Bella, who'd wounded him first and probably most severely. Cate, who'd made him so helplessly happy, then been yanked from him from the same bloodsucker who'd taken Bella. The only reason he'd pulled through that one was his daughter. Then Roxy, ruthlessly twisting his heart into her grasp before releasing it just as cruelly. That hadn't hurt him the same way- it only allowed the deepest of hatred for Roxy. Then there was Sara, who Cate had predicted would replaced her slowly- Jacob was sure his bruised and battered heart couldn't fit any more holes into it before it simply stopped beating. He didn't have room for Sara- but most importantly, he didn't know if he could ever trust anyone enough to place his abused heart into their possession. He of all people knew that once given, a heart could be shattered beyond repair. He didn't know if the fragments could pull themselves back together for one last time. He didn't want to find out.

Jacob woke up with a start, the burn of Cate's absence new and freshly torn.

He lay for a moment, gasping for air.

He'd seen this before, with Bella. When her precious leech left her. She'd clutched at her stomach whenever he was brought into the conversation. Jacob'd always been so careful not to provoke it, but he'd never understood.

Oh, he understood now. Understood since the wedding invitation had reached his fingers. It made perfect sense. Only it had happened two, fatal times. And he was damn sure it was worse than what she'd been through. Because he didn't have anyone to stitch it back up again. Because Cate was gone. Both of them were.

"Morning," Sara whispered.

He exhaled, trying to get the strength somewhere within him to continue breathing.

"Jacob?" She walked over. "Oh my god, are you alright? Lord- can you hear me?"

He tried with a desperate lurch to reassure her, but failed miserably, a long cracked moan erupting from him instead.

"Do I need to get help- can you tell me what hurts?"

If he hadn't been under so much torment, Jacob would have found the question vaguely familiar to a mother asking a two year old what they'd hurt when they were crying too hard to answer. Amusing.

He groaned, sharp, icy stabs slicing up his spine.

"Can you tell me…if you can hear me Jacob, I'm going to get help."

He couldn't budge.

In the back of his brain, he processed what it meant if they found him like this. He couldn't move. He couldn't explain. He couldn't protest. They'd find absolutely nothing wrong with him.

He heard shuffles.

"Get out of my way Roxannah, Sara- move." Jacob heard Breanna's regal voice slice coolly through the air.

"Jacob," She purred worriedly in his ear. He felt her fingers stroking his face, cold and hard- like stone.

"Jacob," She said again, and he felt her concern.

Something triggered deep within his pained body. He needed his daughter. He knew that if he didn't, he would die this time. He felt it deep within his instincts, and knew that his life would collapse without her.

"Cate," He managed to choke out.

Breanna's fingers froze.

"Get him the girl!" She commanded furiously, suddenly in a frenzy of action. "Get him that blasted child that Ashareth stole from him!"

"Yes Madam," He heard Roxy's hesitation.

"GO!" Breanna screamed at her.

There was silence and he knew Sara had gone as well.

He felt Breanna lean down to him, and brush her cold lips against his. He didn't even have the energy to be repulsed. "Is that all you need?" He heard her whisper, affectionate, yet concerned.

He groaned again, slowly letting the light seep into his vision as he made a wild attempt to open his eyes. Breanna stared down at him, head tilted to the side, studying him.

"She's coming?" He whispered.

"Yes."

"Thank you," He sighed, and truly meant it, down to the very feet of his stinging body.

"What happened to you?" She asked, eyebrows raised speculatively.

He shook his head. "I just need my daughter." He said hoarsely, feeling old and weary.

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing, lips pursed.

Neither spoke for several minutes.

"Why…" He paused, exhaling carefully to stay conscious, "Why do you stay here if you hate it almost as much as I do?"

She stared at him. "When did I ever say that?" She demanded.

"You didn't." He closed his eyes for patience. "I'm perceptive."

She frowned but didn't argue with his observation.

"I just need to know- because the freedom of leaving is something you possess and don't use despite the fact you hate it." Jacob reminded her, eyes still closed.

"I don't leave, because I have no other place to go." Breanna replied, looking away. "I have no others I can run to."

He fought back the throbbing from his throat, allowing him to say, "I think you're lying. I think you're afraid to leave because you don't think you'll have the same power over people. And you're right. You wouldn't."

"That has nothing to do with it!" She snapped, "And how dare you insult me to my face."

"Would you rather have me do it behind your back?" He asked calmly, fighting for a tranquil tone in his world of mass chaos.

She growled.

He had to disconnect then, completely overcome by the misery in his gut.

"What brought it on?" I heard Sara ask timidly.

"Silence." Breanna told her sharply.

He could just imagine Sara's face falling. He turned, determined to resurface.

"Hey," He grimaced, opening his eyes with a tremendous effort. "I'm fine." He lied to Sara quietly.

Breanna shot a death glare at her servant, who ignored the gaze temporarily.

"I don't believe you," Sara said softly, coming over and placing an icy rag to his forehead. Irrationally, it felt good. He wasn't in a fever: why did it feel so comforting?

"Is she coming?" Jacob asked, frantically fighting to talk normally.

"Yes." Sara paused.

"Go ahead." Jacob told her.

"He wasn't happy." Sara admitted.

"As he shouldn't be- he adores that little girl." Breanna cut in suddenly, making a rushed attempt for the spotlight again.

Jacob ignored her.

"How bad?"

"Pretty bad," She replied quietly.

The door slammed, and Ashareth strode in himself, eyes so filled with hatred that Jacob was sure murder was the main subject on his mind.