The Movement of the Earth -- Chapter 10
Title: The Movement of the Earth
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Twilight (Team Jacob)
Rating: T
Characters: Bella, Jacob, Charlie, and others (J/B)
Genre: Romance/Angst/Wolfpack!Humor
Warnings: Language, violence, and references to adult behavior
banner courtesy of lilabut
Summary: Jacob imprints on Bella. It changes things. A re-write of New Moon, beginning on page 242 in Chapter 10: "The Meadow." ( Link to the beginning.)
Chapter Ten:
The Disclaimer Strikes Back: This may come as a shock to you, but there are parts of this fic that are directly lifted from New Moon and other parts of the Twilight saga. I know, I know, I'm just as surprised as you are. But those parts? They don't belong to me. And I'm not Stephenie Meyer, though I might go as her for Halloween.
i get so tired working so hard for our survival / i look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
Sara Bareilles, "In Your Eyes"
10. Insight
Jacob didn't come back to the bonfire. In the end, it was Embry that rode home with me as my bodyguard; I was silent, and he very wisely kept his mouth shut as well.
I phoned Billy and asked him to have Jacob call me when he got home. Billy took the message, but warned that he didn't think Jacob was likely to be in until very late. I said that I would pick up no matter what hour it was.
I watched a baseball game with Charlie, which at least seemed to feature a lot more strategy than simply running a ball back and forth. He explained some of the finer details, like the difference between a curveball and a changeup, until finally I asked, "Hey, Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you sit on the couch?"
Charlie turned and gave me a strange look, but said, "Sure." He got out of the recliner and settled onto the sofa -- then his eyes widened as I scooted over and leaned my head on his shoulder.
After a few long moments, my father gently stroked my hair. "Are you okay, kiddo?"
I nodded, knowing that if I tried to speak I would start to cry.
"Uh... do you want to talk about it?"
I shook my head.
"Okay." And he continued to stroke my hair as he told me all about breaking sliders.
***
It was still midnight in the forest -- the sky the deepest of blacks, but the moon full and shining. I stood in front of the dying oak again; the moss had climbed all the way up the trunk and was beginning to consume the branches.
I felt like I should do something, like there was some action I should be taking. Something. My hands twitched with it. I didn't want to peel away the moss, not anymore, but maybe I should water it? Or chop down the tree, let it rot on the ground?
But I left it alone. The moss and tree seemed to know what to do all on their own...
There was no Missed Call on my cell phone when I woke up.
***
I had hoped Jacob would come back in the morning for bodyguard duty, but that foolish optimism was quickly dashed; when I opened the front door just after Charlie had left for work, it was Jared who leaned against the frame looking like death warmed over. "Are you all right?"
He yawned. "Just tired. No big deal."
"Yeah, yeah, you're all big tough werewolves who don't need any rest," I said bitterly. I glanced down; he was still wearing those ridiculous -- and now extremely dirty -- tuxedo pants. It reminded me that I still hadn't found any shoes... but then an idea came to me. "Hang on for a minute, okay?"
"Sure," he said, rubbing his eyes like a little boy.
It took me a few trips through the house to find what I was looking for, but eventually I sat down on the stairs with everything I needed. I tossed Jared a can of Coke; he popped it open with a fizzy noise and drank it in one gulp. "Thanks," he said. Then he burped. "What are you doing?"
"Making shorts." Using a pair of fabric scissors, I cut a pair of Charlie's sweats just below the knee. He had a lot more spare sweats than shoes; he'd never miss them. When I was finished, I held the pants out with a smile -- then faltered at the almost angry look on Jared's face. "What?"
"I don't need charity, Bella," he said coldly.
"It's not charity!" I protested, taken aback. "I just... thought you might want them, is all. So you wouldn't have to wear light blue anymore--"
"They're fine. I'll manage." I'd never heard Jared talk like this before... and I realized that I must have genuinely insulted him.
"Okay," I said feebly, lowering the sweats. "I'm sorry." I couldn't do anything right, anything useful, not even this. "I just thought... I mean, Emily bakes, and I'm sure Kim does something really helpful too, so I thought..." Whenever Edward had taken me to a fancy restaurant in Seattle, or offered to simply buy me a new car when my truck made the smallest rattle, I'd burned with the discomfort of the inequality. This was on a much smaller scale, but I still should have known better. "I'm really sorry. It was dumb."
After a long moment, Jared sighed and took the sweats from my hands. "I did complain to you about these stupid pants, after all," he said grudgingly. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. Come on."
I stared at my feet as we walked to the truck; I was pretty sure the humiliated blush would never leave my face.
"Besides," Jared conceded as I pulled us out of the driveway, "you're right -- Emily and Kim are really helpful. So I can see why you'd want to do something too."
"What does Kim do?" I asked, figuring that would be a safe subject.
I was right -- Jared lit up instantly. "Oh, she does lots of things," he said enthusiastically. "I'm missing tons of school, and she's taking notes and catching me up and sending in my homework with my name on it. I didn't ask her to," he clarified, "she offered. I definitely would have flunked out by now if it wasn't for her."
"Oh." That seemed... well, like cheating. But considering Jared was out day and night risking his life to keep his people safe, a little leeway on schoolwork was hardly an unfair request. I wondered how Jacob would hold up once spring break was over. "That's really sweet of her."
"It is," he beamed. "She's always sweet. And she's so smart, Bella. Whenever she explains stuff to me, it sticks. I could never remember how many electrons were in the different elements, but when she talks about it it just sinks in. She thinks she might be a teacher. She'd be a great teacher."
I tried to imagine the girl from the bonfire standing up in front of a full classroom. It was difficult to picture, but maybe with some training she'd lose some of her shyness. "That sounds nice."
