The Movement of the Earth - Chapter 3
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 Three:
Son of Disclaimer: While we're starting to ease off, there are still significant portions of this fic that are lifted directly from New Moon (and Twilight via New Moon, interestingly enough). I make no claims to owning any portion of the Twilight Saga, because if I did, I would be suing Stephenie Meyer's ass off. And since one cannot sue one's own ass off, it also stands to reason that I am not Stephenie Meyer.
we're so close to something better left unknown / i can feel it in my bones
Metric, "Gimme Sympathy"
3. Red Pill
The dirt lot at First Beach was devoid of other vehicles. If the weather had been nicer, then there likely would have been a few people on the shore, families or groups of teenagers, surfing maybe, or sunbathing or picnicking -- but it was after eleven-thirty and there was no sign of the sun peeping through the clouds. The day would be gloomy. It seemed appropriate, somehow.
I didn't see Jacob -- but I knew where he'd be if he was still here.
I paced down the beach toward the north seawall, finding a rough path through the tall hedge of weeds. The wind whipping off the water was frigid, and I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to hold in a bit of the precious body heat that seemed to be eluding me at the moment. I glanced down at my cast, irritated. If the weather didn't warm up soon, I would have to walk around with an afgan over my shoulders like an old woman -- or cut off the right arms off all my long-sleeved shirts.
After a few minutes of picking my way carefully across the rocks, trying not to fall and break my other arm, I found what I had been searching for: a long bone-white driftwood tree stranded far from the beach. The roots twisted up at the seaward end, like a hundred brittle tentacles.
Jacob was sitting on the largest branch, staring out at the waves. His short hair still rendered him almost unrecognizable. Maybe I'd get used to it eventually.
I came forward until I was only ten feet or so away, then stopped, pebbles shifting under my feet; Jacob had to have heard me, given that everything about my travel had been noisy, but he didn't speak up. My eyes roved over his half-naked form -- was there some sort of rule in this 'pack' about wearing shirts? -- until finally I blurted out, "Aren't you cold?"
Jacob's mouth twitched, but he didn't look away from the ocean. "Nope," he said. His voice was quiet and dark. It made me think, foolishly, of unsweetened chocolate.
Anger swelled up in me again. It wasn't right that Jacob, the sweetest person I'd ever met, had somehow been made bitter. I hated it. I had to fix whatever it was that was making him that way, and I had to fix it right now. "Jake, what--"
"I was thinking maybe you weren't going to come," he said, interrupting me before I could complete the question.
I grimaced guiltily. "Yeah. I'm really sorry, I meant to come first thing, but the painkillers knocked me out--"
"Don't be sorry," Jacob interrupted again. His face was stony in profile. "I was hoping you wouldn't."
The stark rejection of his words made me feel even colder, like I'd stumbled into the seawater on the beach. "Oh," I whispered. I tried to wrap my arms around the holes in my chest that threatened to shatter me, but the stupid cast kept getting in the way.
Jacob frowned suddenly, obviously registering my words for the first time. "Wait, what painkillers?" He swung his long legs off the branch and turned to face me; when his eyes met mine, his expression shifted into that thing I didn't understand, save that it caused him pain. I studied his features, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, and he swallowed hard under my scrutiny... but he didn't look away. I had the vague feeling that his intense gaze should have felt uncomfortable, or invasive.
It didn't.
After a long moment, his eyes left my face and moved over my form, coming to rest on my right arm, still cradled to my chest. "What happened to your wrist?" he demanded. "It wasn't like that yesterday."
"It's not my wrist, it's my hand," I corrected him, uneasily noticing the tension in his body. Jacob seemed... on edge. I decided that this wasn't the time to tell him about my pathetic attempt to injure his cult leader. "I fell out of bed and broke a couple of bones. Just one more misadventure in the hopeless life of Isabella Swan." I shrugged like it was no big deal.
Jacob stared at me for a long moment. Then his eyes narrowed. "You're lying," he proclaimed.
Damn. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. What's the real story?"
I shifted my weight awkwardly as I looked down at the rocks. He really wasn't going to like this. "Well, uh, the thing is, Sam came to see me last night--"
"Sam?"
"--and then I was, um, kind of yelling at him a little, and I sort of--"
There was an inhuman growl.
I looked up in surprise to see Jacob's body shaking violently. The driftwood tree vibrated underneath his gigantic frame. "I'm going to kill him," he snarled, his eyes back on my cast, his face twisted with unfamiliar rage. "I'm going to rip his fucking throat out."
I couldn't figure out what shocked me more: the violent spasms, the way the f-word seemed to come so naturally from his mouth, or the fact that he was angry with Sam and not me. "Jake," I said hesitantly, "it's not that I don't sympathize with the throat-ripping-out sentiment -- believe me, I do -- but I kind of did this to myself. I'd rather you not go to jail just because I can't throw a punch."
Jacob blinked, and the shuddering stopped almost as quickly as it started. "What are you talking about?"
This was so humiliating. "I... hit Sam," I said reluctantly. "I hit him in the face. And I broke my hand."
"You did what?"
"You heard me," I snapped, scowling.
He blinked several more times... and then, for the first time in weeks, I saw Jacob Black smile. "Seriously? That's awesome, Bells."
My mouth dropped open in surprise. This was unexpected. "I thought you'd be mad."
He grinned, and the sunniness of it warmed me. "Naw. I mean, I wish you hadn't gotten hurt, but... I can't believe you could reach his face! What did you do, stand on a box?"
"No." It figured that Jacob would use this as an opportunity to mock me about my height -- for the millionth time. "I just... stretched."
