seven
february
"Why, what's the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?"
- William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing
o.o.o
"Son, I think it's about time you and I had a conversation," Charlie says from the hallway, peering into the kitchen with his police uniform still on, holster hanging from his loose grip.
Bella and Edward spring apart, though they hadn't been doing anything untoward. She had been tracing the lines on his open palm with the tip of her finger, an idle action that took the place of homework. Edward had taken to bringing schoolwork inside so that he would have at least a plausible excuse to stay near her during the afterschool hours that were, for Bella, decidedly human. The gesture was somewhat ruined by his habit of speeding through his coursework, pen scratching on paper in a high-speed blur that irked her more often than not. Inevitably, calls him show off, becomes distracted by his Edward-ness, and finishes her homework after dinner while he is still away from his outdoor perch in her tree. Just knowing he's there is a distraction.
Bella used to have such discipline over her mind, but Edward Cullen has completely ruined it. She tries very, very hard to care - but her grades have yet to slip, so it hardly seems like a problem. Edward at least has the grace to be sheepish when she chides him for his distraction, a bashful downward tilt of his head, lips pressed together trying to smother a grin.
At the moment, Edward stands at Charlie's attention, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Of course, Chief," he agrees readily, tossing a wink in Bella's direction as both he and Charlie disappear to the front porch.
She looks back to her Trigonometry homework with a sigh, worrying her bottom lip for a respectable few seconds before quietly slipping from her seat and edging to the front door. She's under no illusions that her movements aren't known by Edward - and Charlie probably hears the creaking floorboards, too - but that doesn't stop her from blatantly eavesdropping on their conversation. She would have found out about it directly from the source, anyway.
Bella tilts her head, then bites her lips together. Charlie is giving a particularly gruff shovel-talk, one that sounds remarkably similar to one Aro gave Edward not too long ago - a memory that Edward has mostly been able to keep hidden from her for the apparent sake of his own pride.
"If you hurt her, I will personally take a torch to that indestructible skin of yours and make you wish that you'd died human," Charlie threatens darkly. "My little girl might be special, but she's still mine and I'll be protecting her for as long as I can. And I think you know you've got more than me to be worried about when it comes to that girl, because I'd bet dollars to donuts that Aro would have you strung up sooner than she could shed a tear."
That was true, she knew. Aro had made no compunctions about his desire to protect her heart as much as her life; just because she and Edward had an unfulfilled mate-bond didn't mean that Edward would ever be in the clear. She thinks him rather brave for weathering these threats to his continued eternal life just for Bella. But she would do the same, wouldn't she? Only, Bella would never have to because there was a distinct double standard - nobody would ever think to inspire fear in her so that she would be motivated to treat Edward's heart kindly. That was something she would have to hold herself accountable for, a burden that she did not mind.
"…was hoping that you understood my intentions to be fairly permanent, Chief," Edward says when she tunes back into the conversation.
"Yeah," Charlie grunts. "Mates, that's what you call it. A forever sort of thing, I'm told."
Edward clears his throat. "Ah, well, yes. That is certainly part of it. But I have my eye on a rather human tradition, if you catch my meaning."
"Boy, have you hit your head?"
"No, sir."
Charlie snorts incredulously. "For God's sake, do I really need to remind you that she's fifteen still? Another half-year and I won't be able to do much to stop you, but if you've got a plan in mind, I'm telling you no right now. She isn't ready. Hell, she might never be ready. Can you deal with that?"
"I assure you, Chief, when I do ask you for Bella's hand, it will be with the fullest confidence that she will answer the way I hope she will," Edward proclaims. "Until then, believe that I am as committed to Bella's happiness as you are."
"You're not a father," Charlie mutters solemnly. "Her happiness means something different to me than it does to you and you might never understand that."
"I might not," Edward agrees quietly.
Silence. And then, the clapping sound of a hand falling onto a shoulder. "You are a good kid. Couldn't have hoped for better, really, but it's my prerogative to give you a hard time when the mood strikes. You get that, Edmund?"
Her mate laughs. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Then Bella can stop pressing her ear to the door and walk you to your car."
Bella pushes the door open, refusing to be embarrassed by being caught. She arches a brow at her father. "You know his name is Edward."
"Edwin?" Charlie asks with a mirthful glint to his eye, snapping his fingers. "No, I know. Edgar."
"Dad!"
"Bella, it's his name," Charlie says over the blithe sound of Edward's amusement, his mustache twitching as he shoulders into the house, calling over his shoulder, "Goodnight, Edison!"
"Oh, my God." Bella reaches for Edward and he meets her hand, his mind swirling with satisfaction and good nature as she tips forward to send him off with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, long enough to be just shy of indecent. "Why do you invite trouble?"
"It makes him feel better," he answers honestly. "I don't mind, love."
She waits until the Volvo disappears around the corner before treading inside, piling her homework onto corner of the kitchen table, and taking our all of the ingredients she needs for tiet canh. Charlie and Edward had just opened the door to a conversation she'd been hoping to put off at least until she graduated - but it was clear that Charlie had seen the writing on the wall. Even though she hadn't come out and said it, her father knew about her plans for the future. In some ways, that made it easier; but in other ways, it made everything bittersweet because now they both knew that these next few months were going to be the last human moments they would spend together.
"So," she begins as they sit down to eat, scraping her spoon over the bottom of the plate. "What was that all about?"
Charlie raises his brows. "I think you heard more than enough to take a good guess, Bells."
"Not the first part."
He wipes at his mouth, fiddling with his napkin. "Alright," he sighs. "That boy wants to marry you."
"I know."
Edward really didn't even attempt to hide that from her, though he was beginning to devise methods of blocking parts of his mind so that he could keep some secrets - if he would just ask for help, she could probably help him construct some kind of mental wall. But her mate is stubborn. She hasn't let it slip that she knows she's going to be the recipient of some sort of bracelet in two weeks; she doesn't know exactly what it's going to look like, so she supposes his occluding was improving without her input.
