six
january
"Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true."
- Alfred Lord Tennyson
o.o.o
Bella is sensible. It is, she thinks, one of her strongest traits - something that is an extension of her gift, something that is ingrained deeply into the part of her mind that is undeniably pragmatic, something that is a reflection of the sensitivity she feels in each moment. Part of her sensibility is an intense respect - a demand - for honesty, for the simplicity of logic. She holds herself to this standard, maybe to account for the way a single touch of her hand can rob those around her of their secrets, expose their lies, uncover their fears.
Bella is sensible - and so while a tiny part of her is incensed by the falsehood that rings so unequivocally through the very cells that make up her being, a much larger part is relieved. All her life, she had been different in some way. Too smart. Too quiet. Too pale, too healthy. Too…knowing. And now, there was an answer that she could confirm just by holding the hand of a man, of a vampire, who is biologically her great-great-grandfather.
Her eyes are open, now. She understands - she has gleaned so much from Aro's mind, which he leaves open to her perusal, always watching on with amazement as she uses the gift she had inherited from him, a gift that was dormant for generations and that had manifested so uniquely in her. Their connection is not as refined as the one she shares with Edward, but it is close, the passage eased by Aro's desire to shine light on every horrible, shocking, ruthless shadow he possesses. He hides nothing. He doesn't even try.
Anyone else would be terrified of Aro - and they would be right. He and Sulpicia had been so incredibly unethical, casting humans aside as nothing more than incubators, using women as nothing more than acceptable substitutes, all to get what they each wanted. A family. An heir. And Aro had not cared until his daughter was born, but even then, he regarded her measuredly, wondering at the impossibility of her life but more interested in the next generation she would birth. She was not gifted; her son was not gifted; and his son was only barely gifted, a partial shield in the mind. All useless to Aro - until Bella.
You are callous, she directs to him, blunt but not unkind.
Yes, Aro agrees, enthralled by her, amazed that the thing he'd waited for so long had finally arrived. Like a much awaited toy, a prize on the shelf, but one that inspired unprecedented feelings in him.
Bella had no doubt that Aro loved her, just as she did not doubt that Sulpicia - denied motherhood for so long, first because it was not possible, and then because it was imperative to keep her husband's children secret, always a secret - loved her dearly. And she loved them.
It was illogical to deny truths that were self-evident.
The situation was complicated, the motivations all knotted tightly together to the point where it was unclear if this hybrid experimentation was sill posited around the original goal - a family, an heir, a tool. Living proof that it was possible to propagate a greater species. Aro's mind was a work of philosophy, honed to think of every angle, of every perspective, of every use. He considered Marcus, how he would marvel at vampiric familial bonds, how he would cherish the opportunity to provide Didyme with a child. He considered Caius, who saw humans as nothing more than particularly entertaining cattle, but who would see the advantage of integration that hybrids provided the opportunity to exploit. He thought of himself, of his own ill-ease at the evidence of the human race trying so very hard to destroy themselves and the planet, and how hybrids would bridge the gap between vampire and human, and thus bridge the gap between governance over both races. Above all else, Aro wanted power - but he wanted that power to be peaceful, a desire that Caius sometimes derided, and yet a desire that Aro would not compromise anything, including power, for. He believed in fairness, blind justice, and when it suited him, compromise.
But Aro had not yet decided - fully - where he would fit Bella into this plan. When she had been an infant, he'd had every intention of siring her, of bringing her under the protection of his wing in Volterra, of perhaps pairing her with a vampire called Alec who would suit her just fine. But now, she is mated to the childe of a vampire he considers an ally and she is grown and that changes things.
There is the mystery of when she would stop aging, or if she would continue to grow at a human pace; Charlie's aging had slowed to a crawl after he hit middle-adulthood; Fozino's aging had halted during early-adulthood; Arilpicia had stopped before she even looked twenty human years. Bella follows the evidence in Aro's mind and finds herself agreeing with him - she could likely continue to age at a normal human rate until the rest of her vampiric genes were activated.
What if I am not like you when I change? What if I am a different kind of vampire? It was something Bella had begun to think about, the possibility that too many unknown variables over the last three generations would coalesce within her and create a different variation of the kind of vampires she knew. And she had also begun to consider the possibility of different breeds of vampires being possible - Aro might believe that he was the first to create a successful hybrid, but what if that was not true? What if there were vampires who did have fangs? Who did burn in the sun? When he'd taken power, Aro had never bothered to correct the propaganda the Romanian's used to keep humans from discovering their true nature - but what if that propaganda had some truth to it?
Perhaps, Aro concedes, a new coil of wonder veering through his subconscious. He would think on those possibilities later, she knew. His mind is still whirring on the other issue - the conundrum of how to activate the store of venom built up in her cells. Through a bite is the means Aro believes to be a sufficient catalyst.