Jacob chuckled and shook his head. "You decked Sam. You decked Sam. Seriously, Bells, that is the best mental image I've had in a long time."
I rolled my eyes. "For all the good it did. I broke my hand and didn't even leave a mark."
The sunniness vanished from Jacob's face instantly. "No," he said, dropping his head into his hands with a resentful sigh, "it wouldn't."
The atmosphere had shifted so fast that I was left feeling dizzy and disoriented; the mood-swings from this new, short-haired Jacob were difficult for me to follow. For a second things had been better -- we'd felt right again, like the time apart had never happened. Obviously I'd said something wrong. I reached for Jacob's shoulder tentatively, intending to offer some sort of comfort or apology.
"Please don't," came his muffled voice from between his fingers.
I pulled back. "Why not?" I said plaintively.
"Because," he said, still hiding his face, "it'll make it worse."
"Make what worse?"
"The imprint," Jacob whispered. It sounded like the words were being torn out of him.
I paused and waited for him to say more, but he just sat silently, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped in resignation. Imprint. "Am I supposed to know what that means?" I asked finally.
"No, you're not."
"Why?"
"Because I haven't told you yet."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to."
I frowned, frustrated confusion building in my mind. There was something very strange about this entire conversation, something wrong in the way that Jacob was responding... I inhaled sharply as I realized what it was. "You're answering my questions, aren't you?"
Jacob finally lifted his head from his hands and gave me a half-smile. There was absolutely no humor in his face. "Yes."
"But," I persisted, "only the exact question that I ask?"
"Yes."
I shook my head, thoroughly aggravated. This was beyond ridiculous -- not to mention bizarre. "But... why?"
"Because Sam ordered me to," Jacob said simply. Then he smiled again, and it was even worse than before. "But I don't have to offer anything extra. He should be more specific when he tells me to do something."
"You..." I tried to wrap my head around it. I was starting to get a migraine. "You seriously have to answer me?"
"Yep." Jacob stared at me, and the blazing intensity in his gaze caused my skin to flush with a glowing heat, as though it was tilted towards the sun. "But, Bells, just because I have to answer doesn't mean you have to ask. Have you ever seen The Matrix?"
I blinked. "Yeah, why?"
"It's like the blue pill and the red pill," he said feverishly. "You get a choice. If you leave, right now, you don't have to know. Sam won't be able to do anything about it. But if you ask, then I'll have to answer, and there's no going back after that. So just walk away, all right?" The final words clearly pained him.
"But," I said slowly, "wasn't the whole point of The Matrix that you're supposed to take the red pill?"
Jacob blew out an annoyed breath. "No, the point of The Matrix was for Keanu Reeves to blow things up and look badass. Work with me here, Bella, I'm not so good at analogies that don't involve cars."
"That's going to be a problem on your SATs," I tried to joke.
He snorted. "I don't think I'll be taking them now." The intensity in his face faded into something closer to hopeless anxiety as he pleaded, "Bella, it'll be better if you go. It-- it just shouldn't be like this. It's my problem to deal with. So don't ask, okay?"
"Listen to him." Edward's velvet voice appeared in my head again suddenly, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Go home. Now."
I drew a shaky breath. Whatever was going on, it was clearly very serious -- and possibly dangerous. That Edward's voice should want to protect me was no surprise; he didn't even want me to talk to strangers in Port Angeles. But Jacob, Jacob who helped me ride motorcycles and reveled in teenage debauchery... if he was trying to get me to leave, then this had to be really, really bad. Worse than I'd thought.
And they'd both lost their minds if they thought I'd leave Jacob alone to deal with it by himself. "I am not going to walk away from you, and you're an idiot for asking," I said.
Jacob looked down at the ground and kicked a rock, his expression miserable. "I thought you might say something like that."
"Do you really want me to go?" I persisted. I didn't want to make it into a question -- why did he have to answer? -- but I couldn't think of another way to ask, and I needed to know.
It took him a long moment to respond, his even, white teeth chewing on his lower lip. "Yes and no," he admitted eventually. "It's really complicated."
"So uncomplicate it for me." I stepped forward and sat down on one of the white, barren branches of the tree, listening to it creak slightly under my weight. "Why do you have to obey Sam? I don't understand at all."
Jacob turned his head to the side; we weren't sitting that far apart. I smiled tentatively and tried to look as inviting and harmless as possible. His face softened -- but then, without warning, he jumped off the driftwood and strode away, putting ten feet of distance between us.
I shivered.
"I obey Sam because he's the Alpha," Jacob said angrily as he paced across the rocks. The stones didn't clatter for him; when had he become so graceful? "When the Alpha gives an order, we have to do what he says, word for word. Literally have to."
"Alpha?" I repeated. Jacob's restless movements were making me nervous. "What, like a dog?"
Jacob stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, as though he couldn't bear to see what happened next. "No," he whispered. "Like a wolf."
I frowned, waiting for him to say more, to explain. When he didn't open his eyes, I said, "Like a wolf? But what does that--"
And then I got it.
Wolves. Enormous, multi-hued wolves in the meadow. Wolves that frightened a vampire. Giant Quileute boys, growing inches overnight. Sam calling his cult a "pack." Speed that shouldn't be possible, strength that shouldn't be possible, gracefulness that shouldn't be possible, howling in my dreams, intelligent black-brown eyes that stared--
"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from -- the Quileutes, I mean?" he asked.
"Not really," I admitted.
"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood -- supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive, like Noah and the ark." He smiled then, to show me how little stock he put in the histories. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves -- and that wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.