"I just thought I might remind him that it's not a done deal, yet," Charlie says. "And that you're still young. He ought to respect that."
"He does," Bella assures him. "Really, he does. You know, though, in his era it wasn't all that odd for a seventeen year old to court a fifteen year old with intentions to marry. Victorians weren't casual, Dad, and neither is Edward. He knows that I want to wait, though."
"It's hard to see how serious this is, this...relationship of yours," Charlie utters lowly. "Sometimes I look at you and all I see is this curious little girl with braids in her hair trying to poke around the case files on my desk…and other times, it's like you're already a fully grown woman that doesn't need her Daddy anymore. And then I see this boy who moons over you and I can't decide if I should be happy he's so devoted or beat him silly for entertaining any kind of thoughts about my baby."
Bella stands, leaning over the corner of the table to hug her father hard. "I'll always need you, Dad, no matter how old I look."
Charlie pats her back, sighing deeply. "I know, kid. I know."
o.o.o
o.o.o
With February comes a long stretch of drizzling days and tepid clouds overhead, a sense of lingering winter laziness in the air; it is not uncommon for Bella to shuffle beneath her bed covers, happily ensconced in warmth and utterly unwilling to touch her feet to the cold hardwood floor each morning. Even though Groundhog's Day comes and goes with nary a shadow in sight, it doesn't seem as though Forks, Washington has received the memo. Cold sheets of rain, frozen ground, and icicles dangling from rails shows that winter is still in full-swing, at least for the moment.
Honestly, she could take or leave the weather - but her apathy toward winter abates in the evidence of how much Edward enjoys the season. She has forgotten that he is a Chicago boy, that he has long-since been indoctrinated in the ways of snow and wind. When he is caught in a snowball fight with Emmett and Jasper, a flurry of strategic motion that she had never seen before and that she doubts any human would possibly be able to entertain, Edward's jubilant laughter warms her down to her very toes. He is incandescent in happiness, in the exultant victory he has claimed over his brothers, snow refusing to melt in copper-bright hair.
After seeing that, it is much easier to regard the season as something to look forward to, something to anticipate - even when an entire lunch period is eaten up by Emmett's grumpy complains that Jasper and Edward cheated. The two gifted vampires were at some sort of stalemate that Bella didn't want to even touch on, happily burying her head in the sand, or rather her nose in a book, as her mate radiates joy.
They should have known that peace would not last.
Their lives were too supernormal for anything to be predictable.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Dearest Granddaughter Isabella,
My return to Volterra has been peaceful. I know you were concerned that there would be issues that I had not foreseen, and so I wish for you to understand that there is nothing to worry about - my throne is still my own and you are safe. The brothers are curious, but they have agreed to be patient until you are able to visit the castle yourself.
I have sent along a book I hope you will enjoy, as you seem inclined toward pacifism and as your parting words to me were indeed quoted from this unparalleled feature in human history. It is wise of you to model your worldview from a mind such as this, but I urge you to rethink some of your hesitance to annihilating threats where they stand. It would serve you well to balance both of these inclinations; whoever said that peace and violence do not go hand-in-hand was quite a stupid man, I believe. More often than not, even history has shown us that the only way to understand peace is to undergo a time of violence. Peace and violence are married as firmly as life and death.
Forgive an old man for preaching, precious. Your mind is your own. I simply wish that you think carefully about how you will learn to handle threats, as they will inevitably come up during your long life.
As a final note, you will notice that Mele has not yet returned from Volterra. I am still in need of her services to subdue some of the more headstrong members of my guard, but I shall not bore you with the details. Please see to your safety while you are being protected by only the Cullen coven. Carlisle knows that I have charged him personally with your continued health.
My eternal heart,
Aro
o.o.o
o.o.o
Bella adds her newest book, What The Buddha Taught, to her new pine shelf with a wry smile. She quotes one thing and Aro runs away with it.
Although, she thinks it's rather telling that he recognized her words of forgiveness.
Maybe Aro is more of a pacifist than even he believes - or maybe she's projecting.
o.o.o
o.o.o
It is with no small amount of astonishment that Bella spends the Friday night before Valentine's day in Alice Cullen's distinctly spa-like bathroom. Alice, along with Esme and Rosalie, had somehow managed to pry her away from Edward after school and haul her over to the Cullen house before it had really sunk in that Bella was now involved in a ritual of sorts.
Pampering hadn't ever been something on Bella's radar, much to Renee's disappointment. If it couldn't be incorporated into a morning and bedtime routine, then Bella didn't have time for it. Through Sulpicia's annual gifts of luxurious soaps, Bella had never been bereft of products, had never really had to think beyond wash, scrub, and moisturize. Simple things that meant she could get back to her books more quickly. In her entire life, Bella had painted her nails once - for Renee's wedding - and aside from keeping her hair trimmed, she didn't spend time in salons on any sort of regular basis.
Alice seems to have taken this disinterest in overly girly habits as some sort of challenge. The pixie-haired vampire actually scoffs when Bella tries to explain that she didn't understand the importance of primping or the logic behind make-up. Alice's answer is to take away Bella's copy of Bel Canto and replace it with back-issues of Cosmopolitan, Elle, and Nylon magazines. At first, Bella is dubious, flipping through ultra-glossy pages with a faint sneer - but then, she begins learning. The magazines did have articles ranging through all sorts of topics - politics came up just as often as pop culture, and for every page dedicated to sex was a page dedicated to the psychology of relationships. A lot of it is about female empowerment. Some of it is about the science behind the products churned out by the beauty industry. And much of it is incredibly insightful.
It isn't long before Bella is asking for other issues, which Alice retrieves eagerly after slathering Bella's face in a kaolin clay mask that smells strongly of chamomile tea. "You've successfully converted me," Bella decides, searching for another section in Cosmo; it's low-brow, but she likes the worst-date anecdotes and shares the funniest ones with the vampires just to see their reactions.
