Edward had not questioned her arrival, but taken her directly to his room, burying—at least temporarily—his own concerns about the weal he could see forming on her shoulder, and the rasp of her breathing. When her tears had finally exhausted themselves, along with his repeated and horrified apologies, he asked her softly, "what happened?"
He would have been there, himself, all caution thrown to the wind, if his family hadn't intervened.
It had been Jasper and Emmett who had tackled him, their trail a fifteen foot running divet in the forest floor.
He'd already been penned in by the sunlight, but all sense had gone when he'd seen what Alice had: Charlie, physically forcing her to go see Jacob Black. He'd been willing to risk exposure, given the danger he imagined, but it had been Carlisle, using all his authority and persuasion, reminding him of the potential consequences to Bella, that made him stop.
When she told him, in fits and starts, he made himself not scream for Carlisle, to find out what fresh physical damage the dog had wrought. These he could see tended to. Her other hurts remained elusive to his help.
"I can't believe he did that," she said again, "I thought my dad would believe me. I just can't—" and the lump at her throat stopped the words again.
When she opened her mouth again, she asked, in a very uncertain voice, "I packed my things, they're in the truck—can I stay?"
He had her in his arms, wrapped in a blanket against his temperature. He breathed out, closing his eyes, "this is your home, of course you'll stay."
Her answering exhale showed him just how tenuous she'd been feeling. She'd been worried that she might not be welcome.
"All that is mine is yours, Bella. Everything."
She could only nod.
The strain of the day was evident, and Edward wasn't surprised to feel her start to fall asleep, reluctantly slipping her onto the bed, and away from the chill of his own form.
I'll wait with her, Esme thought, when he emerged.
He nodded in thanks, following the intentions of the others to the dining room where they sat waiting for him.
There were various states of anger and disbelief lining the space.
Please tell me I didn't hear that right, Emmett asked. He shoved her in the back of his cruiser?
And he didn't believe her, Rose was thinking.
Alice's thoughts were sadder, a plaintiff and mournful Charlie resonating in her mind, all the good she'd seen of him, smacking up against what she'd heard Bella say. Of what she'd seen presciently.
Carlisle was full of a deeper grief. He'd called Charlie friend and this betrayal of his daughter cut deeper than he wanted to say aloud.
Jasper sat uneasily, feeling all these things, and his own anger. Charlie'd laid hands on his own daughter, and then forced her to see the man...he just couldn't think about it. He was afraid of what he'd do.
"You won't," Alice said, "I know you won't. It would hurt Bella too much."
"She'll stay with us," Carlisle said. "She's family now, and we'll behave accordingly. We'll need to be much more careful about hunting," he added practically, "and we need to respect what Bella wants to do with her father." He looked meaningfully around the table. "And Jacob Black. No one should force her hand or take matters into their own. Can we agree to this?"
There were nods around the table, some more begrudging than others.
"One of us stays with Bella at all times," Edward said. "I don't trust either of them not to try to physically compel her again."
The nods to this were more agreeable.
"Long term," Carlisle said, "we need to make other plans."
Rose looked pleadingly at Edward, and he nodded, eyebrows pinched together in worry.
Carlisle didn't miss the exchange. "We can't wait indefinitely," he said softly, "they'll come check, and we can't be found wanting on that front again."
"No," Edward said. They couldn't. There were no second chances. Not with the Volturi. "But we can give her some time. Alice—is there anything you see?" Edward asked.
She shook her head for the benefit of the others there. "Nothing, now. But it's in Aro's thoughts to send someone to check." She looked apologetic, saying this.
Edward gave her a small, and what he hoped was a slightly reassuring smile.
The Volturi felt like a very distant worry at the present.
His more pressing one was upstairs sleeping, not so soundly.
He flicked his eyes in her direction, hearing her cough.
Rosalie's thoughts were coming to a boil. "Can we talk about what no one seems to want to mention?" she asked.
Carlisle gestured for her to continue.
"Jacob Black raped her. And no one's done anything." She looked at Edward, her glower low and meaningful.
"And what would you suggest doing, Rose?" Carlisle asked evenly.
"Do you really need to ask?" she gritted back.
"Starting a war?" he asked, voice still calm, as if he was weighting this with real possibility.
"He attacked her, after we'd entrusted her to his care," Rose went on, growing angrier.
"I don't dispute the crime, Rose," Carlisle said, "but I suspect Bella didn't tell us because she feared that outcome." He looked at Edward, who nodded.
"We do nothing," Edward said, his voice heavy. "Not until Bella asks us to." It killed him to say it, but it was clearly what she needed.
Emmett made a derisive sound, standing.