"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower.
"The cold ones?"
"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who make the treaty that kept them off our land." Jacob rolled his eyes.
"Your great-grandfather?"
"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf -- well, not the wolf really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."
There was something stuck in my throat, choking me. I tried to swallow it down, but it was lodged there, unmoving. I tried to spit it out.
"Werewolf," I gasped. The word was strange on my tongue, but as soon as I said it, I felt the rightness of it. I looked up at Jacob, my eyes so wide they hurt. "Werewolf?"
Jacob nodded bleakly.
"All of you? Sam, Embry... all werewolves?"
He nodded again.
The world spun violently beneath my body, and I leaned forward, putting my head between my knees. My vision narrowed down to a dark tunnel. I was vaguely aware of Jacob's voice through the buzzing in my ears, but the meaning of his words didn't register in my brain.
Werewolves.
What kind of place was this? It was insane, all of it, completely insane. The myths were real here in this cold, dank, gray and green corner of the country. Forks was home to creatures from fairy tales. Things that went bump in the night. The kinds of horrors that made children beg their parents to check the closet just one more time before bed to make sure they were safe. Monsters.
And I was friends with them.
Too much too much too much.
"Bella?" Jacob's frantic voice penetrated the fog in my mind. "Bells, honey, c'mon, talk to me--"
My vision cleared a bit. Jacob was crouched in front of me, his eyes searching my face in a panic. "Focus, Bella, tell me what you need," he pleaded.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. I could feel the hysterical laughter just below the surface, but I fought it down. "I'm fine, Jake."
"You don't look fine," he countered stubbornly. "You look like you're gonna puke, or pass out. Or both."
"That would get messy." In spite of my best efforts, a tiny giggle escaped.
Jacob rocked back on his heels. "What's funny?" he asked, confused.
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing at all." I took a deep breath, held the air in my lungs for a moment, then exhaled slowly. It didn't feel like my organs were all there, but they seemed to be functioning nonetheless. "You're a werewolf, that's all."
He winced. "Yeah. I am."
The truth of the situation was seeping in fast, as though I'd always known. Maybe some part of my brain had already half worked it out, and my conscious mind had simply been slow to catch up. "That's... it's just..." I shrugged, and another smile twitched at the corner of my mouth. "It's a little bit weird, Jake."
Jacob blinked in shock. Then a hesitant, answering smile started to form on his lips. "I guess it is, yeah." He studied my expression. "You okay?"
I shrugged ruefully. "I'm okay." Apparently I was just too fractured inside to feel much of anything for long, even shock. "You're lucky; I'm good with weird."
A black cloud passed over Jacob's face, and he stood up with a smooth, abrupt movement. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know you are." It sounded like an accusation.
I narrowed my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?" It seemed a little bit rich that Jacob should be snippy about my acceptance of weird when he'd just admitted to being a giant wolf.
Jacob's face suddenly turned agonized -- and I realized I'd phrased my words as a question. He gritted his teeth and started to shudder, but it was too late -- his answer came out rough and fast and clearly against his will. "It means," he growled, "anyone who dates a Cullen leech must really get off on weird."
I made an involuntary choking noise as vicious, horrible pain stabbed at the edges of the hole in my chest, as though I had swallowed a handful of razor blades. For a moment I was certain I would vomit blood. Through the haze of my anguish, I heard Jacob let out a low moan. "Jesus, it hurts to hurt you," he said miserably. "Even when I don't have a choice about it."
I shook my head, the movement mechanical. "I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." The words sounded weak in my ears as I struggled to force the ripping agony in my chest down to its usual dull ache. I would never be able to focus otherwise.
"Don't bother, Bella. I know all about those bloodsuckers. At least as much as you do. Maybe more."
My head throbbed, and I was starting to really miss Phoenix again. In Phoenix there was just sun and blue skies, and the only real worry you had was that the air-conditioner might die during a heat wave. There wasn't anything supernatural about Arizona. "But I thought you didn't believe in the histories."
"Yeah, well, exploding into a wolf can change your outlook on that sort of thing," he said, sarcasm dripping.
A startling vibration against my thigh saved me from having to respond. I glanced down at the rectangular outline in my jeans pocket, and finally something came to the surface that distracted me from the confusion, the shock, the anger, and the stabbing pain in my chest -- horror. "Oh, no, Charlie!"
"Huh?"
I leapt off the tree and pulled out my cell phone, awkwardly pressing the 'Answer' button with my left thumb. "Hi, Dad."
"The lights and the siren, young lady," a voice growled back, not bothering to acknowledge my greeting.
I flinched. "I know. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I was going to call, I just... got distracted."
"Distracted," Charlie huffed. "Distracted is wondering whether or not your daughter has crashed her truck into a tree because she couldn't drive with a cast on."
"I know."
"Or whether she's been kidnapped by some kind of teenage gang."
"I know."
"Or whether she's been dragged off into the forest and eaten by wolves."
"I--" My breath caught.
The hikers.
I looked up slowly and felt all the blood drain out of my face. What's wrong? Jacob mouthed at me, his eyebrows coming together.
"Bella? Hello?"
"Yeah, Dad," I answered. My voice sounded hollow, even to me. "Don't worry, none of those things happened. I'm with Jacob."
"Good," he said grudgingly. "I have to go in to the station; there's a lot missing person paperwork to sort through. I'll be back by four, though, and I expect you home by then too, understood?"
"Understood. I'll see you tonight." I hoped.
