Welcome back to this fic! I've missed you guys 😊
So, a few of you were surprised in the last chapter when Bella was so happy to see Jacob. Now, I'm aware that some of you view it as 'she's a bitch, why is she being nice?' BUT here's the thing I noticed about their interactions in canon. When Bella and Jacob have been apart for a while, their initial reaction to seeing each other again is very 'omg I missed you!' even if their last prior interaction had been an argument. For those first few minutes of being together again, that would be forgotten and they'd just be happy to see one another.
SIX
JACOB ALL BUT tumbled out the front door after her. He didn't immediately see where she could've gone, his attention snagging on her notebook and pen that she'd dropped on the porch as she went.
Snatching them up, he bolted down the steps and to his car, thinking maybe whatever had upset her made her want to leave. Yet, as he neared it, he could see through the windshield that the vehicle was empty.
Dark eyes narrowing in thought, he deposited the pen and notebook on the hood of the car and then held himself still. He couldn't pick up her scent, not with the sickly-sweet tinge of vampire so heavy in the air here, so instead he listened.
Animals in the distance—they wisely, instinctively, gave the houseful of supernatural predators a wide berth. Breezes rustling through leafy tree branches. And then bipedal footfalls through dense grass. He followed the sound.
The rest of the family drifted back into the recesses of the house, apparently content to let Jacob handle whatever the hell had just happened. Especially since none of them actually knew what had just happened.
Well, the family short three members. They lingered in the living room
Bella looked from Edward to Jasper and back. She didn't want to interrupt whatever silent exchange was taking place—mostly because she had gotten sick of catching flack for asking questions she had no right to expect answers to—but she knew something had just happened.
Edward turned a quizzical expression on the door beyond the foyer. Not that that was unusual, his insight often caused him to make faces he wasn't even aware he was pulling while he tried to puzzle through, or push aside, the things other's thoughts told him. It was the way Jasper trained his gaze on his adoptive brother's face as he mouthed the words Edward, no that got her attention.
"What's going on?"
Edward didn't answer. Jasper frowned, dropping his gaze to the floor.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the copper-haired vampire's expression changed. His brows shot up in something like understanding and he started through the living room and across the foyer to the door.
Jasper felt his shoulders droop. A girl who couldn't stand to be in the same room with their kind could hardly be the answer to whatever was wrong with him no matter how much it felt that way.
Edward's departure left him standing there with Bella. He was normally very fond of his new sister-in-law, despite his prickliness toward her the last few days, but he couldn't deal with her silent inquiry right now.
Against his own better judgment, he followed after Edward. He was all too aware of Bella trailing reluctantly behind him, the faint sting of mild irritation trickling from her with each step.
Jacob found her behind the stand of immense cedars. Even before he rounded the trees, he could hear her deep, carefully controlled breaths. How she'd gotten so far so fast, he had no idea—could she move in a blink by magic?
Hermione's eyes focused blankly ahead of her as she pivoted on her heel and looped back from another round of pacing. Her head moved in a series of slow nods as if in some deep conversation with herself and she drummed her fingertips in a static rhythm against the pads of her thumbs—forefinger to pinky, and back again.
Jacob stopped where he was, uncertain how to approach her or even how to respond to this behavior. His brows inched upward, features otherwise going slack as he simply watched her.
Hermione was aware of him. His silent presence was soothing, calming, but, for some reason, it didn't help her back from the edge, and so she couldn't stop trying to coax herself back.
After a moment, she managed to reel in her spiraling anxiety. Yet with that, her breathing sped up for a few heartbeats of its own accord and she had to give herself a shake as she turned to face him.
He was surprised that it hurt—actually pained his heart—that she wouldn't meet his eyes as she opened her mouth to speak.