"I knew I would," Alice declares succinctly, sharing a grin with Esme who has been combing a conditioning mask into Bella's hair for the better part of twenty minutes.
"We learn not to bet against Alice," Rosalie says from where she has folded herself atop of the marble sink, rubbing a cotton ball of straight acetone over her nails. Like Bella, she also has a mask on her face, though obviously the chemicals aren't doing what they were designed to do. Vampire skin is perfectly toned and smooth; the act of putting on a pore-minimizing mask is just a motion. A ritual. Something to remind the vampires that humans were human and needed these things even if they did not.
Bella sits through the next several hours of sugar scrubs and pale pink nail polish with a small smile. This is nice. She regrets never making the time to do this with Renee, but she can hardly imagine that her mother would have let Bella have the time to make her own decisions about even something as simple as nail color - she would have pushed Bella into bright, bold colors or severe changes in her hair style or other kinds of experiments that Bella simply wasn't comfortable with. Instead of Alice's careful, easy selections of sweet-scented moisturizers, organic mascara, and shaded lip balm that are sent home with Bella, Renee would have advocated for sparkling eye shadows and red lips and shimmering blushes that Bella didn't even need. And Bella doesn't want to compare them, exactly, but she knows her mother and she knows that Renee never would have been satisfied with Bella's safe choices.
When she's at home and placing new products in the basket beside Sulpicia's toiletries, she wonders what her mother would think about this one incredibly unsafe choice Bella had made for her life - to become a vampire. She would probably be ecstatic and that was why Renee could never know. She would let the secret slip, and that was only the best case scenario.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Bella has never had cause to celebrate Valentine's Day and neither has Edward. It is for this reason that she loiters in the bathroom the next morning, fussing with the pleated floral dress in muted romantic shades and the charcoal tights she has paired with boots and a long, dull magenta cardigan. Her hair is glossy, hanging to the dip of her back in relaxed curls, her eyes widened by the application of mascara, her lips berry-juice red from balm. Her pendant presses against her skin beneath her clothes, warmed from her body and light enough that she often forgets that it s there.
She refuses to admit that she's nervous. This isn't her first date with Edward - and to her knowledge, they aren't doing anything that they haven't done before. He plans to take her to a bookstore in Seattle that she enjoys and then to a concert at an 18-and-under club in the evening that is featuring an up-and-coming band he has his eye on. She would hopefully be able to talk him out of playing human and eating with her, something that she was only occasionally successful at accomplishing. They would hold hands. It was just an ordinary date on a day that was mostly just a greeting-card holiday.
Maybe it's the conversation she'd had with Charlie earlier in the month, but she feels that the day has a certain weight to it. She'd done a spa day to prepare for it and everything.
Huffing at the ridiculousness of her own circular thoughts, Bella goes back into her bedroom, snatching up the supple leather over-shoulder purse the perfect size for books that Edward had gifted her for Christmas. She'd made a point of not asking how much it cost; honestly, just by the detailed stitching and the thickness of the leather, she could make a pretty accurate guess. The important part was that Edward had bought her something practical, something she needed as her old bag was steadily coming to tatters. Her own gift to him had been a rare vinyl of Patti Smith, a nod to his vivid memories of joining the punk circuit at CBGB's and the way he resonated with the rebellion of the music, the way it healed something long-broken in his soul.
She selects two books - The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton and Emma - packs them into the bag, along with her cell phone and new lip balm, and then dismisses herself from her room. It doesn't matter that she's ready for the date earlier than expected because Alice has already sent Edward over. He arrives just as she finishes chewing on cold black pudding and jelly-smeared toast, knocking on the door politely even though they both know he doesn't really need to. She's content to let him retain the bits of whimsy that he keeps with his human actions; Edward seems to find comfort in human actions and she does not take for granted that he is able to indulge so often.
Edward has flowers, a bundle of lilacs and lilies with a lovely fragrance and tied with a white ribbon. She presses her face into the blooms as he holds the passenger door open for her, smiling demurely at his gentlemanly behavior in such high contrast with his vampire speed. She decides - right there before they even get on the road - that she is fiercely glad the sun is safely hidden behind the clouds for the day.
They hold hands over the center console as Edward pushes the Volvo's engine to its limit, Edward's thumb occasionally drifting over her pulse-point. He seems to have finally succeeded in erecting a private wall in his mind, something opaque and small and very obviously meant to be temporary. She doesn't bother wedeling his surprise away; instead, she cracks open the book of poetry and reads aloud, pausing between each poem so that they can discuss meaning and imagery and stare at each other even though he should be looking at the road.
At the bookstore, after Edward has procured a towering cup of caramel-shot coffee and a white-chocolate chip cookie, he trails behind her as she scours the shelves, more than happy to hold the ever-growing stack of books she would like to add to her collection. It's Edward who finds The Kreutzer Sonata, a book of Tolstoy's that she has been looking for. She rewards him with a press of her lips against his, narrowly avoiding dropping her paper coffee cup on the floor when he tilts his head, his cool hand cradling the back of her head as he deepens the kiss for a long, breathless moment.
Edward chuckles lowly when he pulls away, the skitter of his thoughts across her mind emblazoned with male pride at the swell of her lips and the fresh blush staining her cheeks.
"Unfair," she breathes, trailing her finger over the sharp edge of his jaw. "Now I can't remember what I was doing before."
"Searching for books," he tells her, kissing her temple, then turning so that his lips brush over the top of her ear. "But I won't argue if you'd like to continue this instead."
"Edward Cullen, you better behave," she whispers over the heavy throb of her heart and the new, unfamiliar warmth gathering behind her navel.
He grins boyishly. "As you wish, Buttercup," he quotes, pulling back and tugging a book off the shelf without bothering to glance at the title. She is still bemused that one of his favorite movies is as nonsensical as The Princess Bride, but she can't deny that she enjoys it, too; their last date consisted of that movie and impossibly long minutes on the front porch until Charlie began to flick the lights on and off.
