The Movement of the Earth -- Chapter 11
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 Eleven:
Disclaimer of Doom: The only direct lift in this chapter is from Breaking Dawn! How about that! Regardless, this fic is still written in the style of Stephenie Meyer, so I'm sort of lifting that, given that I am not Stephenie Meyer and this is nine kinds of NOT my writing style. Although I'm starting to have an identity crisis about that...
tendrás a tu hombre, piel morena / desde el cielo habló la luna llena
Sarah Brightman, "Hijo De La Luna"
11. Options
"Sam!" Emily called, her voice an octave higher than normal. "Sam!"
I ran out the door and promptly stumbled down the steps of the front porch. Emily stood by my truck, staring into the forest. "Emily?" I said hesitantly. What was I supposed to do? The first step was to get her out of the yard. "Emily, listen to me, you should come back inside. I think--"
"There's something wrong with Sam," Emily said, still staring. "Something was wrong before and I didn't want to worry you but now something's really wrong and I can't..."
I came to her side and wrapped my left hand around her forearm, tugging hard. "Emily, please, listen, if there's something wrong the others will help, I'm sure he'll be okay." She shook her head. "Yes, he will, now come on!" The discomfort in my chest grew again -- my breathing felt shallower and shallower. Was it Jacob? Was there something wrong with him, too? Could he breathe? The anxiety felt like a living thing with teeth and claws, ripping up the lining of my lungs.
Emily froze again, her left eye widening while her right eye remained as immobile as ever. I followed her gaze, looking out into the trees... and immediately saw the large, dark figure approaching from the shadows.
I heaved a sigh of relief -- part of me had been preparing to see death coming at us in the form of wild red hair and cat-like grace. "Look, Emily, see, it's Sam, I told you--" But even before I finished my sentence, I knew I was mistaken. The figure was too large, and it was moving all wrong...
"Can I get some help over here?" a hoarse, angry voice yelled at us.
With a choked noise, Emily ripped her arm out of my hand and took off into the forest. I followed as quickly as I could, losing ground as I tried not to stumble over rocks or fallen branches. Then a thick, rusty iron smell hit me like a slap to the face; my vision tunneled instantly; bile rose in my throat. I bent over at the waist and swallowed hard.
There was blood everywhere.
I heard Emily's sobs and a wet sound, then the angry voice again -- "Bella, grab her! I can't hold him and fight her off too!"
I managed to look up.
Paul had one arm wrapped under Sam's shoulders, holding his limp body off the ground. Emily pressed against them both as she tried to take Sam from Paul, but there was no way she could support her fiance's weight; Paul was trying to hold her at bay with his free arm and staggering with the effort of handling them both. He was slippery; Emily's hands were slick; red rivers ran down Sam's naked skin.
"Damn it, Bella," Paul said desperately, catching my eye, "help!"
I forced myself to take a deep breath, then stood upright. The smell of the blood made my light-headedness worse by degrees of magnitude, but the rush of adrenaline helped keep me on my feet; I wrapped my arms around Emily's waist and pulled her away from Paul. She struggled against me, reaching for Sam. "Emily," I said, trying to sound both soothing and firm, "stop, stop it, calm down--"
"Sam Sam Sam..." The words came out of her mouth in a whispered mantra that scared me more than if she'd been screaming.
Then, to my utter shock, Sam raised his head -- I hadn't even realized he was conscious. "Hi, Emily," he said. He tried to smile at her, then spat a mouthful of blood and something else onto the ground.
Emily moaned.
"Man, come on, work with me here." Paul's enormous frame was shaking under the effort of trying to force Sam's dead weight in the direction of the front door. "I can't carry you anymore, you have to walk, come on--" Sam obeyed, taking painful steps across the yard. At least Sam was working with Paul; I was fighting Emily every step of the way, her hands pushing at mine and her body twisting to escape my embrace. In the end I simply tightened my grip around her stomach and tugged her as hard as I could. It probably only took ninety seconds to get into the house, but it felt like an hour.
Once into the main room, Paul let Sam drop onto the couch, panting from the exertion. I gasped involuntarily as the extent of Sam's injuries became obvious -- his left side had an open gash from hip to shoulder, as though someone had carved away part of his chest and gouged a deep canyon into his body. Between the blood coursing from his wound, I could see the pale, ghostly white of exposed ribs and sinew.
"Oh, Jesus," Paul whispered, and I realized this was his first good look at it, too.
"Towels," Emily said, racing towards the hallway. "I'll get towels."
I had to turn my head away before I fainted. "Shouldn't-- shouldn't he be healing?" I managed to say.
"We heal fast, not instantly," Paul snapped, his face pale. "And he's been bleeding for awhile, he made it most of the way as a wolf but then he passed out, I had to carry him--"
"Then shouldn't we take him to a doctor?"
"And explain the hundred-and-eight degree temperature how, exactly?"
Sam coughed, and when he did, fresh rivers gushed from the canyon. "Paul," he gasped, "talk to them, find out where they are. Now."
Jacob. "Where's Jacob?" I asked Paul frantically. "And Jared and Embry? What happened?" But Paul was already out the door again, heeding his Alpha's orders.
Emily emerged from the hallway, her arms full of fluffy white towels. She knelt by Sam's side and pressed one against the wound. Sam let out a grating growl.
"Is he going to phase?" I said worriedly, taking a step back.
"Too weak," she murmured. "Sam, Sam, Sam..." Emily leaned forward and pressed her forehead against her fiance's, blood smearing scarlet stains across her cheek. Yet another scene too intimate to witness.
A sudden, piercing howl echoed from the front yard -- which changed abruptly into a series of shouted profanities.
Sam tried to sit up, but the instant he did, he coughed out another mouthful of something crimson and solid and awful. Emily whimpered as she fought to hold him in place.