My hand shook so badly as I hung up that I nearly dropped the phone onto the rocks. There had been people disappearing in the woods. People attacked by animals -- wolves -- people who had vanished without a trace, aside from maybe a little blood. People who were never heard from again.
Jacob was giving me an uncertain look. "Is your dad pissed?"
"A little," I said. "He'll get over it. As long as I don't get 'dragged into the forest and eaten by wolves' like the missing hikers." I used air quotes, watching Jacob's face closely.
The confused expression stayed in place for a moment -- until his eyes widened in hurt surprise. "Bells, you don't really think that I would--"
"No, not you," I reassured him quickly. The very idea that Jacob could kill someone in cold blood was beyond absurd, werewolf or no. I didn't care what Edward's voice said, Jacob was not dangerous. But he wasn't the only giant wolf in these woods. "I know you wouldn't do something like that, but Sam, I mean, is he--"
"None of us are hurting anyone, Bella," Jacob said. His tone had gone from hurt to insulted. "Sam's a good guy." When I rolled my eyes, he amended, "Okay, he's an interfering dick, but aside from that he's a good guy."
"You're the one who threatened to rip his throat out."
"Only because I thought he broke your arm," he said flatly. "Sam is -- we are -- trying to protect people. That's what we're designed to do. We're just always a little too late."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's kinda..." Jacob tilted his head, then trailed off into silence. After a long moment he suddenly smiled. "Hey, what time is it?"
I checked the display on my phone. "Twelve-oh-three. Why?"
His smile became a wide, relieved grin. "Whew. I'm off the hook. Sam only said I had to answer your questions in the morning. I don't think he's too good at this ordering thing yet, I've been finding a lot of loopholes."
Relief and disappointment flooded my body. Relief, because Jacob was free of the order, and that obviously made him happy; disappointment, because I still had so many questions. A cold breeze came off the beach, and I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. "Will you... tell me some more anyway? Please?"
Jacob ignored my question -- after all, he could now -- and his smile faded as he noticed my discomfort. "You're cold," he stated unhappily.
I shrugged and held up my right arm. "Couldn't get a jacket on. And it's chilly out, even if it doesn't bother you." I took in his shirtless state jealously. "Wish I could generate that kind of body heat."
"It's a wolf thing."
"Huh. How many wolf things are there?"
Jacob was quiet for a long moment, his expression doing that miserable shifting thing that I hated so much. Like he was at war with something. "Too many," he said finally. He nodded at the path and walked by me, keeping a good six feet of distance between our bodies. "C'mon, let's get you someplace warmer. Your lips are turning blue."
I trotted behind him, stumbling over the rocks while he moved easily and effortlessly. Two weeks ago, Jacob would've followed up an observation about my frozen body temperature by wrapping me into a warm, full hug, probably complete with a little line-blurring stroke of my hair. Now he wasn't so much as holding my hand. I didn't know what was up with this whole no contact thing, but I didn't like it at all; I'd become accustomed to Jacob's touch, and without it I felt... empty. Like there were whole new pieces to my being that had gone missing overnight.
I hadn't even realized there was anything left in me to lose.
It took a few minutes to get back to the truck; Jacob could have made it to the parking lot within seconds, but he had clearly decided to be patient with my clumsy ways. We both climbed into the cab, and I immediately turned on the engine and cranked up the heater, holding my hands in front of the vent.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jacob watching me mutely. The quiet became awkward.
"Okay," I said, more to break the silence than anything else. "So if it's not the pack killing the hikers, what is? Is there really a bear out there after all? It would be better if Charlie shot at the right animal."
"Charlie should stay out of the woods," Jacob said. His voice was worried and serious. "Everyone should, until we've taken care of it."
"It?" I echoed.
Jacob sighed. "Bella, we only protect people from one thing -- our one enemy. It's the reason we exist -- because they do."
I stared at him blankly for one second before I understood.
"Werewolves have enemies?"
"Only one."
"Laurent is still here?" This was surprising news. I thought of how I'd seen him dash into the woods, almost faster than the eye could follow. "It looked like you'd chased him off." I decided not to mention how I'd assumed a week ago that Laurent had probably slaughtered the wolves without effort -- Jacob would surely take it as an insult.
"Oh, the black-haired leech from the meadow?" He shook his head. "No, we took care of him, no problem. He was pretty strong, but not all that quick. Not as quick as the other one."
"Then who is it?" I whispered, not even daring to hope; if one of the Cullens had come back, no one would be dying. They didn't do things like that. They were good.
Jacob shrugged, facing out the window. "It's not like we have conversations -- I've only gotten glimpses of her through the trees. All I know is she's a red-head and she's fast as hell." His hands started to shake as he spoke. He clenched them into tight fists against his thighs. "And she's killing on our land."
She. Red-head. Fast as hell.
"Her name's Victoria," I heard myself say.
Jacob looked up in surprise. "You know her?"
"Yeah," I said distantly. "She's planning to kill me."
***
Chapter Four: Fight
Sanity Update: I cave, you hear me? I cave. I lose. I can't do it all. I can't maintain canon, add character development, manage the plot changes, keep the chapters to a reasonably equal length, and repair the pacing. One of the balls has to drop, and it's pacing. The pacing is going to remain Meyer-esque, even though that was one of the things I wanted to fix. God help me, it might even be worse than Meyer. But I can't do it. I'm just not that good, I'm not! My life is a lie! *collapses sobbing*
On the plus side, the literary interpretation discussions (and I use the term "literary" very loosely) going on in these comments are keeping me both entertained and intellectually stimulated. This really is the smartest fandom I've ever participated in. You guys rock.