"Lead the way, Westley."
It is her turn to follow him. They shop for books so differently. Edward has a tendency to select at random, sometimes by the color of the cover or the width of the spine or even the first letter of the author's name; Bella, on the other hand, takes the time to read the synopsis, sometimes flipping to read entire pages while Edward weaves between book aisles. Regardless of the method, this is something they share, this joy of reading. Edward, after all, had little else to fill a hundred years of lonely nights, and for Bella, the written word would always be a most welcome escape.
They leave the store with a dozen new books between them, but Bella knows they'll all end up on her shelf, eventually. Things they own are migrating between their bedrooms at the moment, even though she hasn't been in his and he's only been in hers once. There are more of Edward's sweaters and jackets in her closet than she cares to count. She wonders if he knows that she sometimes sleeps with them. Probably.
The Highly Suspect concert is a lively thing, full of thrumming, heaving guitar riffs and lyrics that pluck at her imagination. She doesn't know how Edward withstands the sheer volume with his enhanced hearing, or how he can stand to be so firmly rooted in the middle of so many excited human minds. Even before the mid-point of the first set, Bella has pressed her back to Edward's chest, pulling his arms around her to buffer from the bump of jumping bodies, her hands covered and tucked beneath her arms; between Edward and cotton, she is buffered from the sudden rush of other minds or the jostling of her balance.
It is her first concert and even though she couldn't have predicted the complication, she wants to do it again - go to another one and another one and another until she isn't bothered by her gift, until she can stand next to Edward instead of needing the safe-cage of his arms.
Not that there is anything wrong with his protective embrace.
Actually, she thinks they both enjoy standing like that, his chin pressed against the top of her head. Secure.
Their day isn't over after the concert, though. Edward ushers her to the Volvo and heads off toward Forks, but he doesn't take her home. He takes her to the meadow where he showed her what sunlight did to vampires. They lay back on a fluffy down quilt, hands laced together, looking up at the sky as clouds slowly clear to show the twinkling lights of the stars. Bella is amazed by the clarity. In Phoenix, the light pollution was too great to really see the night sky, and Forks was so shrouded in clouds all the time that she can count on one hand how often she'd seen the entire moon since the New Year. But this - it was unrivaled by anything.
Edward knows all of the constellations, of course, and she listens to his velvety voice, following the line he sketches with his finger - there is Orion and Virgo and Venus and many more. He knows so much, far more than he could have learned in any book. She turns her head, intent on asking if he had gone to school for astronomy at any point, but he is already look at her with these unfathomable ocher eyes and her words die on her tongue.
"Edward?" she questions, barely more than a breath so that she doesn't disturb the silence, so that she doesn't ruin anything.
"I want to give you something," he murmurs, reaching up with his free hand to trace the curve of her cheek. She turns her hand into his palm, contented by his touch. "After he turned me, while I was in the burning fever, Carlisle went back to the house of my parents and collected some things he thought I might want. I remember being so angry with him, livid at his audacity, at the intrusion into my life…But when I came back from my rebellion, I was so grateful that he had the foresight. I cannot tell you how much of a comfort it was to have the pipe my father smoked, the jewelry my mother wore…"
Bella sits up when Edward leans onto his elbow. Their hands are still clasped, that little shroud over one part of his chaotic mind fluttering as he moves - and she knows that this was the secret, the surprise that he'd been keeping. He withdraws a dainty bracelet from his pocket and the moonlight catches on the frangible diamond heart linked to the chain.
Her lungs feel tight as he fastens it around her wrist, tracing the jut of her wrist bone with a winsome smile. "My frozen heart," he explicates, looking at her from beneath his eyelashes.
Bella presses forward, her hand meeting the soft fabric on his chest. She shakes her head firmly, wetness in her eyes. "Never frozen," she disagrees. "You are the embodiment of warmth and love. There's no way this heart was ever frozen."
He kisses her, nothing more than a brush of lips, an exchange of breath. "Well…not since you thawed it."
I love you, she thinks, effusing the thought with the full impact of her feelings for him, feelings that are so great that sometimes she feels too small, too insubstantial to hold them and carry their weight. Like her love might break her with its ferocity.
Edward's next kiss is firmer, a steady contact that draws the blood from her brain and the air from her lungs. I love you, he returns, complete in his devotion.
And she knows that he feels eclipsed by his love for her, too.
They are consumed.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Dear Grandfather Aro,
You think you're very funny, don't you? I pity Grandmother Sulpicia if this is the humor she has had to contend with for three thousand years - she must be a saint. However, I did enjoy the book. Knowledge is always a gift.
I am glad that you have returned safely to Volterra, although I do wonder at your phrasing and find myself confused at Mele's continued presence. What are you having her do, Grandfather? No. No, I would rather remain ignorant. I need not be scarred by the depth of your cunning - I am still sorting through the vast well of your memories. I confess that it wakes me some nights. You have seen and done so much.
Am I a pacifist? I don't know; ask me after I have been tested and I will tell you how I score. I cannot possibly have an opinion one way or another until confronted with a situation that demands the kind of considerable action that would prompt a choice of pacifism over militarism. Although, there is no true opposite to pacifism, is there? You either are or aren't a pacifist; there isn't a third option in which you can be something else. If you are a pacifist, then you are a pacifist. If you aren't, then perhaps you are an activist or a nihilist or a militarist. But you cannot be both. I suppose this is one of those black-and-white situations that life does not often hand us. Everything is so muddled and complex. Has it always been this way?
Please let Grandmother Sulpicia know that I am faithfully wearing the pendant. There is not a moment where it ever leaves my person, as I am sure she intended.
