Come Early Morning [1/?]
Title: Come Early Morning
Fandom: Twilight (SPOILERS THROUGH BREAKING DAWN)
Summary: As virtuous men pass mildly away/ And whisper to their souls to go/ Whilst some of their sad friends do say/ The breath goes now, and some say, No- -John Donne, A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
Author's Notes: This is all your fault, ickle_lottie. So I dedicate it to you. I tried to do a one-shot, and it just didn't work. Also... IT'S SLASH. There, I said it. You are a bad influence, woman.
Warnings: Slash, language, spoilers (see above)
Rating: R
I stumble downstairs like a drunk, my feet too slow and stupid to obey my brain.
Dead. She’s dead.
I sit on the third step from the bottom and rest my head on my knees. Everything smells like blood, thick and metallic, covering up the usual sucker stench and asking me why I haven’t gotten the hell out yet. She’s dead; there’s no reason for me to stay anymore.
There really isn’t any reason for me, if I’m being honest.
I listen to Edward upstairs, still hammering on her chest, trying to force her heart into submission. No blood flow, no spread of venom, no magic healing, no Bella. It’s funny, in a way; me, the moron who couldn’t stop chasing her even after she was married, I’m the one to accept the impossible. She’s dead, and I know that, dead just like the demon child that suffocated inside her. I get it; he doesn’t.
I fall asleep, there on the stairs, listening to him trying to bring her back.
*****
When I wake up, he’s sitting next to me. Leeches don’t sleep, but he’s slumped against the wall, his eyes closed, his chest not moving. I barely have time to look at him before he speaks.
“Kill me.”
There isn’t any fire in it, but it is an order. He really expects me to put him out of his misery, like a sick dog. He catches the thought and makes a choking sound that might be a laugh.
“Just like a sick dog,” he whispers, and tilts his head up, exposing his throat. It’s beautiful, glittering white, perfect for ripping and biting and tearing. If I had been a wolf just then, I would have sunk my teeth into his throat and made him pay for everything.
The catch, though, is that I’m still human. And if anything, the human me makes less sense than the wolf me; at least, that’s what I’m going to blame it all on.
There’s no reason, none at all, for me to wrap my arms around him and pull him against me.
He sucks in a breath, probably shocked, and struggles a little bit. Struggle I like; it makes sense. But I’ve had enough wrestling experience with Quil and Embry to make it less than a fair fight, blood-sucker strength notwithstanding. I just tighten my grip and let him squirm. It’s like holding a fish, cold and writhing, but I don’t let go. I hold him, rocking a little bit, like I’m trying to comfort him. He suddenly goes limp in my arms and moans, soft and low.
“Jake,” he whispered, and his voice doesn’t sound calm and collected for once. “Jake, she’s…”
“I know,” I growl, but I don’t let go of him. “I know.”
He clenches his fists in my t-shirt and hangs on.
*****
People suffer nervous breakdowns all the time. And I mean, really, with all the crap that’s happened to me over the past couple of years, I deserve one. I’m an animal, for cripes’ sake. That deserves a nervous breakdown on its own.
It’s too bad what I’m doing now feels way too rational to blame on insanity. I mean, this is taking some work and some ingenuity, and crazy people don’t work like that. But I’m doing this and I keep doing this and I have got to be out of my mind.
The thing is, I don’t hate him anymore. He’s the bastard that killed Bella, but I can’t hate him for it. Not when he looks like this. He makes me think of her, the day she came into my garage looking like six kinds of hell, like she was falling apart bit by bit. And damn it, I’m treating him just like I treated her, and I have no idea why.
It’s trickier, with him. I’ve got to watch my mind, keep thinking about colors or music or landscapes, like my brain is on screensaver all the time. His face is harder to read than hers, so it’s hard to tell when I’m doing things right.
Oh, and he doesn’t want to be saved. That makes things really difficult.
Alice keeps me updated on the days he plans to kill himself, but she doesn’t really need to. I’m like the leech’s personal shadow these days. He asked me, once: why am I doing this? I should be first in line to kill him, he said. I told him that I was, I just hadn’t taken my turn yet. He didn’t smile, but his mouth twitched. He hasn’t asked again.
And I’m still here, trying to save the bloodsucker that killed the woman I loved.
There is something seriously wrong with me.
