A/N: Wow. I had a tremendous response for the last few chapters, and I have to thank you all so very much.
Now, in answer to some reviews, there are a few things that I need to make plain about this fic before I go any further. If you're looking for a fic that is highly developed or polished, I'm sorry to say that you may want to look elsewhere. I'm currently working on finishing up another fanfiction that has been in the works for four long years, and I'm right smack in the middle of an original novel as well as several plays. So, this fic was started purely because I needed a break for my own sanity. This is why I have refused several offers by reviewers to beta the fic—I'm not looking to get too serious with this. As I said, this is purely for my own sanity—an opportunity to experiment with new styles and techniques, and I posted it in the hopes that someone might enjoy a bit of my tired and demented ranting. So to those who have left constructive criticism, I thank you very much, you're doing your job as a reviewer! And I will certainly take all of your advice to heart and do my best to improve on those things in future chapters, but I must apologize because at this point, I do not plan to go back and fine tune this fic. I'm not looking to make this into some kind of fanfic masterpiece, because frankly I have too much else to do. This is merely my means of escape from other things I'm writing at the moment.
So, I hope this hasn't offended or disappointed anyone, but I had to make clear my intentions. Rest assured, that I will still be having fun with this fic, and if you, like me, are looking for a break from the real world, I hope you'll continue reading!
And now, after much long-winded rambling ,I bring you the next chapter.
Of Curses and Cures
Chapter Nine
December 9th, 2008
It is early morning when his forty-eight-hour shift comes to an end. The other workers around him are struggling to hold back yawns, their bleary eyes blood-shot from lack of sleep. Luckily, he looks just like them—pale with dark circles beneath his eyes. But he never yawns and he never sleeps.
He removes his scrubs in a hurry, desperate to leave these walls that smell of age, sickness, and death. He thinks of another scent, the memory of which is even more intoxicating than he can describe, and his stride toward the exit of the hospital quickens. He is ten paces out of the door, moving quicker than he probably should, when the breeze blows past him.
He whips around quickly, too quickly for any normal human, and he's already crossed half the distance between them by the time she looks up from her seat on the bench outside the hospital doors. She's
wearing a cobalt blue dress that gathers around her ribcage before flowing out generously, and he is stopped in his tracks. He's never seen her in anything besides casual clothing, and suddenly everything he's seen in all his many years pales in comparison to this moment.
A movement catches his eye and he notices that she is tapping her foot in anxious anticipation. He grins before taking the last few steps, closing the space between them. He circles his arms around her waist and pulls her upright, spinning her once before burying his head into the curtain of her hair and inhaling happily.
She laughs light-heartedly and replies, "Good morning to you, too."
He chuckles against the skin of her neck, and then feels her shiver in response.
"What brings you here so early in the morning?"
He pulls back to look at her face, keeping his arms secured tightly around her waist.
"I thought we might go grab some breakfast together. And by breakfast, I of course mean you watching while I eat." Her laugh tinkles like tiny little bells. It's moments like these that he is thankful for his impeccably perfect memory—the guarantee that he will remember this moment for all of his existence is almost spectacular enough to outweigh the worst of his cursed life.
"I would like nothing more than to watch you eat. Though don't mind me if I choose not to breathe, I do find the smell of human food rather repulsive."
She pauses for a moment, confused, and he watches the awareness come across her eyes.
"I forgot that you don't need to breathe. That's just so… weird." She replies.
"Helpful, though, especially when certain scents become a little too much for me to handle."
He isn't talking about food anymore, at least not anything she considers food, and by the look on her face she realizes it too.
Breakfast is a quick affair. She eats in a hurry, eager to get back to some semblance of privacy where they can talk without censoring their conversation for the inevitable eavesdroppers at surrounding tables. Her cheeks are stained a perpetual pink, and he wonders if she's nervous. Every once and a while, she blush a deeper red as he intricately studies the motions of her hands or the way she chews her food.
After breakfast, she offers to drive him back to the hospital to grab his Volvo, but he declines. He'd rather not part from her at the moment. A sense of release passes through him upon entering her apartment, and he thinks it has something to do with the way her scent clings to everything in it.
She decides to take a shower, saying she'd been in such a hurry this morning to meet him that she'd had no time. She promises to be quick, and he makes himself comfortable in the living room, looking through books—some he recognized and some he didn't.
He notices the blinking light on the answering machine, and before he can classify the decision as not altogether wise, he has pressed the button.
There is a moment of silence before a deep voice fills the room, and he knows by pure instinct to whom the voice belongs.
"Hey Bells, it's me. Listen, I know you told me it was nothing, but I have to know why you asked about those blo—the Cullens. I, uh, heard this week that one of them is living up in Seattle now, and I want you to be careful. It wouldn't surprise me at all to know that you'd somehow managed to run into him, what with your luck with danger and all. But in all seriousness, give me a call back. If I don't hear from you in a few days, I'll be worried. We'll all be worried, Bells, the whole pack. Love you and I miss you. Bye."
He freezes upon hearing the last words. She'd said that this Jake was only a friend right? His vampire memory wasn't failing him? He hadn't been hoping so hard to hear friend that his vampire hearing had missed the word 'boy' preceding the word 'friend'?
His hand seems to move of his own accord, and before he can stop himself he's pushed the delete button. The droll recording declares that the message has been deleted and that there are no more new messages.
Panicked, he immediately tries to see if there is some way to restore the message. Christ, what had he been thinking? He hadn't… that was exactly it. He just hadn't liked the sadness that had infiltrated the wolf's tone when he declared his love for Bella, and he just reacted.