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 Three:
Son of Disclaimer: While we're starting to ease off, there are still significant portions of this fic that are lifted directly from New Moon (and Twilight via New Moon, interestingly enough). I make no claims to owning any portion of the Twilight Saga, because if I did, I would be suing Stephenie Meyer's ass off. And since one cannot sue one's own ass off, it also stands to reason that I am not Stephenie Meyer.
we're so close to something better left unknown / i can feel it in my bones
Metric, "Gimme Sympathy"
3. Red Pill
The dirt lot at First Beach was devoid of other vehicles. If the weather had been nicer, then there likely would have been a few people on the shore, families or groups of teenagers, surfing maybe, or sunbathing or picnicking -- but it was after eleven-thirty and there was no sign of the sun peeping through the clouds. The day would be gloomy. It seemed appropriate, somehow.
I didn't see Jacob -- but I knew where he'd be if he was still here.
I paced down the beach toward the north seawall, finding a rough path through the tall hedge of weeds. The wind whipping off the water was frigid, and I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to hold in a bit of the precious body heat that seemed to be eluding me at the moment. I glanced down at my cast, irritated. If the weather didn't warm up soon, I would have to walk around with an afgan over my shoulders like an old woman -- or cut off the right arms off all my long-sleeved shirts.
After a few minutes of picking my way carefully across the rocks, trying not to fall and break my other arm, I found what I had been searching for: a long bone-white driftwood tree stranded far from the beach. The roots twisted up at the seaward end, like a hundred brittle tentacles.
Jacob was sitting on the largest branch, staring out at the waves. His short hair still rendered him almost unrecognizable. Maybe I'd get used to it eventually.
I came forward until I was only ten feet or so away, then stopped, pebbles shifting under my feet; Jacob had to have heard me, given that everything about my travel had been noisy, but he didn't speak up. My eyes roved over his half-naked form -- was there some sort of rule in this 'pack' about wearing shirts? -- until finally I blurted out, "Aren't you cold?"
Jacob's mouth twitched, but he didn't look away from the ocean. "Nope," he said. His voice was quiet and dark. It made me think, foolishly, of unsweetened chocolate.
Anger swelled up in me again. It wasn't right that Jacob, the sweetest person I'd ever met, had somehow been made bitter. I hated it. I had to fix whatever it was that was making him that way, and I had to fix it right now. "Jake, what--"
"I was thinking maybe you weren't going to come," he said, interrupting me before I could complete the question.
I grimaced guiltily. "Yeah. I'm really sorry, I meant to come first thing, but the painkillers knocked me out--"
"Don't be sorry," Jacob interrupted again. His face was stony in profile. "I was hoping you wouldn't."
The stark rejection of his words made me feel even colder, like I'd stumbled into the seawater on the beach. "Oh," I whispered. I tried to wrap my arms around the holes in my chest that threatened to shatter me, but the stupid cast kept getting in the way.
Jacob frowned suddenly, obviously registering my words for the first time. "Wait, what painkillers?" He swung his long legs off the branch and turned to face me; when his eyes met mine, his expression shifted into that thing I didn't understand, save that it caused him pain. I studied his features, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, and he swallowed hard under my scrutiny... but he didn't look away. I had the vague feeling that his intense gaze should have felt uncomfortable, or invasive.
It didn't.
After a long moment, his eyes left my face and moved over my form, coming to rest on my right arm, still cradled to my chest. "What happened to your wrist?" he demanded. "It wasn't like that yesterday."
"It's not my wrist, it's my hand," I corrected him, uneasily noticing the tension in his body. Jacob seemed... on edge. I decided that this wasn't the time to tell him about my pathetic attempt to injure his cult leader. "I fell out of bed and broke a couple of bones. Just one more misadventure in the hopeless life of Isabella Swan." I shrugged like it was no big deal.
Jacob stared at me for a long moment. Then his eyes narrowed. "You're lying," he proclaimed.
Damn. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. What's the real story?"
I shifted my weight awkwardly as I looked down at the rocks. He really wasn't going to like this. "Well, uh, the thing is, Sam came to see me last night--"
"Sam?"
"--and then I was, um, kind of yelling at him a little, and I sort of--"
There was an inhuman growl.
I looked up in surprise to see Jacob's body shaking violently. The driftwood tree vibrated underneath his gigantic frame. "I'm going to kill him," he snarled, his eyes back on my cast, his face twisted with unfamiliar rage. "I'm going to rip his fucking throat out."
I couldn't figure out what shocked me more: the violent spasms, the way the f-word seemed to come so naturally from his mouth, or the fact that he was angry with Sam and not me. "Jake," I said hesitantly, "it's not that I don't sympathize with the throat-ripping-out sentiment -- believe me, I do -- but I kind of did this to myself. I'd rather you not go to jail just because I can't throw a punch."
Jacob blinked, and the shuddering stopped almost as quickly as it started. "What are you talking about?"
This was so humiliating. "I... hit Sam," I said reluctantly. "I hit him in the face. And I broke my hand."
"You did what?"
"You heard me," I snapped, scowling.
He blinked several more times... and then, for the first time in weeks, I saw Jacob Black smile. "Seriously? That's awesome, Bells."
My mouth dropped open in surprise. This was unexpected. "I thought you'd be mad."
He grinned, and the sunniness of it warmed me. "Naw. I mean, I wish you hadn't gotten hurt, but... I can't believe you could reach his face! What did you do, stand on a box?"
"No." It figured that Jacob would use this as an opportunity to mock me about my height -- for the millionth time. "I just... stretched."