*****
I’ve moved in with the Cullens. Somebody…Alice, probably…has moved my stuff into Edward’s bedroom, and now it’s official. Seth will be excited, and Leah will be condescending, and Sam will lose his mind.
“You don’t have to stay.”
Shit. I came off screensaver.
“You’re really pretty good at it, you know. I try not to listen, but you’ve been making it really easy on me, the past few weeks.”
That’s what I live for.
“It feels like it.”
He says it quietly, like he’s afraid of what I’m going to say next. He sits on the edge of his ridiculous bed-the thing’s big enough to sleep a family of four, I swear-and doesn’t move. It’s his version of Bella’s arm-clutching, his moments of falling apart. He forgets his act for a minute or so and goes totally still, like a corpse. It takes me a second to register that I’m sitting beside him, wrapping my arms around him without thinking. He flinches at that; I haven’t touched him at all since Bella died.
“Would you just…” I hiss at him. He’s still again, and I get both arms around him.
Hugging Edward is a weird experience. In the pack, we were always touching: slapping each other on the back, wrestling, hugging, trying to kill each other…it was normal. Touching Edward at all isn’t normal, and hugging him is even less normal. It’s a little like hugging a park statue, plus a bad smell. He doesn’t hug back or react at all. And he’s cold.
Call it a twisted sense of humor, but I take that as kind of a challenge.
I tighten my grip a little bit and try to radiate heat through his shirt. I don’t know what that’s supposed to accomplish, really, but I press my chest against his shoulder and try to be as hot as I can be.
He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away from me, fast. It doesn’t take him half a second to be at the doorway, but he stops, his fingers on the doorframe like he could rip it off.
“You can sleep…” he says tightly, and waves at the bed.
“Uh, thanks,” I say. His jaw twitches.
“Good night.”
And he’s gone. I fall asleep on the monstrosity of the bed and try not to think too hard about the lingering coolness on my chest.
*****
“I’m going hunting,” Edward says one afternoon. I’m concentrating on trouncing Jasper and Emmett in Halo, and I didn’t hear him come in. While I’m in the middle of the resulting heart attack, Emmett kills me.
“Ha,” he says, the smug bastard. “You’re next, Jazz.”
“Doubt it,” Jasper says coolly, and blows Emmett away. Emmett growls.
“I said, I’m going hunting,” Edward tries again.
“This particular second?” Jasper answers. “We’ve got another controller. You can play if you promise not to cheat.”
“You know I can’t help it,” Edwards says, sighing. He looks tired.
“We’ll go,” Emmett says bracingly.
“You don’t have to. I was just letting you know where I was going.”
I stand and stretch.
“You two keep playing. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a good run. C’mon, Ed.”
“You’re going?” Jasper says at the same time Emmett chortles, “Ed?”
“You’re not going,” Edward says, like I’m supposed to obey him.
“I’m going.”
“Not.”
“Am.”
There’s a sudden calm that floods the room, and I serenely step over and punch Jasper in the arm. He winces.
“Just trying to help,” he says, holding up his hands. “Edward, just let him go. He’ll throw a fit if you don’t.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Remind me to bite your ankles after I phase,” I toss at him, already halfway out the door. “Edward, let’s go. Where are we headed?”
Edward growls and takes off running. I jump off the porch, phasing mid-air, and give chase. I feel bad about the ripped clothes, but I’ve learned it doesn’t take much to get Alice to whip out her twelve major credit cards, and there will probably be six new pairs of jeans in my-er, Edward’s-closet by the time we get back.
He’s fast, but I could trace that vampire stench in my sleep. I’ve gotten kind of used to it, living at the Cullen’s, so the sickly burning smell doesn’t completely hide the scent of the forest. I stretch my legs and run.
It doesn’t take long. I leap over a small hollow, land, and whip around to see Edward stand, slowly, licking a thin trickle of blood from his lips. There’s a dead deer in the hollow, but unless you knew what had happened, you’d think a taxidermist just got careless; there’s no obvious reason for this deer to be as cold and stiff as it is.
And now the meat is going to be dry, too.
“What are you doing?”
Ha. I didn’t block an entire pack’s worth of mental invasion for nothing.
“Yes, yes, you’re brilliant. Now what the hell are you doing?”