And Aro fiercely wonders how that might happen - Arilpicia simply was half-vampire, more inclined to blood than food, and her son was much the same, though he could go longer without drinking the iron-rich ambrosia running through human veins. Charlie did not seem to feel any inclination, but Bella shows Aro memories of herself feeling such unquenchable thirst and she thinks, Maybe he is like me and does not realize what the thirst means, bolstering the thought with countless memories of steak dinners at the Lodge when she was growing up, of an entire freezer full of venison and very little fish.
Aro considers this, carefully filing it away until he has met Charlie himself. Exchanging letters did not give him enough information and Charlie's letters to Volterra were few and far between. And what to do about Charlie? Undoubtedly, Charlie benefited from vampiric longevity, from an immunity to human diseases, a pronounced strength and senses that were heightened enough to give his police work an edge - all advantages that Bella did not have, except for a particularly strong immune system. But what else was there about Charles Swan? Did he suspect he was different? Aro had a burning desire to know; Bella could tell that he was about as irked by mysteries as Edward, another side effect of the entitlement of telepaths.
The territory they were in was so uncharted. There were no clear answers for all the many questions they all had.
Sulpicia was the only one who did not seem to care. As late December bleeds into the first days of January - as Charlie works continuous night shifts and remains unavailable, as Bella leaves the Cullen home each night and pretends that nothing has changed, as Aro and Sulpicia take residence in a guest house on the Cullen land - it is Sulpicia who expresses her untamed joy at the situation. She dotes upon Bella, eager to embrace her grandchild in a way she had never before been allowed.
Always a nanny, always someone else, Sulpicia thinks, stroking Bella's cheek. In her mind are vivid memories etched in jealousy as she watches first Arilpicia and then Fozino mothered by others, as she stands at a window in Seattle and watches a very young Charlie interact with foster parents long-past, as she creeps into Phoenix in the dead desert night to see Renee's blithering version of nurture. In the Cullen home, in the room that Esme had given the leader of the Volturi and his mate, Bella is coaxed to sit in front of a vanity and learn who her great-great-grandmother is while Sulpicia relishes in the opportunity to twist her hair into tiny braids weaved into classic Greek hairstyles. Her fingers graze Bella's skin as she works and Bella is gifted with memories of Sulpicia's travels, of her long life in the gilded castle of Volterra, of Bella's actual Great Aunt Didyme and Great Uncle Marcus, and of the many interesting people, human and vampire alike, that Sulpicia has had the pleasure to meet. Sulpicia is less careful with her thoughts, though Bella understands that this is done with purpose; like Aro, she hides nothing. She doesn't even try.
Bella doesn't hide anything, either. As far as she could tell, there was no point.
o.o.o
o.o.o
It is surreal to see Aro and Sulpicia sit in the living room of the Swan household on the afternoon after New Years Eve, especially when her mind is still fresh with images of the priceless pieces of history littered throughout the Volterra castle. She is never more glad that she had begun her renovation project on the house in August, shuddering at the mental picture of queen-like Sulpicia stood before the chipping sunshine-yellow paint Renee had bathed the kitchen in. It's unsettling, to say the least. And to be perfectly honest, Aro and Sulpicia don't exactly make any great effort to come off as human like the Cullen's do; there are no unnecessary breaths; they do no blink; they do not shift in their seats or fake twitches. They present as firmly, unmistakably vampire.
It is unnerving at first, but she quickly grows used to it. She's had the past six days to acquaint herself with their habits and their utter stillness does not seem so odd anymore. She appreciates the efforts that the Cullen's make, though, finally realizing that it is something that they had to work for; it was evidently the natural state of vampires to intimate statues.
She wonders how her father will react.
Today is the first day that Charlie has not been picking up the slack of the other deputies and as such, it was the first opportunity for him to learn the truth. All of the truths. She is only a bit nervous about his reaction; the Charlie she knows is the type of man to roll with the punches, whatever they may be. Bella comes by her practicality honestly.
The wait is somewhat claustrophobic, though. She'd spent the better part of the morning tidying the house and pre-preparing the belated holiday meal she would share with Charlie later in the night. Edward had been at her side, re-learning these human past times in the quiet house while Charlie caught up on sleep. Her mate had only left once her grandparents had arrived, offering privacy for the ordeal soon to follow as soon as her father was roused from slumber. As the evening hours neared, her anticipation grew; Charlie would wake up soon and she found herself doing busy work under the watchful gazes of Aro and Sulpicia, petering around in the kitchen while she waited for the coffee pot to finish percolating. The rich, familiar fragrance goes a long way to soothing the disquiet of her mind.
The touch of Edward's skin was more effective. She missed him with a twinge in her chest. He was hunting now, taking the opportunity to venture to the Olympic National Park in search for a rare mountain lion. He would be back in the night, sitting in her tree as she slept. But it was no soon enough.
It was somewhat astounding to realize that she wanted to be near him constantly. Was that healthy? Was she dependent on him? No. No, she was perfectly independent, she felt complete unto herself, but also like she was better for his hand within her own, fitting together like puzzle pieces.
