In the living room, Emmett had Edward pinned down, knees to his chest. "She's fine," Emmett was telling him quietly. "And having you bust in there won't help."
"Get off!" Edward growled, body tensing under his brother's hold.
Jasper stood over them both, arms folded almost nonchalantly, but by the bent of his thoughts, Edward knew he was there in case Emmett failed.
Their voices were carefully modulated so as to be inaudible to Bella.
"You gonna behave?" Emmett asked, lips a grim line.
Edward only snarled in reply.
"Then sit tight." Emmett replied, shaking his head.
Lost in her own memories, Rose was pacing by the windows.
Upstairs, Carlisle was still restraining Bella, but for very different reasons, and with a fraction of the force.
"Bella," he said softly, both his hands holding hers to her knees, "I will stop, and remove everything, but I need you to stop moving, so you don't get hurt. OK?"
She nodded, panicked breathing too rapid still. "OK," she pushed out. The entire word rattled with effort.
"I'm going to let go," he said, releasing her hands.
She balled them, one more painfully than the other, at her sides, a half swallowed gargle in her throat, and Carlisle noted that she would need a cast, not a brace, if the fractures there were going to heal.
Then he removed the speculum as quickly, and gently as he could. He'd seen enough to know the general scope of treatment required.
She'd seemed as fine as she could be, given the circumstances, when he'd started.
He'd begun by asking to see her bruises, and then her ribs. She hadn't blushed at that, rather becoming alarmingly pale, as he'd examined the purple patches on her sides.
"Bruised ribs," he said, "are very painful." Pulling out a tube of ointment, he began applying it to her arm, her wrist, and then her ribcage. "Have you taken any of the pain medication I gave you?"
She'd shaken her head. She'd been too afraid to. She already talked in her sleep. She didn't trust herself not to say more than was safe.
He'd explained what the potential complications were, and she'd shaken her head again.
She needed to be in control.
When he'd told her he needed to complete an internal exam, she'd become that disturbingly grey colour again, but nodded silently.
"Feet together, and let your legs just relax."
As if that's possible, she thought.
She'd jumped when he put ointment on the bruise at her thigh.
He'd treated more than his fair share of women who shared Bella's experience. But there was nothing routine, ever, in seeing their bodies painted with bruises, or the startled reactions to the most careful touch.
Nor was he prone to vengeance, but he was angry now, and mentally wrestled that beast back into its place.
He could help the person in front of him, he told himself. Nothing would be served by stewing in thoughts of revenge.
"OK," he said, "you'll feel the speculum now."
Boy did she ever.
It was wet, and cold, and it stung. Then he'd expanded it, along with the pain inside.
Carlisle was very carefully working, trying to see as much as he could, touching as little as possible.
All those raw memories were hissing and spitting at her, angrily and violenting demanding to be felt. Jacob was over her again, the hurt inside growing, the loss of control stealing her breath and making her ache.
"Get it out," she'd said, and then more frantically, "get it out!" She'd used her hands to try to remove it herself.
"It's out," Carlisle said, putting a blanket over her.
She curled herself up and onto her side. Over the last few days, she'd discovered that when she pushed her knees far enough into her chest, the knot in her stomach lessened.
If he'd been human, Carlisle would have sighed. But he wasn't, so he waited, balancing his unease with her emotional state with the knowledge that she was in no immediate physical danger.
"Do you want me to get Edward?" he asked.
"No," she said.
Downstairs, Emmett looked at Edward, "you gonna listen to her?"
Edward's resigned grimace was answer enough, and his brother released him, offering him a hand up.
"Do you know who?" Emmett asked, all pretense of calm vanished.
Edward nodded, then said, in a whisper audible to everyone but Bella, "Jacob Black."
Carlisle had turned his back on Bella, purportedly putting things away, giving her time to compose herself.
Giving himself time.
"Sorry," she said quietly.
Carlisle shook his head. "No need to be. Perfectly normal reaction."
Normal, Bella thought. This didn't feel normal.
"Trauma," he said, "shows up differently for everyone." Coming to sit beside her on the small stool, Carlisle went on quietly, "and you will feel it, for some time to come. It's normal," he said, "and important that you don't try suppress it."
She closed her eyes, trying not to think about what that would mean.
Carlisle waited before continuing. "You need some stitches, but I expect everything will heal cleanly."
Stitches, she repeated to herself.
She didn't think anyone would react well if she started screaming, so she didn't.
But she really wanted to.
What disturbed her even more was the weary resignation that was sweeping over her. What did it matter if she was touched so intimately again?
Did it matter?
These sluggish ruminations were interrupted by Carlisle.
"Bella?" he asked.
Had he been talking, and she hadn't noticed?
"Do you want to see a female physician for this?" he asked quietly.
She thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head, unwanted, and embarrassing tears perched, ready to fall. "No," she said, breaking the word into two syllables. It would mean other people knowing. It would mean attention brought to things that should never have attention brought to them. The Cullens. The wolves. She shuddered, imagining the carnage, the return of the Volturi.
"Can you just...get it done. Here?" she asked.
"I can," Carlisle said, cooly observing the tremble in her hands, the rapidly rising heart rate.
"Will it hurt?" she asked.
"No," Carlisle said, "I'll numb everything before start."
Needles, she thought. More shivering.
After a moment, she nodded, as if to herself. "OK. Can you—can you just, get it over with? Now?"
Carlisle imagined himself crushing the bones he'd helped set on Jacob Black. His face showed nothing.
"Of course," he said instead. Pausing, he asked, "do you want someone to come sit with you? Esme, perhaps?"