Jacob chuckled and shook his head. "You decked Sam. You decked Sam. Seriously, Bells, that is the best mental image I've had in a long time."
I rolled my eyes. "For all the good it did. I broke my hand and didn't even leave a mark."
The sunniness vanished from Jacob's face instantly. "No," he said, dropping his head into his hands with a resentful sigh, "it wouldn't."
The atmosphere had shifted so fast that I was left feeling dizzy and disoriented; the mood-swings from this new, short-haired Jacob were difficult for me to follow. For a second things had been better -- we'd felt right again, like the time apart had never happened. Obviously I'd said something wrong. I reached for Jacob's shoulder tentatively, intending to offer some sort of comfort or apology.
"Please don't," came his muffled voice from between his fingers.
I pulled back. "Why not?" I said plaintively.
"Because," he said, still hiding his face, "it'll make it worse."
"Make what worse?"
"The imprint," Jacob whispered. It sounded like the words were being torn out of him.
I paused and waited for him to say more, but he just sat silently, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped in resignation. Imprint. "Am I supposed to know what that means?" I asked finally.
"No, you're not."
"Why?"
"Because I haven't told you yet."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to."
I frowned, frustrated confusion building in my mind. There was something very strange about this entire conversation, something wrong in the way that Jacob was responding... I inhaled sharply as I realized what it was. "You're answering my questions, aren't you?"
Jacob finally lifted his head from his hands and gave me a half-smile. There was absolutely no humor in his face. "Yes."
"But," I persisted, "only the exact question that I ask?"
"Yes."
I shook my head, thoroughly aggravated. This was beyond ridiculous -- not to mention bizarre. "But... why?"
"Because Sam ordered me to," Jacob said simply. Then he smiled again, and it was even worse than before. "But I don't have to offer anything extra. He should be more specific when he tells me to do something."
"You..." I tried to wrap my head around it. I was starting to get a migraine. "You seriously have to answer me?"
"Yep." Jacob stared at me, and the blazing intensity in his gaze caused my skin to flush with a glowing heat, as though it was tilted towards the sun. "But, Bells, just because I have to answer doesn't mean you have to ask. Have you ever seen The Matrix?"
I blinked. "Yeah, why?"
"It's like the blue pill and the red pill," he said feverishly. "You get a choice. If you leave, right now, you don't have to know. Sam won't be able to do anything about it. But if you ask, then I'll have to answer, and there's no going back after that. So just walk away, all right?" The final words clearly pained him.
"But," I said slowly, "wasn't the whole point of The Matrix that you're supposed to take the red pill?"
Jacob blew out an annoyed breath. "No, the point of The Matrix was for Keanu Reeves to blow things up and look badass. Work with me here, Bella, I'm not so good at analogies that don't involve cars."
"That's going to be a problem on your SATs," I tried to joke.
He snorted. "I don't think I'll be taking them now." The intensity in his face faded into something closer to hopeless anxiety as he pleaded, "Bella, it'll be better if you go. It-- it just shouldn't be like this. It's my problem to deal with. So don't ask, okay?"
"Listen to him." Edward's velvet voice appeared in my head again suddenly, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Go home. Now."
I drew a shaky breath. Whatever was going on, it was clearly very serious -- and possibly dangerous. That Edward's voice should want to protect me was no surprise; he didn't even want me to talk to strangers in Port Angeles. But Jacob, Jacob who helped me ride motorcycles and reveled in teenage debauchery... if he was trying to get me to leave, then this had to be really, really bad. Worse than I'd thought.
And they'd both lost their minds if they thought I'd leave Jacob alone to deal with it by himself. "I am not going to walk away from you, and you're an idiot for asking," I said.
Jacob looked down at the ground and kicked a rock, his expression miserable. "I thought you might say something like that."
"Do you really want me to go?" I persisted. I didn't want to make it into a question -- why did he have to answer? -- but I couldn't think of another way to ask, and I needed to know.
It took him a long moment to respond, his even, white teeth chewing on his lower lip. "Yes and no," he admitted eventually. "It's really complicated."
"So uncomplicate it for me." I stepped forward and sat down on one of the white, barren branches of the tree, listening to it creak slightly under my weight. "Why do you have to obey Sam? I don't understand at all."
Jacob turned his head to the side; we weren't sitting that far apart. I smiled tentatively and tried to look as inviting and harmless as possible. His face softened -- but then, without warning, he jumped off the driftwood and strode away, putting ten feet of distance between us.
I shivered.
"I obey Sam because he's the Alpha," Jacob said angrily as he paced across the rocks. The stones didn't clatter for him; when had he become so graceful? "When the Alpha gives an order, we have to do what he says, word for word. Literally have to."
"Alpha?" I repeated. Jacob's restless movements were making me nervous. "What, like a dog?"
Jacob stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, as though he couldn't bear to see what happened next. "No," he whispered. "Like a wolf."
I frowned, waiting for him to say more, to explain. When he didn't open his eyes, I said, "Like a wolf? But what does that--"
And then I got it.
Wolves. Enormous, multi-hued wolves in the meadow. Wolves that frightened a vampire. Giant Quileute boys, growing inches overnight. Sam calling his cult a "pack." Speed that shouldn't be possible, strength that shouldn't be possible, gracefulness that shouldn't be possible, howling in my dreams, intelligent black-brown eyes that stared--
"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from -- the Quileutes, I mean?" he asked.
"Not really," I admitted.
"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood -- supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive, like Noah and the ark." He smiled then, to show me how little stock he put in the histories. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves -- and that wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.