All my love,
Your Granddaughter Isabella
o.o.o
o.o.o
"Jasper, would you at least pretend to listen?" she groans in exasperation, flopping over onto the coffee table in the Cullen living room with her forehead pressed onto her folded arms. She barely restrains herself from reaching out and grasping Jasper's scarred hands to give him a taste of her frustration, but she doesn't need to. It's more than obvious to Bella that they are feeding each others ire; between her natural aggravation, Jasper's natural irritation, and Jasper's gift making all that agitation swirl in a never ending loop, she can't quite tell if she is as angry as she would have been if she'd been debating the issue with anyone else.
And here Bella thought that Mrs. Kelley had a stroke of genius in pairing Bella and Jasper together for a project. In class, it had seemed perfect; Jasper loved history and Bella enjoyed the intense debate of the course and nobody else in the class would volunteer to pair with either of them. It was logical that Jasper and Bella work together. She'd been looking forward to it.
But oh, how much she is ruing her enthusiasm. She'd made a grave mistake in assuming that, like most other topics, she and Jasper would share the same view on the topic of the project they had to work on. Bella had been very, very wrong. It was impossible to argue the benefits of the Industrial Revolution with someone who had lived through it.
"Sure, I'll listen," Jasper drawls cantankerously. "Just as soon as all that infernal buzzin' of electricity stops so I can gather my damn thoughts for once."
Bella twitches when he drops something onto the coffee table with enough force to rattle the fork on the half-eaten strawberry shortcake that Esme had braved the living room to serve a half-hour earlier. She doesn't raise her head, almost certain that he'd dropped his cell phone. Sometimes, Jasper really shows his age - he's not a huge fan of modern electronics because apparently it was difficult for pre-electric vampires to filter out the tinny crackle running through everything.
Carlisle never seemed to have a problem, but then again, he was probably willing to trade the advances of modern medicine for that tiny irritant. Or maybe Jasper was just special. Hadn't he lived through wars? Could vampires have PTSD? She's not about to ask.
Bella sits up with a sigh. "Why don't we take a break?" she suggests, refusing to quiver under the force of Jasper's black gaze. He could be frightening when he really wants to be and from Edward's thoughts, her weaker eyesight is shielding her from seeing the emblazoned danger-Will-Robinson sign that is the multitude of Jasper's scarring, his trophies that he was one vampire that should not be messed with.
Jasper nods curtly, standing with lightning-fast speed and visibly trying to calm himself. Alice dances down the staircase, twirling around her mate and radiating enough blossom-bright joy that Jasper's gift automatically begins clearing the tension from the air. Alice leans up to kiss him and Bella turns away, offering them privacy. She looks for Edward, expecting to see him sitting at the piano and finding him absent. Had he really been driven away by Jasper's gift?
She turns to clear off the coffee table, pausing in surprise to find it already done, stacked neatly to the side by her mate - who is dressed in what appears to be a baseball uniform, dove grey with charcoal stripes and a 17 on the chest. Bella hasn't ever seen Edward dressed in anything that wasn't made of thicker fabrics - though he couldn't feel the cold, he seemed to enjoy sweaters as much as she did - and this thinner cotton pulls against the contours of his chest in interesting ways. He grins widely at her attention, reaching for her hand by second nature.
You're playing baseball? She clarifies, following his train of thought. Because of a thunderstorm?
A memory of he and Emmett crashing against each other, followed by a sound not at all unlike boulders thrashing against each other as they roll down a hill. Well. Of course they would need a thunderstorm - so rare in Washington - to cover that amount of noise.
"Would you like to watch?"
Even if she hadn't been tuned into his thoughts, she didn't think she would be able to deny the sweetness in his eager expression, so youthful and carefree and not shadowed by the length of his eternal night. And that is how Bella finds herself perched on Edward's back as he races through the forest, running faster than he ever had as he, Rosalie, and Emmett have an actual footrace. Edward wins even with her additional weight ruining his lithe aerodynamics.
Edward doesn't brag about his victory with any outward expression of thought, but there is a smug tilt to his smirk that sets Emmett off on a competitive streak. "Race again," Emmett challenges, rolling his neck. "Best two out of three."
"No, I think I'm satisfied with the results," Edward says, standing behind Bella with his arms wrapped around her waist.
"What, are you afraid to lose, Masen?" Emmett taunts.
"Not at all, McCarty. Just wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your wife…again."
Emmett's lip curls up. "You arrogant little- That's it. Esme, put me on whatever team he's not on. We're going to settle this."
Esme, acting as referee to keep everyone honest and who was willing to sit the game out next to Bella, smothers her amusement as the teams line up, the bases are set, and starting positions are taken. Even though baseball has been on the fringe of her attention for Bella's entire life, she hasn't found any interest in it until now - watching Edward play is an experience, and not just because of the excitement of vampire strength and speed in how the game is played. He smiles the entire time. She wonders if he'd ever played baseball when he was human, or if he had been too focused on trying to sneak into war drafts to give the pastime much thought.
"Out!" Esme calls firmly. "Don't think I didn't see that either, Alice. You know you can't predict -"
"Alice, what was that?" Edward demands, cutting Esme off so suddenly that Bella's heart ratchets right into her throat. She responds to the terseness of her mate's voice, to the abrupt change in his mood, and gets her feet under her as quickly as possible. Edward blurs over to Alice, bending to stare hard in her unseeing eyes - and then racing to Bella's side before Alice can even gasp out an explanation.
"Nomads," she says. "Three of them. They were drawn by the sound of our game. And it's too late to fall back - they can hear us now."
Edward reaches behind himself, pressing his splayed palm on the curve of her spine to guide her against the width of his back, her forehead pressed to the jutting blade of his shoulder. He holds himself perfectly still, not even breathing. Bella twists her hand, slipping her fingers between the fabric of his shirt to touch the skin of his lower back. Edward's mind is completely focused on the three newcomers with a degree of intensity that is somehow both reassuring and frightening. Around them, the family arranges themselves; Carlisle and Esme toward the front, Rosalie before Edward, Emmett to the side, Jasper closest to Bella, and Alice in his shadow, clearly still sorting through rapid-fire visions.
