Fuil 'o mo chuislean Chapter 13, a twilight fanfic

Fuil 'o mo chuislean

Twilight characters and universe are not mine, but the original characters, storyline and wording are mine.

I should probably stop apologising for the cliffhangers; it's not like I have any intention of stopping using them. Lol. As always, though, sorry for the delay in updating. I would update every week if I were able.

Tell my love to wreck it all,

Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

Bella Ferraro - Skinny love

Chapter 13

Bella POV

I had lived on the brink of my feelings for so long that I didn't recognise the signs of an impending panic attack until I found myself crouched on the cold stone floor with my arms wrapped around my ribs. That needed to stop; people who hug themselves are only one step away from rocking themselves, and I didn't want to acknowledge the level of terror of which that was indicative. My whole body was yearning for oxygen, which seemed in very short supply. I tried to focus on the cracks and crevices between the flagstones, but every time I managed it my breathing would hitch again and I would be back on the downward spiral towards losing consciousness.

I was going to try to escape and it scared me to death.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only twenty minutes, of trying to reach some kind of zen-like state where my insides didn't feel like they wanted to become my outsides, I gave up. I thought that it should have made me feel weak and cowardly to accept the emotional stampede going on within me, but it had the opposite effect. I had to get as far away as possible from this supernatural psychopath and I couldn't get a handle on the terror and panic; I would therefore escape while having a panic attack.

The only thing that made this notion possible was that there was currently no-one here to tell me that it was impossible. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you don't know what you can't do.

In a perfect world I would be furnished with ropes and carabiners, chalk for my fingers, maybe even a jaunty bandana. What I had was a pair of shoes that were highly inappropriate for any kind of climbing, and a barrage of unwelcome memories of previous athletic failure, courtesy of my childhood nemesis, the jungle gym. My parents had thought I was destined for great things when I was born. This naive hopefulness remained undiminished by the regularity with which they had to mourn the skin of my hands and knees as it paid homage to the springy playground asphalt.

As it happens, my knees were already pre-skinned in anticipation of my assault on the north face of the castle wall, which I really, really hoped wasn't decorated around the bottom with pointy rocks. Every time those mental boulders hove into view, though, I replaced them with the very real memory of teeth in my neck. I'm not so wanting for self preservation that I won't try to go in the opposite direction of a bloodthirsty vampire. Well…I mean…I am…but…never mind.

The main thing that gave me pause for thought, strangely enough, wasn't the possibly nearby and listening vampire, or the falling potential inherent in high places like castle walls, but the abandonment of the warm-ish rug I'd become quite attached to. Granted it was a Stockholm Syndrome kind of attachment, but its benefits in the not freezing to death department were very real nonetheless. I thought about the thick garment in which Alistair had been clothed. It was basically a huge bolt of fabric fastened in only one place, thanks to strategic folding and wrapping. Perhaps I could do something similar with my rug and the rabbit skewer.

"Ug?" I looked down at my caveman attire. Should that be caveman or cavewoman? Caveperson? Perhaps the caveman moniker could be considered gender neutral. I could go with that; I didn't need to be doing mental gymnastics right before a courageous escape.

It had taken a few tries with the skewer to get it to sit at an angle where it was less likely to impale me during any given aerial manoeuvre. I obviously couldn't ask the rabbit, thanks to my now full stomach, but something told me I wouldn't enjoy it very much.

The door hinges didn't start squeaking until I was three quarters of the way squeezed through them. But, once I was, they started up a chorus of she's-getting-away-she's-getting-away- she's-getting-away. Oh shut UP. Vampire hearing means he'd hear stealthy footsteps as loudly as squeaky hinges anyway, so maintaining the hope that he was too far away to hear either was my best course of action. To my surprise, that hope bore out.

Do I go over the wall here or look for a better spot?

That thought only stopped me briefly; I had no earthly idea what might constitute a better spot, so this spot it might as well be. I toed the huge cube of native rock directly in front of me, testing the sole of one of the inappropriate shoes against a slightly numb bare foot for grippability. The shoes slid a little too easily against the damp stone surface, but my pinkies fared a lot better. I guess I have a few million years of evolution to thank for that.

Bare feet it was. But I wasn't about to leave the shoes behind. I was pretty sure footwear didn't suffer from abandonment issues, but I didn't want to press the matter. Just in case. I un- and then re-skewered my rug with the inoffensive ballet pumps lodged firmly on the metal shaft.

I didn't know where I was. Or, to be more precise, I didn't know where other people were in relation to where I didn't know I was. And I had seen enough of the Scottish landscape to know that trying to traverse it barefoot was not going to end well for everyone involved.

These battlements looked smaller in my head. How am I supposed to OW! Not-as-bendy-as-I-thought-I-was-not-as-bendy-as-I-thought-I-was…

Crotch, meet wall. Wall, meet crotch.