It’s funny, I think as I rip off a leg, but his voice sounds rougher right after…drinking, or whatever he calls it. Maybe the oily smooth voice is just part of the bait, and once you eat, you don’t need it so much. Argh. The meat is dry, and cool without blood to warm it. It’s a little like eating jerky, but without the flavor. I snap a bone and suck the marrow, which tastes better. Edward flinches.
“Are we not feeding you enough?”
Lovely. I’m the bloodsuckers’ new pet. I wonder if I’ll get a food bowl with my name on it.
A branch explodes slightly to the right of my head.
“Would you just stop?” Edward hisses, stepping over a hole where a young sapling used to be. He advances on me, slinking, like he’s about to rip my head off. Literally.
“You hate us,” he continues, voice low and growling. “You hate me especially. By nature, we’re meant to be enemies, and by fault or accident, I also happen to be the reason the woman you loved is dead. Why can’t you just leave me and my family alone?”
Why do you keep feeding me? You know stray dogs…they’ll stay if you feed them, I think at him. I turn back to the deer, pretending to ignore him. Behind me, there’s a muffled howl of rage.
“Why?” he spits, flying in front of me with disconcerting speed. I snarl at him. “Just tell me why!”
I snap and jump over the deer, hitting his shoulders with my front paws. I’ve caught him by surprise; he falls backward and I land solidly on top of him. Before he can flip me off, I’ve got my teeth against his throat, barely brushing his skin.
“Do it,” he whispers, suddenly very still. “Please.”
Oh, no. Not so simple, bloodsucker.
You’re a bastard, I think. You’re a murderer, at least in my book. You’re a leech, which is worse than both. But…
I flick out my tongue and drag it the length of his throat, covering the spots where my teeth were. In one of the best moments of my life, Edward squeaks like a girl and starts thrashing. I jump off of him. My mouth tastes like leech, burning and sweet and bitter all at once. I want to throw up.
And I want to lick him again.
He’s still writhing on the leaves, like my saliva is acid.
Don’t be such a girl, Edward.
“You licked me!” he shrieks. Like a girl, I might add.
You won’t die.
He stops thrashing and his face is serious again. “I won’t?”
No. I won’t let you.
I have no idea why, but I won’t.
Fandom: Twilight (SPOILERS THROUGH BREAKING DAWN)
Summary: As virtuous men pass mildly away/ And whisper to their souls to go/ Whilst some of their sad friends do say/ The breath goes now, and some say, No- -John Donne, A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
Author's Notes: This is all your fault, ickle_lottie. So I dedicate it to you. I tried to do a one-shot, and it just didn't work. Also... IT'S SLASH. There, I said it. You are a bad influence, woman.
Warnings: Slash, language, spoilers (see above)
Rating: R
I stumble downstairs like a drunk, my feet too slow and stupid to obey my brain.
Dead. She’s dead.
I sit on the third step from the bottom and rest my head on my knees. Everything smells like blood, thick and metallic, covering up the usual sucker stench and asking me why I haven’t gotten the hell out yet. She’s dead; there’s no reason for me to stay anymore.
There really isn’t any reason for me, if I’m being honest.
I listen to Edward upstairs, still hammering on her chest, trying to force her heart into submission. No blood flow, no spread of venom, no magic healing, no Bella. It’s funny, in a way; me, the moron who couldn’t stop chasing her even after she was married, I’m the one to accept the impossible. She’s dead, and I know that, dead just like the demon child that suffocated inside her. I get it; he doesn’t.
I fall asleep, there on the stairs, listening to him trying to bring her back.
*****
When I wake up, he’s sitting next to me. Leeches don’t sleep, but he’s slumped against the wall, his eyes closed, his chest not moving. I barely have time to look at him before he speaks.
“Kill me.”
There isn’t any fire in it, but it is an order. He really expects me to put him out of his misery, like a sick dog. He catches the thought and makes a choking sound that might be a laugh.
“Just like a sick dog,” he whispers, and tilts his head up, exposing his throat. It’s beautiful, glittering white, perfect for ripping and biting and tearing. If I had been a wolf just then, I would have sunk my teeth into his throat and made him pay for everything.
The catch, though, is that I’m still human. And if anything, the human me makes less sense than the wolf me; at least, that’s what I’m going to blame it all on.
There’s no reason, none at all, for me to wrap my arms around him and pull him against me.