Too much too much too much... But that didn't matter, did it?
I shook my head, trying to clear it before the tunnel vision got me. "Stay there," I told Sam, "I'll get Paul." And I dashed out the door, my feet slipping on the wet oak planks. Emily's never going to get these stains out, I thought blankly, holding back a hysterical giggle.
Paul was naked and on his knees in the front yard, his fists against his temples, a string of curses coming out of his mouth. Terrified to come too close -- he was shuddering and looked like he might phase again at any second -- I called from the porch, "Are you okay?" I came down a few steps, trying to get a better look at his frame; it didn't look like he was hurt, but there was too much blood to be sure who it belonged to. "What happened?"
"I can't do it," he panted. "It's too noisy, there's too much screaming..."
My self-preservation instincts fell away as I ran to his side. "Screaming? What screaming? Where is everyone? Where's Jacob?"
The phone in my pocket began to ring again. I ignored it, I couldn't deal with it right now--
Paul groaned, shaking his head from side to side. "Something went wrong. We had her, Sam had her, then out of nowhere everything went to hell... I can't hear what's going on!" His voice shook with frustration. "I'll try again, I will, just give me a second--"
"It's okay," I said blankly. Emily would know how to do this, to say something soothing that would help, but I wasn't her. It felt like whole parts of me were shutting down. "Just... take a deep breath, or something..."
To my surprise, Paul listened; he took a deep, heaving breath, and the shuddering of his body slowed. "Right," he said after a moment. "Okay. Okay. Back up." I scrambled out of the way, and Paul's shape exploded into the wolf, his gray fur still flecked crimson.
A low, pained growl came out of the animal's throat.
My phone kept ringing.
Barely a minute passed before Paul collapsed in on himself again, hitting the ground with a thump. "Damn it," he gasped.
"What? Was there still screaming?"
Paul got to his feet. "Hell yes. This was not the time--"
"Tell me what's going on!"
But Paul pushed past me, striding back into the house. I followed on his heels. "Sam, Sam, can you phase? Come on, man, I can't do this, they need you--" Then he skidded to a halt, and I ran into his back. We looked on in horror at the scene before us.
Sam was giggling. The skin of his face had turned a sickly yellow. "It's okay, sweetheart," he said in between his strange, high-pitched laughs, stroking Emily's head with his right hand. His touch left a shiny wet trail through her hair. "Look, we match now." She nodded through her tears, her hands still pressing the now crimson towels into his open side.
The smell of rust again assaulted my nose, and I bent over, my hands resting shakily on my knees. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but I swore I could taste the blood.
"Sam," Paul was saying, pleading, "you have to tell me what to do. You have to tell us what to do. I don't know how to handle a new phasing. What do you want us to say to them?"
The truth of the situation dawned on me. "Quil. Oh, no, Quil phased while you were attacking Victoria?" Of all the times--
Paul shook his head. "Not Quil. Someone else. Two someones. I think... I think it's Seth and Leah Clearwater, but I can't tell for sure."
For the first time, Emily's eyes left Sam. She looked up at Paul in shock. "No. It can't be."
Paul threw up his arms in frustration. "I know it can't be, but that's what it sounds like! Whoever it is, they are freaked, and there's something else, they're yelling about their father--"
"But Seth's too young, and Leah--"
"I know! But we haven't been watching them, we've been watching Quil, I have no idea whether they were--"
"Paul." Sam seemed to come back to himself for a moment, though his hand stayed tangled in Emily's hair. "Paul, send the others to find Seth and Leah." His words were labored. "Keep them safe until they calm down."
"What about the bloodsucker?" Paul asked. "I think-- it was hard to hear, but I think they've still got a line--"
"We'll find her later. Get Seth and Leah before they--" Sam's words cut off in a sudden hiss, and he started to claw frantically at his side. Emily pulled her hands away with a jerk, but the towel stayed in place.
The towel stayed in place.
"Rapid healing," I murmured, my stomach turning again. There were no words for this.
Paul met my eyes, and a horrified look passed across his face as he realized what he was going to have to do. I shook my head, then glanced pointedly at Emily; he blew out a breath and seemed to steel himself.
"Emily?" I said gently, going to her side. "Emily, come on, come here, okay?"
Sam was making a terrible noise, his fingers scraping at the towel stuck to his body. Emily shook me off. "No. Leave him alone."
"He'll be fine," Paul said bracingly. "Just give me a second with him."
"Emily." I wrapped my good hand around her forearm and pulled hard, but she didn't budge. I looked up at Paul helplessly. There was no way I'd be able to move her myself, and neither of us wanted her to see this.
He groaned. "Sorry, Em." Paul wrapped an arm around Emily's midsection and lifted her bodily away from the side of the couch; she fought him with a screech, but he was able to easily carry her out of the house.
"Emily?" Sam's voice was faint. "Where are you going?"
"She's just outside," I promised. "Don't worry. She'll be right back."
"So much blood," he muttered deliriously. "Emily... hurt her so bad..."
I pressed a hand to his forehead -- even with his blazing hot skin, Sam felt warmer than usual. My palm came away red. The world began to spin; I had to look at the ceiling to stop myself from passing out. "She's fine, Sam. Emily's fine. It's not her blood."
"All my fault..."
Paul came back into the house and slammed the door; I heard pounding on the other side. He threw the locks and shot me a frantic look. "Talk to her, will you?"
"You locked her out?"
"Do you have a better idea?" he snarled.
I didn't.
Paul slid past me to take my place by Sam's side; I went to the front door and pressed my hand against it, listening to Emily's fists beat uselessly against the wood. She was too wild with fear to think of going around the back. "Emily?" I called hesitantly.
"Let me in! Bella, let me in!"