"I . . . I want to tell you why that just happened back there, but I . . . ." She clasped her hands before her to keep from fidgeting with her fingers again as she spoke. "The thoughts are there, but when I try to form the words . . . ." Wincing, she shook her head, exhaling sharply through clenched teeth before continuing. "It's somehow worse when I try to say any of it aloud. Like the entire thing gets caught in my throat and I have to struggle to breathe, and—"
"Hey, hey." Jacob held up his hands and took a step toward her. Under any other circumstances, it would be funny to him that he should be so determined to appear non-threatening when here he was, a werewolf who stood over a foot taller than her in his human form, but she seemed like she felt very threatened just moments ago back in the house, so he was willing to do whatever he could to devest himself of his natural intimidation factor.
"If you can't talk about it, that's okay," he said slowly, cognizant of her going very still—like she had when he'd unintentionally snapped at her last night. Something had happened, not now, not even recently, he'd bet, that had shaken this woman to her core. He honestly had no idea how to help her with whatever she was feeling. "You don't have to tell me anything."
The sympathetic pitch of his voice was so soothing to her. Hermione let her eyes drift closed and focused on her breathing. Her lips folding inward to form a thin line, she took a step closer of her own.
Opening her eyes, the witch shook her head. "No, no. I . . . see, that's the thing. With this connection between us, I want to tell you. I want you to understand. I didn't expect to react the way I did back there."
He glanced back in the direction of the house, blocked from view at present by the cedars. Oh, normally he'd love an excuse to blame vampires for just about anything—flaw of his species, he supposed—but he'd been there. They'd not had the opportunity to do or say anything, let alone doing or saying something that could be considered upsetting by any stretch of the imagination.
According to her own words, she'd never even met a vampire before, so . . . . "What were you reacting to?"
Jacob stilled sooner than she was able to form an answer, but he could tell she noticed his sudden change in demeanor, once again going very still, herself, in return. She couldn't possibly hear what he just had.
His eyes squeezing shut, he exhaled a short, gruff breath through his nostrils. "You couldn't have just let me handle this? You're the reason she's upset."
A voice came from the other side of the cedars. "No, we're not. At least, not in the way you're thinking." Hermione could hear their footfalls now, but she had the strangest impression that it was deliberate. It was just as deliberate when they noisily drew to a halt.
Jacob's expression turned fierce as he pivoted, glaring at the cedars as though he could see through them to the vampire standing on the other side. "Found that out poking around in her head?"
Hermione's brows shot up.
"No, it's not like that." The vampire—Hermione guessed it was Edward from Jacob's comment—sighed. "This is ridiculous. Do we have to talk like this?"
"That's up to her."
"It's . . . it's actually easier this way," she admitted, her voice small.
"She's scared," another voice said, soft, only audible because of the silence that followed Hermione's statement.
She sucked in a breath at that second voice. The sound immediately snagged Jacob's attention and he turned his head to look at her.
Hermione couldn't understand herself. She'd never heard this voice before, yet it felt familiar. Expected, perhaps, as if she'd been waiting to hear it, somehow.
Sensing Jacob's eyes on her, she could only shake her head.
"I was thinking," Edward's voice went on, "if you really want Jacob to know whatever it is, I could help." He had misgivings about helping bolster the connection between the wolf and the witch, but it was the right thing to do here, even if he didn't like.
Besides, if he were being fair—which was a matter of debate, given his gift allowing him such an impossible advantage—whatever was going on between her and Jacob had been happening first. From the moment they'd met according to the werewolf's thoughts. Maybe it wasn't so much like before, after all. Whatever was troubling his brother, perhaps Jasper was the intruder here.
"You . . . you can't read my thoughts, can you?"
"No." The answer was quick, unguarded.
"Lucky," Jacob and Jasper muttered the word in the same breath. Hermione would've snickered if it wasn't strangely startling to hear their voices mingle.
"You'd have to let me in, I think." That was if he'd understood everything Carlyle had explained about how witches minds worked. "I won't intrude or try to force it, but if you really want him to know, we could try."
A corner of her mind was working on something else entirely as she considered the vampire's offer. "Um, sorry, this is slightly off topic, but you can't control your ability, can you?"