"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower.
"The cold ones?"
"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who make the treaty that kept them off our land." Jacob rolled his eyes.
"Your great-grandfather?"
"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf -- well, not the wolf really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."
There was something stuck in my throat, choking me. I tried to swallow it down, but it was lodged there, unmoving. I tried to spit it out.
"Werewolf," I gasped. The word was strange on my tongue, but as soon as I said it, I felt the rightness of it. I looked up at Jacob, my eyes so wide they hurt. "Werewolf?"
Jacob nodded bleakly.
"All of you? Sam, Embry... all werewolves?"
He nodded again.
The world spun violently beneath my body, and I leaned forward, putting my head between my knees. My vision narrowed down to a dark tunnel. I was vaguely aware of Jacob's voice through the buzzing in my ears, but the meaning of his words didn't register in my brain.
Werewolves.
What kind of place was this? It was insane, all of it, completely insane. The myths were real here in this cold, dank, gray and green corner of the country. Forks was home to creatures from fairy tales. Things that went bump in the night. The kinds of horrors that made children beg their parents to check the closet just one more time before bed to make sure they were safe. Monsters.
And I was friends with them.
Too much too much too much.
"Bella?" Jacob's frantic voice penetrated the fog in my mind. "Bells, honey, c'mon, talk to me--"
My vision cleared a bit. Jacob was crouched in front of me, his eyes searching my face in a panic. "Focus, Bella, tell me what you need," he pleaded.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. I could feel the hysterical laughter just below the surface, but I fought it down. "I'm fine, Jake."
"You don't look fine," he countered stubbornly. "You look like you're gonna puke, or pass out. Or both."
"That would get messy." In spite of my best efforts, a tiny giggle escaped.
Jacob rocked back on his heels. "What's funny?" he asked, confused.
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing at all." I took a deep breath, held the air in my lungs for a moment, then exhaled slowly. It didn't feel like my organs were all there, but they seemed to be functioning nonetheless. "You're a werewolf, that's all."
He winced. "Yeah. I am."
The truth of the situation was seeping in fast, as though I'd always known. Maybe some part of my brain had already half worked it out, and my conscious mind had simply been slow to catch up. "That's... it's just..." I shrugged, and another smile twitched at the corner of my mouth. "It's a little bit weird, Jake."
Jacob blinked in shock. Then a hesitant, answering smile started to form on his lips. "I guess it is, yeah." He studied my expression. "You okay?"
I shrugged ruefully. "I'm okay." Apparently I was just too fractured inside to feel much of anything for long, even shock. "You're lucky; I'm good with weird."
A black cloud passed over Jacob's face, and he stood up with a smooth, abrupt movement. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know you are." It sounded like an accusation.
I narrowed my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?" It seemed a little bit rich that Jacob should be snippy about my acceptance of weird when he'd just admitted to being a giant wolf.
Jacob's face suddenly turned agonized -- and I realized I'd phrased my words as a question. He gritted his teeth and started to shudder, but it was too late -- his answer came out rough and fast and clearly against his will. "It means," he growled, "anyone who dates a Cullen leech must really get off on weird."
I made an involuntary choking noise as vicious, horrible pain stabbed at the edges of the hole in my chest, as though I had swallowed a handful of razor blades. For a moment I was certain I would vomit blood. Through the haze of my anguish, I heard Jacob let out a low moan. "Jesus, it hurts to hurt you," he said miserably. "Even when I don't have a choice about it."
I shook my head, the movement mechanical. "I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." The words sounded weak in my ears as I struggled to force the ripping agony in my chest down to its usual dull ache. I would never be able to focus otherwise.
"Don't bother, Bella. I know all about those bloodsuckers. At least as much as you do. Maybe more."
My head throbbed, and I was starting to really miss Phoenix again. In Phoenix there was just sun and blue skies, and the only real worry you had was that the air-conditioner might die during a heat wave. There wasn't anything supernatural about Arizona. "But I thought you didn't believe in the histories."
"Yeah, well, exploding into a wolf can change your outlook on that sort of thing," he said, sarcasm dripping.
A startling vibration against my thigh saved me from having to respond. I glanced down at the rectangular outline in my jeans pocket, and finally something came to the surface that distracted me from the confusion, the shock, the anger, and the stabbing pain in my chest -- horror. "Oh, no, Charlie!"
"Huh?"
I leapt off the tree and pulled out my cell phone, awkwardly pressing the 'Answer' button with my left thumb. "Hi, Dad."
"The lights and the siren, young lady," a voice growled back, not bothering to acknowledge my greeting.
I flinched. "I know. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I was going to call, I just... got distracted."
"Distracted," Charlie huffed. "Distracted is wondering whether or not your daughter has crashed her truck into a tree because she couldn't drive with a cast on."
"I know."
"Or whether she's been kidnapped by some kind of teenage gang."
"I know."
"Or whether she's been dragged off into the forest and eaten by wolves."
"I--" My breath caught.
The hikers.
I looked up slowly and felt all the blood drain out of my face. What's wrong? Jacob mouthed at me, his eyebrows coming together.
"Bella? Hello?"
"Yeah, Dad," I answered. My voice sounded hollow, even to me. "Don't worry, none of those things happened. I'm with Jacob."
"Good," he said grudgingly. "I have to go in to the station; there's a lot missing person paperwork to sort through. I'll be back by four, though, and I expect you home by then too, understood?"
"Understood. I'll see you tonight." I hoped.