She sighs. When would Charlie wake up?
Bella comes back into the living room with a piping hot mug of coffee. She feels as though she should offer something to her grandparents, but she already knows that they will decline; they are unapologetic human-drinkers but they are also old and do not feel the need to feed quite so often. They both drank their fill in Italy and have no urge to slake a thirst that does not exist at the moment.
She feels Aro's curious gaze as she sips on her beverage. "Did they not have coffee when you were human?"
His lips twitch. "The Greeks drank wine."
"Occasionally water," Sulpicia adds.
Bella tilts the rim of her cup toward them. "Would you like to try it?"
A smile alights Aro's face, a sort of unabashed curiosity shining in his eyes. He accepts her offer, brings the cup to her lips, and then hastily withdraws with his mouth screwed up in distaste. "Why, that is absolutely foul. Precious, how can you drink this vile concoction?"
Sulpicia's laughter chimes right along with Bella's, resonate enough that she doesn't hear Charlie come downstairs until he is standing at the lip of the living room with his brows drawn high. She hadn't noticed it before, but he and Aro share the same hairline.
"Kid, you want to introduce me to your friends?"
Bella frowns for just a second before she remembers that Aro and Sulpicia appear very young at first glance - just twenty-five and twenty-three in human physical appearance respectively. Charlie wouldn't immediately identify either of them for who they truly are. Her hesitation leaves her wrong-footed, but she stands, tucking her hands into the long sleeves of her white cable-knit sweater. "Dad," she says, tilting her head to the side, attempting to gauge his reaction in real-time and without the benefit of her gift. "This is Aro and Sulpicia."
Her grandparents watch her father with rapt attention, hands clasped as they stand tall before the Christmas tree still shining in the living room. Sulpicia in particular looks fit to lunge across the room and drag Charlie into a maternal embrace; Aro might be the only thing holding her back, and even then only by a hair.
Charlie pauses. His brow furrows, but not in confusion. He's skeptical. "As in, Great Uncle Aro and Great Aunt Sulpicia?" He eyes them dubiously, obviously caught on their ages.
Bella nods.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over the dark stubble that has grown along his chin. "I need caffeine for this. You make coffee?"
Bella nods again, but she can immediately tell that Charlie's natural pragmatism has won out and he is at least willing to entertain this impossibility that has been delivered to him.
"Alright. Give me a moment and then you can try running all this by me again."
o.o.o
o.o.o
Charlie takes it all better than everyone could have predicted, Bella included.
She touches his hand many hours later - long after Aro and Sulpicia have departed for the day - and catches the tenor of his wry realization. Charlie was a very smart man; he'd noticed that he didn't age quite the same as any one else after his foster parents passed, which is why he'd transferred from Seattle to little-town Forks, thinking that it would be easier in a place where people just didn't ask so many questions. In his youth, he'd had a habit of breaking things when his temper got the better of him, denting metal and chipping wood with a thoughtless tap; and in his work, he ran faster than the other beat cops, had better aim with his gun, better eyesight and hearing, too.
Hell, I even know where the fish are in that lake before I even cast the line, he realizes with a snort. And I've never once not found a deer when I was out hunting. Nobody is that lucky. No wonder.
But there's something else in his mind - something in the shadows. A tiny thought. Vampires are immortal quickly followed by vampires mate for life. He'd lost Renee already; she hadn't wanted him and his small-town life borne out of necessity.
Did he want to spend an eternity with the empty ache in his chest?
Bella pulls her hand away.
They both know the answer.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Bella shows her grandparents her bedroom, eagerly dragging Aro to the corner of her room that has been dedicated to her book collection in the aftermath of the untimely death of her bookcase. Following along, Sulpicia observes, "Goodness, this is exactly how you keep your collection, my love, strewn about in disorganized chaos. Bella, sweetling, did you know he has an entire chamber in the castle dedicated to a mess not unlike this one?"
Bella isn't surprised. As much as she adores libraries, she has never subscribed to any sorting system for her personal collection - it would drive her mad and take the excitement out of reading whatever book her hand falls upon when she is in the mood to read spontaneously, a feeling that Aro evidently shares. Yet another trait that she has come by honestly.
Aro, though, isn't paying attention. He has flared his nostrils, circling the room with a heavy cast to his brow, lingering at the window with mildly peeved downward turn to his lips, every inch of him radiating a faint aura of disapproval. "Your mate has been in your bedroom?"
Bella flushes, quickly explaining about the bookcase - about how it had only been the one time. It is odd to find herself in the awkward position of defending an innocent interaction. Then she remembers that she had been in a bathrobe and that Edward had visibly held himself back from allowing his eyes to wander to the exposed line of her throat and collarbone. She's almost certain that this is a memory that Aro had glazed over the first time they touched, as that was the way his gift operated, but now that it was in a real-world context, he had developed a clear feeling about the incident. And so had Bella; a retroactive feeling of extreme embarrassment that did not meld well with the rush of adolescent desire she had felt in those fleeting moments.