If I ever get out of this alive, my first stop is a life altering crash course in yoga and all things flexible.

Actually, scratch that. If I ever get out of here, my first port of call will likely be to volley as best I can the unending comedic pot-shots being taken at me by a certain time travelling ogre about the time I got my portcullis wedged on his lord and master's turret.

Oh well, at least that's something to look forward to.

Rose or Emmett POV

"Some new faces in the guard. Although I don't see Felix." I whispered to Emmett.

"I was thinking the same. And have you ever been here before and not seen Alec and Demetri?" he whispered back, careful to keep his voice below earshot even for the other vampires in the room. All except one, who appeared in front of us in an instant, tiny fists clenched by her sides.

"No-one had, until they ran into your bitch of a human." Jane's tone was vituperative and her glare deadly. "She burned them both, and Felix and Arturo fell to her wolf pack. Arturo may have been no great loss, but as for the others, we are without three of our most powerful guard. And I am forever without my brother," she hissed, stepping close enough that her nose was mere millimetres from mine. I felt Emmett tense at my side, ready to defend me. "Why is it that wherever your family goes, trouble follows like a-"

"Enough, Jane," said a soft voice. I looked up to see the glittering black eyes of Athenodora as she made her way to us. "Even Lord Aro knows not to place blame for their demise. When you take someone by force, you do not expect them to go willingly if they have too much to lose by doing so."

"My Lady, they were only doing their-"

"Job. Yes, precisely. And they knew exactly what that job entailed, risk and glory both. We, the Volturi, do not lose often, but we are not so stupid as to believe ourselves infallible. This was a calculated risk and it did not end in our favour. We greatly regret the loss of your brother, but do not overstep your bounds, Jane. If you cannot conduct the Volturi's business without bias and personal grievance, you will not conduct it at all. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, My Lady," Jane ground out through gritted teeth. She cast an angry glance between my mate and I before conceding her position to the queen, inclining her head as she retreated from us.

"Rose." The queen's words came out as a whisper as she leant her forehead against mine. "I've missed you. Even more than my garden has missed Esme and her green fingers."

"Theena, thank you." I closed my eyes in relief, taking comfort in the nearness of my longtime confidant. "Esme sends her love. The rest of the family would have accompanied us if they had been able."

"Do not thank me yet, my friend. You have come upon us at a time of…chaos. You are in no danger here, but your questions, for I sense that you have many, may not be welcome."

"I admit, we have questions, but what of your own circumstances? What has happened?"

"There is some discord among the brothers. Marcus saw something yesterday and has refused to share it. Aro has been unable to get close enough to read him and is troubled by his brother's refusal to share. All we know at the moment is that he has seen something in his bondsight that has disturbed him greatly."

"I wish that we could delay our questions," said Emmett solemnly. "Unfortunately, the reason behind them is urgent and the rest of our family is in great danger."

Athenodora flicked her eyes behind her, taking in the arguing forms of Aro and her husband. She took my hand in hers and pulled me forwards.

"Come. Perhaps a distraction would not be disadvantageous at this point. It can hardly make things much worse."

"Are you sure? Your husband and Aro look very much…indisposed." My mate was, for once, erring on the side of tact.

"Let me handle them. If I know Aro, and I do, he will not wish to add failing to aid one of his oldest friends to the current list of things for which he berates himself."

I looked at Emmett and shrugged. He grinned, which didn't ease my apprehension. This was going a lot better than I had anticipated, so I couldn't help but feel that there was going to be a 'but' at some point. A good relationship with the Volturi only goes so far, and asking for favours in the middle of an upheaval might be telling as to just how far that may be.

Bella POV

Don'tlookdowndon'tlookdowndon'tlook-

"By all means, look down," said a deep voice right next to my ear.

My scream of fright cut off sharply as I lost my grip on the wall. My body dropped several feet closer to the ground before I managed to jam my fingers between the enormous stones again. A humourless chuckle floated closer to my ear. Without opening my eyes, I knew that Alistair was hugging the wall only inches from me, and with far less effort.

"Do ye mean tae make the rest of your escape with your eyes shut?" I shook my head violently but said nothing. "That's likely for the best. It'll no be much fun if ye cannae see the rocks at the bottom. Do ye see that particularly pointy one there? Does it no look almost like a set of bagpipes?"

"This is not funny," I said, opening one eye just enough to see that he was, in fact, not laughing.

"Ye are right. It's no funny. But no for the reason ye are thinking." That gave me pause. I could ignore the biting pain in my fingers long enough to find out what was going on in that psychotic brain.

"Why then?"

"Because ye are climbing down the wall of a castle, not in the hope of reaching the bottom, but in the hope of being saved before ye do. It is selfish, and it is sad." Did he have to sound so disappointed?