My hand shook so badly as I hung up that I nearly dropped the phone onto the rocks. There had been people disappearing in the woods. People attacked by animals -- wolves -- people who had vanished without a trace, aside from maybe a little blood. People who were never heard from again.
Jacob was giving me an uncertain look. "Is your dad pissed?"
"A little," I said. "He'll get over it. As long as I don't get 'dragged into the forest and eaten by wolves' like the missing hikers." I used air quotes, watching Jacob's face closely.
The confused expression stayed in place for a moment -- until his eyes widened in hurt surprise. "Bells, you don't really think that I would--"
"No, not you," I reassured him quickly. The very idea that Jacob could kill someone in cold blood was beyond absurd, werewolf or no. I didn't care what Edward's voice said, Jacob was not dangerous. But he wasn't the only giant wolf in these woods. "I know you wouldn't do something like that, but Sam, I mean, is he--"
"None of us are hurting anyone, Bella," Jacob said. His tone had gone from hurt to insulted. "Sam's a good guy." When I rolled my eyes, he amended, "Okay, he's an interfering dick, but aside from that he's a good guy."
"You're the one who threatened to rip his throat out."
"Only because I thought he broke your arm," he said flatly. "Sam is -- we are -- trying to protect people. That's what we're designed to do. We're just always a little too late."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's kinda..." Jacob tilted his head, then trailed off into silence. After a long moment he suddenly smiled. "Hey, what time is it?"
I checked the display on my phone. "Twelve-oh-three. Why?"
His smile became a wide, relieved grin. "Whew. I'm off the hook. Sam only said I had to answer your questions in the morning. I don't think he's too good at this ordering thing yet, I've been finding a lot of loopholes."
Relief and disappointment flooded my body. Relief, because Jacob was free of the order, and that obviously made him happy; disappointment, because I still had so many questions. A cold breeze came off the beach, and I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. "Will you... tell me some more anyway? Please?"
Jacob ignored my question -- after all, he could now -- and his smile faded as he noticed my discomfort. "You're cold," he stated unhappily.
I shrugged and held up my right arm. "Couldn't get a jacket on. And it's chilly out, even if it doesn't bother you." I took in his shirtless state jealously. "Wish I could generate that kind of body heat."
"It's a wolf thing."
"Huh. How many wolf things are there?"
Jacob was quiet for a long moment, his expression doing that miserable shifting thing that I hated so much. Like he was at war with something. "Too many," he said finally. He nodded at the path and walked by me, keeping a good six feet of distance between our bodies. "C'mon, let's get you someplace warmer. Your lips are turning blue."
I trotted behind him, stumbling over the rocks while he moved easily and effortlessly. Two weeks ago, Jacob would've followed up an observation about my frozen body temperature by wrapping me into a warm, full hug, probably complete with a little line-blurring stroke of my hair. Now he wasn't so much as holding my hand. I didn't know what was up with this whole no contact thing, but I didn't like it at all; I'd become accustomed to Jacob's touch, and without it I felt... empty. Like there were whole new pieces to my being that had gone missing overnight.
I hadn't even realized there was anything left in me to lose.
It took a few minutes to get back to the truck; Jacob could have made it to the parking lot within seconds, but he had clearly decided to be patient with my clumsy ways. We both climbed into the cab, and I immediately turned on the engine and cranked up the heater, holding my hands in front of the vent.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jacob watching me mutely. The quiet became awkward.
"Okay," I said, more to break the silence than anything else. "So if it's not the pack killing the hikers, what is? Is there really a bear out there after all? It would be better if Charlie shot at the right animal."
"Charlie should stay out of the woods," Jacob said. His voice was worried and serious. "Everyone should, until we've taken care of it."
"It?" I echoed.
Jacob sighed. "Bella, we only protect people from one thing -- our one enemy. It's the reason we exist -- because they do."
I stared at him blankly for one second before I understood.
"Werewolves have enemies?"
"Only one."
"Laurent is still here?" This was surprising news. I thought of how I'd seen him dash into the woods, almost faster than the eye could follow. "It looked like you'd chased him off." I decided not to mention how I'd assumed a week ago that Laurent had probably slaughtered the wolves without effort -- Jacob would surely take it as an insult.
"Oh, the black-haired leech from the meadow?" He shook his head. "No, we took care of him, no problem. He was pretty strong, but not all that quick. Not as quick as the other one."
"Then who is it?" I whispered, not even daring to hope; if one of the Cullens had come back, no one would be dying. They didn't do things like that. They were good.
Jacob shrugged, facing out the window. "It's not like we have conversations -- I've only gotten glimpses of her through the trees. All I know is she's a red-head and she's fast as hell." His hands started to shake as he spoke. He clenched them into tight fists against his thighs. "And she's killing on our land."
She. Red-head. Fast as hell.
"Her name's Victoria," I heard myself say.
Jacob looked up in surprise. "You know her?"
"Yeah," I said distantly. "She's planning to kill me."
***
Chapter Four: Fight
Sanity Update: I cave, you hear me? I cave. I lose. I can't do it all. I can't maintain canon, add character development, manage the plot changes, keep the chapters to a reasonably equal length, and repair the pacing. One of the balls has to drop, and it's pacing. The pacing is going to remain Meyer-esque, even though that was one of the things I wanted to fix. God help me, it might even be worse than Meyer. But I can't do it. I'm just not that good, I'm not! My life is a lie! *collapses sobbing*
On the plus side, the literary interpretation discussions (and I use the term "literary" very loosely) going on in these comments are keeping me both entertained and intellectually stimulated. This really is the smartest fandom I've ever participated in. You guys rock.