"And she talks all the time," Jared continued to gush. "It's great. I have an awful day and then I go to see her, and she just goes on about happy things, or funny things, and then everything is so much better and I've forgotten whatever was making me upset. She's so good at that. I don't know what I'd do without her. Go crazy, probably."
I was no longer certain that we were talking about the same person. "I didn't realize Kim was so outgoing," I said neutrally, hoping not to offend. The last thing I needed to do was make Jared think that I was insulting his imprint.
"She's just quiet around the guys and Emily." Jared shook his head. "She's kind of scared of them 'cause she's younger. She's worried they'll hate her if she says something wrong. I've tried to tell her that there's nothing she says that's wrong and that no one could hate her, but she's nervous anyway." He smiled at me. "She likes you, though, she told me."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad. She seems like a nice girl."
"She's the best," Jared sighed happily.
***
My plan had been to pretend like nothing had happened and act perfectly normal. I failed. Within minutes I found myself face-down at Emily's table, my forehead sticking to a placemat. "I'm ruining Jacob's life," I said morosely.
I felt a sudden warmth on one side of my face; Emily had sat a steaming mug of tea next to my cheek. "You're overreacting a little."
"No, I'm not. He's miserable. Everything I do is wrong. He's never going to speak to me again."
"I highly doubt that." There was a scraping noise; Emily was pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting in it. "Jacob is being an idiot, but he'll come around."
"He's not being an idiot," I grumbled peevishly, raising my head. "Don't say that about him. He's fine. It's me. It's all me."
Emily raised an eyebrow, sipped her tea, and said nothing.
"It is," I insisted.
"Okay," she said.
I sighed heavily and dropped my face back to the table. "He thinks I'm brainwashed," I whispered, my voice rendered indistinct by the placemat against my lips. "He thinks I don't believe in him."
"Well, he is trying to do the impossible."
"Maybe it's not impossible," I said. "Maybe he can beat the imprint, except now he can't do it because he thinks I think he can't do it, maybe he could do it if it wasn't for me--"
"Bella," Emily interrupted me firmly, "drink your tea."
I raised my head a second time, caught Emily's no-nonsense stare, and brought the mug to my lips. It was flavored with orange spice and a touch of honey and tasted, like everything from Emily's kitchen, absolutely delicious.
"I understand that Jacob is having a rough time," she said. "But what he's trying to do? It can't be done. It's not a matter of strength of will. You're his soul mate, and that's that. The imprint didn't create that. It only showed it to him."
"But--"
"Keep drinking," she commanded.
I meekly took another sip of tea.
"This isn't your fault," Emily continued. "You didn't do anything. Jacob is just wasting his time and his energy because he can't admit he's wrong."
Indignation rose up in me -- even though I'd said nearly the same thing to Jacob, it felt different coming out of someone else's mouth. It felt like an insult. Before I could get a handle on the sudden rush of anger, I snapped, "How would you know whether fighting the imprint is a waste of time? You and Sam didn't resist it."
I regretted my rash words almost instantly; Emily's warm, open face went ice cold. "You think it was that easy?" Her voice was hard in a way that didn't suit her. "You think you know more about how this works than I do?"
I swallowed, but held my ground. Emily had taken her cousin's -- her best friend's -- boyfriend, and no matter how nice she was, no matter how harsh or unfair the price might have been afterward, it was still wrong. "Jacob told me that Sam came to you the next day. That's hardly much of a struggle."
"Sam didn't understand what was happening," Emily shot back, and in her tone I heard the same fire I had heard in my own when she'd insulted Jacob. "Jacob and Jared benefited from what he learned, just like in everything else. Sam phased alone, patrolled alone, and imprinted alone. Don't presume to know what he went through. And don't you dare judge him for not getting everything right."
"And what about you?" I retorted. "You could have said no. You could have sent him back to Leah."
"It doesn't work like that, Bella."
"Jacob says it does."
"Well, Jacob doesn't know what the hell he's talking about."
"At least he's trying!" She didn't get to talk about him like that. "That's more than you did."
I watched as Emily visibly deflated in front of me. Her shoulders slumped and her breath left her with a long sigh as she lowered her eyes to her mug of tea. "You're right," she said quietly. "It is. I don't think it would have made any difference... but, yes. I could have tried."
I swallowed, feeling shaky and awkward as my flash of temper faded. "Why didn't you?"
She bit her lower lip -- one side full and beautiful, the other side pulled into a broken, twisted slash. "Because I fell in love with him."
"That fast? You didn't even know Sam."
Emily gave me a confused look. "Yes I did. He was with Leah for two years. Leah is -- was -- my best friend. Do you think we would never have crossed paths?"
"Oh." I hadn't thought of that -- though now that she mentioned it, I did recall Jacob saying something about Sam seeing Emily a few times before the imprint.
"I knew him," she continued. "We'd talked at family gatherings, things like that, and he was just... so... and a few times I almost thought..." Emily drifted off, then smiled sadly. "I was so jealous, you have no idea. I even stopped coming to visit because I was afraid Leah would notice."
This wasn't raising my opinion of the situation at all. "So you didn't mind stealing her boyfriend?"
"No," Emily said sharply. I noticed she was tracing her pinky around the edge of her cup, the one with the missing end. "I would never have done anything. Even if their relationship had ended, Sam was completely off limits. I knew that." She swallowed. "But then... Leah started calling me. She said Sam had changed, that he was disappearing all the time, that he had this temper all of the sudden and wouldn't talk to her about what was wrong, that nothing she did seemed to help. She would yell about it, and sometimes she would cry...