He sucks in a breath, probably shocked, and struggles a little bit. Struggle I like; it makes sense. But I’ve had enough wrestling experience with Quil and Embry to make it less than a fair fight, blood-sucker strength notwithstanding. I just tighten my grip and let him squirm. It’s like holding a fish, cold and writhing, but I don’t let go. I hold him, rocking a little bit, like I’m trying to comfort him. He suddenly goes limp in my arms and moans, soft and low.
“Jake,” he whispered, and his voice doesn’t sound calm and collected for once. “Jake, she’s…”
“I know,” I growl, but I don’t let go of him. “I know.”
He clenches his fists in my t-shirt and hangs on.
*****
People suffer nervous breakdowns all the time. And I mean, really, with all the crap that’s happened to me over the past couple of years, I deserve one. I’m an animal, for cripes’ sake. That deserves a nervous breakdown on its own.
It’s too bad what I’m doing now feels way too rational to blame on insanity. I mean, this is taking some work and some ingenuity, and crazy people don’t work like that. But I’m doing this and I keep doing this and I have got to be out of my mind.
The thing is, I don’t hate him anymore. He’s the bastard that killed Bella, but I can’t hate him for it. Not when he looks like this. He makes me think of her, the day she came into my garage looking like six kinds of hell, like she was falling apart bit by bit. And damn it, I’m treating him just like I treated her, and I have no idea why.
It’s trickier, with him. I’ve got to watch my mind, keep thinking about colors or music or landscapes, like my brain is on screensaver all the time. His face is harder to read than hers, so it’s hard to tell when I’m doing things right.
Oh, and he doesn’t want to be saved. That makes things really difficult.
Alice keeps me updated on the days he plans to kill himself, but she doesn’t really need to. I’m like the leech’s personal shadow these days. He asked me, once: why am I doing this? I should be first in line to kill him, he said. I told him that I was, I just hadn’t taken my turn yet. He didn’t smile, but his mouth twitched. He hasn’t asked again.
And I’m still here, trying to save the bloodsucker that killed the woman I loved.
There is something seriously wrong with me.
*****
I’ve moved in with the Cullens. Somebody…Alice, probably…has moved my stuff into Edward’s bedroom, and now it’s official. Seth will be excited, and Leah will be condescending, and Sam will lose his mind.
“You don’t have to stay.”
Shit. I came off screensaver.
“You’re really pretty good at it, you know. I try not to listen, but you’ve been making it really easy on me, the past few weeks.”
That’s what I live for.
“It feels like it.”
He says it quietly, like he’s afraid of what I’m going to say next. He sits on the edge of his ridiculous bed-the thing’s big enough to sleep a family of four, I swear-and doesn’t move. It’s his version of Bella’s arm-clutching, his moments of falling apart. He forgets his act for a minute or so and goes totally still, like a corpse. It takes me a second to register that I’m sitting beside him, wrapping my arms around him without thinking. He flinches at that; I haven’t touched him at all since Bella died.
“Would you just…” I hiss at him. He’s still again, and I get both arms around him.
Hugging Edward is a weird experience. In the pack, we were always touching: slapping each other on the back, wrestling, hugging, trying to kill each other…it was normal. Touching Edward at all isn’t normal, and hugging him is even less normal. It’s a little like hugging a park statue, plus a bad smell. He doesn’t hug back or react at all. And he’s cold.
Call it a twisted sense of humor, but I take that as kind of a challenge.
I tighten my grip a little bit and try to radiate heat through his shirt. I don’t know what that’s supposed to accomplish, really, but I press my chest against his shoulder and try to be as hot as I can be.
He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away from me, fast. It doesn’t take him half a second to be at the doorway, but he stops, his fingers on the doorframe like he could rip it off.
“You can sleep…” he says tightly, and waves at the bed.
“Uh, thanks,” I say. His jaw twitches.
“Good night.”
And he’s gone. I fall asleep on the monstrosity of the bed and try not to think too hard about the lingering coolness on my chest.
*****
“I’m going hunting,” Edward says one afternoon. I’m concentrating on trouncing Jasper and Emmett in Halo, and I didn’t hear him come in. While I’m in the middle of the resulting heart attack, Emmett kills me.
“Ha,” he says, the smug bastard. “You’re next, Jazz.”