I glanced over at Paul, then looked away again just as quickly as I saw him hook his fingers under the edge of the towel. My eyes lit on the kitchen. "Emily," I said, willing my voice to be normal, "how much sugar did you put in your zucchini loaf?"
The pounding stopped. "What?"
"Your zucchini loaf," I babbled, talking as fast as I could. "The one you made on Monday, remember? It wasn't sweet enough? What if you added brown sugar? Would that help?"
"I-- I don't know--"
"Does brown sugar work the same as white sugar?" I went on, trying to stay light, even though my breath didn't want to come into my lungs -- and every breath I did manage tasted like salted copper. "I was never sure what the real difference was, except that brown sugar is stickier. Does it matter which one you use?"
"Yes..." Emily's voice was faint and confused. "You... you can't use white sugar if--"
There was a sound like duct tape being torn away from a roll.
"Sam!" A scratching noise against the door -- Emily's fingernails. "Let me in!"
I glanced at Paul again -- he nodded, standing up and throwing the dark crimson towel to the side. It hit the floor with a heavy slap. "It's okay," he said, his eyes glassy. "She can come in."
I pulled back the locks and opened the door; Emily shoved her way through, running past me to Sam's side. Paul patted her shoulder. "Blot," he said faintly. "Don't press. Just blot."
Emily nodded, picking up a new towel and patting it gently against Sam's wound.
Sam didn't move.
Paul walked past me, out the front door. I followed rather than listen to Emily's murmurs and whispered words.
We stood together on the front porch, gripping the weathered railing. Constellations were appearing in the sky on this rare, clear night, but clouds were forming on the horizon; the stars wouldn't be visible for much longer. The smell of the daffodils in the coffee cans contrasted sharply with the thick iron stink that covered us both. My entire body felt numb.
"Is he dead?" I asked Paul tonelessly.
Paul shook his head. "No. Not yet, anyway." Then he leaned over the railing and vomited into the bushes.
I reached up and rubbed the back of his neck automatically. "It's okay, Paul. You're doing good." My words felt hollow in my mouth. All I could do was act on instinct and provide the comfort that I hadn't been allowed to give until now. Hopefully it would be of some use, even if its intended recipient wasn't here.
Paul shook his head, still bent at the waist. "I can't do this. I can't even tell if the others are still phased, and Seth and Leah need Sam, not me or anyone else. He's the only one who'll get through to them right now. It's so scary the first time... and the bloodsucker..."
"Well," I said listlessly, "Sam's not getting off the couch any time soon. So I guess it's just us."
He took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah." He straightened up, pushing my hand away -- but he wasn't rough. "You're doing good too, new girl," he said.
I shook my head. "Doesn't feel like it. I'm just trying not to pass out."
"Me too," he admitted. "If you want to throw up I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks." The odds were still pretty good on that.
Paul took another deep breath, then stumbled down the porch steps. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "Leave the bloodsucker. Go after Seth and Leah."
A cool breeze blew by, chilling my skin, blowing away some of the odor of blood. What were the others doing? Were they having trouble staying in wolf form, the way Paul was? Could they hear each other? Was Victoria pressing her advantage? Were they hurt? Were they even alive?
I wanted Jacob. I wanted Jacob. I wanted Jacob.
My phone rang. In a daze, I finally pulled it out of my pocket. Charlie. I answered just as Paul phased in the yard, his whole frame shaking with the effort. "Hi, Dad."
"Why haven't you been picking up, Bella?" Charlie growled.
My brain was having trouble comprehending both the sound of my father's hard tone and the sight of the wolf shuddering before my eyes. It felt like I was looking at the scene from outside myself, like I was just watching a movie and none of this was really happening to me. Things like this didn't happen in Phoenix. "Been busy," I said vaguely.
"Busy," Charlie echoed. "I see. Well, is Jacob with you?"
My heart clenched miserably in my chest. "No."
I heard a long, frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. "Okay. Billy thought he might be."
"He's not." Then a spark of emotion came back to me -- along with a realization. Billy. "Dad," I said quickly, "is Billy there? Can I talk to him?" Billy was on the Council; Billy would know how to treat werewolves. Billy would know what to do for Sam.
But my hopes were for nothing. "He can't come to the phone. He's in with the doctor." I heard Charlie swallow. "Harry's had a heart attack. We're at the hospital now."
I gasped. "Harry... what?"
Paul's frame was shaking harder now, and a low growl was emerging from between his razor-sharp teeth, but he still seemed to be holding it together.
"He had a heart attack," Charlie repeated heavily. "And it doesn't look good, Bells."
"Oh, no," I moaned. Leah and Seth had been yelling about their father, Paul had said...
"Yeah." I overheard something strange -- something tinny, like a speaker. The hospital intercom. "Look, Bella, I need to get back. Later I want you to--"
"When you see Billy," I interrupted desperately, "can you have him call Emily Young's house? It's really important."
There was a very long pause. "Emily Young," Charlie said slowly. "Sam Uley's fiancee?"
"Dad--"
"Are you with Sam Uley right now?"
Paul gave one final shudder, then lost his form again, turning human and hitting the ground with a loud thump. The breathless obscenities that came out of his mouth were ones I'd never even heard in that combination.
"Dad, I have to go," I said. I didn't want to hang up, but there were only so many things I could deal with at once. "Just pass the message to Billy, okay? And good luck with Harry!"
"Bella--"
I hit 'End' and ran to Paul. "Did you hear them? Is everyone okay?"
"That... stupid... son of a bitch..." Paul panted, still on his hands and knees.
"Damn it, Paul, tell me what happened!"
He groaned in pain. "It is Leah and Seth, and they are panicked, they have no idea what's happening and they're still screaming something about Harry--"
"Harry had a heart attack," I explained. "Billy and Charlie are at the hospital now."