"Good," Aro decides imperiously.
"Pardon?" Bella says, drawn out of her belated fluster by the abrupt about-face of her grandfather.
Sulpicia's hand flutters over her mouth, hiding a wide smile.
"You are so young, precious," Aro reasons breezily, swiping his fingers over her window sill to - she's pretty sure - cover the trace of Edward's scent where it still lingered. "Your room should remain a private place for as long as possible."
Bella rolls her eyes at his diplomatic, thinly-veiled allusion to what she should and shouldn't do. It doesn't surprise her that Aro would have the audacity; he was very rarely defied in any way between the absoluteness of his Volturi rule and his unrivaled ability to cajole. "Oh, please. You act as if ages of consent aren't a social construct when we both know you've been around long enough to know better." Then she pauses, crossing her arms over her chest - because while she's ready to argue against the principle, she's not prepared to argue against the decree itself, mostly because she agrees. "But it's not as if you have to worry about my virtue, Grandfather. Mate or not, my honor will not be in jeopardy any time soon."
She pointedly ignores Aro's air of satisfaction that serves as response to this declaration, exchanging a weighted look with Sulpicia. It is a lesson that men - human or vampire, ancient or young - would never truly change.
Less so if they are used to getting what they want.
o.o.o
o.o.o
In spite of the emotional toll of the visit - the highs and lows, and most especially the sobering realizations - Bella still cries on the day that Aro and Sulpicia return to Volterra. They have been away for only two weeks, but Aro is not comfortable leaving his throne empty for so long and Bella's time is being reclaimed by school.
You will miss me, will you not, precious? Aro asks as their hands clasp for the final time, his paper-soft skin and strong bones cradling her human-warm fingers firmly.
She has already said her good-byes to Sulpicia, a lingering hug full of murmured words and a parting gift that Bella was instructed to wear at all times. The golden diamond pendant, flat and carved in the shape of the Volturi seal, hangs on an impossibly-thin platinum chain, long enough that it tucks easily under her shirt collar, flush to her sternum. It is a more blatant claim of her close association with the Volturi than other gifts that Sulpicia has given her; apparently, the ruby earrings from her birthday had the same etching laid beneath the gemstone, obvious for vampire eyes if they are close enough to look. The pendant is meant to be protection. Bella understands now and vows, silent and with a push of her mind against her grandmother's, to wear it always.
Of course, she returns to Aro, the feeble strength of her hands trembling to squeeze back hard enough so that he might remember her better. She doesn't want him or Sulpicia to leave. They have been drawing out this farewell for too long, though, and she thinks it might actually be up to her to finalize it. She leans up, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks with a quivering smile.
His returning kiss to her forehead lasts for a long, long moment. I am sorry that this has been difficult, he says.
She pulls away, tucking her hands into her sleeves, bereft of the company of another mind that she had grown so close to so quickly. "To understand everything is to forgive everything," she quotes. "And Grandfather…there is nothing to forgive."
Aro's garnet eyes glimmer. "You are such a strong creature, my Isabella."
It is the last thing he says to her before her and Sulpicia dart away, lead by Mele and tailed by a shy, waifish vampire named Renata, who was Aro's personal guard had had indeed followed him everywhere over the course of his visit. Bella watches them blur out of her line of sight, standing in the Cullen's backyard in front of the slow-rushing river with a wistful shadow of her mind.
They will meet again - soon.
Edward comforts her within the tender embrace of his arms, her hot tears pitter-pattering onto the strong column of his neck while he strokes the length of her spine. And with her forehead pressed into his diamond-hard skin, she marinates in the beautiful, chaotic disaster of his mind, relieved to find that the last two weeks had calmed the leeriness he felt toward Aro.
His kiss on that night is a delicate thing, as if she is made of glass.
They both know that she is not.
o.o.o
o.o.o
The weekend is a sunny one, but bitterly cold at the height of the Northwest winter, frost crawling up the windows and clinging to the moss-riddled bark of evergreen trees. She spends the time while Edward is forced to remain near the secluded Cullen mansion catching up on the holiday homework that she had completely neglected in the wake of the eventful winter break. Excepting Physics, none of it is difficult to occupy her for long and soon she is rifling through the refrigerator for a snack, something to satisfy the urge to chomp.
The vampiric urge? No, she's looking for something salty, something rich in flavor. Maybe not something she has to bite at all. Maybe something she can drink?
Like blood.
Bella suppresses a groan, snatching her hand away from the styrofoam container of pigs blood sitting on the middle shelf, an ingredient she needed to make dinner and that she would not just drink straight and cold, standing in the open coolness of the refrigerator. How could I have not suspected, though? Honestly, there are literally tiny vats of blood sitting next to the milk.
