Sorry, everyone! I've been vacationing and such... But I'm back now!
[Before you read, just to be clear: I am originally from New York, and I do not necessarily agree with stereotypes about New Yorkers. Fred's upcoming comment about them is purely from his own observations.]
Anyway, enjoy! ;)
Very stiffly, Fred takes a seat across from me in the grass. If I did not know better, I would say he is in pain. "What's wrong?" I ask, concerned. "Are you... hurt?" So very little can harm a vampire, it seems ludicrous to even ask.
He bites his lip and shifts so that his knees are just a centimeter from touching mine. "We'll get to that," he promises. He scrubs his face with his hands. He sighs shallowly, closes his eyes, and begins telling his story. "These past couple of months have been... interesting. I've seen some incredible places - London, Beijing, Cairo - looking for a permanent residence. But I also met some dangerous people. And of course, by people, I mean vampires."
I instantly think of the Volturi, the ones Diego and I had discovered and the Cullens had further warned me about. I hope sincerely that he has not had the misfortune of encountering them; no doubt they would be covetous of his powerful gift. They would try to convince him to stay with them.
"Long story short, there was a specific group who took an immediate disliking to me. I mean, more than usual," he amends. "I've quickly learned that every city has its coven, and they typically don't take kindly to strangers, especially strangers that make them feel sick to their stomachs." He shrugs. "Go figure." I laugh.
"Anyway, so I was in New York (as you may imagine, the vampires there are already a disagreeable sort, like most New Yorkers) and I ran into an angry group of them. They were already looking for a fight - who knows why?" He looks upward, clenching his jaw and giving a short, shallow sigh: trying to bite back a painful memory. "They... attacked me. I fought back, of course: I tried to nauseate them, to push them back. I even tried to make them forget I existed. Nothing was working - it usually works, but they were impossibly relentless-"
He cuts off suddenly, sits in silence for a moment. "I'll just show you," he decides.
He reaches for his collar and begins unbuttoning his loose-fitting shirt. "Fred...?" I say, apprehensive. What is he doing?
Refusing to meet my eyes, he shrugs the shirt away, and I gasp.
His torso is a jigsaw puzzle. It looks as if the whole middle section of his body was ripped out unceremoniously, torn in chunks, and haphazardly stuck back together again. Slowly I realize that that is exactly what happened to it. I think I can even see parts of his internal organs breaching the surface in some places. I cover my mouth with one hand as I reach out to gently feel the gory scars and sickening indentations with the other. "Oh, Fred..." My heart aches at the pain he must feel. All I want is to help him. But what can I do?
"I tried to fix it myself," Fred confesses. "I thought I could just put it back together the way it was, but I think I just made it worse." He still will not look at me as he shudders, probably from pain, or memory of pain. "I can't breathe; my lungs are all shredded. Luckily, that's not important. What is important is that I can't drink. My throat no longer leads to my stomach, and I can't keep any blood down. And it's certainly not from lack of trying," he adds, squeezing his eyes shut. "It burns so badly, and there's nothing I can do about it. I've killed so many, trying to satisfy it... all for nothing. I just cough it all back up. But I can't stop myself..." Frustrated, he beats his fist into the ground, creating a small crater in the earth.
"Hey," I say, reaching out to catch his chin in my hand. I swivel his head to meet my gaze. Just a sliver of dull red rings each of his dark irises, shining with an anger that does not fully conceal the tortured soul lying beneath them. "You're going to be okay. I'll take you back to Carlisle; I'm certain he can fix you right up. All right?"
Slowly his eyes soften, and he surprises me by letting his chin drop enough that he can kiss the palm of my hand. I am so shocked I reflexively pull my hand back into my lap. Fred just smiles at me. "It's so good," he tells me, "so good to have a friend again. I thought I was a natural loner because of my 'ability', but I was wrong. It hurt to be away from you. This..." He leans closer to me and rests his forehead against mine. I am too stunned to react in any way, and I become a statue of tension. "...this is natural."
We sit that way for a long time, neither of us really knowing what is going on, only that we're finally reunited. Thick as thieves, once again - perhaps more so? It seems that distance does make the heart grow fonder.
I keep glancing at his mutilated torso, my chest contracting in sympathetic pains. "Come on." I finally break the silence. "Let's get you some help."