Paul's eyes widened. "Oh, shit."
"I know. But what about Jared and Embry? What about Jacob?"
"They're okay. They're all still phased." Paul's sides were still heaving with the effort of breathing. "They're not having as much trouble as me. They never have as much trouble as me."
I reached up and rubbed the back of his neck again. "They also didn't drag Sam however far and haven't been dealing with all this," I pointed out. "Don't feel bad. Did they hear you?"
"Jared and Embry did. Embry's chasing down Leah. Jared went to look for Seth, seems like he's trying to hide."
"And Jacob?"
Paul growled. "The dumbass is still chasing the bloodsucker."
My stomach dropped. "Why?"
Paul tried to get to his feet, but gave up after a moment, holding his head in his hands. "Jesus, they gave me a headache," he muttered. "Sounds like Sam did get a really good hit on the leech -- got a chunk out of her or something -- and Jacob thinks he can catch up. I can't make him let her go, I'm not Alpha, he doesn't have to listen to me."
I moaned. Jacob would do that.
Paul shook his head several times, like he was trying to clear it. "I can't do anything else," he said angrily. "This is all I've got."
I swallowed back my terror. "They're going to go get Seth and Leah," I said. "That's the important thing. That's what Sam wanted."
"Sam wanted all of them, and I couldn't--"
"Jacob's stubborn," I told him faintly. "Don't take it personally."
Paul muttered a few more vulgarities under his breath, and I wedged my shoulder under his arm to help lift him to his feet. I wasn't really strong enough to support him, and he wasn't really leaning on me that hard, but at the moment we were in this together and that was all that mattered.
As we staggered back to the house, I wondered whether Sam was dead -- and if he was, if Emily had even realized it.
Emily was still kneeling next to the couch, dabbing carefully at Sam's side -- and Sam at least appeared to be breathing, though unconscious. "I can't stop the bleeding," she said as we came in, her voice choked. "I keep trying, but if I hold the towel too long it sticks."
Paul made a strange noise, and before I knew it he was in the kitchen, hacking into the sink. I couldn't blame him. I hadn't even been able to watch what he'd done before, let alone do it myself.
I looked down at the mess on the floor, the soaked towels, the streams still running out of Sam's torso. "How can he be bleeding that much?" I said, stunned. "I mean, by now shouldn't he--"
"He's regenerating the blood," I heard from the kitchen. "Can't do it forever, though, he's--" The sentence ended suddenly with another round of hacking.
"Do you have any other bandages, Emily?" I asked. I was beginning to adjust to the rusty smell. "Something left over from when you--"
She shook her head, still mopping up Sam's side in automatic movements. "No, I... threw them all away once I didn't need them, I didn't want to look at them anymore..."
I winced. "Okay." And I tried to force myself to think rationally through the madness that surrounded me.
Sam needed bandages. Real bandages. Something that would staunch the bleeding but wouldn't knit into his wounds as he healed. Bandages that Emily didn't have in the house. So someone would have to go get them. Sam was unconscious -- not him. Paul was shaking with exhaustion and throwing up in the sink -- not him either. Emily was trying to take care of Sam and would have to be dragged away -- not her.
Well, only one other option. "All right," I said, "I'll be right back."
Paul looked up incredulously from the sink. "What? Where are you going?"
"Someone's got to get supplies," I explained, fishing my keys out of my pocket. "So I'll do it."
"But the bloodsucker--"
"Jacob's chasing her, right? She won't get me." I did my best to sound confident, even as tendrils of fear started to wind their way through my body. I knew the risk I was about to take... but we were already too low on choices. "Besides, do you have better idea?" I asked, throwing Paul's words back at him.
He groaned. "Wait, just wait, I'll come with you--"
"Someone's got to stay here and protect them," I said, pointing at Emily and Sam. "I'll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, Billy might be calling, so... hopefully he'll be able to come help."
Paul nodded weakly.
"Good. Just... just hang on." I spoke more in the direction of Sam than either Paul or Emily, but the words could have applied to any of them. They could have applied to me, too, for that matter.
Once I was in the truck, I wasted a precious thirty seconds of time resting my head on the steering wheel, trying to get my breathing under control and fight off my own dizziness and nausea. I had to do this. I had to focus. Once I was reasonably confident that I could drive, I turned on the engine, pulled out of the yard, and headed for the general store through the darkness of early night... knowing that the vampire who wanted me dead had finally broken through the lines.
I had hoped -- maybe it was a stupid, naive hope, but a hope nonetheless -- that I would at least make it to the store. I hoped that if Victoria caught me, it would be on the way back; that way, Paul could at least dash down the road once he had the strength and get the bandages out of the truck.
But I'd only gone three miles before a figure with vibrant red hair appeared in front of my headlights.
My last, vague thought before the grill crashed into that marble body was that Jacob might have some trouble fixing the truck this time. Then everything dissolved into black nothingness.
***
Chapter Twelve: Endgame
Sanity Update: Is there any better feeling in the whole world than the moment something you're writing comes together? When you've been working on something, working and working and working, and you know you're coming up on an important spot and, well, you've got plenty of ideas, but none of them have felt quite right, but then WHAM! out of nowhere it's just THERE and you can SEE it and it's absolutely perfect? God, it's SUCH a high. Of course, then your tired, cranky, headache-y brain goes, "Dude, there. I've given you the story. Isn't it pretty? Don't you love the symmetry of it? Now that you know how that last scene goes... do you REALLY need to write it? I mean, isn't closing your eyes and picturing it good enough? Please leave me alone now." And you suddenly realize that even though your story is in the best place it's been yet... you've got writer's block. This fic is killing me. Also I realized this week that I've been writing between 1.5 and 3k words a day for the last five months (aside from a two week vacation in July). Perhaps this is why I am so tired.
