FIC: Saltwater (PG-13) Twilight
Title: Saltwater: That She Would 5/20
Author: Niki Jane
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Edward/Bella
Table/Prompt: Gamma/Coercion
Word Count: 976
Summary: An AU look at what might have happened if Rosalie hadn't called Edward with the news of Bella's 'suicide'. Set during New Moon.
Author's Notes: Another little piece. This is prompt five from the twilight20 fic table.
PART I., PART II., PART III., PART IV.
------------------------------
He paced back and forth across the torn up linoleum flooring that had covered the kitchen floor for as long as he could remember. He remembered crawling across the floor, back when it looked new. He remembered playing with the blocks his father had carved for him on the floor, when the wear and tear was just beginning to become noticeable. These were the vaguest memories, the ones covered up by stuff like the pack and legends and Bella. Covered up by stuff like chemistry class and rebuilding an engine.
He wondered how much longer they could stretch out the camping trip that was keeping Charlie from having every officer in the state crawling all over the reservation. He wondered how much longer Billy could lie to Charlie's face and how they were going to explain this away.
The camping story was stretching a little thin, Charlie had been asking when they were coming back, more and more. He was asking if everything was okay. And Billy had lied to his face, said that everyone was keeping in contact with him. He'd said that everything was fine, they were just kids having fun. It was summer vacation, he kept saying, let them enjoy themselves. Let them stretch their wings a little bit.
But he couldn't help but wonder when Charlie would ask him to have Bella call him. What he would do when Bella didn't call. Couldn't call, not the way she was now.
He wondered how much longer they could bullshit their way through this one. How much longer could Billy lie before Charlie was up here, knee deep in the reservation himself, looking for his daughter.
Jacob flinched, it was hard thinking about Bella. He hadn't been to see her in weeks, Emily was taking care of her, Sam kept telling him that it was okay. Everything was okay. But he wouldn't believe that until he saw it himself and he couldn't bring himself to go up there. He couldn't bring himself to watch Emily pour more antiseptic into Bella's wounds or peel off the bandages and he couldn't bring himself to look at Emily's face because it all could have been worse. It could always be worse, he knew, but this felt pretty damn bad to him.
He had promised her she would be safe with him. He had spent so many hours telling her how unsafe it was with the Cullen's, how lucky she was that they had left her alone. Because now she wouldn't live with danger on her heels, the possibility of death dogging her every foot step.
And he had lied, because now she was laid up at Sam's house and she could very possibly die. And even if she lived, he knew she would never look him in the eyes again. He knew that he would never see her lips curve up in that smile that only she had. Not again, not now.
He heard the creak of the wheel chair ramp, the door opening. Billy was home and he knew by the sadness coming off of him like radio waves that he had been with Charlie.
“Dad...”
Billy smiled up at him, wheeling himself into the kitchen with arms that were too big for the rest of his body. The muscles in his shoulders, his forearm, tensed and flexed until he slowed down. Stopped at the kitchen table and laid his big hands flat on it's surface.
“I don't know, son,” he said, softly. Billy had never judged him, never looked at him any different, no matter what he'd done. And now was no exception.
“How much longer?”
“I don't know, son,” Billy repeated. “I can't stand lying to Charlie. He's always been a good friend. When your mother--” Billy trailed off and Jacob's guts twisted into tight knots. He knew. Charlie had always been there for them, for Billy. And now he was forced to lie to him, to string him along helplessly and tell him how much fun his daughter was having. When, in truth, he might never see her again.
“I can't keep doing this to him,” Billy said, “Maybe the best thing to do would be to tell him, maybe he can handle this.”
Jacob flinched, lowered his heavy body down into one of the kitchen chairs that protested loudly underneath of his sudden weight. “No, dad.” He had to keep this going, had to give them just a little bit more time. Everything could change in a day. Two days, maybe three. He just had to give them a little more time and maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow this would all be okay.
“Dad, please,” he begged, “Just, let's give it a little more time. Just a little more.”
Billy shook his head sadly, “Ok...” his eyes flickered from Jacob's face down to the scarred table top. “Ok, son. Just a little bit more time, I don't know how much longer I can hold him off. He wants to speak to her, he says he's antsy with her gone this long. It's already been a week, Jacob.”
Just a little bit more time, a few more days and maybe she would wake up. Maybe she would be okay. Maybe she wouldn't hate him.