"So I agreed to come visit. Take her out for some girl time, listen to her in person. And I was going to sit down with Sam too and demand he start treating her right." Emily reached across the table to grasp my hand, and her voice was desperate as she pleaded, "I was, Bella, I had no intention of anything else. You have to believe me. No one else does. No one knows what it's like except for you."
The sincerity in her eyes couldn't have been faked. I nodded slowly, and as she exhaled in relief and released my hand, I realized that Emily had been alone for much, much too long.
"Then... it happened." Emily looked down. "I could tell something was...different... and I went back home right away. But Sam was there the next morning, telling me he loved me, that it was over with Leah, that he'd do anything if I would just give him a chance..." She shook her head ruefully, lost her own memories. "I don't think he even knew what he was saying, honestly. He looked terrible."
My sympathy faded again. "So, what, you just--"
"I slammed the door in his face, Bella." She raised her eyebrows at me. "What else could I have done? I had no idea what to say. I left him on the porch and I called Leah." Emily looked sadder at this than she had at any point so far. "She started screaming at me. She thought that I'd been going behind her back, that all those times Sam had disappeared he'd been coming to me, that that was why I'd stopped coming to visit... I don't blame her at all. It was the only explanation that made sense." She looked away. "Of course, when word got out... everyone thought the same thing.
"And I was alone. Even my brother didn't believe me, and... and I was so cold, all the time..."
The cold. I shivered in sympathy, feeling the frigidness in my bones that no matter what, I couldn't adjust to. "So it does come from the imprint."
"If it makes you feel any better," Emily said, "it goes away after you stop fighting. Sam's body temperature dropped too; he's only about 104 degrees now. I think I take the extra."
Holy crow. "That's bizarre."
"The imprint wants to make sure there are no mistakes, I guess." Her face set in grim determination. "But I would have shivered forever, Bella. I would never have given in because of that. It was just... an uncomfortable side effect."
"So why did you?" I asked. I couldn't help but feel compassion for her. Emily was right -- I was the only one who could understand any of this, even if I couldn't understand all of it. "Why did you give in?"
She shrugged. "Sam wouldn't go away. He practically lived on my front porch. He wouldn't give up. It was winter, and he'd just sit out there in the cold and snow, hoping I'd let him in. Eventually... I did." Emily smiled slightly. "I didn't want him to freeze to death. If he was going to be around all the time, I figured I ought to at least give him some soup. And then I just sort of... started letting him in every day, and we'd talk some, and it was so comfortable...
"By then he'd discovered the legends and figured out what had happened. Eventually he told me he was a werewolf -- that was a surprise," she said wryly, "and he started talking about soul mates and how it meant that we were supposed to be together. And I... I wanted to say yes." She smiled again. "I'd always had a crush on him, and well... it's hard to resist that level of commitment and adoration."
"I guess," I said doubtfully.
"Anyway. I couldn't say yes, because of how much it would hurt Leah, but Sam could tell I had feelings for him and he didn't understand... that's how this happened," she said, gesturing at her face. At my look of horror, she quickly clarified, "He didn't hit me. It was nothing like that. He just got frustrated, and he didn't have nearly so much control then; you've seen how big they get, how fast it happens. I was standing close and he literally phased on top of me." Her smile turned grim. "It hurt. A lot."
I thought of the explosions I'd witnessed, how Jacob and Paul had rolled across the road, snapping and clawing, their enormous bulk almost beyond imagination. It was a miracle Emily was even alive.
"When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Sam was there, but he wouldn't even come near me. He just... sat in the corner and begged me to tell him what to do. That he'd go away and never come back. He offered to jump off the roof and he was deadly serious." Her eyes filled with tears again. "And Bella, he looked just like he used to, back when we would just talk at Christmas and things like that, and it was the same as the way he looked when I gave him soup in the kitchen..." She shrugged. "I told him I didn't want him to go anywhere, and not to hate himself. It was an accident, after all.
"And once I told him not to leave... it just fell into place. Sam was right. This is the way things are supposed to be. The imprint doesn't create anything that couldn't have been there in the first place, it just... forces the issue, Bella. That's all."
I tried to put all of this together. It felt like it almost fit, almost... but something still eluded me. "No. No, that doesn't make sense. You didn't need any of that. They're supposed to be what we want, right? Once you told Sam you didn't want him... he should have gone."
Emily shook her head. "That only works on little stuff. Orders don't affect the big things."
I frowned. "Jacob thinks it does."
"Jacob's wrong." I bristled, and Emily amended, "Jacob's mistaken. It's not his fault, pretty much everyone's got different ideas about how the imprint works." She ticked off her fingers. "Sam thinks it's about being what the imprintee needs. Jared and Kim... I have no idea what they think."
"I don't think they care one way or the other," I murmured.
Emily snorted slightly. "They're probably the lucky ones. Now, the Council -- they think it's driven by bloodlines. That the imprint matches people with the best genetic compatibility to create the next generation of werewolves."
My eyes widened, and I crossed my arms protectively over my belly. "Babies?" I squeaked. "This is about having babies?"
"According to the Council," Emily said. She glanced over my face, taking in my extreme paleness. "But, well, you sort of disprove that theory. Trust me, though, when all of this is over, someone's going to be going through your family tree with a fine-toothed comb." I winced. That would be hard to explain to Charlie. "I didn't think they had it right, anyway. I mean, Leah's pedigree is better than mine. It would have made much more sense for Sam to imprint on her if that was the way it worked."
"So what's your theory, then?"
Emily paused for a long moment, then said, "I think Sam's got it backwards. It's not about them being what we need, it's the other way around. The imprint makes sure they don't miss the person that can balance them the most." She shrugged. "The Council's got a point, after all: there has to be some kind of benefit to imprinting, or it wouldn't exist. We make them the best wolves they can be."