"Don't," Edward said, looking at him, "you don't have any idea what this is like, so quit it."
Emmett gave him a dark look that spoke to the contrary and then turned and walked away.
The rest of them stood, their meeting clearly adjourned. Edward returned to where Esme waited. She squeezed his hand as she left.
Then the phone rang.
Charlie, Alice said silently.
Just what they needed.
"I'll get it," Esme said, and the rest of them stopped, listening, as she picked up the phone.
"Hello?...Hi Charlie. Yes, she is here." Her voice was polite but cool. Notably absent was the warmth she'd always spared for Bella's father. "No, she's sleeping right now. But I'll let her know you called...of course...bye."
Edward grimaced, seeing what Alice was showing him. "You're certain?" he asked.
"Very," she sighed.
Edward looked at Bella, still curled up on the bed sleeping, but restlessly so.
"She has to call him," Alice said, "he'll be here before sunset, otherwise."
Bella coughed again, this time, the rattling enough to wake her.
"Hey," he said softly, coming to sit beside her, "I don't like the sound of that cough."
"You should try feeling it," she said, hand at her ribs.
Edward frowned. She never complained about things hurting. Ever. "When was the last time you took your pain medication?"
"This morning," she said, taking in another breath, coughing again. When she put her hand down, the temperature startled him, and he put his hand to her forehead.
"You've got a fever," he murmured. He was back in a fraction of a section, glass of water in hand.
"Thanks," she rasped.
Carlisle had heard all of this, and was tapping his fingers at the door, more by way of announcement than request.
"How're those deep breaths going?" he asked, taking Edward's place, watching the irregular flutter of her chest.
"Not so good," Bella admitted, wishing he would leave her be. She was pretty sure she could happily go right back to sleep.
She was awake enough, though, to catch the look between the two of them.
"What?" she managed, frustrated with the way talking and breathing seemed to be increasingly incompatible.
"Mmm," Carlisle said, "I think you might have a touch of pneumonia."
She pushed her eyebrows together, having heard the term before, but not sure what it meant.
"Fluid in the lungs. Gets infected," Carlisle said, sighing.
"Antibiotics?" Edward asked, worriedly.
"I think so," Carlisle said, sounding almost distracted. "And oxygen too."
Bella groaned, and then immediately regretted it, coughing again, hands to her ribs.
"Do you want something for the pain, Bella?" he asked.
After a moment, she said, "I think so." Her hip and the crook of her neck were starting to smart too.
Carlisle noticed her hand, moving to her shoulder, and stood to look at it.
He stared at the mark there, a bright red patch of angrily raised flesh, clearly made by the shape of a mouth. It looked painful, too. "Did that happen today?" he asked softly. Too softly.
Bella's nod was tiny.
"Is there anything else that's new?" Carlisle asked, remembering to smile gently, to hide his anger, "I need to know," he added, trying to make her feel at ease.
Bella's hand marked her hip, and then her casted hand touched the sleeve of her other shirt.
When Carlisle looked at Edward, he shook his head. He wasn't leaving. They were together in this. Carlisle didn't argue this time.
The bruising at her wrist was freshly mottled, new whorls of red smeared over the darker hurts already there. At her hip, a disgruntled mark was forming, the flesh having been clearly pinched together with force.
Both men stared, swallowing. Considering.
It was brutally unfathomable. How did someone do this and call it love?
"OK," Carlisle said, breaking the silence, "I'll go get a few things and be right back."
Edward took his place back again, his hip at hers, fingers twining with her own. "Alice saw Charlie coming here later."
"Great," Bella rasped, trying to sigh.
"Not really," Edward said, "it's sunny."
Right, Bella thought, closing her eyes.
"But she thinks you phoning him might deflect that decision."
"OK," she nodded, trying to sit up.
He put a gentle hand to her shoulder, trying to keep her from exerting herself more than necessary, but the gesture made her tense, hands moving to push him away.
When he caught them, trying now to prevent her from hurting herself, she stopped breathing, the shallow air she'd taken locked in place, eyes closed, body rigid in fear.
Edward let go immediately, backing away. "You're safe," he said softly, "no one will hurt you." Belatedly, he added, "I'm sorry I frightened you—"
"Don't," she said abruptly, coughing as she got it out, shaking her head to stop more words that sounded too much like Jacob's.
She shuddered, and drew the blanket up as far as she could make it go, leaning back against the headboard, resting and trying to breathe at the same time. It was a laboured effort.
Edward was wrestling with his own frustration and rage, trying to stuff them away. The creature had restrained her, clearly, and more than once. She'd been habituated to fear touches that might become that.