Bella doesn't understand the urgency until the edge of Edward's mind is snagged by the blip of a vision that Alice sees -
Bella with her throat torn out.
His growls are sub-vocal. If she could see his eyes, she knows they would be black.
Bella brushes the tips of her fingers against his back more firmly. I'm okay, she tells him. That's not going to happen.
Edward doesn't respond. He doesn't have time to because in the next moment, the three nomad enter the baseball clearing. She can't see them through her own eyes, so studies them through the lens of Edward's mind; they are dirty and unkempt, haggard as much as they are beautiful in a feral sort of way. The dark-skinned one is new to the coven. The sunken-cheeked blond leader is mated to the redhead with the cat-like gaze. All of them have blazing red eyes.
"Hello," Carlisle says pleasantly. "Passing through?"
"We heard your game," says the dark-skinned one, acting as spokesperson, an arrangement that the coven-leader insists upon for strategic advantages. "I am Laurent. These are James and Victoria. I don't suppose we would be able to play?"
"Unfortunately, our game as just ended," Carlisle responds apologetically.
"What a shame."
It might have ended there - a peaceable, if not slightly tense interaction that lead to nothing except for a few moments of stress. But then Edward tenses, latching onto the wild hinge of James' thoughts - James, who has recognized Alice, and whose curiosity has been pinged. James knows Alice from her human life. He'd stalked her in the south, killed her family one by one, and driven her into an asylum before she was even thirteen. If that wasn't bad enough, James had also killed the vampire that sired Alice in retribution. Alice was James' singer. And James had never been satisfied by ripping the head from that old vampire that had protected Alice, that had hidden Alice far out of James' reach.
Alice and Edward realize in the same moment that James had noticed a scent on the air - an impossibly sweet, human scent. Bella's scent, which was unique and floral and sugared by her vampiric heritage.
Edward growls. It's a mistake as it firmly draws James curiosity to where Bella is hidden behind his back. Now, he zeroes in on her heart beat, on the whoosh of her breath quickly leaving her lungs as panic grips her.
"You brought a snack?" James purrs with an alien tilt of his head, dirty blonde hair falling across his face. "How convenient. She's a bit small to share, though."
"Forgive me," Carlisle says carefully, shifting his stance ever so slightly, his thoughts roving for a non-violent solution to a situation that is unfolding with such speed. "But I'm afraid you have a misapprehension about our family."
"Oh, I misunderstand nothing," James promises. His thoughts flash between Alice and Bella's scent, about how much of a fair trade it would be. Bella smelled almost as sweet as Alice, almost as young and innocent. What would this coven care about losing their little pet when they already had the pet that should have been his?
Bella trembles at the darkness of James' thoughts, but she doesn't pull her hand away from Edward's skin - sharing in this terror with him, stubbornly refusing to hide away from the evil sledging through James' mind. Edward has a particular burden in his family, one that he shares with Jasper and Alice. Being the monitors, always on and always watching, had a certain kind of stress to it that she hadn't appreciated until now.
The seconds are passing like an up-tempo metronome, a steady progression that zooms right by along with all of the options that are very soon going to be impossible to even attempt. Edward may be monitoring James, but Bella has switched to monitoring Alice - following the whirl of possible futures as they come and go in a blink of an eye. Alice can't find an option that limits causalities, not if she wants to honor Carlisle's pacifism, not if she wants to save Bella's life.
James is a tracker and his mate seems to have a gift of evasion. Between the two of them, this situation could go on for years and that just wasn't feasible.
No matter what option Alice foresaw, the Cullen's - Edward - lost.
Bella's thoughts race.
Alice was looking for a single-shot solution, but maybe that was the wrong approach. Instead of looking for a way to win, what if Alice looked for a way to stall? But how to stall?
The pendant.
Edward, Bella thinks, shoving an image of her pendant to the forefront of his mind. He barely spares it a glance, too focused on tracking the thoughts of the tracker. She fists her hand in his shirt in frustration. She doesn't want to risk speaking out loud and breaking this stalemate the vampires have come to, but what other option does she have? It's not like she can just push her thoughts to Alice without touching -
Unless she could.
Bella had been doing things with her gift that she hadn't thought possible all year. She'd made it behave defensively. She'd made it into a two-way communication. Who said that she couldn't make that net of communication wider? Edward's telepathy was one-way - but if Bella was touching him, could she borrow his range and force a two-way communication? She didn't know - but it was clear that she had to try.
Bella closes her eyes. It's nerve-wracking to cut herself off from sight in the middle of all this, in these endless seconds while two sides contemplate fighting for the right to her life. Not that she could see anything anyway while she was hidden behind Edward's back, but it still twists her stomach to make herself blind as she focuses, delving deep into Edward's mind with all the grace of a tripping elephant. She's not gentle about it and pain lances through his mind, making her falter for only a moment. She'll apologize later.
Alice, the pendant, she sends out, targeting Alice in particular. She sends the thought over and over, not sure if it's working - because while she's sending that thought to Alice, or at least trying to, she's also trying not to send it to the nomads and she can't be certain that she's even doing what she was aiming to -
Blood drips from Bella's nose at the same moment that Alice's eyes snap in her direction, along with Jasper's - the incredulity is painted openly on their faces. She'd gotten through, clumsily and pushing to the edge of her limit and to the pain of both herself and her mate, but she'd gotten through. Alice had heard her and so had Jasper.
Two tactile minds latch onto Bella's sketchy plan and as she borrows Edward's telepathy, she can see that it might work. Jasper only needed a moment and Alice could use that moment, that change in the layout of the situation, to look for new solutions that weren't available at the moment.