A bit disturbed by her own ability to be so obtuse, she closes the door with a snap and marches to the other side of the kitchen, biting viciously into an apple, wondering if her father gets these kinds of cravings, too. Probably. Only he can drink and he's never shied away from a cold beer or two - for the express reason of quelling that pervasive thirst rolling on the back of her tongue, she realizes with a sigh. Not the best coping mechanism, but at least Charlie had something. He planned on living out his lifespan as mostly-human for however long that may be. He's spent the last thirty years denying himself the craving that had been woken in Bella not so long ago. She wonders, if she stopped cold-turkey, if she would be able to deny herself, as well. Was it like an addiction?
The problem with that was the fact that she didn't want to deny herself. There was no point. She wasn't planning on staying human.
How could she?
The tentative knock on the backdoor as the sun begins to set is a welcome distraction. She answers it, raising her brows in surprise at the sight of Rosalie Hale on the back porch, skin shimmering in the same shades as the sunset, golden hair glinting like spun gold atop her head. Her angelic visage is somewhat compromised by the melancholic countenance.
"Come inside," Bella murmurs as she steps back, leaning on the door as she watches Rosalie flit into the kitchen and sit heavily on a kitchen chair. Then she waits as Rosalie gathers her thoughts, lip pulled between her teeth; Bella moves to sit across from her, hands folded on top of the table.
When Rosalie looks up, her honey-toned eyes are round, wet-looking, mournful. "I have to know," she whispers brokenly. Even her sadness is exquisite, the very picture of a sobbing angel. "Please, Bella - do you know how…? How do you exist?"
Bella's heart fractures on Rosalie's behalf. "Oh, Rose," she breathes. She knows Rosalie's story, an unconscious transfer of Edward's thoughts, and she wants more than anything to give her friend hope. But she can't. What Rose really wants she will never have, just like Sulpicia. It will always be removed by a single degree. Motherhood was not a privilege that female vampires retained, not like male vampires still maintained fatherhood. It was not fair, but it was what it was.
There is no way to explain any of this verbally, though. To treat Rosalie kindly in her most vulnerable moment, Bella will have to be cruelly honest, and for that there is only one way to deliver all the answers to this single question. Bella slides her hand forward, tangling her fingers with Rosalie's and - now well-practiced at it between exercising the skill with Edward and Aro - she pushes her thoughts forward.
Rosalie recoils at the cold, unforgiving truth. Her mind lingers over and over on the images that Bella had absorbed from Aro's memories - the sight, the echoing sound, of a human woman ripped open from the inside out just to deliver a child into the world, so much more violent than the human way. It sickens Rosalie on a fundamental level, but when Bella tries to speed past these memories of the process, Rosalie stops her with a squeeze to the fingers.
She will not hide from the truth - she has to know.
"Emmett could," Bella whispers as she pulls her hand away an immeasurable time later. The sun has fully set beyond the trees and the kitchen is dark except for the single light above the stove. Rosalie has covered her trembling mouth with her hand. "He could and you would have a child…You would even be able to raise it, not have it sent away like Sulpicia."
"But the humans," Rosalie moans, agonized as she pushes up from the table, pacing around the kitchen as she swallows repeatedly. "The women…How could they do that?"
Bella shrugs helplessly. "They don't think of human life the same way you do, Rosalie."
She is stricken. "I had no idea the cost. A life for a life…"
Bella stands, twirling the ends of her hair between her fingers. "I have a hypothesis," she says quietly, drawing Rosalie's immediate attention. "I'm not an expert on how humans are changed, but I know it never occurred to Aro or Sulpicia to…bite the women, to change them, after the birth. It could be possible that you could save the life of the woman, too."
Rosalie shakes her head. "And then she would have her baby, the baby my mate fathered, and I would still not be a mother."
"I'm sorry," Bella murmurs.
"Don't be. You did exactly what I asked you to. Thank you, Bella," Rosalie whispers, hugging Bella tightly. "It is better to know for certain than to wonder. Maybe now I can finally banish the bitterness that has followed me into this life."
Bella hopes fervently that this is true.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Returning to school is certainly an experience. She feels as though she's coming out of a daze - like Alice climbing out of the rabbit hole, head still spinning from a dalliance with the Red Queen. Which, in a way, wasn't all that inaccurate, though of course Aro would fancy himself the Mad Hatter, hosting a tea party as he convinced Alice to meet her destiny.
Bella climbs out of Edward's Volvo, hurrying around the front bumper to tangle their fingers together, both of them sighing in relief at the renewed contact. She has been spoiled over the holidays, almost always within reach of him or her grandfather, and it is an added difficulty that she will need to readjust to the distance that school demanded. It will be a challenge; she doesn't think she's touched anyone this much in her entire life and because it is Edward she finds that she does not want to be separated from his mind. His gift - something he had loathed for endless years until recently - was a remarkable thing of beauty, but it paled in comparison to the dynamics of his thoughts, his emotions.
They near the front of the school and sensing their unavoidable separation, she leans more heavily against his arm, wrapping her free hand around his wrist for added contact, her cheekbone to the rolling joint of his shoulder. Edward chuckles at her, amused by her antics, appreciative of how open she has become to him - more open to him than anyone else, a thought that is particularly heavy with possession.