There were a hundred thousand things that confused me about that statement, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "So... Sam needs cake?"
"Yes." Emily smiled. "Sam needs cake. Sam needs cake and chicken and someone to tell him he has to take a night off. Sam needs normalcy. Sam needs someone to keep him sane."
This still didn't make any sense. "But I don't give Jacob anything," I said. Misery welled up in my throat. "I... I just take. I don't make him happy or cheer him up or do anything--"
"You broke your hand on my fiance's face defending him," Emily pointed out.
I flushed and held my cast to my chest. "I didn't think you knew about that."
"You didn't do him any damage. And I told him going to your house like that was bad manners, but he was in one of those 'I have to take care of every problem in the world right this minute' moods and he didn't listen to me. So it was a good lesson for him to learn." Emily studied me for a long moment, then said, "Jacob didn't phase until much later than anyone expected. He didn't phase because you were making him so happy. You do something good for him. He wouldn't have imprinted on you otherwise. And you would be making him happy now if he wasn't so afraid."
I didn't think it was quite that simple.
I was new to this; I wasn't the cleverest, or the most intuitive person; I was broken and messy and painfully human in this world of demigods. But one thing I did know was Jacob, and no matter what the truth of imprinting was -- whether it was about soulmates, or babies, or maintaining sanity -- I knew he would never be happy with this. Not ever. He would never be okay with the issue being forced. And I wasn't all that sure I was okay with it, either.
My life always seemed to come to impasses.
Emily was waiting for a response. "You see?" she said hopefully. "There's no reason for you to worry so much. Everything will work out the way it's supposed to."
I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." I hoped she couldn't tell that I was lying -- or, in this instance, fudging the truth. I did feel better. My head wasn't on the table anymore.
But I wondered if I was going to shiver forever.
***
After several hours of cleaning and organizing and tilling the bonfire ash back into the garden, Emily decided I needed to know how to make a pie crust. She seemed to be determined to make up for the heated words we'd exchanged, and was ridiculously enthusiastic about the prospect of teaching me, in spite of my protests. Baking was simply not my strength. Eventually, I vowed, I would cook a lasagna for the pack, or maybe a meatloaf; I was sure it wouldn't be as good as whatever Emily could cook, but at least I would know how.
Something seemed strange about her, though. Every now and then her words would simply fade off, or her eyes would go unfocused. Then she'd shake herself and return right to whatever she had been doing.
It was beginning to make me nervous.
"Okay, now," Emily said, pushing a bag of flour to the side on the counter, "when you add the butter you have to--"
She stiffened, her hands halting in the bowl.
At the exact same moment, my cell phone rang in my pocket.
"Emily?" I said hesitantly, ignoring the ringing. "Are you all right?"
She didn't answer -- but all the color drained out of her face, leaving her skin an ashen yellow that contrasted sharply with the scarlet red of her scars. Her eyes flicked to the door; I followed her gaze and glanced out the window, but I didn't see anything.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
"What's wrong?" Was she having a seizure? I'd never seen anyone have a seizure. Did seizures look like this?
"Sam." This time she managed to make noise, her breath coming out in a tiny whisper.
A heavy weight began to press against my ribcage. She'd know, she had said. She would know if something was wrong.
"Emily, sit down before you fall down." I pulled a chair out from the table and tried to guide her into it, but she resisted, pushing my hands away roughly, leaving floury smudges over us both. She only had eyes for the front door.
"Sam."
The ringing stopped.
"Sam's okay, Emily, come on," I said, still trying to move her toward the chair. "I'm sure he's fine. It's... a false alarm, or something. Because we were talking about all those things." I was lying through my teeth, but Emily looked like she was about to pass out. "There's nothing wrong, don't worry."
I started checking my own feelings as fast as I could. The nervousness I'd felt earlier had deepened abruptly into sickening dread. Was that what it would feel like if something was wrong with Jacob? Would I know? Would I freeze up too? How was I supposed to know the difference between normal worry and something worse? If something was wrong with Sam, how was it remotely possible that Jacob would be okay, too? Or was it really a false alarm after all?
I felt the breath start to leave my body -- I began to get light-headed -- was that the feeling I should be looking for?
"Sam..." Emily was trying to get past me now, to go for the front door. I grabbed her arm and she shoved my hands away again, dodging my reach as I gasped, reaching for a chair. Why couldn't I breathe? Could Jacob not breathe? Or was I just panicking?
I bent over at the waist and forced oxygen into my lungs -- one breath, in and out. Two breaths, in and out. Three. The fuzziness started to fade.
The front door slammed into the living room wall as Emily tore out of the house.
Too much too much too much... I forced in another lungful of air, then made myself straighten up, and ran after Emily into the cool dark of evening.
***
Chapter Eleven: Options
Sanity Update: Whole chapter of explanation for Jasper -- didn't care. Whole chapter of explanation for Rosalie -- really didn't care. Whole chapter of explanation for Carlisle -- really super extra didn't care. Sam/Emily/Leah triangle, and Meyer only gives us a couple paragraphs? Fuck that shit. If I'm getting all my backstories through exposition disguised as one-sided dialogue, then I want it to be about someone fucking interesting, goddammit! Why? Why did the saga not give us these things? Why do we still not know who Embry's father is? How could this fucking woman sketch out the beginnings of fucking interesting characters and then just fucking toss them aside like fucking garbage to fucking focus on a bunch of boring as shit motherfucking sparklepires? How? HOW?! HOW CAN THESE BOOKS BE BESTSELLERS I DON'T UNDERSTAAAAAAANNNNND!!! (By the way, Oktoberfest is going on down the street. Do you know how hard it is to write about vampires and werewolves with the sound of accordions coming in through your windows? HARD.)