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 Eleven:
Disclaimer of Doom: The only direct lift in this chapter is from Breaking Dawn! How about that! Regardless, this fic is still written in the style of Stephenie Meyer, so I'm sort of lifting that, given that I am not Stephenie Meyer and this is nine kinds of NOT my writing style. Although I'm starting to have an identity crisis about that...
tendrás a tu hombre, piel morena / desde el cielo habló la luna llena
Sarah Brightman, "Hijo De La Luna"
11. Options
"Sam!" Emily called, her voice an octave higher than normal. "Sam!"
I ran out the door and promptly stumbled down the steps of the front porch. Emily stood by my truck, staring into the forest. "Emily?" I said hesitantly. What was I supposed to do? The first step was to get her out of the yard. "Emily, listen to me, you should come back inside. I think--"
"There's something wrong with Sam," Emily said, still staring. "Something was wrong before and I didn't want to worry you but now something's really wrong and I can't..."
I came to her side and wrapped my left hand around her forearm, tugging hard. "Emily, please, listen, if there's something wrong the others will help, I'm sure he'll be okay." She shook her head. "Yes, he will, now come on!" The discomfort in my chest grew again -- my breathing felt shallower and shallower. Was it Jacob? Was there something wrong with him, too? Could he breathe? The anxiety felt like a living thing with teeth and claws, ripping up the lining of my lungs.
Emily froze again, her left eye widening while her right eye remained as immobile as ever. I followed her gaze, looking out into the trees... and immediately saw the large, dark figure approaching from the shadows.
I heaved a sigh of relief -- part of me had been preparing to see death coming at us in the form of wild red hair and cat-like grace. "Look, Emily, see, it's Sam, I told you--" But even before I finished my sentence, I knew I was mistaken. The figure was too large, and it was moving all wrong...
"Can I get some help over here?" a hoarse, angry voice yelled at us.
With a choked noise, Emily ripped her arm out of my hand and took off into the forest. I followed as quickly as I could, losing ground as I tried not to stumble over rocks or fallen branches. Then a thick, rusty iron smell hit me like a slap to the face; my vision tunneled instantly; bile rose in my throat. I bent over at the waist and swallowed hard.
There was blood everywhere.
I heard Emily's sobs and a wet sound, then the angry voice again -- "Bella, grab her! I can't hold him and fight her off too!"
I managed to look up.
Paul had one arm wrapped under Sam's shoulders, holding his limp body off the ground. Emily pressed against them both as she tried to take Sam from Paul, but there was no way she could support her fiance's weight; Paul was trying to hold her at bay with his free arm and staggering with the effort of handling them both. He was slippery; Emily's hands were slick; red rivers ran down Sam's naked skin.
"Damn it, Bella," Paul said desperately, catching my eye, "help!"
I forced myself to take a deep breath, then stood upright. The smell of the blood made my light-headedness worse by degrees of magnitude, but the rush of adrenaline helped keep me on my feet; I wrapped my arms around Emily's waist and pulled her away from Paul. She struggled against me, reaching for Sam. "Emily," I said, trying to sound both soothing and firm, "stop, stop it, calm down--"
"Sam Sam Sam..." The words came out of her mouth in a whispered mantra that scared me more than if she'd been screaming.
Then, to my utter shock, Sam raised his head -- I hadn't even realized he was conscious. "Hi, Emily," he said. He tried to smile at her, then spat a mouthful of blood and something else onto the ground.
Emily moaned.
"Man, come on, work with me here." Paul's enormous frame was shaking under the effort of trying to force Sam's dead weight in the direction of the front door. "I can't carry you anymore, you have to walk, come on--" Sam obeyed, taking painful steps across the yard. At least Sam was working with Paul; I was fighting Emily every step of the way, her hands pushing at mine and her body twisting to escape my embrace. In the end I simply tightened my grip around her stomach and tugged her as hard as I could. It probably only took ninety seconds to get into the house, but it felt like an hour.
Once into the main room, Paul let Sam drop onto the couch, panting from the exertion. I gasped involuntarily as the extent of Sam's injuries became obvious -- his left side had an open gash from hip to shoulder, as though someone had carved away part of his chest and gouged a deep canyon into his body. Between the blood coursing from his wound, I could see the pale, ghostly white of exposed ribs and sinew.
"Oh, Jesus," Paul whispered, and I realized this was his first good look at it, too.
"Towels," Emily said, racing towards the hallway. "I'll get towels."
I had to turn my head away before I fainted. "Shouldn't-- shouldn't he be healing?" I managed to say.
"We heal fast, not instantly," Paul snapped, his face pale. "And he's been bleeding for awhile, he made it most of the way as a wolf but then he passed out, I had to carry him--"
"Then shouldn't we take him to a doctor?"
"And explain the hundred-and-eight degree temperature how, exactly?"
Sam coughed, and when he did, fresh rivers gushed from the canyon. "Paul," he gasped, "talk to them, find out where they are. Now."
Jacob. "Where's Jacob?" I asked Paul frantically. "And Jared and Embry? What happened?" But Paul was already out the door again, heeding his Alpha's orders.
Emily emerged from the hallway, her arms full of fluffy white towels. She knelt by Sam's side and pressed one against the wound. Sam let out a grating growl.
"Is he going to phase?" I said worriedly, taking a step back.
"Too weak," she murmured. "Sam, Sam, Sam..." Emily leaned forward and pressed her forehead against her fiance's, blood smearing scarlet stains across her cheek. Yet another scene too intimate to witness.
A sudden, piercing howl echoed from the front yard -- which changed abruptly into a series of shouted profanities.
Sam tried to sit up, but the instant he did, he coughed out another mouthful of something crimson and solid and awful. Emily whimpered as she fought to hold him in place.