She arches her brow at him. Honestly, Edward, he's my grandfather. It's ridiculous to be jealous. He's not planning on taking me away and locking me up in Volterra - yes, I did see that thought - and even if he wanted to, I wouldn't let him. I belong with you.
Vampires do not shiver. They have no need to, being so ambivalent to the weather as they are. But that does not stop the tingle that races over Edward's skin, seeping against her own with a faint electrical current.
Bella hides her face in the firm shape of his bicep, a hot flush on her cheeks.
Edward is smug.
"That's enough," she manages, clearing her throat.
"A natural response, love."
"Oh, sure," she says lightly, rolling her eyes as she tacks on the thought, Are all vampires this possessive, or are you just a special case?
There's a very distinct possibility that I get to keep you forever, he shoots back, tone dripping with satisfaction. And you will think I am special no matter what I say, so -
"Bella!"
They snap out of their bubble; at some point, they had stopped walking and had been leaning against each other, her head tilted upward and his downward, simply staring at each other as they spoke. Bella hadn't even realized it and she knew that Edward didn't, either. They were so relaxed now, knowing that there was an explanation for their inexplicable connection, that there wasn't an expiration date on their relationship, that forever wasn't just a word - not for them. But, Bella realizes with chagrin, they should at least try to do better, act more like a typical high school couple, in public. Just because they had no secrets between each other didn't mean that they - and the rest of the Cullen family - didn't have secrets from the rest of the world.
She straightens and with some effort manages to pull away from Edward - except for the linking of their pinky fingers, of course. It dims their connection slightly, which was a discovery Bella had made over the break. A nuance with her gift that she hadn't noticed. The more of her skin touching someone else's, the deeper and more complete the mental bridge; she'd never noticed before because she had never given herself the opportunity to experiment, always doing her best to manage the privacy of everyone around her at the expense of her own ability to feel touch. Until Edward, she hadn't realized how much she had starved herself of touch.
Jessica is too excited to notice - or perhaps even care - that she had interrupted something, but Angela does notice and she smiles in slight apology. Most of the freshmen Bella met at orientation are herding in their direction, most of them obviously glad to be back at school after a solid three weeks away, probably eager to be away from their families after prolonged contact.
Bella doesn't share the sentiment.
Jessica Stanley doesn't need more than faint acknowledgement to launch into her happy, silence-filling chatter, occasionally including someone else - usually Mike - so that she has the opportunity to breathe. Bella responds when the need arises - yes, break was good, yes, I received good presents, no, I can't believe it hasn't snowed again either - but for the most part, she and Edward both stand silent among the noise, each of them waiting for the first bell to ring and herald students away to homeroom.
That is, until Mike Newton casually mentions that he's planning a trip down to First Beach as soon as a sunny day comes, which he's certain will be soon. And Mike would know, given that his parents run that outdoors supply store and that there was definitely a sale pattern that he had learned to recognize. "Any day now," Mike is saying with a nod to the sky. "Sunshine, I'm telling you."
Edward could care less about the impending weather. His mind is focused on the location of the outing - First Beach, where he and the rest of the Cullens are decidedly not allowed without jeopardizing the treating with the Quileute wolf pack, which Bella knew all about.
I won't go, she sends across the narrow link.
She senses a negative emotion from him and turns her head sharply, studying the calculating glint in his topaz eyes. He wants her to go, to meet with the wolves.
Bella immediately shifts their hands, pressing their palms fully together. Explain, she demands.
Bella is aware of the risk, especially the risk to herself now that she knows she's part vampire. She doesn't know how Charlie is going to handle the situation, if he would be able to find a different fishing spot or what - because no vampires were allowed in La Push and Charlie had been unknowingly violating that for years. Bella thinks back to Jacob asking about Charlie's aftershave; she had put it up to Sam Uley's little gang being prejudiced to outsiders, but knowing what she knows now, she realizes that the wolves had been smelling vampire on Charlie. How much? Maybe that he'd been around vampires, something that could be explained? Certainly their noses were sensitive enough to scent the vampire in Charlie - she highly doubted her father would still be making weekly trips to visit Billy if that were the case. But now Edward seemed to think it was a good idea for her to go onto La Push land, knowingly violating an anti-vampire policy?
It's a good opportunity to make things easier for Charlie and to show good faith on Carlisle's behalf, he explains, along with a jumble of thought that she has to detangle to suss out all the meanings within.
Oh, she realizes after a moment, feeling a little dumb for not thinking of this herself - the true motivation behind his reasoning.
Edward is thinking about the future.
Bella tunes back into the ongoing conversation and waits for a break in speech before interjecting, "A trip to the beach sounds great!"
Edward gently squeezes her hand, a thank you as much as approval for what he considers a brave act.