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Twilight (Team Jacob)
Rating: T
Characters: Bella, Jacob, Charlie, and others (J/B)
Genre: Romance/Angst/Wolfpack!Humor
Warnings: Language, violence, and references to adult behavior
banner courtesy of lilabut
Summary: Jacob imprints on Bella. It changes things. A re-write of New Moon, beginning on page 242 in Chapter 10: "The Meadow." ( Link to the beginning.)
Chapter Ten:
The Disclaimer Strikes Back: This may come as a shock to you, but there are parts of this fic that are directly lifted from New Moon and other parts of the Twilight saga. I know, I know, I'm just as surprised as you are. But those parts? They don't belong to me. And I'm not Stephenie Meyer, though I might go as her for Halloween.
i get so tired working so hard for our survival / i look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
Sara Bareilles, "In Your Eyes"
10. Insight
Jacob didn't come back to the bonfire. In the end, it was Embry that rode home with me as my bodyguard; I was silent, and he very wisely kept his mouth shut as well.
I phoned Billy and asked him to have Jacob call me when he got home. Billy took the message, but warned that he didn't think Jacob was likely to be in until very late. I said that I would pick up no matter what hour it was.
I watched a baseball game with Charlie, which at least seemed to feature a lot more strategy than simply running a ball back and forth. He explained some of the finer details, like the difference between a curveball and a changeup, until finally I asked, "Hey, Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you sit on the couch?"
Charlie turned and gave me a strange look, but said, "Sure." He got out of the recliner and settled onto the sofa -- then his eyes widened as I scooted over and leaned my head on his shoulder.
After a few long moments, my father gently stroked my hair. "Are you okay, kiddo?"
I nodded, knowing that if I tried to speak I would start to cry.
"Uh... do you want to talk about it?"
I shook my head.
"Okay." And he continued to stroke my hair as he told me all about breaking sliders.
***
It was still midnight in the forest -- the sky the deepest of blacks, but the moon full and shining. I stood in front of the dying oak again; the moss had climbed all the way up the trunk and was beginning to consume the branches.
I felt like I should do something, like there was some action I should be taking. Something. My hands twitched with it. I didn't want to peel away the moss, not anymore, but maybe I should water it? Or chop down the tree, let it rot on the ground?
But I left it alone. The moss and tree seemed to know what to do all on their own...
There was no Missed Call on my cell phone when I woke up.
***
I had hoped Jacob would come back in the morning for bodyguard duty, but that foolish optimism was quickly dashed; when I opened the front door just after Charlie had left for work, it was Jared who leaned against the frame looking like death warmed over. "Are you all right?"
He yawned. "Just tired. No big deal."
"Yeah, yeah, you're all big tough werewolves who don't need any rest," I said bitterly. I glanced down; he was still wearing those ridiculous -- and now extremely dirty -- tuxedo pants. It reminded me that I still hadn't found any shoes... but then an idea came to me. "Hang on for a minute, okay?"
"Sure," he said, rubbing his eyes like a little boy.
It took me a few trips through the house to find what I was looking for, but eventually I sat down on the stairs with everything I needed. I tossed Jared a can of Coke; he popped it open with a fizzy noise and drank it in one gulp. "Thanks," he said. Then he burped. "What are you doing?"
"Making shorts." Using a pair of fabric scissors, I cut a pair of Charlie's sweats just below the knee. He had a lot more spare sweats than shoes; he'd never miss them. When I was finished, I held the pants out with a smile -- then faltered at the almost angry look on Jared's face. "What?"
"I don't need charity, Bella," he said coldly.
"It's not charity!" I protested, taken aback. "I just... thought you might want them, is all. So you wouldn't have to wear light blue anymore--"
"They're fine. I'll manage." I'd never heard Jared talk like this before... and I realized that I must have genuinely insulted him.
"Okay," I said feebly, lowering the sweats. "I'm sorry." I couldn't do anything right, anything useful, not even this. "I just thought... I mean, Emily bakes, and I'm sure Kim does something really helpful too, so I thought..." Whenever Edward had taken me to a fancy restaurant in Seattle, or offered to simply buy me a new car when my truck made the smallest rattle, I'd burned with the discomfort of the inequality. This was on a much smaller scale, but I still should have known better. "I'm really sorry. It was dumb."
After a long moment, Jared sighed and took the sweats from my hands. "I did complain to you about these stupid pants, after all," he said grudgingly. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. Come on."
I stared at my feet as we walked to the truck; I was pretty sure the humiliated blush would never leave my face.
"Besides," Jared conceded as I pulled us out of the driveway, "you're right -- Emily and Kim are really helpful. So I can see why you'd want to do something too."
"What does Kim do?" I asked, figuring that would be a safe subject.
I was right -- Jared lit up instantly. "Oh, she does lots of things," he said enthusiastically. "I'm missing tons of school, and she's taking notes and catching me up and sending in my homework with my name on it. I didn't ask her to," he clarified, "she offered. I definitely would have flunked out by now if it wasn't for her."
"Oh." That seemed... well, like cheating. But considering Jared was out day and night risking his life to keep his people safe, a little leeway on schoolwork was hardly an unfair request. I wondered how Jacob would hold up once spring break was over. "That's really sweet of her."
"It is," he beamed. "She's always sweet. And she's so smart, Bella. Whenever she explains stuff to me, it sticks. I could never remember how many electrons were in the different elements, but when she talks about it it just sinks in. She thinks she might be a teacher. She'd be a great teacher."
I tried to imagine the girl from the bonfire standing up in front of a full classroom. It was difficult to picture, but maybe with some training she'd lose some of her shyness. "That sounds nice."