Too much too much too much... But that didn't matter, did it?
I shook my head, trying to clear it before the tunnel vision got me. "Stay there," I told Sam, "I'll get Paul." And I dashed out the door, my feet slipping on the wet oak planks. Emily's never going to get these stains out, I thought blankly, holding back a hysterical giggle.
Paul was naked and on his knees in the front yard, his fists against his temples, a string of curses coming out of his mouth. Terrified to come too close -- he was shuddering and looked like he might phase again at any second -- I called from the porch, "Are you okay?" I came down a few steps, trying to get a better look at his frame; it didn't look like he was hurt, but there was too much blood to be sure who it belonged to. "What happened?"
"I can't do it," he panted. "It's too noisy, there's too much screaming..."
My self-preservation instincts fell away as I ran to his side. "Screaming? What screaming? Where is everyone? Where's Jacob?"
The phone in my pocket began to ring again. I ignored it, I couldn't deal with it right now--
Paul groaned, shaking his head from side to side. "Something went wrong. We had her, Sam had her, then out of nowhere everything went to hell... I can't hear what's going on!" His voice shook with frustration. "I'll try again, I will, just give me a second--"
"It's okay," I said blankly. Emily would know how to do this, to say something soothing that would help, but I wasn't her. It felt like whole parts of me were shutting down. "Just... take a deep breath, or something..."
To my surprise, Paul listened; he took a deep, heaving breath, and the shuddering of his body slowed. "Right," he said after a moment. "Okay. Okay. Back up." I scrambled out of the way, and Paul's shape exploded into the wolf, his gray fur still flecked crimson.
A low, pained growl came out of the animal's throat.
My phone kept ringing.
Barely a minute passed before Paul collapsed in on himself again, hitting the ground with a thump. "Damn it," he gasped.
"What? Was there still screaming?"
Paul got to his feet. "Hell yes. This was not the time--"
"Tell me what's going on!"
But Paul pushed past me, striding back into the house. I followed on his heels. "Sam, Sam, can you phase? Come on, man, I can't do this, they need you--" Then he skidded to a halt, and I ran into his back. We looked on in horror at the scene before us.
Sam was giggling. The skin of his face had turned a sickly yellow. "It's okay, sweetheart," he said in between his strange, high-pitched laughs, stroking Emily's head with his right hand. His touch left a shiny wet trail through her hair. "Look, we match now." She nodded through her tears, her hands still pressing the now crimson towels into his open side.
The smell of rust again assaulted my nose, and I bent over, my hands resting shakily on my knees. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but I swore I could taste the blood.
"Sam," Paul was saying, pleading, "you have to tell me what to do. You have to tell us what to do. I don't know how to handle a new phasing. What do you want us to say to them?"
The truth of the situation dawned on me. "Quil. Oh, no, Quil phased while you were attacking Victoria?" Of all the times--
Paul shook his head. "Not Quil. Someone else. Two someones. I think... I think it's Seth and Leah Clearwater, but I can't tell for sure."
For the first time, Emily's eyes left Sam. She looked up at Paul in shock. "No. It can't be."
Paul threw up his arms in frustration. "I know it can't be, but that's what it sounds like! Whoever it is, they are freaked, and there's something else, they're yelling about their father--"
"But Seth's too young, and Leah--"
"I know! But we haven't been watching them, we've been watching Quil, I have no idea whether they were--"
"Paul." Sam seemed to come back to himself for a moment, though his hand stayed tangled in Emily's hair. "Paul, send the others to find Seth and Leah." His words were labored. "Keep them safe until they calm down."
"What about the bloodsucker?" Paul asked. "I think-- it was hard to hear, but I think they've still got a line--"
"We'll find her later. Get Seth and Leah before they--" Sam's words cut off in a sudden hiss, and he started to claw frantically at his side. Emily pulled her hands away with a jerk, but the towel stayed in place.
The towel stayed in place.
"Rapid healing," I murmured, my stomach turning again. There were no words for this.
Paul met my eyes, and a horrified look passed across his face as he realized what he was going to have to do. I shook my head, then glanced pointedly at Emily; he blew out a breath and seemed to steel himself.
"Emily?" I said gently, going to her side. "Emily, come on, come here, okay?"
Sam was making a terrible noise, his fingers scraping at the towel stuck to his body. Emily shook me off. "No. Leave him alone."
"He'll be fine," Paul said bracingly. "Just give me a second with him."
"Emily." I wrapped my good hand around her forearm and pulled hard, but she didn't budge. I looked up at Paul helplessly. There was no way I'd be able to move her myself, and neither of us wanted her to see this.
He groaned. "Sorry, Em." Paul wrapped an arm around Emily's midsection and lifted her bodily away from the side of the couch; she fought him with a screech, but he was able to easily carry her out of the house.
"Emily?" Sam's voice was faint. "Where are you going?"
"She's just outside," I promised. "Don't worry. She'll be right back."
"So much blood," he muttered deliriously. "Emily... hurt her so bad..."
I pressed a hand to his forehead -- even with his blazing hot skin, Sam felt warmer than usual. My palm came away red. The world began to spin; I had to look at the ceiling to stop myself from passing out. "She's fine, Sam. Emily's fine. It's not her blood."
"All my fault..."
Paul came back into the house and slammed the door; I heard pounding on the other side. He threw the locks and shot me a frantic look. "Talk to her, will you?"
"You locked her out?"
"Do you have a better idea?" he snarled.
I didn't.
Paul slid past me to take my place by Sam's side; I went to the front door and pressed my hand against it, listening to Emily's fists beat uselessly against the wood. She was too wild with fear to think of going around the back. "Emily?" I called hesitantly.
"Let me in! Bella, let me in!"
