Postcards -- Post D
Title: Postcards
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Twilight (Team Jacob)
Rating: M for Mature
Characters: Jacob/Bella, Charlie
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: She wonders how she forgot that he's just sixteen. Sixteen and somehow overnight the whole weight of the world dropped on his broad shoulders, and it's not fair and she has to get him out of here. So she will. Yet another mid-New Moon Jacob/Bella roadtrip fic. I make absolutely no claims to originality.
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The letter is waiting for them when they return to Topeka.
Bella--
Billy says to tell Jacob, and I'm quoting directly,
that "it's gone, things have stopped, everyone
is feeling better, so come home dammit." I have
no idea what that's about, but Billy seems to
think Jacob will know what he means.
I'm having trouble keeping your mother at
bay. You may want to call her or something.
If you bring Jacob back, it would be great if
you stop by, even if it's just for a little while.
Love, Dad
As he reads it his face is grim, and he burns the tires as he speeds away from the post office.
She waits for an hour, but eventually she gets tired of waiting for him to volunteer and asks him flat-out what Billy means. He explains that once the vampires are gone, werewolves settle down and become more human again, since there's no more instinct telling them to fend off the enemy.
"Does this mean they'll be out of your head?" she asks.
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Will you still have to obey orders?"
"I'm not sure." His knuckles are white against the steering wheel. "I wish I knew."
They drive in silence for a little longer, until she says, "Do you want to go home, Jake, and find out?"
"I... maybe." He takes his eyes off the road to look at her. His expression is full of dread. "But not if it means this will change."
"Change is part of life," she replies, and she wonders how she became the girl who is able say those words. The real world is closing in on them, she can feel it.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat and shakes his head forcefully. "Then no, Bells. We're not going back."
It's too late -- she's thinking rationally and resignation is settling into her chest. The money is nearly gone and the truck has been making funny noises. She feels like she's waking up from a dream. "We can't do this forever, Jake. You know that."
"No," he says.
"If we go back now--"
"No!"
"--then it can be on our terms."
With a violent jerk, he pulls over into the grass on the side of the road, almost running into a field of soybeans, barely taking the time to put the truck in park before he pulls her into his arms and buries his face in her hair. "I won't give you up," he says desperately, hands fisting into the back of her shirt. "I won't. If I have to rob banks and steal cars to keep us going, then that's what I'll do, Bells. I'll do anything, anything except give you up."
His skin is fiery hot through his clothes. "Oh, Jacob," she says, saddened by his panic. "Do you really think being in Forks means you won't have me?"
Under her cheek, she feels the breath stop in his chest. "What?"
She pulls back from him, just a little, just enough to look into his eyes. "Do you think," she says slowly and clearly, "that this is conditional on cheap motels and tanks of gas?"
He searches her face, looking for something. He is sixteen. "Not for me," he whispers, "but you... you might..."
She grabs his face and crushes his lips to hers, and then they are scrabbling out of their clothes and she barely feels the steering wheel bruising her back as he thrusts into her, clutching at her body as though she might pull away from him at any moment. She doesn't.
***
Dad--
We're on our way home.
See you soon.
Love, Bella
***
Maybe it has been waiting to be "christened". Maybe it is like a old family dog, knowing somehow that it needs to pick the right time to go. Maybe it is just coincidence. But two days later, the truck sputters to a stop just outside of Milwaukee, wheezing like an old smoker suffering from emphysema. He works on the engine, a doctor continuing to shock a patient's heart long after it has stopped beating, but deep down they know there is no point.
He hugs her tightly as the truck is towed away.
***
The Greyhound bus takes forty-seven hours to get from Milwaukee to Port Angeles. They negotiate the whole way.
He agrees to graduate from high school, as long as he can get into the online program that will allow him to finish in one year instead of two -- and he only agrees to this much because it will take her until December to graduate anyway.
She agrees to drop everything and leave again if her nightmares start to come back.
He agrees to not turn into a wolf if Charlie shoots at him.
She agrees to not throw bricks at Sam.
He agrees to get the Rabbit to pristine condition, so it will last them for a long time once they decide where they want to go, since they can go anywhere.
She agrees to research the job markets and cost-of-living in the cities that they liked.
He agrees to believe her when she says she'll love him no matter where they are.
She agrees to believe him when he says he'll always come back.
***
Eighty-two days, sixteen hours, and twenty-one minutes after they left, they arrive home. She is the one who puts the quarter into the pay phone, the receiver feeling foreign and strange in her hand. She hasn't used a phone since they left.
"Dad?"
There is a long pause, then, "Bella?"
"Yeah." She swallows. "We're at the bus station in Port Angeles. Any chance you can come pick us up?"
"Sure." Charlie's voice is calm. "I'll be there in an hour."
***
The trip back to Forks is predictably silent. Charlie makes him sit in the back, and the sensation of riding next to someone else is disconcerting. She stares out the window at all the damp greenness, and she thinks of Edward walking away from her through the trees; there is an ache, but the pain isn't real, it's only a memory of pain. She supposes that that will never entirely go away. It's okay. It's part of who she is.
In front of the house, Billy is waiting for them in his truck with a set jaw and thunderous eyes. Charlie gets out of the cruiser, walks over, and she hears a muttered, "Give them a second." She is heart-wrenchingly grateful.
They walk to the other side of the front yard for just the tiniest bit of privacy, and somehow it's awkward, like they're not quite sure what to do.
She says, "Can you hear them?"
He closes his eyes and frowns, seeming to concentrate. "A little. Feelings, really," he says finally. "It's not so bad. They can tell I'm back, and Sam's planning to punch me in the face." A beat, and then he smirks. "Quil and Embry just want details."
"Don't you dare," she warns.
"C'mon, just a few? You won't deny me the chance to look good, right?" He gives her an innocent, earnest look that she knows to be entirely fake.
She rolls her eyes. "Fine. But no specifics." Then she places a hand on the back of his neck and pulls his lips down to hers, kissing him gently. "My bedroom window will be open," she says. "You'd better be there."
He smiles. "Not going to start sleeping alone now." He leans in for another kiss -- and then they hear someone lean on the horn, making them both jump. With a grimace she takes his hand and leads him back to where Charlie and Billy are waiting.
She stands in front of her father, who looks at her hard for a long minute. "She looks happy," Charlie finally grumbles. "So I won't shoot you. Now get out of here before I change my mind."
He lets go of her hand (she feels a painful loss of warmth) and gets into his father's truck. The windows roll up and she can hear Billy yelling, though she can't make out the words. What she can make out is that he seems unabashed and confident -- she knows he's not sorry about what they've done. Neither is she. And though she misses him already, she's not afraid. She knows he's coming back.
Charlie waits until the truck is out of sight, then asks, "Are you married?"
"No."
"Are you pregnant?"
"No."
"Are you staying?"
"Yes. For awhile. A year or so."
"Have you called your mother?"
"Not yet."
"Did you need your pepper spray?"
"Well, I tried it on a hamburger once."
"How was it?"
"Disgusting."
"Okay."
And, for the first time in her life, her father pulls her into a bone-crushing hug.
fin
Edited to add: A playlist for Postcards, because if road-tripping music is stuck in my head, everyone else should suffer too.
4/8/10: Edited to fix a line that was driving me fuckin' crazy.