We run together, falling into step automatically. He needs serious help, and fast - but I deliberately take a route that swings far, far away from any sort of civilization. Anyone as hungry as he is - it would be dangerous to take him that way, to say the least. I inwardly pray that we encounter no hikers or hunters along the way. Or any werewolves, for that matter. They probably wouldn't let me into Forks with a crazed vampire in tow - not without a fight.
We make it to the Cullen residence, taking the most roundabout route I can think of. Luckily, we encounter no one during our travels. But before we get to the house, I come up short, hissing Fred's name. He halts and pins me with questioning eyes.
"We just had a wedding reception here," I tell him. "Lots of humans. It probably still smells like them - even in this strong wind. Let me go check if it's safe."
He nods his assent, and I flit toward the house. It seems the smell has mostly dissipated, but not entirely. Maybe we'll have to do something about Fred's condition outside, in the woods. I turn to go inside and get Carlisle.
But then the wind shifts.
I barely have time to react before I see Fred zip past me: toward town. Following the scents of our party guests. Immediately I take off after him, running faster than fast, faster than I thought I could have gone. Only vaguely do I register slamming doors and yelling voices behind me.
Luckily, I am a few months younger than Fred, which makes me just that much stronger and faster. I also know the terrain better than he does, and it certainly doesn't hurt that he is starving while I am well-fed. I can catch him.
I have to catch him.
As soon as I am close enough, I launch myself at him, tackling him to the ground and wrestling him into a tight Full Nelson. He thrashes around uselessly, trying to get me to let up, beating the ground and roaring in outrage. He manages to grip a good chunk of my hair and yank out a part of my skull. I hiss in pain and drive his face into the dirt, trying to block the scents he's caught with other odors.
He starts throwing off wave after wave of nausea, but my grip stays firm. "Carlisle!" I call out. "Emmett! Jasper! Somebody!"
"We're trying, Bree!" comes the response. Alice, I think.
"How can you stand being in the middle of that?!" Emmett yells, not trying to be difficult, but honestly not comprehending the possibility of getting anywhere close to the source of all the repulsion. To be honest, I'm not sure of the answer myself. My stomach is turning over, my throat trying to retch, but I know I can't let him go. It's not an option.
In the end, it's Carlisle who makes it through Fred's barricade of nausea. He kneels bravely before the writhing, roaring, thrashing man and looks into his eyes. He looks up at me, stunned and concerned. "How long has he gone without feeding?"
I grunt, pinning Fred closer to the ground and tightening my grip on him. "Don't know exactly," I say curtly. "He can't drink anything. Needs your help." My eyes plead for his mercy.
Carlisle looks thoroughly confused for a moment, but seems to understand the eminent danger, at least. He nods.
"Here!" Someone shouts (Jasper?), off to the side. A dead animal carcass thuds to the ground off to my left. I feel Fred freeze beneath me, smelling fresh blood. He is so far gone, he doesn't even know it's not human. I release him and let him go after it.
"That won't help!" I protest as I watch him fall on the creature, fending off my own instincts to fight for the fresh blood. He forgets to throw up more repulsion barriers as he begins drinking desperately from the thing. Soon, however, he lifts his head and the dark substance gushes from his mouth. He goes down for another mouthful, and this time comes up coughing and sputtering. He is trying to force it down, but it simply has nowhere to go. He roars in frustration, diving back down for another futile drink. He can't seem to stop himself.
I look briefly at the faces of my family, confused and mildly horrified. Rather than explain, I just lean down and rip the back of Fred's shirt open; he doesn't even notice, but the Cullens' faces turn grave at the sight of his ghastly torso. "He needs help, and quick. Please, Carlisle," I beg, "tell me you can fix him."
Carlisle looks uncertain. "I will do what I can," he promises.
A wave of relief washes over me. "Thank you," I say. "Um. What do you need?"
"Just get him upstairs," he orders. "We had the windows open, to air out the human scents - in case you brought Fred back with you. It should be all right up there, since most of the guests were downstairs or outside the whole time. Get him through a window, and restrain him as best you can. I'll be ready when you get there." Carlisle gives me a tight but reassuring smile and takes off.
Next chapter on the way shortly! Hope everyone is enjoying it... :)