I glanced over at Paul, then looked away again just as quickly as I saw him hook his fingers under the edge of the towel. My eyes lit on the kitchen. "Emily," I said, willing my voice to be normal, "how much sugar did you put in your zucchini loaf?"
The pounding stopped. "What?"
"Your zucchini loaf," I babbled, talking as fast as I could. "The one you made on Monday, remember? It wasn't sweet enough? What if you added brown sugar? Would that help?"
"I-- I don't know--"
"Does brown sugar work the same as white sugar?" I went on, trying to stay light, even though my breath didn't want to come into my lungs -- and every breath I did manage tasted like salted copper. "I was never sure what the real difference was, except that brown sugar is stickier. Does it matter which one you use?"
"Yes..." Emily's voice was faint and confused. "You... you can't use white sugar if--"
There was a sound like duct tape being torn away from a roll.
"Sam!" A scratching noise against the door -- Emily's fingernails. "Let me in!"
I glanced at Paul again -- he nodded, standing up and throwing the dark crimson towel to the side. It hit the floor with a heavy slap. "It's okay," he said, his eyes glassy. "She can come in."
I pulled back the locks and opened the door; Emily shoved her way through, running past me to Sam's side. Paul patted her shoulder. "Blot," he said faintly. "Don't press. Just blot."
Emily nodded, picking up a new towel and patting it gently against Sam's wound.
Sam didn't move.
Paul walked past me, out the front door. I followed rather than listen to Emily's murmurs and whispered words.
We stood together on the front porch, gripping the weathered railing. Constellations were appearing in the sky on this rare, clear night, but clouds were forming on the horizon; the stars wouldn't be visible for much longer. The smell of the daffodils in the coffee cans contrasted sharply with the thick iron stink that covered us both. My entire body felt numb.
"Is he dead?" I asked Paul tonelessly.
Paul shook his head. "No. Not yet, anyway." Then he leaned over the railing and vomited into the bushes.
I reached up and rubbed the back of his neck automatically. "It's okay, Paul. You're doing good." My words felt hollow in my mouth. All I could do was act on instinct and provide the comfort that I hadn't been allowed to give until now. Hopefully it would be of some use, even if its intended recipient wasn't here.
Paul shook his head, still bent at the waist. "I can't do this. I can't even tell if the others are still phased, and Seth and Leah need Sam, not me or anyone else. He's the only one who'll get through to them right now. It's so scary the first time... and the bloodsucker..."
"Well," I said listlessly, "Sam's not getting off the couch any time soon. So I guess it's just us."
He took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah." He straightened up, pushing my hand away -- but he wasn't rough. "You're doing good too, new girl," he said.
I shook my head. "Doesn't feel like it. I'm just trying not to pass out."
"Me too," he admitted. "If you want to throw up I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks." The odds were still pretty good on that.
Paul took another deep breath, then stumbled down the porch steps. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "Leave the bloodsucker. Go after Seth and Leah."
A cool breeze blew by, chilling my skin, blowing away some of the odor of blood. What were the others doing? Were they having trouble staying in wolf form, the way Paul was? Could they hear each other? Was Victoria pressing her advantage? Were they hurt? Were they even alive?
I wanted Jacob. I wanted Jacob. I wanted Jacob.
My phone rang. In a daze, I finally pulled it out of my pocket. Charlie. I answered just as Paul phased in the yard, his whole frame shaking with the effort. "Hi, Dad."
"Why haven't you been picking up, Bella?" Charlie growled.
My brain was having trouble comprehending both the sound of my father's hard tone and the sight of the wolf shuddering before my eyes. It felt like I was looking at the scene from outside myself, like I was just watching a movie and none of this was really happening to me. Things like this didn't happen in Phoenix. "Been busy," I said vaguely.
"Busy," Charlie echoed. "I see. Well, is Jacob with you?"
My heart clenched miserably in my chest. "No."
I heard a long, frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. "Okay. Billy thought he might be."
"He's not." Then a spark of emotion came back to me -- along with a realization. Billy. "Dad," I said quickly, "is Billy there? Can I talk to him?" Billy was on the Council; Billy would know how to treat werewolves. Billy would know what to do for Sam.
But my hopes were for nothing. "He can't come to the phone. He's in with the doctor." I heard Charlie swallow. "Harry's had a heart attack. We're at the hospital now."
I gasped. "Harry... what?"
Paul's frame was shaking harder now, and a low growl was emerging from between his razor-sharp teeth, but he still seemed to be holding it together.
"He had a heart attack," Charlie repeated heavily. "And it doesn't look good, Bells."
"Oh, no," I moaned. Leah and Seth had been yelling about their father, Paul had said...
"Yeah." I overheard something strange -- something tinny, like a speaker. The hospital intercom. "Look, Bella, I need to get back. Later I want you to--"
"When you see Billy," I interrupted desperately, "can you have him call Emily Young's house? It's really important."
There was a very long pause. "Emily Young," Charlie said slowly. "Sam Uley's fiancee?"
"Dad--"
"Are you with Sam Uley right now?"
Paul gave one final shudder, then lost his form again, turning human and hitting the ground with a loud thump. The breathless obscenities that came out of his mouth were ones I'd never even heard in that combination.
"Dad, I have to go," I said. I didn't want to hang up, but there were only so many things I could deal with at once. "Just pass the message to Billy, okay? And good luck with Harry!"
"Bella--"
I hit 'End' and ran to Paul. "Did you hear them? Is everyone okay?"
"That... stupid... son of a bitch..." Paul panted, still on his hands and knees.
"Damn it, Paul, tell me what happened!"
He groaned in pain. "It is Leah and Seth, and they are panicked, they have no idea what's happening and they're still screaming something about Harry--"
"Harry had a heart attack," I explained. "Billy and Charlie are at the hospital now."
