Fic - How You Call To Me [Twilight]
Title: How You Call To Me
Rating: PG13
Pairings: Jacob/Bella (Jacob/OC, Edward/Bella)
Summary: Jacob and Bella learn that choice is more powerful than fate.
Disclaimer: Twilight obviously belongs to S. Meyer and not this skint humble author. Title stolen totally from The Voice by Thomas Hardy.
She arrives on the beach at La Push in her wedding dress - still in her wedding dress, to be exact. The wedding is over, the contracts signed, sealed, done, finished. Her hands clutch carefully at her dress, raising the hem to keep it clean.
“You should have changed,” he says, impassive. He can’t quite bring himself to look her straight in the eye.
“You came back.” Her voice drifts over him; sinks into the static of the waves rushing in, over and over again. “I was so worried Jake. But you - you’ve come back.” When he doesn’t answer she takes a step closer. “Talk to me,” she pleads.
He can’t. If he opens his mouth he’ll break down and say something he’ll regret like I love you or even being the wolf, running away from you, didn’t stop the pain of knowing what you’re going to do to yourself. But he’s always been a fool, he can’t resist her when she sounds so close to tears and he can see her skin, flushed red from the cold, at the edge of his vision. He opens his mouth.
“Stay,” he whispers, hands clenching tight in his lap so he won’t try and reach out for her.
“I can’t,” she chokes out, all barely restrained anguish and tears. “Jake, I can’t.” Her fingers clutch tighter at her dress, crumpling the fine silk and lace against her palms. The sand and sea spray has already begun to stain the cloth, despite her best efforts. “But we’re friends, Jacob, I can still visit you, I will keep visiting you, I promise I’ll come…”
He looks at her silently, his jaw tight, his expression quelling her to silence. Then, with one stiff nod he turns away. “Have a nice life,” he says, and throws one stone out to sea as hard as he can. He doesn’t turn when she gives a sob, or when she walks away. He doesn’t dare look even when he knows he’s alone, as if giving into yearning will conjure up her phantom out of the dark.
It isn’t much of a goodbye.
It’s the only one they get.
-
Thirty years pass until they meet again.
There aren’t any blank pages in the life of Jacob Black. No empty months, no grief-marked numbers. His pack enfold around him, offering him companionship and healing. He meets a girl totally by accident, a girl who makes his heart race and the sun shine a little brighter. He imprints on her, and begins to let himself age naturally once again. She’s steady and warm and smells like the earth after the rain (and best of all she’s not Bella Cullen, nothing like her at all). They have four children and there are years of bitter fights, warm laughter, lovemaking in the dark. When she asks him if he’s ever loved anyone before her he tells her that she’s the only one that’s ever mattered to him, and for a while it’s true.
When the cancer takes her, just like it once took his mother, he doesn’t beg her to stay. His pain would hurt her, becoming her pain, and all he wants for her is peace. He thinks for a while that his heartbreak will be enough to kill him; that he’ll be able to follow her. But it isn’t to be. He continues to live; goes fishing with his son, fights with his daughter who insists on being just as stubborn as himself, and leaves his wife’s things untouched around the house, gathering dust.
Thirty years pass in total until a young woman turns up on his doorstep, her hands clenched nervously at her sides, her face concealed by a fall of dark hair, dampened by the rain. Thirty years, and he still remembers her face perfectly, right down to the smile that always seems to hover between grief and joy.
“Hello Jacob,” says Bella, looking up at him with eyes like liquid gold. “Please, can I come in?”
-
His wife’s romance novels still clutter the shelf next to the sofa. Bella thumbs through one of them idly, shaking her head at some of the hero’s cheesy lines. She’s sitting on the edge of the seat, Jacob next to her, at a respectable distance.
“I’ve been looking for an epic romance all my life,” Bella murmurs softly, her mouth curving into a smile. “I used to read things like Romeo and Juliet and wonder when my true love was going to come and find me.”