He hated that he had to impose, to ask anything of her for his family's safety, but her safety was twined up with theirs. Charlie couldn't come today.
"Are you ready to call?" He asked, voice quiet, calm.
She nodded, making a shallow cough.
He brought over the handset for the house line, and watched her struggle with the buttons, eventually getting the combination right. Carlisle was giving them a moment to do this, but he really wished he wouldn't. The fever was moving quickly, and he was anxious for her health.
"Hello?" Edward heard Charlie's voice, tinged with a perfect replica of the apprehension he was feeling.
"Hi," Bella managed.
"Oh, Bella," Charlie started, "I'm so sorry—"
"It's OK, Dad," she said, eyebrows pinched together. It wasn't. Not by any stretch, but she didn't want to get into it on the phone.
There was a pause, as Charlie audibly cleared his throat.
"You're at the Cullens." This was said with an unease neither of them could miss.
"Yes," Bella said, "and I'll be here from now on."
"Bella," he said, voice full of reproach, "I know I was an idiot this morning, but please—"
"No," she said, "I'm not coming home." Here, her airway, worked beyond capacity, made its protest clear, and she launched into a coughing fit, sweeping the handset away to the side so she didn't deafen Charlie.
She could hear him talking, but couldn't make out the words.
"Sorry," she murmured, when she put it back to her ear.
Edward clenched his fists together. She was apologizing to him, for God's sake—
"That cough sounds bad," Charlie said, the frown evident in his voice.
"Yeah," Bella said, trying to clear her own, "Carlisle thinks its pneumonia."
"What?" Charlie asked, alarmed. "That's serious—you should be in the hospital—"
"I'm fine. Carlisle's getting what he needs for here," Bella said, tired suddenly, sinking further down in the bed.
The fading colour in her face alarmed Edward, and he mouthed "say goodbye," to her, wanting to stop this drain on her energy.
Charlie had launched into another long-winded list of concerns, missing her quiet, "Dad," trying to interrupt him.
Edward pulled the phone away, his patience with Charlie evaporated.
"She's really sick, Charlie," he said, "she needs to rest now."
Charlie's "tch," was loud, and derisive, "Great, you're there. Supervising her talking too, I suppose?"
"I want to make sure she's OK," Edward practically growled.
"Yeah, you've done a great job of that so far, haven't you?"
The stinging guilt, and anger at this misplaced accusation, made Edward hiss in a breath. "Perhaps you should listen to your daughter on that front." Then he hung up.
Carlisle was back, Esme with him, both with arms full of items.
Bella moaned, seeing the IV bags.
"I know," Carlisle said sympathetically, "but I don't want to take any chances with this." Then she saw the oxygen canister. She'd used up all her excess air by this point, and could only close her eyes in protest.
"Just for now," Edward said softly.
"Rumour has it, breathing is important for humans," Esme said, a wry smile on her lips, helping Carlisle set things up.
Bella tried to laugh, but it came out as a raw cough.
Edward took the cannula from Esme, slipping it over Bella's face. She grimaced, as he set it in place.
"Sorry," he said, "but I like you alive."
She didn't try to laugh this time, and the clench in his chest lessened, seeing the colour return to her cheeks with the oxygen.
Carlisle was hooking three bags on a rolling stand.
Crap, Bella thought. If he had a stand, he meant business. She was taking these things everywhere. Not that she felt like getting up to go anywhere at present.
When she saw the morphine label, she shook her head. "No," she said. "No way."
He hadn't inserted the IV yet, but was putting everything he needed on the bedside table. He sighed, more for human effect than anything else.
"Pneumonia thrives on poor lung movement, Bella. Lessening the pain makes it easier for you to breathe." He looked at her face, taut with anxiety and fear. Very softly, he asked, "is it the side-effects you're worried about?"
She nodded. The dreams, before, had been horrific. She'd felt pursued, relentlessly in that half-sleep, not able to escape the creatures that sought her. She didn't want to be trapped with the fresh ones Jacob had left her with.
"I'll be right here," Edward said, "not going anywhere."
Not that he can reach where I go, Bella thought guiltily. She made herself nod, more for his sake than hers, and looked away as Carlisle slipped the IV needle in. She didn't feel much, beyond a light pinch, but resented this trapping of her sole good hand.
"This shouldn't be for long," Carlisle said, "I hope just a day or two. Let's see how you feel then, OK?"
He had the lines plugged in quickly, clicking in the dose of morphine.
She could feel Edward's hand in hers, but the fear was rising faster than its grip could allay.
"Come hold me, please," she said, voice shaking, fever making everything rattle.
He slipped onto the bed, sliding her onto his lap, as the illness he couldn't fight, took her places he wished he could follow.