"And she talks all the time," Jared continued to gush. "It's great. I have an awful day and then I go to see her, and she just goes on about happy things, or funny things, and then everything is so much better and I've forgotten whatever was making me upset. She's so good at that. I don't know what I'd do without her. Go crazy, probably."
I was no longer certain that we were talking about the same person. "I didn't realize Kim was so outgoing," I said neutrally, hoping not to offend. The last thing I needed to do was make Jared think that I was insulting his imprint.
"She's just quiet around the guys and Emily." Jared shook his head. "She's kind of scared of them 'cause she's younger. She's worried they'll hate her if she says something wrong. I've tried to tell her that there's nothing she says that's wrong and that no one could hate her, but she's nervous anyway." He smiled at me. "She likes you, though, she told me."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad. She seems like a nice girl."
"She's the best," Jared sighed happily.
***
My plan had been to pretend like nothing had happened and act perfectly normal. I failed. Within minutes I found myself face-down at Emily's table, my forehead sticking to a placemat. "I'm ruining Jacob's life," I said morosely.
I felt a sudden warmth on one side of my face; Emily had sat a steaming mug of tea next to my cheek. "You're overreacting a little."
"No, I'm not. He's miserable. Everything I do is wrong. He's never going to speak to me again."
"I highly doubt that." There was a scraping noise; Emily was pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting in it. "Jacob is being an idiot, but he'll come around."
"He's not being an idiot," I grumbled peevishly, raising my head. "Don't say that about him. He's fine. It's me. It's all me."
Emily raised an eyebrow, sipped her tea, and said nothing.
"It is," I insisted.
"Okay," she said.
I sighed heavily and dropped my face back to the table. "He thinks I'm brainwashed," I whispered, my voice rendered indistinct by the placemat against my lips. "He thinks I don't believe in him."
"Well, he is trying to do the impossible."
"Maybe it's not impossible," I said. "Maybe he can beat the imprint, except now he can't do it because he thinks I think he can't do it, maybe he could do it if it wasn't for me--"
"Bella," Emily interrupted me firmly, "drink your tea."
I raised my head a second time, caught Emily's no-nonsense stare, and brought the mug to my lips. It was flavored with orange spice and a touch of honey and tasted, like everything from Emily's kitchen, absolutely delicious.
"I understand that Jacob is having a rough time," she said. "But what he's trying to do? It can't be done. It's not a matter of strength of will. You're his soul mate, and that's that. The imprint didn't create that. It only showed it to him."
"But--"
"Keep drinking," she commanded.
I meekly took another sip of tea.
"This isn't your fault," Emily continued. "You didn't do anything. Jacob is just wasting his time and his energy because he can't admit he's wrong."
Indignation rose up in me -- even though I'd said nearly the same thing to Jacob, it felt different coming out of someone else's mouth. It felt like an insult. Before I could get a handle on the sudden rush of anger, I snapped, "How would you know whether fighting the imprint is a waste of time? You and Sam didn't resist it."
I regretted my rash words almost instantly; Emily's warm, open face went ice cold. "You think it was that easy?" Her voice was hard in a way that didn't suit her. "You think you know more about how this works than I do?"
I swallowed, but held my ground. Emily had taken her cousin's -- her best friend's -- boyfriend, and no matter how nice she was, no matter how harsh or unfair the price might have been afterward, it was still wrong. "Jacob told me that Sam came to you the next day. That's hardly much of a struggle."
"Sam didn't understand what was happening," Emily shot back, and in her tone I heard the same fire I had heard in my own when she'd insulted Jacob. "Jacob and Jared benefited from what he learned, just like in everything else. Sam phased alone, patrolled alone, and imprinted alone. Don't presume to know what he went through. And don't you dare judge him for not getting everything right."
"And what about you?" I retorted. "You could have said no. You could have sent him back to Leah."
"It doesn't work like that, Bella."
"Jacob says it does."
"Well, Jacob doesn't know what the hell he's talking about."
"At least he's trying!" She didn't get to talk about him like that. "That's more than you did."
I watched as Emily visibly deflated in front of me. Her shoulders slumped and her breath left her with a long sigh as she lowered her eyes to her mug of tea. "You're right," she said quietly. "It is. I don't think it would have made any difference... but, yes. I could have tried."
I swallowed, feeling shaky and awkward as my flash of temper faded. "Why didn't you?"
She bit her lower lip -- one side full and beautiful, the other side pulled into a broken, twisted slash. "Because I fell in love with him."
"That fast? You didn't even know Sam."
Emily gave me a confused look. "Yes I did. He was with Leah for two years. Leah is -- was -- my best friend. Do you think we would never have crossed paths?"
"Oh." I hadn't thought of that -- though now that she mentioned it, I did recall Jacob saying something about Sam seeing Emily a few times before the imprint.
"I knew him," she continued. "We'd talked at family gatherings, things like that, and he was just... so... and a few times I almost thought..." Emily drifted off, then smiled sadly. "I was so jealous, you have no idea. I even stopped coming to visit because I was afraid Leah would notice."
This wasn't raising my opinion of the situation at all. "So you didn't mind stealing her boyfriend?"
"No," Emily said sharply. I noticed she was tracing her pinky around the edge of her cup, the one with the missing end. "I would never have done anything. Even if their relationship had ended, Sam was completely off limits. I knew that." She swallowed. "But then... Leah started calling me. She said Sam had changed, that he was disappearing all the time, that he had this temper all of the sudden and wouldn't talk to her about what was wrong, that nothing she did seemed to help. She would yell about it, and sometimes she would cry...