Recklessly, Bella steps away from Edward, reaching for the pendant around her neck. He is already reaching for her, pulling her into his arms, as she brandishes the golden diamond Volturi seal in the direction of the nomads. And while James could care less about the Volturi, Laurent understands what the necklace means; Laurent turns and runs, abandoning his new coven with a craven sort of fear that Bella appreciates with great zeal because it's one less vampire her coven has to battle.
The stall lasts for only a second, and then Edward is in motion, running as fast as his legs can push him as Jasper sends out a targeted emotional attack and Alice jets off to follow Edward's path. Bella wipes her nose with the back of her hand as Edward runs, feeling absurdly winded and wanting to apologize for hijacking her mate's gift - but there's not enough time. Edward is still touching her, so she knows exactly what his plan is.
We can't just run away! She argues.
Yes, we can!
He's a tracker - what about Charlie?
Charlie isn't my mate!
You're not being reasonable! Think for a second, Edward!
He doesn't slow and he doesn't change track. What would you have me do?
Bella shakes her head. She doesn't know - there doesn't seem to be an adequate solution, especially because James didn't seem intimidated by the Volturi at all. What could they do? No matter where Edward took her, James would be able to find them. And while Jasper and Emmett could rip the threat to shreds, it was already clear that Victoria had managed to drag both herself and James away after Jasper's initial disabling emotional lash. Carlisle and Esme had headed off after Laurent; Jasper was now following in Alice's tracks; and Emmett and Rosalie had fanned out, trying to track Victoria and James to no avail because Victoria's gift had allowed them to slip away. The situation was out of control - and confrontation was inevitable, that much was clear. The future was too cloudy for Alice to -
La Push, Bella realizes. The wolves.
Alice can't see the wolves, Edward retorts, but he hesitates. He hadn't considered the werewolves, not for a second. Maybe it didn't matter that Alice was blind to the future if the wolves were directly involved; maybe they relied too much on Alice to predict the steps they should take. Maybe with the wolves, they could draw James out, and then surprise him with an ambush.
Sensing his agreement, Bella closes her eyes again, digging her fingers into his arms as she taps back into his telepathy, this time reaching for minds that buzzed with the static of a shared-mind. Edward takes a sharp turn, heading toward La Push and the treaty line, muttering with vampire-speed to Alice and Jasper at his heels that the plan had changed.
Sam! Bella calls out telepathically - over and over and over again, blood dripping steadily from her nose, which she sniffles back and swallows with a head-strong commitment to doing this new thing that is rapidly draining her of her energy. She feels like she's stretching, but she won't stop.
Bloodsuckers, Sam acknowledges with a troubled realization that a leech was in his mind. His massive wolf form appears not a moment later, running beside Edward with a ferocious growl of warning.
Bella pulls back in relief, dropping her hands from Edward's skin, her head spinning with dizzying speed as her mate explains the situation. The world darkens around her eyes. Her breathing is shallow and she's so tired.
Drained.
o.o.o
o.o.o
She doesn't realize that she's lost consciousness until she has been deposited against the cropping roots of a huge tree straddling the treaty line. There are three wolves prowling around as Jasper and Edward seem to strategize with, a cell phone on speaker held between them. Alice is standing over her, a tiny guard with worried knit to her brow, and when Bella comes-to, Alice immediately kneels on her side, filling Bella in on the plan that had just been finalized.
It seems like only the Quileute wolves are excited at the prospects of this plan. The two slightly smaller wolves, Jared and Paul, are practically frothing at the opportunity to bite into vampire flesh. They had gone through the change for a reason, hadn't they? This was their chance to fulfill their birthright destiny.
Alice and Bella were acting as bait. Jasper would be upwind, along with the wolves, waiting to take James out when he came near enough. Edward - reluctantly - would be skirting the edges while Emmett and Rosalie herded James and Victoria in their direction. Esme and Carlisle were with Laurent, already pushing him out of the area beyond Seattle.
Bella is still weak from - well, from whatever it is that she'd done. She can barely wrap her mind around it and it's not really the time to think about it. Time is, in fact, running out. It's lucky that Bella woke up when she did, because according to Emmett, James was already heading in their direction with Victoria.
Jasper and Sam's pack go one direction. Edward dashes in the opposite direction after one long look at Bella. His eyes are dark, jaw clenched as tightly as his fists. She wonders how long he argued against this plan before Jasper's experience and the benefit of the wolves won him over - probably for the entire time she'd been unconscious, however long that had been.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Twilight has come over the forest, a final winter fog rolling over the chilly ground. With Alice's help, Bella stands, leaning her weight against the tree as her head spins. The wait is agonizing for both of them - Alice because she is flying blind and Bella because she feels as though she's balancing on pins and needles.
In spite of Sulpicia's confidence, the pendant didn't work. James didn't respect the rule of the Volturi. How many other vampires felt the same way? Was her grandfather's rule in jeopardy? Did Aro know that he was losing authority over nomadic vampires, that the anarchists no longer feared the judgment of Volterra?
Would she have the chance to tell him?
o.o.o
o.o.o
Bella tips her head back, shifting on her feet. She wants to sit down. She's also almost unbearably thirsty, a dry itch in her throat that rivals the gnawing hunger clenching her belly. Bella concentrates on breathing, slow and measured, her eyes trained on Alice, waiting for any kind of indication that the plan was working, that James was coming for them -
In the end, it doesn't matter. Alice is blind and her senses aren't as honed as other vampires due to the laxness she has allowed to grow in the advantage of her gift. Not only does Alice not see him coming, but she doesn't hear him, either. James has knocked Alice far into the forest in the space of a single blink, seemingly appearing out of nowhere with a snarl and an aggressive turn toward Bella, the real prize.