“Romeo and Juliet died, Bells,” he says, his eyes dark and careful.
But she isn’t hurt by his words. There’s a wisdom in her now, brought on by the long and empty years, that finally allows her to recognise the humour in spilled blood and tears and thunderstorms. She laughs, leaving the book to rest on her lap. “They did. But I had foolish ideas about romance when I was a girl.”
Bella raises one hand into the air, her fingers catching the light and glittering like stardust. She isn’t wearing a ring. “I thought our relationship was perfect,” she observes, in a small detached voice that speaks of hurts that haven’t yet healed, no matter how much she may try to hide it. “But Edward and I… we grew apart.”
He feels the distance widening between them too, a great chasm of years and memories and things she’ll never be able to tell him. But he reaches up and curves his firm hand over her smaller one, anchoring her back to reality. “People do,” he says. Her skin burns with cold. “Sometimes there isn’t anyone to blame. It just… is.”
Her eyes close. Then she says, “I don’t think it works that way, Jake. I think we always have a choice, even if we try to pretend it isn’t there. I chose to become what I am. I chose to… to go. And I get the blame for that.”
They don’t speak for a long while. Jacob breathes in and out, his heart beating its steady rhythm. The shame of the past drifts over the both of them: all those wasted years, the angry first kiss, the angry drop into love, the stained wedding dress and his hurt, raw around the edges for years and years and years. Look what a mess we’ve made.
“I made the wrong choice,” she whispers.
He doesn’t think, then, about the husband that drifted away or the life she’s left behind. He doesn’t think about his own beloved wife, long gone now, or their grown children. He doesn’t even think of how they must look together, his aged body next to her young and beautiful one. Instead he thinks of a time long, long ago, when they stood between the sea and sand and she made a promise finally fulfilled.
“Stay, Bella,” he says, clutching tighter at her hand. “If you love me, stay.”
She turns, looking him in the eyes. Her fingertips touch tenderly at his cheek. “Oh Jacob,” she breathes. “I’m home, aren’t I? I’m home.”
It’s the only answer he needs.
Rating: PG13
Pairings: Jacob/Bella (Jacob/OC, Edward/Bella)
Summary: Jacob and Bella learn that choice is more powerful than fate.
Disclaimer: Twilight obviously belongs to S. Meyer and not this skint humble author. Title stolen totally from The Voice by Thomas Hardy.
She arrives on the beach at La Push in her wedding dress - still in her wedding dress, to be exact. The wedding is over, the contracts signed, sealed, done, finished. Her hands clutch carefully at her dress, raising the hem to keep it clean.
“You should have changed,” he says, impassive. He can’t quite bring himself to look her straight in the eye.
“You came back.” Her voice drifts over him; sinks into the static of the waves rushing in, over and over again. “I was so worried Jake. But you - you’ve come back.” When he doesn’t answer she takes a step closer. “Talk to me,” she pleads.
He can’t. If he opens his mouth he’ll break down and say something he’ll regret like I love you or even being the wolf, running away from you, didn’t stop the pain of knowing what you’re going to do to yourself. But he’s always been a fool, he can’t resist her when she sounds so close to tears and he can see her skin, flushed red from the cold, at the edge of his vision. He opens his mouth.
“Stay,” he whispers, hands clenching tight in his lap so he won’t try and reach out for her.
“I can’t,” she chokes out, all barely restrained anguish and tears. “Jake, I can’t.” Her fingers clutch tighter at her dress, crumpling the fine silk and lace against her palms. The sand and sea spray has already begun to stain the cloth, despite her best efforts. “But we’re friends, Jacob, I can still visit you, I will keep visiting you, I promise I’ll come…”
He looks at her silently, his jaw tight, his expression quelling her to silence. Then, with one stiff nod he turns away. “Have a nice life,” he says, and throws one stone out to sea as hard as he can. He doesn’t turn when she gives a sob, or when she walks away. He doesn’t dare look even when he knows he’s alone, as if giving into yearning will conjure up her phantom out of the dark.