Paul's eyes widened. "Oh, shit."
"I know. But what about Jared and Embry? What about Jacob?"
"They're okay. They're all still phased." Paul's sides were still heaving with the effort of breathing. "They're not having as much trouble as me. They never have as much trouble as me."
I reached up and rubbed the back of his neck again. "They also didn't drag Sam however far and haven't been dealing with all this," I pointed out. "Don't feel bad. Did they hear you?"
"Jared and Embry did. Embry's chasing down Leah. Jared went to look for Seth, seems like he's trying to hide."
"And Jacob?"
Paul growled. "The dumbass is still chasing the bloodsucker."
My stomach dropped. "Why?"
Paul tried to get to his feet, but gave up after a moment, holding his head in his hands. "Jesus, they gave me a headache," he muttered. "Sounds like Sam did get a really good hit on the leech -- got a chunk out of her or something -- and Jacob thinks he can catch up. I can't make him let her go, I'm not Alpha, he doesn't have to listen to me."
I moaned. Jacob would do that.
Paul shook his head several times, like he was trying to clear it. "I can't do anything else," he said angrily. "This is all I've got."
I swallowed back my terror. "They're going to go get Seth and Leah," I said. "That's the important thing. That's what Sam wanted."
"Sam wanted all of them, and I couldn't--"
"Jacob's stubborn," I told him faintly. "Don't take it personally."
Paul muttered a few more vulgarities under his breath, and I wedged my shoulder under his arm to help lift him to his feet. I wasn't really strong enough to support him, and he wasn't really leaning on me that hard, but at the moment we were in this together and that was all that mattered.
As we staggered back to the house, I wondered whether Sam was dead -- and if he was, if Emily had even realized it.
Emily was still kneeling next to the couch, dabbing carefully at Sam's side -- and Sam at least appeared to be breathing, though unconscious. "I can't stop the bleeding," she said as we came in, her voice choked. "I keep trying, but if I hold the towel too long it sticks."
Paul made a strange noise, and before I knew it he was in the kitchen, hacking into the sink. I couldn't blame him. I hadn't even been able to watch what he'd done before, let alone do it myself.
I looked down at the mess on the floor, the soaked towels, the streams still running out of Sam's torso. "How can he be bleeding that much?" I said, stunned. "I mean, by now shouldn't he--"
"He's regenerating the blood," I heard from the kitchen. "Can't do it forever, though, he's--" The sentence ended suddenly with another round of hacking.
"Do you have any other bandages, Emily?" I asked. I was beginning to adjust to the rusty smell. "Something left over from when you--"
She shook her head, still mopping up Sam's side in automatic movements. "No, I... threw them all away once I didn't need them, I didn't want to look at them anymore..."
I winced. "Okay." And I tried to force myself to think rationally through the madness that surrounded me.
Sam needed bandages. Real bandages. Something that would staunch the bleeding but wouldn't knit into his wounds as he healed. Bandages that Emily didn't have in the house. So someone would have to go get them. Sam was unconscious -- not him. Paul was shaking with exhaustion and throwing up in the sink -- not him either. Emily was trying to take care of Sam and would have to be dragged away -- not her.
Well, only one other option. "All right," I said, "I'll be right back."
Paul looked up incredulously from the sink. "What? Where are you going?"
"Someone's got to get supplies," I explained, fishing my keys out of my pocket. "So I'll do it."
"But the bloodsucker--"
"Jacob's chasing her, right? She won't get me." I did my best to sound confident, even as tendrils of fear started to wind their way through my body. I knew the risk I was about to take... but we were already too low on choices. "Besides, do you have better idea?" I asked, throwing Paul's words back at him.
He groaned. "Wait, just wait, I'll come with you--"
"Someone's got to stay here and protect them," I said, pointing at Emily and Sam. "I'll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, Billy might be calling, so... hopefully he'll be able to come help."
Paul nodded weakly.
"Good. Just... just hang on." I spoke more in the direction of Sam than either Paul or Emily, but the words could have applied to any of them. They could have applied to me, too, for that matter.
Once I was in the truck, I wasted a precious thirty seconds of time resting my head on the steering wheel, trying to get my breathing under control and fight off my own dizziness and nausea. I had to do this. I had to focus. Once I was reasonably confident that I could drive, I turned on the engine, pulled out of the yard, and headed for the general store through the darkness of early night... knowing that the vampire who wanted me dead had finally broken through the lines.
I had hoped -- maybe it was a stupid, naive hope, but a hope nonetheless -- that I would at least make it to the store. I hoped that if Victoria caught me, it would be on the way back; that way, Paul could at least dash down the road once he had the strength and get the bandages out of the truck.
But I'd only gone three miles before a figure with vibrant red hair appeared in front of my headlights.
My last, vague thought before the grill crashed into that marble body was that Jacob might have some trouble fixing the truck this time. Then everything dissolved into black nothingness.
***
Chapter Twelve: Endgame
Sanity Update: Is there any better feeling in the whole world than the moment something you're writing comes together? When you've been working on something, working and working and working, and you know you're coming up on an important spot and, well, you've got plenty of ideas, but none of them have felt quite right, but then WHAM! out of nowhere it's just THERE and you can SEE it and it's absolutely perfect? God, it's SUCH a high. Of course, then your tired, cranky, headache-y brain goes, "Dude, there. I've given you the story. Isn't it pretty? Don't you love the symmetry of it? Now that you know how that last scene goes... do you REALLY need to write it? I mean, isn't closing your eyes and picturing it good enough? Please leave me alone now." And you suddenly realize that even though your story is in the best place it's been yet... you've got writer's block. This fic is killing me. Also I realized this week that I've been writing between 1.5 and 3k words a day for the last five months (aside from a two week vacation in July). Perhaps this is why I am so tired.