There was a pause. Hermione could swear Edward Cullen swallowed hard.
"No."
"I could possibly help with that, you know. I started thinking about it in regard to Jacob's pack, actually, but it might work for you as well."
"What are you talking about?"
She met Jacob's eyes in a fleeting glance. "I can't make any promises, but it occurred to me how . . . intrusive their communication while shifted can be. I had considered creating a charm that would permit their thoughts through when deemed necessary or useful, but otherwise they'd be able to keep private anything they didn't want to share. I might be able use the same concept for you, so that you can decide when to let other's thoughts into your head."
Edward could only stare at the cedars, his topaz eyes wide. It had never occurred to him that the possibility of such a thing existed. He turned to look at Bella over his shoulder. She knew how difficult it was for him, his own thoughts always crowded by those of the people around him.
She merely watched him, a small, hopeful smile curving her lips.
Chewing at his lower lip, he dropped his gaze to the ground at his feet. "Why would you do that?"
"Why not?"
It sounded so easy for her. So simple to just offer something so important to a complete stranger. Edward could hear his brother clearly in that moment, despite how Jasper tried to muffle his thoughts. The blond vampire was in a sort of awe at her effortless—indeed thoughtless—compassion.
"Sorry," she said to the collective, tree line-separated, group. "Sometimes I process complex matters in the background to help me focus. But I suppose . . .yes, I could let you in a little. I am aware others are there with you. I haven't told anyone what you're going to learn from me, but I think perhaps its best if the lot of you know, not just Jacob. If I'm going be around your—your coven, I might have a difficult time and I think it only fair you all understand it's not anything you've done."
"You're sure?" This time it was Edward and Jacob who spoke in the same breath.
Hermione bit her lip on a smile even as she heard Bella snicker. The other one was quiet and she tried to not read anything into his silence.
"Yes."
"All right." Edward nodded, shrugging as he focused his attention on her. "Well, whenever you're ready."
The witch imagined the barrier around her thoughts like a wall. Circular, impossibly high, perfectly arrayed lines of brick and mortar. Sifting about behind that wall, she dislodged the memory of those terrifying minutes she'd been at Greyback's mercy. Steeling herself against the feelings that accompanied it, she let them slip past the wall.
"Oh," Edward said after a delayed moment, his voice subdued.
Immediately—childishly, she knew—Hermione clamped her hands over her ears. She didn't want to hear the words spoken. She wasn't sure she'd have an adverse reaction to it, but she didn't trust herself not to, either.
"During the war among her people, she was . . . she was tortured—" Edward paused, again swallowing hard. "It's not quite the right word, terrorized might be better, but it's still not right. Not—not enough. The creature held her captive for only a short time, separated from her friends so no one knew, but . . . during that short time, he tried to choke the life from her again and again, not even to kill her, just because he could. She never told anyone because it made her feel weak that she couldn't fight back. And because to speak the words was to relive it. There are two scars she carries that are constant reminders of that day. Claw marks on the back of her neck—" he was oblivious to how Jacob's head snapped to one side, his horrified gaze locking on the witch's voluminous hair where it hid her neck and shoulders—"and the memory of his eyes. Eyes that look like ours."
He let out a breathy, mirthless laugh. "She was worried she'd end up being scared of you, but it ended up being one look at us that terrified her and brought her back to that moment."
He could hear the turn of Jasper's thoughts, how he felt sick thinking of what she'd been through. He could hear Jacob's question in his mind, wondering why being afraid of him was even a consideration.
It was no use. Hermione heard every word. Her breath seemed to leave her and her hands slipped down from her ears to dangle at her sides.
In a bit of sad, bizarre timing, Hermione turned her head to meet Jacob's worried eyes just as Edward answered him.
"Because the creature who did that to her . . . he was a werewolf."
Jake felt like the words like a physical blow as he watched her eyes well up with tears.