It isn’t much of a goodbye.
It’s the only one they get.
-
Thirty years pass until they meet again.
There aren’t any blank pages in the life of Jacob Black. No empty months, no grief-marked numbers. His pack enfold around him, offering him companionship and healing. He meets a girl totally by accident, a girl who makes his heart race and the sun shine a little brighter. He imprints on her, and begins to let himself age naturally once again. She’s steady and warm and smells like the earth after the rain (and best of all she’s not Bella Cullen, nothing like her at all). They have four children and there are years of bitter fights, warm laughter, lovemaking in the dark. When she asks him if he’s ever loved anyone before her he tells her that she’s the only one that’s ever mattered to him, and for a while it’s true.
When the cancer takes her, just like it once took his mother, he doesn’t beg her to stay. His pain would hurt her, becoming her pain, and all he wants for her is peace. He thinks for a while that his heartbreak will be enough to kill him; that he’ll be able to follow her. But it isn’t to be. He continues to live; goes fishing with his son, fights with his daughter who insists on being just as stubborn as himself, and leaves his wife’s things untouched around the house, gathering dust.
Thirty years pass in total until a young woman turns up on his doorstep, her hands clenched nervously at her sides, her face concealed by a fall of dark hair, dampened by the rain. Thirty years, and he still remembers her face perfectly, right down to the smile that always seems to hover between grief and joy.
“Hello Jacob,” says Bella, looking up at him with eyes like liquid gold. “Please, can I come in?”
-
His wife’s romance novels still clutter the shelf next to the sofa. Bella thumbs through one of them idly, shaking her head at some of the hero’s cheesy lines. She’s sitting on the edge of the seat, Jacob next to her, at a respectable distance.
“I’ve been looking for an epic romance all my life,” Bella murmurs softly, her mouth curving into a smile. “I used to read things like Romeo and Juliet and wonder when my true love was going to come and find me.”
“Romeo and Juliet died, Bells,” he says, his eyes dark and careful.
But she isn’t hurt by his words. There’s a wisdom in her now, brought on by the long and empty years, that finally allows her to recognise the humour in spilled blood and tears and thunderstorms. She laughs, leaving the book to rest on her lap. “They did. But I had foolish ideas about romance when I was a girl.”
Bella raises one hand into the air, her fingers catching the light and glittering like stardust. She isn’t wearing a ring. “I thought our relationship was perfect,” she observes, in a small detached voice that speaks of hurts that haven’t yet healed, no matter how much she may try to hide it. “But Edward and I… we grew apart.”
He feels the distance widening between them too, a great chasm of years and memories and things she’ll never be able to tell him. But he reaches up and curves his firm hand over her smaller one, anchoring her back to reality. “People do,” he says. Her skin burns with cold. “Sometimes there isn’t anyone to blame. It just… is.”
Her eyes close. Then she says, “I don’t think it works that way, Jake. I think we always have a choice, even if we try to pretend it isn’t there. I chose to become what I am. I chose to… to go. And I get the blame for that.”
They don’t speak for a long while. Jacob breathes in and out, his heart beating its steady rhythm. The shame of the past drifts over the both of them: all those wasted years, the angry first kiss, the angry drop into love, the stained wedding dress and his hurt, raw around the edges for years and years and years. Look what a mess we’ve made.
“I made the wrong choice,” she whispers.
He doesn’t think, then, about the husband that drifted away or the life she’s left behind. He doesn’t think about his own beloved wife, long gone now, or their grown children. He doesn’t even think of how they must look together, his aged body next to her young and beautiful one. Instead he thinks of a time long, long ago, when they stood between the sea and sand and she made a promise finally fulfilled.
“Stay, Bella,” he says, clutching tighter at her hand. “If you love me, stay.”
She turns, looking him in the eyes. Her fingertips touch tenderly at his cheek. “Oh Jacob,” she breathes. “I’m home, aren’t I? I’m home.”
It’s the only answer he needs.