"I'm selfish? Excuse me, I'M selfish? You took me away from my perfectly craptastic life, for no other reason other than that you think I might be your singer. A conclusion, I might add, that you wouldn't have reached if you had half a brain in that thick skull of yours!" I was crying hot tears of anger and embarrassment, and was shaking hard enough that I worried I might loosen my own grip on the wall long before he thought to do so himself.

"AYE! Ye are selfish. Selfish and mutton heided. Ye take nae responsibility for something as simple as yer own safety."

"You're lecturing me about safety? You want to eat me!" I couldn't believe his nerve!

"Well, aye, but ye are putting yerself in greater danger trying to escape like this than ye would be any of a dozen different other ways. Do ye no think ye are important to people that care about ye? Say ye did manage to get away from me; if ye do so in a manner such as this, likely to cripple or kill ye, can ye really say that ye are giving any thought to anyone but yerself? Not that that's something ye seem to care much about."

"I…am not having this discussion with you. My sense of self preservation has been the topic of conversation for many years between vampires much older and wiser than you. And I'm still alive. For now. So either kill me or let me get on with my ill thought out escape plan." I turned my face away from him, more bothered by him seeing my embarrassment than killing me. It occurred to me that I needed to have a long, uncomfortable bout of deep thought about this. There was something going on with him that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and he didn't seem to be able to either. I was clinging to a wall, being scolded by my kidnapper. I should not have felt that minute relaxation of tension when he appeared. Nothing, absolutely nothing, about him should make me feel safe. Safer. And I shouldn't be giving a damn about disappointing him.

So why was I?

"Fair enough. I'll even help ye. Ye've no managed to climb but a tenth of the distance down this wall. How about you make a little…" I felt a large hand grab the back of my makeshift rug garment and pluck me from the surface of the wall, only to slam me back against it again a split second later. "…progress. There ye go. Ye are halfway there now. Now ye will learn that every foothold holds life or death importance."

"I…what?" I couldn't form much of any kind of sentence due to the glowering face that had suddenly appeared close enough to cross my eyes.

"Climb," it growled. I squeaked and slipped at the gruff command.

I complied without thinking, my fingers and toes scrabbling for any kind of hold as I inched my way down the wall much more quickly than before. I still couldn't bring myself to look at the rocks below, and could no longer sense Alistair in my vicinity. But I was sure he still watched from somewhere, probably laughing at my panic and gracelessness.

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I hadn't thought much about escaping under my own steam or even what I'd do once I reached the bottom of the wall. Did that mean I had expected to be saved or that I was simply shit at planning ahead? Something told me that concentrating on where I was placing my hands and feet was more important than that question at present, but it perturbed me all the same.

Too late.

A fingernail split painfully and my hold on the wall gave way, leaving me to plummet backwards to the ground. I expected to have longer to think about my fate than I got.

With a massive thump and a groan I hit the ground on my back, some fifteen feet below the point from which I had fallen. As I struggled to catch my breath and triage the many places that hurt, an all too familiar face loomed over me.

"Why…why didn't you catch me?" I gasped.

"Why would I do that?" His brows bunched together quizzically, as if I had asked him the most absurd question possible.

I simply moaned as more pain danced a series of merry jigs through important parts like ribs and ass and shoulder blades, all vying for pole position.

"Ye fall because someone always catches you. Ye're an adult no an infant; watch where ye're going." He looked disgusted with me as he shrugged his shoulders, as if to unload a particularly annoying burden, and stalked away. "Ye wanted to escape. Now's yer chance," his voice floated back to me, growing fainter with each word.

I rolled onto my side, praying that I hadn't stabbed myself with my skewer-brooch. No holes; that was good, at least. Getting onto all fours was trickier, as it involved maintaining balance and breathing at the same time. I felt a stab of further humiliation as I realised that I must look like a turtle trying to right its shell, rocking back and forth, trying to find which way was up. Or, in my case, down.

Ah. Mud in the face. This is definitely down. Or rock bottom. Either way, I was a short lurch or two away from completing the first phase of my…what was that?

I didn't want to look up, I really didn't. It wasn't Alistair that had made that horrible growl, I knew that much. The fact that it was a familiar enough sound to bring memories of Jacob dancing close to the surface of my mind reinforced this. Don't look up…look at the ground…nice safe ground…nice…safe…

Oh…penis.

The wolf was a good twenty feet away. A real one. Its lips were pulled so far back that about sixty percent of its face was nothing but teeth and gums. The whimpering I could hear was not it but me, and it took all the self control I had to stand up in one slow, seamless motion. It crouched lower but didn't spring forward. Yet.

With a sinking feeling I looked between it and the wall. It almost seemed like less effort to let it eat me.

Almost.

Is it too early for puns? Pretty sure I have one about Bella hitting rock bottom :D