Bella simply considers it necessary.
o.o.o
o.o.o
The next week is clotted with icy rain that freezes overnight and endless dark clouds as if to protest Mike Newton's plans to use his brand-new driver's license to drag all of his friends out to First Beach. Bella doesn't mind. She has the time to gather her thoughts, develop a plan, speak with Carlisle to gain approval for essentially being a temporary messenger between the La Push wolves and the Cullen coven.
She slips back into the rhythm of her schedule and works through some of the withdrawal she feels during the school hours; the Cullens are good about this, allowing her to covertly snag a touch during class when her mind begins to wither by itself. Rosalie in particular helps her wean off of relying so much on mental connections while Jasper does his best to alter the anxiety that springs up randomly.
On Friday, Bella opens the door to a smiling Esme Cullen and a glossy pine bookshelf, which is a welcome replacement for the one that had broken. Esme carries it into Bella's room, then helps her slot her book collection onto the sturdy, steel-reinforced shelves. And then, right before she leaves, Esme pulls her into a hug and says, "I would never dream of replacing your mother or stepping into Sulpicia's rightful territory as your grandmother, but if you ever need anything - anything at all, dear - please remember that my door is always open to you. Don't hesitate to use it."
"I won't," Bella murmurs, inhaling the faint floral notes of Esme's scent. "Thank you."
"You're family."
o.o.o
o.o.o
At night, Bella will stare up at her ceiling with a restless mind. Just because she has accepted everything does not mean that she has processed it all.
Bella is going to live forever. She will leave the remnants of her mostly-human life behind with the exception of Charlie - she will let Renee think that she is dead, because that is a mercy rather than a reflection of her mother's parenting skills - and she will depart to some unknown place. Alaska, probably. The Cullen's have friends there.
But not yet - she thinks it would be nice to be the same age as Edward.
Who wouldn't want to be seventeen forever?
o.o.o
o.o.o
The sunny spell eventually comes during the last week of January - a persistent arc of four wintry sunshine days, all light and no warmth - and Bella approaches the weekend with a healthy caution and a sense of responsibility. Charlie hadn't had any problems yet, but that could be because he was protected by his friendship with Billy Black.
Bella wasn't naïve enough to think that protection would extend to her - not when it had probably gotten back to La Push about her close relationship with the Cullen family. She has thought long and hard about how to best represent herself and eventually decides that attempting to scrub Edward's lingering scent off her person - from their hand-holding and chaste kisses - would be the best option. An experiment, just to see how keen those werewolf noses really were.
After a scalding shower, she tugs on jeans that she hadn't worn since October, a simple white t-shirt, and a nubby orchid cardigan that she hadn't worn around any vampires. Charlie does the cursory safety speech and drives her down to Newton's Outfitters, where she carpools in a minivan that smells distinctly of candle wax, a hobby of Mike's mother. She has seen the view driving toward La Push more times than she can count and, instead of joining the conversation, she turns her mind inward, readying herself for the conversation she'd been planning for the better part of a month. She hadn't even brought a book. Bella and Edward had decided that if the conversation went poorly, then Bella was to get herself off of First Beach as soon as possible; he would be waiting with Emmett and Alice on the other side of the treaty line, just in case.
She just hopes that their preparations aren't actually necessary.
Bella spends most of the day lingering on the edges of the group, helping to gather driftwood and sipping on a bottle of water, shredding the label nervously as time goes on. So she's more than a little relieved to spot the familiar shining smile of Jacob Black as he and two boys near his age lumber toward the gathering. He tackles her in a hug, then fills her ear with all sorts of information - his progress on the truck, what Billy said about some sports team, how Rachel and Rebecca are doing out in Seattle. He's grown a little bit since she last saw him and his voice has begun to crack, much to the mockery of his friends - Embry and Quil. She's grateful for the distraction of his presence, which is almost as good as a book.
But then, as he doubles back to talk about some part of the truck's engine that's giving him a hard time, Bella's phone rings. Her heart leaps - she shouldn't be getting any calls unless something was wrong - and she stands, smiling apologetically even as she brings the phone to her ear as soon as possible.
It's Alice. ",Oh Bella!" she cries over the rabid growling in the background, which stops abruptly. "Are you okay?"
Bella's brows furrow. "What? No, Alice, I'm fine. Why would you think otherwise?"
"You disappeared," Alice explains rapidly. "Your entire future was just gone and Edward started to lose it. He was going to cross the treaty line - it's a good thing Emmett was here - but he's stopped now. He's listening to your breathing. It would be sweet if he hadn't just been psychotic…"
Bella blinks. "How could my future just vanish?"
"I don't know!" Alice frets. "But maybe you should just call this whole thing off. I've felt strange about it since the very start and -"
Bella had turned around, intent on following Alice's advice - honestly agreeing that it maybe wasn't the best plan, because why cure the bliss from the ignorant - but she stumbles to a stop, feet skidding on pebbly sand. Sam Uley is looming only a foot away, over-large and hard-faced, bracketed by two older boys - at least nineteen, but it's difficult to tell - who look only a little smaller.
