It Don't Mean a Thing. Ch.24 Two Ripe Cherries
Title: It Don’t Mean a Thing Ch.24 Two Ripe Cherries
Author: clara-eloise
Rating: M
Summary: Jacob takes Bella swing dancing. Edward is the instructor. A struggle for her affection begins that could start a war. Eventual Bella/Jacob.
Validation Beta: likexaxdove
Genre: Romance/Drama
Status: work in progress
Type: Multi Chapter
Wolves don't carry cell phones. When you can communicate by telepathy they become a bit defunct. Sometimes, though, on nights like this when Jacob is on patrol, and the phone at Sam and Emily's is just ringing ringing ringing Bella wishes she could contact him. There is, of course, a sort-of-connection as an imprint, a sad echo of each others pain.
So, hoping against hope, Bella sits cross-legged on her bed and wills for Jacob to come to her. She contemplates taking the truck and hot-footing it over to the res anyhow, but she knows that outside there will be someone - vampire or wolf - guarding her and it would be just her luck to put everyone in danger just because she has to get a message to Jacob.
Bella pulls out a duffel bag from under her bed. She hasn't used it since she came to Forks. It still smells of Phoenix: burning asphalt, bromine and sage. She looks at the cactus on her desk in the little room. It has grown a little since she moved here, despite being transplanted from its desert home. Like her, it has learned to adapt to all sorts of changes.
If she'd been told twelve months ago that she's be crying over leaving Forks to spend a week in the sun, she'd have never believed it.
As it grows dark, Bella stands at the window, wondering if there is some sort of signal she can give to whoever is on duty for her tonight.
Sure enough, soon a figure moves forward from the trees, and at first she thinks it's Paul, but then the moon gleams down and catches a reflection of white skin, too-white teeth in a beaming mouth. Emmett Cullen in a grey tracksuit.
Bella waves weakly, smiles, and steps back, pulling down the blind and sitting back on her bed.
Looking through her old summer clothes from Phoenix she finds some jeans shorts, a yellow T-shirt, flip-flops and a soft tan hoodie. She feels exhausted just looking at these relics from the past.
Pulling out her cell phone she looks at the screen saver of Jacob. It's one she took of him when they were fooling around in the kitchen, making a rhubarb polenta cake. She'd smeared his nose with rhubarb and he was trying to lick it off with his own tongue. Usually the picture always raises a smile, but tonight it just makes her feel like he's already hundreds of miles away.
The more she thinks about it, the worse she feels, and she curls up on her bed, on her side, clutching her stomach. She's churning inside, nauseous, her mouth feeling like she's chewing on tin. Before she knows it, she's rushing to the toilet and clutching the white ceramic bowl for dear life as she throws up her dinner.
Oh God.
Sweating, she sits on the cool floor tiles, head in hands. It's the shock. It's actually making her ill. What if imprints just can't be that far apart? What if her body just refuses to get on the plane?
After a few minutes, she starts to feel a little better. Slowly, she traipses back to her room and with a groan pulls her purple covers over her and listens to her i-pod. The side lamp is on, casting shadows on her wall. She listens to her playlist - some Jeff Buckley and Snow Patrol. Everything reminds her of Jake.
…Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you dear…
…You are the only thing that makes sense…
Gradually her body quiets and her breathing evens, and she slips into a half slumber. The room is very dark.
Bella doesn't hear when the window slides open and a figure softly drops into her bedroom, but she mutters in her sleep, subconsciously turning towards the source of the noise.
"Jake…"
Her eyelids flicker and open to see a perfect, heart shaped face, red eyes, bonfire curls and teeth drawn in a snarling grimace.
There's an awful gulping moment where Bella's scream is frozen in her throat. She knows she ought to scream, but is stuck in nightmare paralysis.
Then the face is suddenly gone, in a whooshing, splintering noise, and Bella briefly catches a glimpse of Emmett - still beaming- ripping off Victoria's head with his strong hands.
The crack of her breaking sounds like a statue being dynamited. An expression of shock stays on her face, the eyes glassy like two ripe cherries, the mouth caught as if saying "Oh!"The rest of her body falls; broken tree in a storm.
Emmett's grin falters.
"Crap, are you okay, Bella? Did I scare you?"
Bella's mouth moves, fishing for words.
"Holy…is that it? Is she..gone?"
"Well, once I have myself a little bonfire and toast a few marshmallows, she will be. Otherwise her body will start looking for her head and then she'll put herself back together…" Emmett mimes a hand crawling along the floor and makes Psycho knife wielding motions.
Bella stares at the inert body lying on the carpet. She could be an ordinary, if beautiful, woman, lying there on her floor. Velvety green trousers and a cream lace camisole top under a brown suede jacket. Small, really, after all.
"Sorry I had to let her get so close. Made her think I had wandered off for a bit, and she thought she could sneak in." Emmett waggles his eyebrows. "Knew that she wouldn't be able to resist the chance to get you alone again."
"Like a predator going for a wounded animal," Bella says softly to herself.
"Yup. Well, we weren't gonna catch her, that's for sure. She was slippery. But BAM, that felt good." Emmett gives a chuckle, sweeps up Victoria's torso into his arms, and picks up her head by a handful of her hair, then in a macabre imitation of a bridegroom carrying his new wife over the thresh-hold, he leaps out of the window and into the night.
"Make sure there's no fingernails left on the carpet," his voice carries back into the bedroom.
Bella gasps, swings out of bed and puts on the overhead light. Gets down on hands and knees and looks for any trace of Victoria: fingernails, a strand of red hair…
Emmett is joking… right?