"No," she said. She'd suffered what Jacob had done alone, and she would endure this alone too. "No," she said again, reassuring herself.
He nodded, and proficient clinician he was, assembled his tools. Before he had her move, he pulled out a small vial of pills from the cabinet. He pretended to read the information on the bottle, considering the potential side effects of the medication.
"I'd like you to take one of these," he said, holding it out to her so she could read the label for herself.
"Diazepam?" she asked, eyebrows pulled together in questioning.
"A mild sedative," he answered
"Why?"
"Because you're having difficulty keeping yourself calm, and I don't want you to hurt yourself while I'm working," he said gently. It had been close before. He didn't want her to start bleeding afresh, not with a house full of vampires already on edge.
Her fingers weren't quite cooperating. Trying to open the bottle, she fumbled it, Carlisle catching it neatly. He opened it and pressed one of the triangular pills into her palm. "Just hold it under your tongue," he said.
She did as instructed, and after a few minutes, felt the room begin to wobble.
"Whoa," she said, trying to focus, "should I feel—?"
"Woozy?" Carlisle asked, smiling a bit, "yes, a little. How do you feel otherwise?"
"Strangely...calm. Is that...Jasper?"
"No," he said, still smiling, "that means its working. Ready?" he asked.
She nodded, feeling the room nod with her.
It was easier this time. Not easy, but easier.
His touch, and the tug of the sutures brought more than sensation, though, and bits of memories were snagged up that she would have preferred to leave in the safe space of didn't happen.
The intricate work in such intimate space was leaving no room for such evasion.
Happened. Definitely happened, her body told her.
"Almost done," Carlisle said, feeling her body tense.
And then, he was. She put the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling a sound whose source she didn't want to own.
He'd covered her with a blanket again. "Don't sit up, just yet," he said quietly. "I think Rose would like to help you get dressed."
Rose?
The question must have shown on her face.
Carlisle's small smile was sad, "yes," he said. "I'll let her explain."
Rose and Carlisle crossed paths, he exiting, she entering with a bundle under her arm.
Bella reached for it, not feeling the need for the help, blushing that they thought she couldn't get her own clothes on.
Then she sat up, and the room spun uncooperatively.
Rose waited for Bella to ask for the help she so clearly needed.
"OK," she said, trying to make the table stop moving, "if you pass me those, I think I can handle this."
"Sure," Rose said, voice full of doubt, but handed over the clothes. She averted her eyes, slightly, listening to Bella struggle with which way was up, and right side out for the t-shirt.
When Bella finally huffed out an exasperated breath, Rose pretended to clear her throat.
Bella was beet red now. "OK, fine, I could use some help. Would you?"
Rose said nothing, but slipped the shirt over her head, not asking if she needed help with the rest of the clothing. Just efficiently putting things on.
When she moved the sheet aside to help Bella slide up the underwear, Bella made a startled gargle, the cold pad between her legs a shock.
"Frozen," Rose said evenly. "Good for swelling."
Bella decided she didn't need to know.
"Um, thanks," she opted for, instead.
When she was dressed, Rose sighed, mumbling "give us a minute," to Edward, who was hovering outside the door.
"Maybe lay back down," Rose said, watching Bella sway, sitting on the table.
Still nervous about Rose's unexplained presence, Bella complied, watching her as closely as the haze of her mind would allow.
"Rose," she said, strangely lucid and uninhibited by the medication, "you don't like me."
"Really?" Rose answered her, smiling at this unusual frankness.
"No," Bella said. "So why are you here?"
Rosalie's smirk stayed on her face. "I wouldn't say that," she said, "more your decisions I disagree with. As for this," she went on, taking in Bella, and the room, with her gaze, "I never needed this treatment. I was too far gone. That's why Carlisle changed me."
Bella looked at her, shock and horror walking all over her face. "You—"
"Was raped. By several men. Violently. Yes." She answered. "One of them was my fiancé."
She let that sink in, watching Bella's face.
"I have some insight as to how you're feeling, Bella," she added, her voice softer by several degrees.
Bella could imagine, but decided she didn't want to.
There was a swell of tears, knowing someone she knew had experienced this.
Rosalie made an exasperated sound in her throat. "Your fiancé, however" she said, "is ready to break down the door. Girl time's over, I guess," she said, as the door did open, and Edward entered.
He only had eyes for Bella, ignoring his sister. He took Bella's hand, brushing his thumb over her fingers. "Do you want to go lay down in my room?" he asked.
"Thank you, Rose," Bella mumbled, watching her leave, nodding to Edward.
He lifted her effortlessly, and walked at a human pace, letting Bella's eyes adjust to the shifting scenery, as he moved her upstairs.
When he set her on the bed, he leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she started, hands out at his shoulders, trying to push him back.
Closing her eyes, she reminded herself of all the things that were not real. Of where she was. Of the smell that told her it wasn't Jacob.
Just Edward, she told herself. You're safe.
When she opened them again, he stood two steps back from the bed, posture rigid, and face stricken. "Sorry," he said, "I didn't—"
"I know," she answered him, trying to keep her hands relaxed. "Sorry—"
"No!" he said, too loudly, and she started again, bringing her knees up. He looked immediately apologetic, searching the floor with his eyes. "No," he said more softly, "don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"OK," she whispered, frightened by this outburst.
She didn't feel like there was nothing to apologize for.
She had everything to apologize for.
She'd insisted on seeing Jacob. Insisted that he was trustworthy. Put herself in his hands, literally, when she knew it wasn't safe. And now it was all just a source of guilt and grief for the man she loved.