"So I agreed to come visit. Take her out for some girl time, listen to her in person. And I was going to sit down with Sam too and demand he start treating her right." Emily reached across the table to grasp my hand, and her voice was desperate as she pleaded, "I was, Bella, I had no intention of anything else. You have to believe me. No one else does. No one knows what it's like except for you."
The sincerity in her eyes couldn't have been faked. I nodded slowly, and as she exhaled in relief and released my hand, I realized that Emily had been alone for much, much too long.
"Then... it happened." Emily looked down. "I could tell something was...different... and I went back home right away. But Sam was there the next morning, telling me he loved me, that it was over with Leah, that he'd do anything if I would just give him a chance..." She shook her head ruefully, lost her own memories. "I don't think he even knew what he was saying, honestly. He looked terrible."
My sympathy faded again. "So, what, you just--"
"I slammed the door in his face, Bella." She raised her eyebrows at me. "What else could I have done? I had no idea what to say. I left him on the porch and I called Leah." Emily looked sadder at this than she had at any point so far. "She started screaming at me. She thought that I'd been going behind her back, that all those times Sam had disappeared he'd been coming to me, that that was why I'd stopped coming to visit... I don't blame her at all. It was the only explanation that made sense." She looked away. "Of course, when word got out... everyone thought the same thing.
"And I was alone. Even my brother didn't believe me, and... and I was so cold, all the time..."
The cold. I shivered in sympathy, feeling the frigidness in my bones that no matter what, I couldn't adjust to. "So it does come from the imprint."
"If it makes you feel any better," Emily said, "it goes away after you stop fighting. Sam's body temperature dropped too; he's only about 104 degrees now. I think I take the extra."
Holy crow. "That's bizarre."
"The imprint wants to make sure there are no mistakes, I guess." Her face set in grim determination. "But I would have shivered forever, Bella. I would never have given in because of that. It was just... an uncomfortable side effect."
"So why did you?" I asked. I couldn't help but feel compassion for her. Emily was right -- I was the only one who could understand any of this, even if I couldn't understand all of it. "Why did you give in?"
She shrugged. "Sam wouldn't go away. He practically lived on my front porch. He wouldn't give up. It was winter, and he'd just sit out there in the cold and snow, hoping I'd let him in. Eventually... I did." Emily smiled slightly. "I didn't want him to freeze to death. If he was going to be around all the time, I figured I ought to at least give him some soup. And then I just sort of... started letting him in every day, and we'd talk some, and it was so comfortable...
"By then he'd discovered the legends and figured out what had happened. Eventually he told me he was a werewolf -- that was a surprise," she said wryly, "and he started talking about soul mates and how it meant that we were supposed to be together. And I... I wanted to say yes." She smiled again. "I'd always had a crush on him, and well... it's hard to resist that level of commitment and adoration."
"I guess," I said doubtfully.
"Anyway. I couldn't say yes, because of how much it would hurt Leah, but Sam could tell I had feelings for him and he didn't understand... that's how this happened," she said, gesturing at her face. At my look of horror, she quickly clarified, "He didn't hit me. It was nothing like that. He just got frustrated, and he didn't have nearly so much control then; you've seen how big they get, how fast it happens. I was standing close and he literally phased on top of me." Her smile turned grim. "It hurt. A lot."
I thought of the explosions I'd witnessed, how Jacob and Paul had rolled across the road, snapping and clawing, their enormous bulk almost beyond imagination. It was a miracle Emily was even alive.
"When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Sam was there, but he wouldn't even come near me. He just... sat in the corner and begged me to tell him what to do. That he'd go away and never come back. He offered to jump off the roof and he was deadly serious." Her eyes filled with tears again. "And Bella, he looked just like he used to, back when we would just talk at Christmas and things like that, and it was the same as the way he looked when I gave him soup in the kitchen..." She shrugged. "I told him I didn't want him to go anywhere, and not to hate himself. It was an accident, after all.
"And once I told him not to leave... it just fell into place. Sam was right. This is the way things are supposed to be. The imprint doesn't create anything that couldn't have been there in the first place, it just... forces the issue, Bella. That's all."
I tried to put all of this together. It felt like it almost fit, almost... but something still eluded me. "No. No, that doesn't make sense. You didn't need any of that. They're supposed to be what we want, right? Once you told Sam you didn't want him... he should have gone."
Emily shook her head. "That only works on little stuff. Orders don't affect the big things."
I frowned. "Jacob thinks it does."
"Jacob's wrong." I bristled, and Emily amended, "Jacob's mistaken. It's not his fault, pretty much everyone's got different ideas about how the imprint works." She ticked off her fingers. "Sam thinks it's about being what the imprintee needs. Jared and Kim... I have no idea what they think."
"I don't think they care one way or the other," I murmured.
Emily snorted slightly. "They're probably the lucky ones. Now, the Council -- they think it's driven by bloodlines. That the imprint matches people with the best genetic compatibility to create the next generation of werewolves."
My eyes widened, and I crossed my arms protectively over my belly. "Babies?" I squeaked. "This is about having babies?"
"According to the Council," Emily said. She glanced over my face, taking in my extreme paleness. "But, well, you sort of disprove that theory. Trust me, though, when all of this is over, someone's going to be going through your family tree with a fine-toothed comb." I winced. That would be hard to explain to Charlie. "I didn't think they had it right, anyway. I mean, Leah's pedigree is better than mine. It would have made much more sense for Sam to imprint on her if that was the way it worked."
"So what's your theory, then?"
Emily paused for a long moment, then said, "I think Sam's got it backwards. It's not about them being what we need, it's the other way around. The imprint makes sure they don't miss the person that can balance them the most." She shrugged. "The Council's got a point, after all: there has to be some kind of benefit to imprinting, or it wouldn't exist. We make them the best wolves they can be."