"You think you're so clever," he growls, crowding against her space. "You and your pathetic coven think you've outsmarted me, but you haven't and I'm going to enjoy proving just how wrong you were. Ordinarily, I'd draw this out, really enjoy the taste - but I can hear someone in the woods and they would only ruin my fun…"
And like another vampire not so long ago, James' hand closes around her throat, his strength hoisting her in the air, her back scraping against rough bark through the fabric of her clothes. But unlike Edward, he doesn't hesitate to go in for the kill - there is nothing stopping him from sinking his teeth right into her neck and ripping through her flesh as easily as tissue paper.
Nothing except for Bella, that is.
Her mind lashes out defensively, a vicious tinge to the same thought of NO forced into James' mind like a battering ram - so much more powerful than what she had done to Edward, fueled by genuine fear of her life.
It is enough to send James reeling, his eyes squeezed shut as his mind vibrates under the gong-like force of her thoughts. But then he snarls, an ugly noise that preludes his second attempt, though this time he is thwarted by Alice's return.
The world twists around Bella as she is moved, held in front of James' body with her neck jerked to the side, straining under the pressure of his unforgiving grip as he faces Alice in a standoff that she is only barely aware off. Bella is distantly aware that she is rapidly loosing blood, that the chain of her pendant has broken under the gnash of James' teeth into her neck, that the wolves and Jasper would be coming any second - but it all fades in the clamor of her mind, which is simultaneously and fetidly trying to keep up her defensive attack even as another, less dominant part of her mind is awakening.
She's dying. She knows that. Bella is dying, right here, right now - it will be blood loss either way that stills the beat of her heart, that much is certain.
And maybe that's why she's able to give herself over to the power of her gift. Bella closes her eyes - even as familiar faces blur into the tiny clearing where this is all happening - and melts back into her consciousness, devoting her remaining energy to fighting for as long as she can.
No, no, NO, her mind shrieks, battering in ever-growing weakness to thwart James away. It isn't working as effectively as it had for Edward, though, because James isn't a telepath and her defense isn't strong enough.
Something switches on in the deepest epicenter of her hindbrain. A long-dormant instinct to take, to feed, to survive - and Bella is too weak to do anything but allow it to reign free. Some insidious aspect of her gift snakes forward and seizes upon all of James' mental energy. A sort of mental bite not unlike the bite he had delivered to her neck. She claws at his mind, instinctive, hardly even aware of herself or what she's going -
Her connection to James ends abruptly and right on its heels is a roaring voice, followed by the sounds of ripping metal piercing the air.
o.o.o
o.o.o
Bella's eyes crack open. She's laying down, boneless on the forest floor.
She blinks.
There's Edward's beautiful face hovering over her, his mouth forming words that she can't hear.
Blink.
A burning building in her veins, but it's cold. Isn't it supposed to be hot? Oh. She's bled too much. Too fast for the venom to do its job - her artery had been ripped open, hadn't it? How messy. Stupid vampire.
Blink.
Alice's face over her, shaking her head, saying something to Edward that he doesn't like, something that makes his chiseled features collapse in agony.
Blink.
The scent of smoke and fire and wolves growling, always growling.
Blink.
"Bella."
Blink.
Love. That's Edward. That's her mate's mind. Oh, he sounds so sad, anguished. She doesn't understand - why should Edward be sad? James is gone. They won.
Blink.
They hadn't won - that's right, Bella is dying. How silly of her to forget.
Blink.
Bella reaches up, searching for Edward's skin. He grasps her hand, holding it against his cheek.
Can you hear me? He asks and his mouth moves but that's not where Bella hears the sound.
I love you, she answers. I'm sorry I don't have enough blood.
Blink.
Edward is shouting something - and then in the next moment, a gush of hot, rich iron is pouring over her mouth. It's too much. It's choking her. She has to swallow or she won't be able to breathe.
Oh, she thinks, warmth flooding her stomach, tingling through her body. She swallows greedily.
Blink.
When the blood slows, it is replaced by something else - another kill. Rabbit, she thinks and her thoughts are getting more clear, strength returning in droves that almost beat back the fire sparking in her veins.
"That's it, love," Edward murmurs, helping her hold her jaw open, his fingers slick with blood from ripping open the necks of animals that Jasper and Alice have caught for her. "Just drink."
Blink.
She pushes away the next kill he tries to give her, catching his wrist with shaking hands. She feels much too hot. "It's happening," she manages and she wants to know how and why and if he can stop the fire, but then the world really does go black.
Her last coherent thought is, I didn't think it would hurt this much.
o.o.o
o.o.o
That is February.
A/N: Well. That happened. I'm just going to….you know…. *nervous titter*
Quick note about Charlie and Renee - should he woo her back? Sure, maybe. But he won't. The man lived in her ghost-house for fifteen years, wallowing in the loss of her love, and I just don't realistically see him growing any sort of balls about it now that he knows he's special!
Should Bella want her Mom around? Yeah, ideally - but again, we're going canon here as much as possible. Bella being Aro's great-great-granddaughter changed a whole lot of things; her books, her confidence, some of her personality quirks, and certainly her eating habits, but...I mean, canon-Bella knew Renee was too flighty to handle a big secret and it's just easier. Also, being from a single-parent household, I'm not entirely convinced that two-parent homes are necessary. Knowing what I know about my father, I definitely wouldn't want him back in my mother's life; similarly, Renee hurt Charlie A LOT when she left and I'd like to think that Bella would spare her father the pain of revisiting all of that.
Also, does the mate-bond go two ways? Yes - if the two are vampires, or at least partially vampire. Charlie drew the short-stick with an unrequired mate-bond, but that happens because life just isn't always fair. And why shouldn't Charlie be changed, too? Simply put: He doesn't want to.
A lot of this story is about choice, you know, about respecting people's choices, in part to correct the fact that canon-Bella had choices taken from her the entire series (*cough* Edward *cough*) and that's always been a huge issue for me...SO. Anyway. Part of respecting people is respecting their choices, their free will, their ability to think for themselves. I hope that's coming through, for anyone who just sits back and wonder why I did something - it was probably because I wanted to respect that character's ability to chose or offer a choice.
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot