The Movement of the Earth -- Chapter 1
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 One:
Repeated Disclaimer: Once again, there's a lot of direct lifting from New Moon here -- sometimes whole sentences, sometimes just phrases, but still. Just to remind you, I do not own Stephenie Meyer's work, because I am not Stephenie Meyer. Otherwise I'd be using my millions of dollars to buy a new laptop right now, because writing on the desktop is just NOT working. Then I would bathe in champagne with the Old Spice Guy.
compared to some, i've been around / but i really tried so hard
Neko Case, "Hold On Hold On"
1. Rescue
My routine for the next week was fairly straight-forward.
Wake up. Realize I'm breathing. Sneak into Charlie's room. Confirm that he's breathing. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Take shower. Dress. Eat breakfast. Drive to school. Sit through class. Make small talk with Angela, Mike, Eric, and Jessica. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Drive to work. Stock shelves. Answer questions from customers. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Come home. Do schoolwork. Eat whatever Charlie has made for dinner. Assure Charlie dinner is delicious. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Go to room. Change into pajamas. Sit on edge of bed. Call Jacob. Get no answer.
Climb under covers. Think about giant wolves. Think about Victoria. Think about Edward. Think about bleeding, gaping wounds. Curl in a ball. Go to sleep. Dream of injured howls and empty meadows and blood-red eyes.
Wake up several times during the night. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Repeat.
***
Friday afternoon, as I drove home from school, it hit me out of the blue -- and I literally slammed on my brakes in the middle of the road, coming to a screeching, skidding halt on the pavement.
Jacob wouldn't avoid me like this. It was completely out of character for him. Even if he'd given up on me, even if he'd finally understood that there was no hope, even if I'd hurt him too badly for us to continue being best friends... he wouldn't refuse to take my calls. It just wasn't in his nature. I knew him too well for that.
Add in the short, unhelpful answers from Billy... the way Charlie had said he was arguing with some boys from the reservation...
It was Sam Uley. Sam had finally gotten to Jacob.
A wave of anger and self-loathing washed over me, searing the wound in my chest like cold salt water. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn't I seen it earlier? It was embarrassingly obvious. If I'd thought about it instead of just obsessing over how I missed him, if I'd tried harder, if I'd realized--
A sedan behind me leaned on the horn, sending a piercing blast through the misty air. I shook my head and stepped on the gas, lurching forward with a jolt, then pressed harder against the pedal, forcing the speedometer up to the truck's absolute maximum -- sixty-five miles an hour. The engine groaned in protest.
I was going to Jacob's, I decided resolutely. I would sit in his front yard until he turned up. I'd stay all night if I had to. I would find out what had happened, what Sam Uley had said to him, then I would drag him out of there the way I should have done the minute he'd told me about the cult. And, if necessary, I would run Sam down in the street, maybe even back over him a few times. That was all there was to it.
It wasn't too late, right? It couldn't be.
My mind was so preoccupied that the trip I'd been so determined to make seemed to take only a few seconds. Before I was expecting it, the forest began to thin, and I knew I would soon be able to see the first little houses of the reservation. I wondered which one of them belonged to Sam Uley. Maybe it would be better if I went there first. I still had my pepper spray in the glove compartment.
Focused on feverish thoughts of righteous vengeance, I nearly drove right past the boy walking away on the other side of the road.
For a second my breath caught. Jacob. Was it Jacob? No, I wasn't that lucky; this boy was too wide, his hair too short. It took me a moment to recognize him as Quil Atera.
I pulled over, the right wheels of the truck squishing into the soft mud on the side of the asphalt, and rolled down my window. "Hey! Quil!"
He looked up in surprise, and I blinked, sure my eyes weren't focusing properly. Quil looked... bigger than the last time I had seen him. How was it that all these Quileute boys were going through their growth spurts in the same few weeks? At Forks High, Eric was still six inches shorter than Mike. "Hi, Bella," Quil said dully, knocking me out of my confused thoughts. He looked terrible.
"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" I offered, glancing up at the steel gray sky. "It looks like it's going to rain." As usual.
"Sure, I guess." As he walked around the front of the truck his sneakers scuffed against the pavement, and it reminded me of how Jacob had kicked the tires on the bike when he'd first told me about Sam's cult, a rhythmic little scrape scrape scrape.
"Where to?" I asked as Quil climbed into the cab.
"My house is on the north side. Back behind the store." He drummed his fingers against the door handle.
"Have you spoken to Jacob lately?" I asked as I eased the truck out of the mud, the wheels spinning a little. Maybe Quil had some information that I didn't have access to, not living on the reservation.
"Nope," he said darkly. "He hasn't talked to me in weeks."
My fists tightened on the steering wheel. "Me neither."
Quil snorted. "If he isn't talking to you, then it must really be bad." He turned his head and spat out the open window. "Guess he doesn't have any time for us now. Hasn't been in school either. He only hangs out with--" He cut off suddenly, scowling.
"With Sam," I completed for him. Quil looked over at me, surprise written all over his face, and I explained, "Jacob told me about him and his gang. Before."
"Before," Quil echoed, bitterness dripping off the word. "Right."
"Have you seen him, at least?"
He looked out the windshield, a muscle in his jaw working. "From a distance. Him and Embry. I tried to follow them today, but they just disappeared into the trees. I'd been yelling for them for an hour before I found the road and you showed up." He muttered something under his breath that I didn't catch, and I was pretty sure it wasn't complimentary towards his former friends.
We drove in silence for a minute, until I finally voiced the question that had been eating at me. "What's going on, Quil? Drugs, maybe?" Even as I said it, it felt wrong. Not Jacob. Jacob was so naturally happy. "What is Sam saying to them?"
"Beats the hell out of me," Quil said. "Jacob hated this cult crap. But then again," he added, still bitter, "so did Embry. I hate it too, so I guess I'll be next, won't I?"
"Of course you won't be," I said fiercely. My hands were starting to hurt from their death grip on the wheel. "Don't talk like that. I won't let that happen."
Quil looked at me, eyebrows raised in amusement, and snickered. "Yeah, Bella. Sure." There wasn't any real sting to his words, though. Then he sighed. "This is... I don't know, messed up. It's freaking me out pretty bad."
"No kidding. I don't suppose your parents--"
He shook his head. "They haven't been a damn bit of help. My grandfather's on the council with Jacob's dad. Sam Uley walks on water and shits sunshine, as far as they're concerned." When I coughed in shock, he winced and glanced over in chagrin. "Uh. Sorry."
"It's fine." If I was going to be hanging out with Quil and Jacob more -- and once I dragged Jacob out of here, I wasn't letting either of them out of my sight for a second -- I guessed I would need to get used to more colorful language than Holy crow. "Seriously, none of the adults are worried at all?"
"Not even a little. Weird, huh?"
I frowned. "Very." If I dropped out of school and started following around an older man like a puppy, Charlie would have me locked up. He'd nearly done it and I had only been mourning.
The hole in my chest throbbed achingly at the reminder, but I swallowed hard and shoved the pain away. I couldn't be distracted, not now. If this rescue mission was going to work, I needed to be focused on the task at hand.
"This is it," Quil said, pointing out the window at a small wooden rectangle behind the village's only store. I pulled over, and he gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks for the ride. Want a soda or something?"
"Can't," I replied, my knuckles turning white on the wheel. "I'm going to go wait for Jacob."
"Hope you have more luck than I did." Quil hopped down onto the pavement. "Thanks again, Bella. Kick Jake's ass for me."
"You better believe it."
Quil's anger buoyed me as I made a wide U-turn and headed back towards the Blacks'. What was Jacob thinking? How could he treat his friends like this? Dodge their phone calls, run off into the woods without them? How dare he!
At the same time, a little thread of relief snaked its way into my heart. If Jacob was ignoring Quil too... then it wasn't about me. This determined avoidance wasn't because of how I'd shot him down at the theater, trying to pull my hands away from his. I hadn't ruined everything with my clumsy, ham-fisted treatment of my best friend's heart. We could still be the way we had been.
Once I dealt with Sam, that is.
I gritted my teeth as I pulled up in front of Jacob's house, killing the motor and rolling down the windows. The humidity made my hair stick to my neck, and I heard an ominous rumble from the sky. I put my feet up on the dashboard; the heavens could open up overhead if they wanted, but I wasn't going anywhere until I saw Jacob. More than that -- I wasn't going anywhere without Jacob. When I left, he was coming with me. End of story. I was willing to be annoyingly persistent, too.
A movement flashed in my peripheral vision -- I turned and spotted Billy looking at me through the front window with a confused expression. I smiled and gave him a sarcastic little wave. His eyes narrowed; he let the curtain fall across the glass. He'd looked annoyed. I didn't care. If Billy didn't like that I was here to retrieve his son, then he should have taken better care of him in the first place.
Fifteen minutes ticked by. I dug up a pen and an old test out of the bottom of my backpack. If I had paused to do any planning, I would have brought a book to help pass the time; as it stood, I'd have to settle for doodling.
I'd only had time to absently scrawl one row of diamonds on the paper when there was a tap against my door. I jumped, looking up, expecting Billy.
It wasn't Billy.
It was Jacob.
Sort of.
"Hi," he said hoarsely.
My mouth fell open. Jacob had changed radically in the weeks since I'd seen him. He looked older; the final vestiges of childhood had disappeared from his face, which was now sharp and hard. His beautiful hair was gone, cropped short and choppy against his head. He was shirtless, which gave me a view of the muscles that had filled out and thickened practically overnight, and I was positive that he was taller, at least an inch, maybe two. It shouldn't have been possible -- no one grew that fast -- but here was the proof, right in front of me.
But none of that mattered next to the change in his expression. Jacob's open, friendly smile was gone, and in its place was an incomprehensible combination of anger and pain and misery, mixed with another emotion, one I couldn't put my finger on. Whatever it was, it was awful.
Jacob stared at me, his eyes raking over me with burning intensity, and I felt a lump gather in my throat. Something was terribly wrong. "Jake," I whispered, trying to smile, "your hair..." I reached through the window to touch his head, but Jacob dodged my hand lightning fast, as though I'd tried to hit him. The haunted look on his face intensified.
The lump in my throat got bigger, and to my mortification, I felt my eyes fill with tears. I tried to blink them back. I'd come here to fight for my best friend, not cry at his feet like a little kid. "Jacob, what happened to you?"
With what looked like Herculean effort, Jacob stepped backward, edging away from the truck. He didn't answer me.
It was then that I realized we weren't alone. Behind him stood four others; tall and russet-skinned, black hair chopped short like Jacob's, impossibly muscled, all giving me curious looks. One of them surely had to be Embry, but I couldn't figure out which one. They could have been brothers.
The only one who looked different was Sam Uley. He stood in the back, undeniably the oldest, the man among boys, examining me with a too-knowing gaze. I saw now what Jacob had meant about not liking the way Sam looked at him.
White-hot fury rose so fast in my veins that I got a little light-headed. This was all his fault. I didn't know how, but it was. In that moment, it didn't matter that I was a hundred and ten pounds, five foot four, and could barely lift a gallon of milk. I was going to kill Sam for putting that look on Jacob's face.
Edward's dulcet tones suddenly cautioned in my ear, "They are dangerous, Bella. Do not risk pushing them."
I was too enraged to pay attention.
I opened the door to the truck with a squeak of metal and jumped out, landing in a puddle. Mud sloshed into my tennis shoes. I only managed to take two steps forward before the three boys closed ranks, forming a solid wall of muscle between me and Sam. I still couldn't figure out which one was Embry.
If I was a vampire, they would get out of my way. The thought rose with such viciousness that it took my breath away, and the hole in my chest seared with fresh pain. I wouldn't ever be a vampire, now. That future was lost to me forever.
I used my anger to slap the agony aside sharply. This wasn't the time for that. "Jacob," I said, glaring at the boys blocking my way, "I want to talk to you. Alone."
There was a pause, then from behind me I heard Jacob say, "Sam?"
The wall of muscle in front of me turned as one toward Sam Uley, in perfect coordination. A shiver ran up my spine. What was going on around here?
From between two shoulders, I saw Sam nod once, still giving me an evaluative look. He made a brief comment in a sing-songy language I'd never heard -- probably Quileute, I realized -- then turned and walked into Jacob's house. The others -- Embry, and I vaguely remembered the names Paul and Jared -- followed him in wordlessly.
I faced Jacob, and was surprised to see him watching the departing boys with a look of betrayal. Then his gaze was back on me, roving over my form with that horrible, incomprehensible expression. He didn't say anything.
I took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Get in the truck, Jake. Let's get out of here."
His brow furrowed on his newly sharp face. "What?"
"We need to talk. But not here." I pointed at the house, where a cult was waiting to steal my friend away. "Not around them. You can come home with me, okay? You can stay there. Quil too. I'll keep you safe, I promise." I had no idea how I would keep that promise, but I had a vague image of myself sitting on the front stoop with Charlie's shotgun in my hands. I'd never fired a gun before, but I could learn.
"Quil," he whispered, his face growing more pained.
"Yeah, you remember him, right? Your friend?" I said, a touch of hardness in my voice. "I ran into him on the way here. He's freaked out. He thinks he's next."
"No," Jacob mumbled, turning a strange shade of green under his dark skin. "No, that can't be right. It should stop now. There won't be any more."
I nodded. "You're damn right there won't be any more. Now come on."
Jacob shook his head slowly, his eyes still on my face. "I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't," he bit out, an edge to his voice that I'd never heard before. His hands were shaking. "I can't do what you want, even if I want to, so don't ask." The hopelessness on his face ripped new wounds into my chest, leaving me full of holes like Swiss cheese. I stepped forward, intending to comfort him, to do something...
...and Jacob stepped backward.
The lump returned to my throat at the obvious rejection, and this time, the tears spilled over. I could feel them running down my face, hot and sticky. None of this made any sense, none of it.
His eyes widened with horror as he realized what was happening. "Are you crying? Am I making you cry? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bells, please don't cry. I don't want you to cry."
"What the hell else am I supposed to do, Jake?" I spat, swiping angrily at my cheeks. I was furious at him, and at Sam, but mostly at myself. I didn't stop this from happening in the first place, I couldn't convince Jacob to leave, and now, of all things, I was crying. Some rescuer I was. "Why are you acting like this? I don't understand! You hated Sam!"
"I was wrong," Jacob said huskily. "I just didn't get it before. I don't hate him." His eyes flicked towards the door momentarily, and a touch of resentment crossed his face. "Well, maybe a little bit right now," he amended under his breath.
"You didn't get it before," I repeated, still sniffling. "And, what, now you do?"
He nodded slowly.
"Well, hallelujah. I'm so glad you've seen the light." I couldn't think of what else to say, so I just crossed my arms and leaned against the truck, staring at the ground. Helplessness suffused every part of my being and I hated it.
A quiet moment passed, then Jacob said unhappily, "This is all wrong. I hate this. Everything is ruined. I had a plan, and now... it shouldn't be like this at all."
"You're right. It shouldn't." I studied the mud on my shoes, refusing to look up until I was at least reasonably sure that my tears wouldn't make a reappearance. "So why are you acting like it has to be?"
"I can't tell you."
I snorted. "Can't, or won't?"
I heard something like grinding teeth. "Won't."
"Right."
We stood in silence for a long, miserable moment.
"You need to go home, Bella." The words were slow and distinct, like he was having to force them out of his mouth. "This isn't something that... it's not... I don't want you to be involved in this."
I looked up at Jacob, my breath freezing in my lungs.
"You... don't... want me?" I tried out the words, confused by the way they sounded, placed in that order.
"No."
"Well," I said mechanically, like I was reading from a very familiar script, "that changes things."
Jacob's eyebrows came together in puzzlement for a moment. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. "No, Bells. Not that." His hands were shaking again, and he clenched them into fists, the newly developed muscles on his forearms bulging. "It is nothing like that."
"Sure."
"I'm telling the truth." That strange expression was back as Jacob held my gaze with burning intensity. "You have to believe me. It isn't like that at all." He reached toward me automatically, and for one joyous second I thought he was going to pull me into one of his warm, crushing, the-world-really-is-worth-living-in hugs -- but then he caught himself and pulled back.
Understanding struck. Jacob didn't want to send me away. I couldn't figure out why he thought he had to, but he definitely didn't want to.
If I could just convince him...
"Jacob," I said slowly, trying to feel out the right words. "I know what I said, how... how this is different for you than it is for me--"
He flinched.
"--but, I mean, maybe I was wrong. I could... try harder. I will. I will try harder. Just... maybe, if you give me some more time, things would change."
This was by far the biggest lie I'd ever told. I knew the truth -- that I hadn't tried, not even a little. I hadn't even attempted to feel anything for Jacob other than friendship, because I hadn't had the wherewithal to put us both through an endeavor so obviously doomed to failure.
But I would try now, if that's what it took. I didn't think I would succeed -- I couldn't succeed -- but I would do anything that stood the smallest chance of wiping that terrible expression from his face. If this was what Jacob needed from me, then so be it. I couldn't stand seeing him look this way. "Please," I whispered. "Please don't quit on me. I'm not going to quit on you. Let me help. At least let me try."
I'd hoped my words would make Jacob happy, but instead, he looked like I had just slipped a knife between his ribs. The agony in his eyes took my breath away. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then finally he said in a choked voice, "You can't help me, Bella. No one can. But especially not you."
I was glad I was already leaning against the truck, because otherwise I would have collapsed to the ground. "Jake, don't--"
"Sam?" Jacob's whole body was shaking as he called towards the house, cutting me off. "Sam!"
Sam Uley opened the front door of the house instantly and stepped onto the front porch. He narrowed his eyes at Jacob, seeming to take in the situation with a glance. Then, with a tiny shake of his head, Sam said, "Come inside."
Jacob disappeared into the house so fast that he nearly flew. Sam gave me another one of those speculative looks, then shut the door with a firm click.
And, right on cue, rain started to pour from the sky.
I was unable to move from where I stood. I stared at the little house; it looked too small to hold four large boys and two larger men. There was no reaction inside. No flutter at the edge of the curtain, no sound of voices or movement. It faced me vacantly. I waited for several minutes, my clothes getting soaked in the downpour as I tried to keep breathing when it felt like every vital organ had been ripped out of my body. I forced one lungful of air in, then pushed it back out again. In, then out. Again. Again.
Finally the door opened, and Billy rolled into sight. I couldn't see anyone behind him. "Charlie just called, Bella," he said. "I told him you were on your way."
I shook my head.
"Bella," Billy said, firm now, "you need to go."
"No," I croaked as I came forward slowly, stepping up onto the porch. I still hadn't done what I came here to do. "I'm not leaving without Jake."
Billy's eyes flashed. "This is where Jacob belongs, Bella. I know you don't understand, but--"
"No!" I tried to look past Billy into the darkened living room, struggling to fight off a rising panic that threatened to shake me to pieces. If I left him here alone, God only knew what they'd do to him. "Jacob!"
From inside the house, I heard a low moan. The sound make my hands tremble.
"Bella." Billy's voice had turned as cold as winter. "Go home." He rolled back inside and slammed the door shut.
I stood staring blankly for a long minute, then turned robotically and walked across the yard, incapacitated by rage and my own helplessness. Jacob was mere feet away inside his house, but unless I wanted to break down the front door and pepper spray his disabled father, there wasn't anything I could do about it.
The rain beat sideways through the open windows of the truck as I climbed in, turned on the engine, and drove away. I barely noticed. It wasn't like I could get any wetter.
Not as bad! Not as bad! my mind tried to comfort me.
Not the same, I retorted. And it wasn't. Edward's loss had ended my world. It had punched a hole into my body and taken away everything that had brought my life meaning, everything I'd hoped for in my future. But at least I had the cold comfort of knowing that Edward was better off. He'd rid himself of the ridiculous little human girl who had been holding him back, and now he could make his way as the glorious angel he was, unencumbered. Without me he was free and happy.
Jacob wasn't free. And he certainly wasn't happy.
The wounds in my chest hurt so badly that I glanced down, half-expecting to see blood soaking my shirt. But it was only rain.
When I pulled up into the driveway, Charlie opened the front door. He'd been waiting for me in the foyer. I stumbled up the front steps, water running in rivers out of my clothes. "Billy called," he explained as I stepped inside, wringing out my ponytail. "He said you'd gotten in a fight with Jake?"
"Kind of," I murmured.
"Well, I wouldn't worry, I'm sure you two will..." He trailed off when he saw my face, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Bells? Are you crying?"
Too much too much too much.
I burst into noisy, pathetic tears, and, desperate for some kind of comfort, stepped forward and rested my head on Charlie's chest. His arms hesitantly came up to circle my shoulders as I sobbed, "Dad, Sam Uley's gotten to Jacob, he's cut off all his hair and he... his face..." I gulped for air, panic starting to rise again. "You should have seen it, I can't-- there's something wrong and Billy told me to go away and I don't know what they're doing to him--"
Charlie rubbed my back, and I realized I was shivering. I could probably add 'gave myself hypothermia' to my accomplishments for the day. "Okay. Okay, Bells. It's going to be all right." He pulled away a little bit and looked me in the eye. "You really think there's something wrong with the Uley kid?"
I nodded, my vision blurry. "I know there is. He was there. He was... looking at me."
Charlie's face got hard. "I see." He straightened and blew out a breath, glancing over my shoulder at the opposite wall for a moment. Then he nodded decisively. "All right then. Bella, listen, why don't you go dry off, okay? I'm going to make a few phone calls." He pushed me gently in the direction of the stairs and headed for the kitchen, muttering darkly.
I decided to take a shower to try and alleviate the cold -- it truly felt like I would never be warm again. I stood under the scalding water until the stream turned tepid, then shut off the tap with a sigh. In the sudden quiet, I could hear Charlie talking to someone downstairs. I wrapped a towel around myself and cracked the bathroom door.
Charlie's voice was as angry as I'd ever heard it. "That's bullshit. That's total bullshit, Billy, and you know it."
It was quiet then, and I realized he was on the phone. I moved closer to the stairs, eavesdropping shamelessly.
"Don't you put this on Bella!" Charlie shouted without warning. "If you really think I'm going to believe--" He cut off briefly, then continued with a growl, "Well, obviously I give your son more credit than you do, since I think he'd be smart enough to figure that out."
I swallowed. I had never known my father to talk like this before, especially not to Billy Black. I felt a whole new surge of fury; this mess was damaging my father's relationship with his best friend, too. It wasn't fair.
"Yeah," Charlie continued acidly. "Yeah, you do that. But you better tell those kids that if someone so much as tosses a can on the side of the road, I'll have their asses at the station before they can blink. And then I will get some real answers." A short pause, then, "Fine. Yeah. Goodbye." The phone slammed into the cradle.
I crept across the hallway and into my room, shutting the door behind me. Having Charlie on my side at least made feel less alone, but realistically, there wasn't much he could do as long as Sam's cult stayed on the straight and narrow. As I pulled on my pajamas and climbed into bed, I wondered if I could convince Angela to call the station and claim she'd seen some Quileute guys smoking a marijuana joint. That would be all the opening Charlie would need.
The hours ticked by, but I didn't fall asleep. Instead I stared at the ceiling and came up with plans to save Jacob, each more ridiculous than the last. It was past midnight when I stopped wondering whether it was legal to ship tranquilizer guns internationally and the simple, obvious solution slapped me in the face.
It was the middle of the night. Sam Uley couldn't possibly be at Jacob's house right now.
I jumped out of bed and shrugged into my hoodie instantly. He'd be alone, aside from Billy -- and Billy couldn't get out of bed without help. I would just climb in his bedroom window, hopefully without breaking any bones, and talk and talk and talk until Jacob listened to me. He would have to physically drag me out to make me leave... and that didn't seem likely.
Yes. This could work. I snuck down the stairs, pausing for a second as the wood creaked under my weight. There was no sound from Charlie's room, and I made it out the front door without tripping over something and giving myself away.
I was halfway to my truck when I heard the scrape of gravel shifting in the driveway. I froze, staring into the darkness, unable to make out the figure I suddenly knew was there.
Victoria.
In my panic, I'd forgotten I was still being hunted.
A strange, numbing peace settled into my body. There wasn't anything I could do now, aside from hope that once I was dead, she would be satisfied with her revenge and leave Charlie in peace. There were no decisions to make. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable strike.
But the killing hit didn't come. "What are you waiting for?" I whispered, almost impatient.
"I'm waiting," a voice said, "for you to open your eyes."
I did.
It wasn't Victoria.
***
Chapter Two: Order
Sanity Update: I never realized how badly Meyer split up her action before. I mean, I knew, but looking at it this closely... it's bad. Really bad. No flow at all, chapters where a ton of events are squished into a few paragraphs and then fifteen pages of navel-gazing, all kinds of crap, and I'm bound to more or less follow nonetheless. And there are whole sentences of hers that make no sense. None. Let me tell you, this is proving to be an amazingly educational experience in its own way.
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 One:
Repeated Disclaimer: Once again, there's a lot of direct lifting from New Moon here -- sometimes whole sentences, sometimes just phrases, but still. Just to remind you, I do not own Stephenie Meyer's work, because I am not Stephenie Meyer. Otherwise I'd be using my millions of dollars to buy a new laptop right now, because writing on the desktop is just NOT working. Then I would bathe in champagne with the Old Spice Guy.
compared to some, i've been around / but i really tried so hard
Neko Case, "Hold On Hold On"
1. Rescue
My routine for the next week was fairly straight-forward.
Wake up. Realize I'm breathing. Sneak into Charlie's room. Confirm that he's breathing. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Take shower. Dress. Eat breakfast. Drive to school. Sit through class. Make small talk with Angela, Mike, Eric, and Jessica. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Drive to work. Stock shelves. Answer questions from customers. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Come home. Do schoolwork. Eat whatever Charlie has made for dinner. Assure Charlie dinner is delicious. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Go to room. Change into pajamas. Sit on edge of bed. Call Jacob. Get no answer.
Climb under covers. Think about giant wolves. Think about Victoria. Think about Edward. Think about bleeding, gaping wounds. Curl in a ball. Go to sleep. Dream of injured howls and empty meadows and blood-red eyes.
Wake up several times during the night. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.
Repeat.
***
Friday afternoon, as I drove home from school, it hit me out of the blue -- and I literally slammed on my brakes in the middle of the road, coming to a screeching, skidding halt on the pavement.
Jacob wouldn't avoid me like this. It was completely out of character for him. Even if he'd given up on me, even if he'd finally understood that there was no hope, even if I'd hurt him too badly for us to continue being best friends... he wouldn't refuse to take my calls. It just wasn't in his nature. I knew him too well for that.
Add in the short, unhelpful answers from Billy... the way Charlie had said he was arguing with some boys from the reservation...
It was Sam Uley. Sam had finally gotten to Jacob.
A wave of anger and self-loathing washed over me, searing the wound in my chest like cold salt water. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn't I seen it earlier? It was embarrassingly obvious. If I'd thought about it instead of just obsessing over how I missed him, if I'd tried harder, if I'd realized--
A sedan behind me leaned on the horn, sending a piercing blast through the misty air. I shook my head and stepped on the gas, lurching forward with a jolt, then pressed harder against the pedal, forcing the speedometer up to the truck's absolute maximum -- sixty-five miles an hour. The engine groaned in protest.
I was going to Jacob's, I decided resolutely. I would sit in his front yard until he turned up. I'd stay all night if I had to. I would find out what had happened, what Sam Uley had said to him, then I would drag him out of there the way I should have done the minute he'd told me about the cult. And, if necessary, I would run Sam down in the street, maybe even back over him a few times. That was all there was to it.
It wasn't too late, right? It couldn't be.
My mind was so preoccupied that the trip I'd been so determined to make seemed to take only a few seconds. Before I was expecting it, the forest began to thin, and I knew I would soon be able to see the first little houses of the reservation. I wondered which one of them belonged to Sam Uley. Maybe it would be better if I went there first. I still had my pepper spray in the glove compartment.
Focused on feverish thoughts of righteous vengeance, I nearly drove right past the boy walking away on the other side of the road.
For a second my breath caught. Jacob. Was it Jacob? No, I wasn't that lucky; this boy was too wide, his hair too short. It took me a moment to recognize him as Quil Atera.
I pulled over, the right wheels of the truck squishing into the soft mud on the side of the asphalt, and rolled down my window. "Hey! Quil!"
He looked up in surprise, and I blinked, sure my eyes weren't focusing properly. Quil looked... bigger than the last time I had seen him. How was it that all these Quileute boys were going through their growth spurts in the same few weeks? At Forks High, Eric was still six inches shorter than Mike. "Hi, Bella," Quil said dully, knocking me out of my confused thoughts. He looked terrible.
"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" I offered, glancing up at the steel gray sky. "It looks like it's going to rain." As usual.
"Sure, I guess." As he walked around the front of the truck his sneakers scuffed against the pavement, and it reminded me of how Jacob had kicked the tires on the bike when he'd first told me about Sam's cult, a rhythmic little scrape scrape scrape.
"Where to?" I asked as Quil climbed into the cab.
"My house is on the north side. Back behind the store." He drummed his fingers against the door handle.
"Have you spoken to Jacob lately?" I asked as I eased the truck out of the mud, the wheels spinning a little. Maybe Quil had some information that I didn't have access to, not living on the reservation.
"Nope," he said darkly. "He hasn't talked to me in weeks."
My fists tightened on the steering wheel. "Me neither."
Quil snorted. "If he isn't talking to you, then it must really be bad." He turned his head and spat out the open window. "Guess he doesn't have any time for us now. Hasn't been in school either. He only hangs out with--" He cut off suddenly, scowling.
"With Sam," I completed for him. Quil looked over at me, surprise written all over his face, and I explained, "Jacob told me about him and his gang. Before."
"Before," Quil echoed, bitterness dripping off the word. "Right."
"Have you seen him, at least?"
He looked out the windshield, a muscle in his jaw working. "From a distance. Him and Embry. I tried to follow them today, but they just disappeared into the trees. I'd been yelling for them for an hour before I found the road and you showed up." He muttered something under his breath that I didn't catch, and I was pretty sure it wasn't complimentary towards his former friends.
We drove in silence for a minute, until I finally voiced the question that had been eating at me. "What's going on, Quil? Drugs, maybe?" Even as I said it, it felt wrong. Not Jacob. Jacob was so naturally happy. "What is Sam saying to them?"
"Beats the hell out of me," Quil said. "Jacob hated this cult crap. But then again," he added, still bitter, "so did Embry. I hate it too, so I guess I'll be next, won't I?"
"Of course you won't be," I said fiercely. My hands were starting to hurt from their death grip on the wheel. "Don't talk like that. I won't let that happen."
Quil looked at me, eyebrows raised in amusement, and snickered. "Yeah, Bella. Sure." There wasn't any real sting to his words, though. Then he sighed. "This is... I don't know, messed up. It's freaking me out pretty bad."
"No kidding. I don't suppose your parents--"
He shook his head. "They haven't been a damn bit of help. My grandfather's on the council with Jacob's dad. Sam Uley walks on water and shits sunshine, as far as they're concerned." When I coughed in shock, he winced and glanced over in chagrin. "Uh. Sorry."
"It's fine." If I was going to be hanging out with Quil and Jacob more -- and once I dragged Jacob out of here, I wasn't letting either of them out of my sight for a second -- I guessed I would need to get used to more colorful language than Holy crow. "Seriously, none of the adults are worried at all?"
"Not even a little. Weird, huh?"
I frowned. "Very." If I dropped out of school and started following around an older man like a puppy, Charlie would have me locked up. He'd nearly done it and I had only been mourning.
The hole in my chest throbbed achingly at the reminder, but I swallowed hard and shoved the pain away. I couldn't be distracted, not now. If this rescue mission was going to work, I needed to be focused on the task at hand.
"This is it," Quil said, pointing out the window at a small wooden rectangle behind the village's only store. I pulled over, and he gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks for the ride. Want a soda or something?"
"Can't," I replied, my knuckles turning white on the wheel. "I'm going to go wait for Jacob."
"Hope you have more luck than I did." Quil hopped down onto the pavement. "Thanks again, Bella. Kick Jake's ass for me."
"You better believe it."
Quil's anger buoyed me as I made a wide U-turn and headed back towards the Blacks'. What was Jacob thinking? How could he treat his friends like this? Dodge their phone calls, run off into the woods without them? How dare he!
At the same time, a little thread of relief snaked its way into my heart. If Jacob was ignoring Quil too... then it wasn't about me. This determined avoidance wasn't because of how I'd shot him down at the theater, trying to pull my hands away from his. I hadn't ruined everything with my clumsy, ham-fisted treatment of my best friend's heart. We could still be the way we had been.
Once I dealt with Sam, that is.
I gritted my teeth as I pulled up in front of Jacob's house, killing the motor and rolling down the windows. The humidity made my hair stick to my neck, and I heard an ominous rumble from the sky. I put my feet up on the dashboard; the heavens could open up overhead if they wanted, but I wasn't going anywhere until I saw Jacob. More than that -- I wasn't going anywhere without Jacob. When I left, he was coming with me. End of story. I was willing to be annoyingly persistent, too.
A movement flashed in my peripheral vision -- I turned and spotted Billy looking at me through the front window with a confused expression. I smiled and gave him a sarcastic little wave. His eyes narrowed; he let the curtain fall across the glass. He'd looked annoyed. I didn't care. If Billy didn't like that I was here to retrieve his son, then he should have taken better care of him in the first place.
Fifteen minutes ticked by. I dug up a pen and an old test out of the bottom of my backpack. If I had paused to do any planning, I would have brought a book to help pass the time; as it stood, I'd have to settle for doodling.
I'd only had time to absently scrawl one row of diamonds on the paper when there was a tap against my door. I jumped, looking up, expecting Billy.
It wasn't Billy.
It was Jacob.
Sort of.
"Hi," he said hoarsely.
My mouth fell open. Jacob had changed radically in the weeks since I'd seen him. He looked older; the final vestiges of childhood had disappeared from his face, which was now sharp and hard. His beautiful hair was gone, cropped short and choppy against his head. He was shirtless, which gave me a view of the muscles that had filled out and thickened practically overnight, and I was positive that he was taller, at least an inch, maybe two. It shouldn't have been possible -- no one grew that fast -- but here was the proof, right in front of me.
But none of that mattered next to the change in his expression. Jacob's open, friendly smile was gone, and in its place was an incomprehensible combination of anger and pain and misery, mixed with another emotion, one I couldn't put my finger on. Whatever it was, it was awful.
Jacob stared at me, his eyes raking over me with burning intensity, and I felt a lump gather in my throat. Something was terribly wrong. "Jake," I whispered, trying to smile, "your hair..." I reached through the window to touch his head, but Jacob dodged my hand lightning fast, as though I'd tried to hit him. The haunted look on his face intensified.
The lump in my throat got bigger, and to my mortification, I felt my eyes fill with tears. I tried to blink them back. I'd come here to fight for my best friend, not cry at his feet like a little kid. "Jacob, what happened to you?"
With what looked like Herculean effort, Jacob stepped backward, edging away from the truck. He didn't answer me.
It was then that I realized we weren't alone. Behind him stood four others; tall and russet-skinned, black hair chopped short like Jacob's, impossibly muscled, all giving me curious looks. One of them surely had to be Embry, but I couldn't figure out which one. They could have been brothers.
The only one who looked different was Sam Uley. He stood in the back, undeniably the oldest, the man among boys, examining me with a too-knowing gaze. I saw now what Jacob had meant about not liking the way Sam looked at him.
White-hot fury rose so fast in my veins that I got a little light-headed. This was all his fault. I didn't know how, but it was. In that moment, it didn't matter that I was a hundred and ten pounds, five foot four, and could barely lift a gallon of milk. I was going to kill Sam for putting that look on Jacob's face.
Edward's dulcet tones suddenly cautioned in my ear, "They are dangerous, Bella. Do not risk pushing them."
I was too enraged to pay attention.
I opened the door to the truck with a squeak of metal and jumped out, landing in a puddle. Mud sloshed into my tennis shoes. I only managed to take two steps forward before the three boys closed ranks, forming a solid wall of muscle between me and Sam. I still couldn't figure out which one was Embry.
If I was a vampire, they would get out of my way. The thought rose with such viciousness that it took my breath away, and the hole in my chest seared with fresh pain. I wouldn't ever be a vampire, now. That future was lost to me forever.
I used my anger to slap the agony aside sharply. This wasn't the time for that. "Jacob," I said, glaring at the boys blocking my way, "I want to talk to you. Alone."
There was a pause, then from behind me I heard Jacob say, "Sam?"
The wall of muscle in front of me turned as one toward Sam Uley, in perfect coordination. A shiver ran up my spine. What was going on around here?
From between two shoulders, I saw Sam nod once, still giving me an evaluative look. He made a brief comment in a sing-songy language I'd never heard -- probably Quileute, I realized -- then turned and walked into Jacob's house. The others -- Embry, and I vaguely remembered the names Paul and Jared -- followed him in wordlessly.
I faced Jacob, and was surprised to see him watching the departing boys with a look of betrayal. Then his gaze was back on me, roving over my form with that horrible, incomprehensible expression. He didn't say anything.
I took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Get in the truck, Jake. Let's get out of here."
His brow furrowed on his newly sharp face. "What?"
"We need to talk. But not here." I pointed at the house, where a cult was waiting to steal my friend away. "Not around them. You can come home with me, okay? You can stay there. Quil too. I'll keep you safe, I promise." I had no idea how I would keep that promise, but I had a vague image of myself sitting on the front stoop with Charlie's shotgun in my hands. I'd never fired a gun before, but I could learn.
"Quil," he whispered, his face growing more pained.
"Yeah, you remember him, right? Your friend?" I said, a touch of hardness in my voice. "I ran into him on the way here. He's freaked out. He thinks he's next."
"No," Jacob mumbled, turning a strange shade of green under his dark skin. "No, that can't be right. It should stop now. There won't be any more."
I nodded. "You're damn right there won't be any more. Now come on."
Jacob shook his head slowly, his eyes still on my face. "I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't," he bit out, an edge to his voice that I'd never heard before. His hands were shaking. "I can't do what you want, even if I want to, so don't ask." The hopelessness on his face ripped new wounds into my chest, leaving me full of holes like Swiss cheese. I stepped forward, intending to comfort him, to do something...
...and Jacob stepped backward.
The lump returned to my throat at the obvious rejection, and this time, the tears spilled over. I could feel them running down my face, hot and sticky. None of this made any sense, none of it.
His eyes widened with horror as he realized what was happening. "Are you crying? Am I making you cry? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bells, please don't cry. I don't want you to cry."
"What the hell else am I supposed to do, Jake?" I spat, swiping angrily at my cheeks. I was furious at him, and at Sam, but mostly at myself. I didn't stop this from happening in the first place, I couldn't convince Jacob to leave, and now, of all things, I was crying. Some rescuer I was. "Why are you acting like this? I don't understand! You hated Sam!"
"I was wrong," Jacob said huskily. "I just didn't get it before. I don't hate him." His eyes flicked towards the door momentarily, and a touch of resentment crossed his face. "Well, maybe a little bit right now," he amended under his breath.
"You didn't get it before," I repeated, still sniffling. "And, what, now you do?"
He nodded slowly.
"Well, hallelujah. I'm so glad you've seen the light." I couldn't think of what else to say, so I just crossed my arms and leaned against the truck, staring at the ground. Helplessness suffused every part of my being and I hated it.
A quiet moment passed, then Jacob said unhappily, "This is all wrong. I hate this. Everything is ruined. I had a plan, and now... it shouldn't be like this at all."
"You're right. It shouldn't." I studied the mud on my shoes, refusing to look up until I was at least reasonably sure that my tears wouldn't make a reappearance. "So why are you acting like it has to be?"
"I can't tell you."
I snorted. "Can't, or won't?"
I heard something like grinding teeth. "Won't."
"Right."
We stood in silence for a long, miserable moment.
"You need to go home, Bella." The words were slow and distinct, like he was having to force them out of his mouth. "This isn't something that... it's not... I don't want you to be involved in this."
I looked up at Jacob, my breath freezing in my lungs.
"You... don't... want me?" I tried out the words, confused by the way they sounded, placed in that order.
"No."
"Well," I said mechanically, like I was reading from a very familiar script, "that changes things."
Jacob's eyebrows came together in puzzlement for a moment. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. "No, Bells. Not that." His hands were shaking again, and he clenched them into fists, the newly developed muscles on his forearms bulging. "It is nothing like that."
"Sure."
"I'm telling the truth." That strange expression was back as Jacob held my gaze with burning intensity. "You have to believe me. It isn't like that at all." He reached toward me automatically, and for one joyous second I thought he was going to pull me into one of his warm, crushing, the-world-really-is-worth-living-in hugs -- but then he caught himself and pulled back.
Understanding struck. Jacob didn't want to send me away. I couldn't figure out why he thought he had to, but he definitely didn't want to.
If I could just convince him...
"Jacob," I said slowly, trying to feel out the right words. "I know what I said, how... how this is different for you than it is for me--"
He flinched.
"--but, I mean, maybe I was wrong. I could... try harder. I will. I will try harder. Just... maybe, if you give me some more time, things would change."
This was by far the biggest lie I'd ever told. I knew the truth -- that I hadn't tried, not even a little. I hadn't even attempted to feel anything for Jacob other than friendship, because I hadn't had the wherewithal to put us both through an endeavor so obviously doomed to failure.
But I would try now, if that's what it took. I didn't think I would succeed -- I couldn't succeed -- but I would do anything that stood the smallest chance of wiping that terrible expression from his face. If this was what Jacob needed from me, then so be it. I couldn't stand seeing him look this way. "Please," I whispered. "Please don't quit on me. I'm not going to quit on you. Let me help. At least let me try."
I'd hoped my words would make Jacob happy, but instead, he looked like I had just slipped a knife between his ribs. The agony in his eyes took my breath away. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then finally he said in a choked voice, "You can't help me, Bella. No one can. But especially not you."
I was glad I was already leaning against the truck, because otherwise I would have collapsed to the ground. "Jake, don't--"
"Sam?" Jacob's whole body was shaking as he called towards the house, cutting me off. "Sam!"
Sam Uley opened the front door of the house instantly and stepped onto the front porch. He narrowed his eyes at Jacob, seeming to take in the situation with a glance. Then, with a tiny shake of his head, Sam said, "Come inside."
Jacob disappeared into the house so fast that he nearly flew. Sam gave me another one of those speculative looks, then shut the door with a firm click.
And, right on cue, rain started to pour from the sky.
I was unable to move from where I stood. I stared at the little house; it looked too small to hold four large boys and two larger men. There was no reaction inside. No flutter at the edge of the curtain, no sound of voices or movement. It faced me vacantly. I waited for several minutes, my clothes getting soaked in the downpour as I tried to keep breathing when it felt like every vital organ had been ripped out of my body. I forced one lungful of air in, then pushed it back out again. In, then out. Again. Again.
Finally the door opened, and Billy rolled into sight. I couldn't see anyone behind him. "Charlie just called, Bella," he said. "I told him you were on your way."
I shook my head.
"Bella," Billy said, firm now, "you need to go."
"No," I croaked as I came forward slowly, stepping up onto the porch. I still hadn't done what I came here to do. "I'm not leaving without Jake."
Billy's eyes flashed. "This is where Jacob belongs, Bella. I know you don't understand, but--"
"No!" I tried to look past Billy into the darkened living room, struggling to fight off a rising panic that threatened to shake me to pieces. If I left him here alone, God only knew what they'd do to him. "Jacob!"
From inside the house, I heard a low moan. The sound make my hands tremble.
"Bella." Billy's voice had turned as cold as winter. "Go home." He rolled back inside and slammed the door shut.
I stood staring blankly for a long minute, then turned robotically and walked across the yard, incapacitated by rage and my own helplessness. Jacob was mere feet away inside his house, but unless I wanted to break down the front door and pepper spray his disabled father, there wasn't anything I could do about it.
The rain beat sideways through the open windows of the truck as I climbed in, turned on the engine, and drove away. I barely noticed. It wasn't like I could get any wetter.
Not as bad! Not as bad! my mind tried to comfort me.
Not the same, I retorted. And it wasn't. Edward's loss had ended my world. It had punched a hole into my body and taken away everything that had brought my life meaning, everything I'd hoped for in my future. But at least I had the cold comfort of knowing that Edward was better off. He'd rid himself of the ridiculous little human girl who had been holding him back, and now he could make his way as the glorious angel he was, unencumbered. Without me he was free and happy.
Jacob wasn't free. And he certainly wasn't happy.
The wounds in my chest hurt so badly that I glanced down, half-expecting to see blood soaking my shirt. But it was only rain.
When I pulled up into the driveway, Charlie opened the front door. He'd been waiting for me in the foyer. I stumbled up the front steps, water running in rivers out of my clothes. "Billy called," he explained as I stepped inside, wringing out my ponytail. "He said you'd gotten in a fight with Jake?"
"Kind of," I murmured.
"Well, I wouldn't worry, I'm sure you two will..." He trailed off when he saw my face, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Bells? Are you crying?"
Too much too much too much.
I burst into noisy, pathetic tears, and, desperate for some kind of comfort, stepped forward and rested my head on Charlie's chest. His arms hesitantly came up to circle my shoulders as I sobbed, "Dad, Sam Uley's gotten to Jacob, he's cut off all his hair and he... his face..." I gulped for air, panic starting to rise again. "You should have seen it, I can't-- there's something wrong and Billy told me to go away and I don't know what they're doing to him--"
Charlie rubbed my back, and I realized I was shivering. I could probably add 'gave myself hypothermia' to my accomplishments for the day. "Okay. Okay, Bells. It's going to be all right." He pulled away a little bit and looked me in the eye. "You really think there's something wrong with the Uley kid?"
I nodded, my vision blurry. "I know there is. He was there. He was... looking at me."
Charlie's face got hard. "I see." He straightened and blew out a breath, glancing over my shoulder at the opposite wall for a moment. Then he nodded decisively. "All right then. Bella, listen, why don't you go dry off, okay? I'm going to make a few phone calls." He pushed me gently in the direction of the stairs and headed for the kitchen, muttering darkly.
I decided to take a shower to try and alleviate the cold -- it truly felt like I would never be warm again. I stood under the scalding water until the stream turned tepid, then shut off the tap with a sigh. In the sudden quiet, I could hear Charlie talking to someone downstairs. I wrapped a towel around myself and cracked the bathroom door.
Charlie's voice was as angry as I'd ever heard it. "That's bullshit. That's total bullshit, Billy, and you know it."
It was quiet then, and I realized he was on the phone. I moved closer to the stairs, eavesdropping shamelessly.
"Don't you put this on Bella!" Charlie shouted without warning. "If you really think I'm going to believe--" He cut off briefly, then continued with a growl, "Well, obviously I give your son more credit than you do, since I think he'd be smart enough to figure that out."
I swallowed. I had never known my father to talk like this before, especially not to Billy Black. I felt a whole new surge of fury; this mess was damaging my father's relationship with his best friend, too. It wasn't fair.
"Yeah," Charlie continued acidly. "Yeah, you do that. But you better tell those kids that if someone so much as tosses a can on the side of the road, I'll have their asses at the station before they can blink. And then I will get some real answers." A short pause, then, "Fine. Yeah. Goodbye." The phone slammed into the cradle.
I crept across the hallway and into my room, shutting the door behind me. Having Charlie on my side at least made feel less alone, but realistically, there wasn't much he could do as long as Sam's cult stayed on the straight and narrow. As I pulled on my pajamas and climbed into bed, I wondered if I could convince Angela to call the station and claim she'd seen some Quileute guys smoking a marijuana joint. That would be all the opening Charlie would need.
The hours ticked by, but I didn't fall asleep. Instead I stared at the ceiling and came up with plans to save Jacob, each more ridiculous than the last. It was past midnight when I stopped wondering whether it was legal to ship tranquilizer guns internationally and the simple, obvious solution slapped me in the face.
It was the middle of the night. Sam Uley couldn't possibly be at Jacob's house right now.
I jumped out of bed and shrugged into my hoodie instantly. He'd be alone, aside from Billy -- and Billy couldn't get out of bed without help. I would just climb in his bedroom window, hopefully without breaking any bones, and talk and talk and talk until Jacob listened to me. He would have to physically drag me out to make me leave... and that didn't seem likely.
Yes. This could work. I snuck down the stairs, pausing for a second as the wood creaked under my weight. There was no sound from Charlie's room, and I made it out the front door without tripping over something and giving myself away.
I was halfway to my truck when I heard the scrape of gravel shifting in the driveway. I froze, staring into the darkness, unable to make out the figure I suddenly knew was there.
Victoria.
In my panic, I'd forgotten I was still being hunted.
A strange, numbing peace settled into my body. There wasn't anything I could do now, aside from hope that once I was dead, she would be satisfied with her revenge and leave Charlie in peace. There were no decisions to make. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable strike.
But the killing hit didn't come. "What are you waiting for?" I whispered, almost impatient.
"I'm waiting," a voice said, "for you to open your eyes."
I did.
It wasn't Victoria.
***
Chapter Two: Order
Sanity Update: I never realized how badly Meyer split up her action before. I mean, I knew, but looking at it this closely... it's bad. Really bad. No flow at all, chapters where a ton of events are squished into a few paragraphs and then fifteen pages of navel-gazing, all kinds of crap, and I'm bound to more or less follow nonetheless. And there are whole sentences of hers that make no sense. None. Let me tell you, this is proving to be an amazingly educational experience in its own way.