There were a hundred thousand things that confused me about that statement, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "So... Sam needs cake?"
"Yes." Emily smiled. "Sam needs cake. Sam needs cake and chicken and someone to tell him he has to take a night off. Sam needs normalcy. Sam needs someone to keep him sane."
This still didn't make any sense. "But I don't give Jacob anything," I said. Misery welled up in my throat. "I... I just take. I don't make him happy or cheer him up or do anything--"
"You broke your hand on my fiance's face defending him," Emily pointed out.
I flushed and held my cast to my chest. "I didn't think you knew about that."
"You didn't do him any damage. And I told him going to your house like that was bad manners, but he was in one of those 'I have to take care of every problem in the world right this minute' moods and he didn't listen to me. So it was a good lesson for him to learn." Emily studied me for a long moment, then said, "Jacob didn't phase until much later than anyone expected. He didn't phase because you were making him so happy. You do something good for him. He wouldn't have imprinted on you otherwise. And you would be making him happy now if he wasn't so afraid."
I didn't think it was quite that simple.
I was new to this; I wasn't the cleverest, or the most intuitive person; I was broken and messy and painfully human in this world of demigods. But one thing I did know was Jacob, and no matter what the truth of imprinting was -- whether it was about soulmates, or babies, or maintaining sanity -- I knew he would never be happy with this. Not ever. He would never be okay with the issue being forced. And I wasn't all that sure I was okay with it, either.
My life always seemed to come to impasses.
Emily was waiting for a response. "You see?" she said hopefully. "There's no reason for you to worry so much. Everything will work out the way it's supposed to."
I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." I hoped she couldn't tell that I was lying -- or, in this instance, fudging the truth. I did feel better. My head wasn't on the table anymore.
But I wondered if I was going to shiver forever.
***
After several hours of cleaning and organizing and tilling the bonfire ash back into the garden, Emily decided I needed to know how to make a pie crust. She seemed to be determined to make up for the heated words we'd exchanged, and was ridiculously enthusiastic about the prospect of teaching me, in spite of my protests. Baking was simply not my strength. Eventually, I vowed, I would cook a lasagna for the pack, or maybe a meatloaf; I was sure it wouldn't be as good as whatever Emily could cook, but at least I would know how.
Something seemed strange about her, though. Every now and then her words would simply fade off, or her eyes would go unfocused. Then she'd shake herself and return right to whatever she had been doing.
It was beginning to make me nervous.
"Okay, now," Emily said, pushing a bag of flour to the side on the counter, "when you add the butter you have to--"
She stiffened, her hands halting in the bowl.
At the exact same moment, my cell phone rang in my pocket.
"Emily?" I said hesitantly, ignoring the ringing. "Are you all right?"
She didn't answer -- but all the color drained out of her face, leaving her skin an ashen yellow that contrasted sharply with the scarlet red of her scars. Her eyes flicked to the door; I followed her gaze and glanced out the window, but I didn't see anything.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
"What's wrong?" Was she having a seizure? I'd never seen anyone have a seizure. Did seizures look like this?
"Sam." This time she managed to make noise, her breath coming out in a tiny whisper.
A heavy weight began to press against my ribcage. She'd know, she had said. She would know if something was wrong.
"Emily, sit down before you fall down." I pulled a chair out from the table and tried to guide her into it, but she resisted, pushing my hands away roughly, leaving floury smudges over us both. She only had eyes for the front door.
"Sam."
The ringing stopped.
"Sam's okay, Emily, come on," I said, still trying to move her toward the chair. "I'm sure he's fine. It's... a false alarm, or something. Because we were talking about all those things." I was lying through my teeth, but Emily looked like she was about to pass out. "There's nothing wrong, don't worry."
I started checking my own feelings as fast as I could. The nervousness I'd felt earlier had deepened abruptly into sickening dread. Was that what it would feel like if something was wrong with Jacob? Would I know? Would I freeze up too? How was I supposed to know the difference between normal worry and something worse? If something was wrong with Sam, how was it remotely possible that Jacob would be okay, too? Or was it really a false alarm after all?
I felt the breath start to leave my body -- I began to get light-headed -- was that the feeling I should be looking for?
"Sam..." Emily was trying to get past me now, to go for the front door. I grabbed her arm and she shoved my hands away again, dodging my reach as I gasped, reaching for a chair. Why couldn't I breathe? Could Jacob not breathe? Or was I just panicking?
I bent over at the waist and forced oxygen into my lungs -- one breath, in and out. Two breaths, in and out. Three. The fuzziness started to fade.
The front door slammed into the living room wall as Emily tore out of the house.
Too much too much too much... I forced in another lungful of air, then made myself straighten up, and ran after Emily into the cool dark of evening.
***
Chapter Eleven: Options
Sanity Update: Whole chapter of explanation for Jasper -- didn't care. Whole chapter of explanation for Rosalie -- really didn't care. Whole chapter of explanation for Carlisle -- really super extra didn't care. Sam/Emily/Leah triangle, and Meyer only gives us a couple paragraphs? Fuck that shit. If I'm getting all my backstories through exposition disguised as one-sided dialogue, then I want it to be about someone fucking interesting, goddammit! Why? Why did the saga not give us these things? Why do we still not know who Embry's father is? How could this fucking woman sketch out the beginnings of fucking interesting characters and then just fucking toss them aside like fucking garbage to fucking focus on a bunch of boring as shit motherfucking sparklepires? How? HOW?! HOW CAN THESE BOOKS BE BESTSELLERS I DON'T UNDERSTAAAAAAANNNNND!!! (By the way, Oktoberfest is going on down the street. Do you know how hard it is to write about vampires and werewolves with the sound of accordions coming in through your windows? HARD.)