But he had to know that she would.
Author: Niki Jane
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Edward/Bella
Table/Prompt: Gamma/Coercion
Word Count: 976
Summary: An AU look at what might have happened if Rosalie hadn't called Edward with the news of Bella's 'suicide'. Set during New Moon.
Author's Notes: Another little piece. This is prompt five from the twilight20 fic table.
PART I., PART II., PART III., PART IV.
------------------------------
He paced back and forth across the torn up linoleum flooring that had covered the kitchen floor for as long as he could remember. He remembered crawling across the floor, back when it looked new. He remembered playing with the blocks his father had carved for him on the floor, when the wear and tear was just beginning to become noticeable. These were the vaguest memories, the ones covered up by stuff like the pack and legends and Bella. Covered up by stuff like chemistry class and rebuilding an engine.
He wondered how much longer they could stretch out the camping trip that was keeping Charlie from having every officer in the state crawling all over the reservation. He wondered how much longer Billy could lie to Charlie's face and how they were going to explain this away.
The camping story was stretching a little thin, Charlie had been asking when they were coming back, more and more. He was asking if everything was okay. And Billy had lied to his face, said that everyone was keeping in contact with him. He'd said that everything was fine, they were just kids having fun. It was summer vacation, he kept saying, let them enjoy themselves. Let them stretch their wings a little bit.
But he couldn't help but wonder when Charlie would ask him to have Bella call him. What he would do when Bella didn't call. Couldn't call, not the way she was now.
He wondered how much longer they could bullshit their way through this one. How much longer could Billy lie before Charlie was up here, knee deep in the reservation himself, looking for his daughter.
Jacob flinched, it was hard thinking about Bella. He hadn't been to see her in weeks, Emily was taking care of her, Sam kept telling him that it was okay. Everything was okay. But he wouldn't believe that until he saw it himself and he couldn't bring himself to go up there. He couldn't bring himself to watch Emily pour more antiseptic into Bella's wounds or peel off the bandages and he couldn't bring himself to look at Emily's face because it all could have been worse. It could always be worse, he knew, but this felt pretty damn bad to him.
He had promised her she would be safe with him. He had spent so many hours telling her how unsafe it was with the Cullen's, how lucky she was that they had left her alone. Because now she wouldn't live with danger on her heels, the possibility of death dogging her every foot step.
And he had lied, because now she was laid up at Sam's house and she could very possibly die. And even if she lived, he knew she would never look him in the eyes again. He knew that he would never see her lips curve up in that smile that only she had. Not again, not now.
He heard the creak of the wheel chair ramp, the door opening. Billy was home and he knew by the sadness coming off of him like radio waves that he had been with Charlie.
“Dad...”
Billy smiled up at him, wheeling himself into the kitchen with arms that were too big for the rest of his body. The muscles in his shoulders, his forearm, tensed and flexed until he slowed down. Stopped at the kitchen table and laid his big hands flat on it's surface.
“I don't know, son,” he said, softly. Billy had never judged him, never looked at him any different, no matter what he'd done. And now was no exception.
“How much longer?”
“I don't know, son,” Billy repeated. “I can't stand lying to Charlie. He's always been a good friend. When your mother--” Billy trailed off and Jacob's guts twisted into tight knots. He knew. Charlie had always been there for them, for Billy. And now he was forced to lie to him, to string him along helplessly and tell him how much fun his daughter was having. When, in truth, he might never see her again.
“I can't keep doing this to him,” Billy said, “Maybe the best thing to do would be to tell him, maybe he can handle this.”
Jacob flinched, lowered his heavy body down into one of the kitchen chairs that protested loudly underneath of his sudden weight. “No, dad.” He had to keep this going, had to give them just a little bit more time. Everything could change in a day. Two days, maybe three. He just had to give them a little more time and maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow this would all be okay.
“Dad, please,” he begged, “Just, let's give it a little more time. Just a little more.”
Billy shook his head sadly, “Ok...” his eyes flickered from Jacob's face down to the scarred table top. “Ok, son. Just a little bit more time, I don't know how much longer I can hold him off. He wants to speak to her, he says he's antsy with her gone this long. It's already been a week, Jacob.”
Just a little bit more time, a few more days and maybe she would wake up. Maybe she would be okay. Maybe she wouldn't hate him.
But he had to know that she would.