He wonders if he should tell her. He could say that the call had come while she'd been in the shower, and he'd simply taken a message, promising to have her call back. But then if she did call back, would she heed Jacob's advice and stay away from him? She should. And he should want her to, but he doesn't, and he isn't sure he'll ever want her to stay away from him.
Before he can make a decision the bathroom door opens and he's struck by a new wave of her distinct scent and the rich strawberry shampoo she uses on her hair. The hallway and her bedroom are dark, and she's standing so far away that any normal person wouldn't even be able to see anything more than her silhouette. But he's not normal, and even from this distance he can see the little water droplets clinging to her shoulders and the others that are slinking their way down her chest until they disappear beneath her towel.
He shakes his head forcefully, pinching the bridge of his nose in a form of reprimand, and is grateful when he hears the click of her door closing down the hall. She is too tempting for her own good, and perhaps he sees a little too well for the good of both of them.
He knows it's inappropriate, but his mind can't help but wander back to the gentle slope of her shoulders and the long column of her neck. He remembers the times that his lips have grazed that very skin, and suddenly the two images meld together and he's kissing away the droplets of water that he finds there.
He's ripped from his daydream by the reopening of her door. She emerges again in the same cobalt blue dress from earlier, her hair hanging straight in front of her shoulders, leaving small wet marks on her dress, but she doesn't seem to care.
He moves to sit on the couch, and she snuggles up beside him. Her brushes against his shoulder as she gets settled and he breathes for the first time.
She looks up sharply at his groan, her gaze questioning.
He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tighter to him, and breathes, "You smell so good right now."
She gives a quirky grin, "In a good way or a bad way?"
The image returns of himself kissing along silky damp skin of her neck with nothing but a towel separating them, and he answers, "Both… always both."
She leans into his chest, and the weight and warmth of her body against his is exquisite. He takes her chin with two fingers and tilts her face up towards him. He looks into her deep brown eyes, knowing that he could study them for an eternity, and Bella Swan would still remain a mystery to him. She leans forward and brushes her lips against his lightly, and it feels better than he can describe.
Like the first shred of warmth after a long winter.
Like the sun's first peek over a darkened horizon.
Like coming home.
That thought tingles through him and a moment later his cell phone vibrates, and he doesn't have to look at the caller I.D. to know who it is. The phone continues to ring persistently, but he doesn't answer. He can't, not yet.
"Bella." He begins, "How would you feel about meeting my family this weekend? In Forks?"
She looks apprehensive for a moment, and he wonders if he's moving too quickly. He doesn't exactly have immense experience in the art of dating, but he'd thought they were hitting it off so well.
"You don't have to, really." He supplies, "It was just a thought. A silly thought. I apologize." Why would she want to spend a weekend in a house full of vampires anyway?
"It isn't silly." She smiles sadly. "I just… you want me to meet your family?"
"I know. I wasn't thinking, Bella. I'm so sorry."
Her face falls, and he tries to decipher the look in her eyes. His phone begins to ring again, and he quickly presses the ignore button.
"I know you're comfortable around me, but I can't expect you to endure the company of an entire family of vampires."
She freezes for a moment, and he wonders if the word still makes her uncomfortable.
"Vampires? You thought I was wary because of a few vampires?"
He pauses, unsure of his reply. Her eyes are wide and her jaw set tightly.
"Haven't you realized by now Edward Cullen that things like that don't scare me?"
"Then what does scare you?"
She rolls her eyes, and looks at him as though the answer is the most obvious thing in the world, but he can't for the life of him guess at the thoughts running through her head.
"It's your family, Edward! You're not supposed to just spring something like that on me! I need time to prepare! I need to know all of their names, what to say, what not to say, what to wear! Jesus, what do vampires wear when they're not pretending to be human?"
He stares at her in wonder and then chuckles happily.
"Clothes, Bella. Vampires wear clothes."
Her jaw snaps shut, and sighs in exasperation.
"What if they don't like me Edward?"
Her expression is fearful, and he quickly pulls her against his chest.
"Haven't you realized by now Isabella Swan," he mimics her earlier statement, "That there is absolutely nothing about you to dislike?"
He places a gentle kiss on her temple and whispers, "You're stunning."
Another kiss, this time on her cheek.
"You're smart."
Her nose.
"You're kind."
Her jaw.
"You're brave."
Her neck.
"And as usual, absolutely absurd." He manages to drop one last kiss on her collar bone before she pushes him away playfully.
"In a good way!" He chuckles.
She folds her arms across her chest stubbornly, and his phone vibrates for the third time.
"Are you still afraid of meeting my family?"
She pouts angrily, " I didn't say I was afraid."
"My mistake. Are you still wary of being introduced to the most important people in my life, other than yourself?"
"Yes."
He sighs, and leans close, his breath mingling with hers.
"What about now?"
"Maybe."
He catches her bottom lip between his own and trails his tongue across it teasingly, tasting her for the first time.
"Now?"
She hesitates.
"What was the question?"
He chuckles, kissing her once more, before answering, "Come to Forks with me. Meet my family."
"That's not a question." She replies breathlessly.
"That's because I refuse to let you say no. They'll love you, Bella."
"You promise?"
His phone rings for the fourth time, and he flips it open quickly, "Why don't we find out for sure?"
He presses the phone to her ear, only for her to wince away when an excited shriek comes blasting through the earpiece.
"What is that?" She cries, a hand covering her ear, and her face screwed up in a grimace.
"That, my love, is a vampire, who is quite excited to meet you."