“Doubt it,” Jasper says coolly, and blows Emmett away. Emmett growls.
“I said, I’m going hunting,” Edward tries again.
“This particular second?” Jasper answers. “We’ve got another controller. You can play if you promise not to cheat.”
“You know I can’t help it,” Edwards says, sighing. He looks tired.
“We’ll go,” Emmett says bracingly.
“You don’t have to. I was just letting you know where I was going.”
I stand and stretch.
“You two keep playing. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a good run. C’mon, Ed.”
“You’re going?” Jasper says at the same time Emmett chortles, “Ed?”
“You’re not going,” Edward says, like I’m supposed to obey him.
“I’m going.”
“Not.”
“Am.”
There’s a sudden calm that floods the room, and I serenely step over and punch Jasper in the arm. He winces.
“Just trying to help,” he says, holding up his hands. “Edward, just let him go. He’ll throw a fit if you don’t.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Remind me to bite your ankles after I phase,” I toss at him, already halfway out the door. “Edward, let’s go. Where are we headed?”
Edward growls and takes off running. I jump off the porch, phasing mid-air, and give chase. I feel bad about the ripped clothes, but I’ve learned it doesn’t take much to get Alice to whip out her twelve major credit cards, and there will probably be six new pairs of jeans in my-er, Edward’s-closet by the time we get back.
He’s fast, but I could trace that vampire stench in my sleep. I’ve gotten kind of used to it, living at the Cullen’s, so the sickly burning smell doesn’t completely hide the scent of the forest. I stretch my legs and run.
It doesn’t take long. I leap over a small hollow, land, and whip around to see Edward stand, slowly, licking a thin trickle of blood from his lips. There’s a dead deer in the hollow, but unless you knew what had happened, you’d think a taxidermist just got careless; there’s no obvious reason for this deer to be as cold and stiff as it is.
And now the meat is going to be dry, too.
“What are you doing?”
Ha. I didn’t block an entire pack’s worth of mental invasion for nothing.
“Yes, yes, you’re brilliant. Now what the hell are you doing?”
It’s funny, I think as I rip off a leg, but his voice sounds rougher right after…drinking, or whatever he calls it. Maybe the oily smooth voice is just part of the bait, and once you eat, you don’t need it so much. Argh. The meat is dry, and cool without blood to warm it. It’s a little like eating jerky, but without the flavor. I snap a bone and suck the marrow, which tastes better. Edward flinches.
“Are we not feeding you enough?”
Lovely. I’m the bloodsuckers’ new pet. I wonder if I’ll get a food bowl with my name on it.
A branch explodes slightly to the right of my head.
“Would you just stop?” Edward hisses, stepping over a hole where a young sapling used to be. He advances on me, slinking, like he’s about to rip my head off. Literally.
“You hate us,” he continues, voice low and growling. “You hate me especially. By nature, we’re meant to be enemies, and by fault or accident, I also happen to be the reason the woman you loved is dead. Why can’t you just leave me and my family alone?”
Why do you keep feeding me? You know stray dogs…they’ll stay if you feed them, I think at him. I turn back to the deer, pretending to ignore him. Behind me, there’s a muffled howl of rage.
“Why?” he spits, flying in front of me with disconcerting speed. I snarl at him. “Just tell me why!”
I snap and jump over the deer, hitting his shoulders with my front paws. I’ve caught him by surprise; he falls backward and I land solidly on top of him. Before he can flip me off, I’ve got my teeth against his throat, barely brushing his skin.
“Do it,” he whispers, suddenly very still. “Please.”
Oh, no. Not so simple, bloodsucker.
You’re a bastard, I think. You’re a murderer, at least in my book. You’re a leech, which is worse than both. But…
I flick out my tongue and drag it the length of his throat, covering the spots where my teeth were. In one of the best moments of my life, Edward squeaks like a girl and starts thrashing. I jump off of him. My mouth tastes like leech, burning and sweet and bitter all at once. I want to throw up.
And I want to lick him again.
He’s still writhing on the leaves, like my saliva is acid.
Don’t be such a girl, Edward.
“You licked me!” he shrieks. Like a girl, I might add.
You won’t die.
He stops thrashing and his face is serious again. “I won’t?”
No. I won’t let you.
I have no idea why, but I won’t.