"Alice, I have to go," Bella says, ignoring the protests as she ends the call, never breaking eye contact with the alpha wolf. She straightens her spin and tilts her jaw upward, waiting.
Sam crosses his arms. "Cullen's are not allowed on this land."
"I am not a Cullen," Bella replies honestly. Yet.
His nose flares. "Then you are a leech and also not allowed here."
"Actually, I'm Bella Swan, Charlie's daughter," Bella says bluntly. "And I'm here to talk to you."
Sam is thrown, but only for a bit. He and the other werewolves edge her further away from the rest of the beach, and then he begins demanding answers in a hard tone of voice that instantly stokes the defiant streak she doesn't usually tap into.
"I'm trying to explain," she hisses angrily, throwing her hands in the air. "If you would just let me get a word in edge-wise!"
Sam may be furious, but he has exceptional control over his wolf. One of the boys behind him, Paul, is visibly shaking though and Bella shuffles back, padding the space that separates them as Sam tracks her movements. She's spent that last five minutes trying to explain the situation, but it's going very poorly. Sam and the wolves have a pathological hatred of vampires, and trying to explain that they'd been letting a part-vampire onto their land didn't sit well. She wracks her brain, trying to think of all the talking points Edward had helped her with, and comes up blank.
Talking isn't working.
She exhales heavily, holding her hand out with her palm facing upward - a gesture she picked up from Aro. It was non-threatening, an invitation, an olive-branch, even to those who did not understand what would happen when they touched. She liked the gesture. It felt open, honest.
Sam eyes her hand, then barks, "What do you want me to do with that?"
"Take my hand," she tells him. "It will be easier to explain this way."
"Don't do it, Sam," advises Jared, hand hard on Paul's shoulder in a vain attempt to keep his brother-wolf calm. "You don't know what the baby leech is going to do."
Bella rolls her eyes, but doesn't drop her hand in defeat. She's patient. She'll wait, no matter how long it takes, no matter if her cell phone is vibrating with texts in her pockets. She's already had to brusquely answer it once, hanging up again on Alice's worry after answering in the affirmative that she was fine.
Sam reaches forward, frowning when he finds her hand warm.
She's frowning, too. His mind is hot like coals, a deeply unpleasant place for her to be - but she pushes forward, silently explaining her gift when he flinches, and then showing him memories of Charlie, of Charlie not knowing, of Charlie finding out, of Charlie tacitly deciding to stay human, and then of herself and her plans. And then she hesitates, unsure of how it would come off -
Who is that? Sam asks as she shows him an image of Caius from Aro's mind.
She tells him - leaving nothing hidden - of who Caius is, how she is related to him, and how he hates shapeshifters with such a passion that the Quileute wolves might be the only ones left in the world for all she or anyone else knows.
It's not a threat, she rushes to assure him. But Carlisle wanted to make sure you knew, just in case Ephraim Black didn't leave records about this.
You didn't have to tell me, Sam points out.
I know, she returns, pulling her hand away. "But we all felt that if this was to work, then we should lay all cards on the table. I can promise that I and the Cullen's won't come to La Push, but I want assurances that Charlie won't ever be banned. He plans on staying exactly as human as he is now for the rest of his natural life, however long that may be."
Sam is thoughtful, stepping back and weighing all his options with a visible weight on his shoulders. Then he nods. "Charlie Swan will not be punished for his bloodline," he declares, leveling dark brown eyes at her with a frown. "But you are different, a special case. You are planning on being turned by a Cullen, which would be a breach of the treaty. And yet, you are already part vampire and you have an imprint, a mate…I will speak to the Tribal Elders and send a messenger directly to you once they have decided."
Bella's breath releases in a whoosh. This was the best they could hope for. She nods, licking her dry lips. "Great. Then I'll just…be on my way."
She leaves the werewolves behind as she navigates off the beach and onto the main road leading out of La Push, walking along for several breathless minutes until a blur of milk and copper pennies slips in front of her, pulling her into an embrace that vibrates with deeply-suppressed rumbling growls. Bella turns her head, pressing her lips against Edward's collarbone.
It's okay, everything worked out more or less how we thought it would. I'm fine.
o.o.o
o.o.o
That is January.
A/N: I had an oddly difficult time locating any kind of quote that outright mentions January - and honey, I looked for one that I liked that and that was even remotely applicable to the storyline. But, I had to settle for a pretty obvious allusion to January and we're all just going to have to live with it (she tells herself over and over and over again, trying not to absolutely not loose her mind over the concept inconsistency).
And for those of us who enjoy muffins, a little bit of nitpicking keeps us on our toes ;) (Also, as to how I'm tracking canon, it could only very, very loosely be described as chronological - after the James arc, you'll see what I mean - which is why certain characters had to show up, else they might not have made the cut for the timing of all the other developments that have inevitably spun off the butterfly effect I have here) lol
Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, follows, and recommendations!
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot