Round 1 // Challenge 4 - Entries #1
Story Title: Kitty’s Imagination
Character/Relationships: Rosalie & Carlisle (Father/Daughter Bonding)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slight mentions of Rosalie’s Rape.
“Major depressive disorder (also known as recurrent depressive disorder, clinical depression, major depression, unipolar depression, or unipolar disorder) is a mental disorder characterized by an all-encompassing low mood accompanied by low self-esteem, and by loss of interest or pleasure in normally enjoyable activities. The term "major depressive disorder" was selected by the American Psychiatric Association to designate...” Rosalie released yet another sigh as she sat Carlisle’s medical journal next to her on the sofa.
Needing some time to herself and under strict orders from Esme not to leave the house; she had locked herself in Carlisle's study the night before and decided to read. Next week was 75th anniversary of that horrible night and Esme refused to let her out of her sight for any length of time. Rosalie also knew that was the reason Carlisle didn't bother coming in when he arrived home from work.
Over the course of the night she had read everything she could about depression. Rosalie figured she was depressed because the whole day before she locked herself in the study; they only thing she could think about was what if she had been born a boy. How different her life could have been.
“Her parents would have saw her as a person and not a meal ticket.”
“She would have been taught that there was more to her than her looks.”
“Rosalie would been able to speak her mind and others would have listen.”
“She could have chose who she wanted to marry.”
“There would have never been a Royce King.”
“There would have been children in her life.”
“A tombstone that watched over...”
“Kitty, what are you thinking so hard about?” Rosalie had been so caught up in her thoughts that she never heard Carlisle enter the study.
With a faint smile on her face she look up at her father. A man that has been more of a father to her in death, then her birth father had ever been in life and answered, “If I had been born a boy, how life would have been different.”
Carlisle gave a small laugh; not really the reaction I was expecting. Before, I could react in any way, he explain himself. “Now, I understand why Edward told me, my oldest daughter is going crazy.”
Rosalie, just rolled her eyes. 'Figures he would think I was crazy.'
“Want to talk about it?” My father asked as he moved the journal and took a sit next to me.
“No, I rather hear about your day at work.” I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the sofa.
Carlisle's gentle voice, slowly but surely pushed all thoughts of being born a boy out of my mind. Maybe Edward was right and I am going crazy.
“I already knew that.” I heard Edwards voice, from his bedroom.
'Shut Up!!!.' I yelled at Edward and turn back into Carlisle's story of children stuffing marbles and place they had no business.
Story Title: Shattered Rainbows
Character/Relationships: Alice, Jasper
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Mary has long brown hair, green eyes and a deceptive smile. Her lips curl over just slightly as she sneaks into bars she’s not supposed to be in. No one recognize the tiny body of course, she slips in quietly and lowers her hood, throwing down chips in the table among the haze.
She calls back these memories when she’s strapped to a white bed with white sheets staring at a white ceiling. She thinks if the world has not broken her, this godforsaken place will with its dead souls buried between the walls.
They don’t know how to treat her. She is calm, eerily so and they keep a distance from her as her eyes glaze over. She’s given up trying to explain the terrors she sees.
There are moments, though. Lovely moments of peace in which she can glimpse alternate realities. She escapes into them for a second or so and tells herself it feels like a lifetimes. It is the only part of this curse that feels like a gift.
She closes her eyes and drifts into her dream world of shattered rainbows and blades of grass like her eyes.
She is running. But it is with the speed of lightning. Her limbs are strong, and she is free. She walks into the hazy room and throws down her poker chips wearing a pair of pants. Her hands are not her own, they are strong and rugged.
Her hair is cropped so short she can barely feel it. She glances in the mirror and a tale, lithe boy stands in front of her, short brown hair, green eyes and that same deceptive smile.
“Oi! Mason! Get your ass down here!” someone calls punching her - him - in the shoulder.
Her feet are tucked into hunting boots she has only seen worn by other men and she relishes this feeling of absolute power.
It is freeing, to be able to walk into these places without a second glance.
She crosses over to the room and throws down three coins and finds herself staring into the eyes of a blue-eyed blonde stranger.
“Hello.” She finds herself compelled to say this, the presence of this boy has set her off-kilter. So familiar. So fragile.
He sets a glass of beer down for her.
“Hello. Where you from? Oklahoma?”
She can’t tear her eyes from him. It’s not that he’s even that beautiful - he’s not, but she’s still entranced.
“Nope, I’m from good ‘ole Texas.”
“Why are you here?”
“To save you of course. You can’t be stuck here for all your life.”
“But, why?”
“Well if I told you that Miss Alice, there wouldn’t be any mystery left would there?”
She is shaken out of her dream world. It’s the same every time, she relishes being in the boots of a man, with the face of a boy and then he appears, calls her Alice and the illusion is broken.
If she tilts her back far enough, sometimes she can see a tiny broken part of the moon and she shuts her eyes and wishes on it.
Please, help me escape.
She wishes to something she is not quite sure is real, to a Southern stranger who probably doesn’t exist. But, it is her only source of light for the time being. Her own shattered rainbow.
Story Title: Jakie Two-Spirit
Character/Relationships: Jake/Bella
Rating: PG
Warnings: coarse language
Bella Swan showed up at Jakie Black's in the middle of January on a Saturday. Bella was wearing Old Navy hip huggers and a wool shirt. Her cheap cotton thermal peaked through the gap where she had missed a button. It proved that Bella Swan hadn't lived in Forks long enough to know no one wears cotton when the humidity is damn near one-hundred percent. Bella worked at Newton's Outfitters, where she sold the polypropylene underwear she should have been wearing. Bella Swan didn't know squat about being in the outdoors. Truth told, she wouldn't be working at Newton's if her father wasn't a police chief who spent a pile of money on Newton's fishing tackle.
Clerking at Newton's was the kind of job made for a person like Jake. If you added up all the hours and minutes that Jakie had spent fishing and running through the forest, you'd probably discover that Jake had spent at least a quarter of her life in untamed places. Elders like her father, Billy Black, might say that Jake's love for unspoiled vistas and mountain tops was part of being a Quileute, but Jake knew there was a force bigger than tribal loyalties pulling her into the wild.
Bella was almost two years older than Jake, so by the time she stopped visiting Forks, Bella had started to grow breasts and pubic hair. Jake knew that for sure, because after they'd gone to the hot springs, the smell of sulfer made Bella sick, and she changed out of her puke-covered swimsuit behind a car. Jake held the barf bucket on the ride home. Later, she wished that she really had played doctor with Bella Swan when they were little instead of making mud pies.
Jake wondered if Bella took medicine that made her sensitive to sunlight, because Bella was paler than a grub under a log. Anyone that untouched by the sun probably had a serious allergy or something. Jake Black assumed there had to be a medical reason a person would stay inside all the time - or stay covered up all the time. Jake bet that Bella didn't have tan lines.
Jake wondered if Bella shaved her legs. Jake didn't shave anything, but that didn't stop her from wearing shorts and tank top shirts. Jake cut the sleeves out of her plaids, just to show off her biceps. Sometimes Jake looked in the mirror and wondered if she should to cut her hair to prove that she was on the path of a two-spirit person.
After Billy gave up trying to turn Jakie into a lady, Jake announced she was going to learn auto mechanics. Billy still insisted that Jake learn how to take care of a house and cook. Although diabetes put Jake's dad in a wheelchair young, Billy was pretty self-sufficient; so for awhile, Jake thought housekeeping and cooking was Billy's way of making Jake do something girly. Eventually Jake figured out how to make spaghetti and Billy stopped feeling guilty about not buying Jake fancy clothes.
What Billy did buy was a 1954 Chevy 1/2 ton pick-up truck off a Makah. Jake had a hard time imagining the rusty old truck would bring a profit, but Jake never turned her back on a challenge; besides, girls like Bella Swan got all the good after school jobs.
As it turned out, Charlie Swan's bought Billy's hoopty for Bella. Charlie didn't care what brought his daughter to Forks; he wanted her to stay in the worst way, and that truck would have looked like a bribe if it hadn't been a clunker. Jake had to teach Bella how to drive it. Jake shook her head remembering how Bella tore the hell out of the truck's unsynchronized manual transmission. Giving a double-clutched motor vehicle to the uncoordinated should have been a crime.
Maybe Bella Swan was just looking for trouble when she took up with Edward Cullen. The day Bella turned up at First Beach with a bunch of kids from the county school, Jake tried to warn Bella about the dangers lurking around the corner. Jake wasn't impressed with the silly stories the elders told, but he was sure that Cullen was bad news. When Cullen disappeared, Sam Uley found Bella curled up like a dying cat taking its last breath. Turned out, Bella was a two-spirit person herself, living between the dead and the dying.
Now, Bella Swan, stood there in her wet jeans and matted hair and told Jake about a couple of junk motorcycles that might be fun to repair. Jake knew Bella was trying to put her life back together and fill the hole Edward Cullen had left behind. Good thing Jake could fix anything.
Years later, Jake would say that mending Bella's broken heart took more patience than replacing the transmission in Bella's truck, because Jake knew that part of Bella's heart would always live in two worlds: the one that came creeping back, offering eternity and looking for forgiveness; and the one with Jake that she decided to keep.
Story Title: The Same Shape
Character/Relationships: Edward and Bella and Jacob
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
He hated it when he felt he was thinking like a girl, worrying too much about his unruly hair like Rosalie or feeling a spiteful, jealous pang like Jessica. Edward had been born into a world where women were considered helpmates, keepers of home and hearth and heritage, more concerned about raising children than paying taxes. Most women didn't hold down jobs or hold office; in fact, they didn't even have the right to vote, although some were fighting for it.
But that, of course, was a long time ago.
With the person he most loved and respected--a woman--by his side, he quietly enjoyed a long drive on a late summer day. Well into their fifth hour on the road, they were now in Oregon heading east on I-5, passing through one of the world's natural wonders, the Columbia River Gorge.
Edward didn't consider himself sexist. He just found it natural for men to be stronger and calmer, to be the protectors. He appreciated the differences between the genders, even though his second life--his life as a vampire--had shown him those differences were far more subtle, far more superficial than most men knew.
His gift of reading minds had lessened the gulf between man and woman, and had sometimes rudely reminded him that the separation was sometimes spanned with confusing construction. His own reaction to a ballad or a sunset or a sad movie was often more in keeping with the females surrounding him than their football-playing, beer-swilling escorts.
He wondered how many times he had overheard someone thinking he must prefer his own sex, mentally calling him "faggot."
That Cullen is so gay. Where did he get that jacket?
As he stepped on the gas pedal and switched lanes to pass an 18-wheeler, he glanced over at Bella and wished for the thousandth time that he knew what she was thinking. He figured she was enjoying the awe-inspiring sights surrounding them, but he couldn't be totally sure. She was the one person he couldn't read and the one he most wanted to.
Bella interrupted his thoughts. "Charlie took me on this ride once when I was about nine or ten. I was in Forks for a couple weeks that summer, and he got tickets to see the Backstreet Boys in Portland."
Edward grinned. "The Backstreet Boys?"
"Yeah. He thought it would be a treat for me. Then when they cancelled the concert, he ended up driving me to Portland anyway, and we came here to see Multnomah Falls."
How often had Edward been mistaken for a member of some boyband back when they were so popular? For a while he had actually enjoyed it, hiding his body but not his brain from the unbridled hysteria.
"I may have one of their songs there somewhere," he said, referring to the cd collection spread out on the floor of the car.
"That's okay. Really."
"Come on, Bella. One of the Now's, the one with 'Drive' by Incubus."
She picked through the pile and found the sixth edition of the compilation series. She inserted the cd and hit fast-forward, passing such classics as 'Bye, Bye, Bye' by *NSYNC and Britney Spears' 'Stronger.' Finally the heavily produced strains of a ballad filled the Volvo. Edward adjusted the speakers, sighing at the sound, cocking his head to listen. The cryptic words of the song 'Shape of My Heart' were like the story of his relationship with Bella--hiding who he was before he finally revealed himself.
"Oh, my gosh, that's so corny," she said. "I can't believe I ever liked them."
Edward grimaced, exposed as girly again.
"What?" she said.
"Nothing. Really."
* * * * * * *
He hated it when he felt he was reacting like a girl, when he flushed with a jealous surge of anger toward Bella or barely fought back a desire to slap Edward Cullen silly. As much as he had longed for his broken body to heal enough to allow him to phase, he dreaded the communal thoughts and emotions inherent in the experience.
Sharing Leah's naked passion and pain was not only uncomfortable, it was confusing, reminding him too much of his own romantic issues, the ones he was trying so hard to shrug off. He hated the thought that the rest of the pack was feeling the same way about him that he felt about Leah, that his emo-driven fingers were plucking inappropriately at their more stable minds.
Why the hell couldn't he just get over it?
He crouched on his belly, shoving his muzzle into the warm soil and scratchy, summer-dried grass. He loved the smell of the earth, the smell of the air, the smell of the creature who had hidden in this very spot during some not-so-distant time. The scent of the latter was musky and male, and for a moment he forgot that he was the same.
He bared his teeth, silently cursing himself, then reluctantly returned to the form that didn't fit there, face down in the dirt.
What was the matter with him?
Nothing really.
* * * * * * *
They hated it when they felt they were acting like girls, the monster in both of them as green-eyed as Edward's real mother. They would meet accidentally, their complicated natures flaring with competitive fury while Bella stood between them, firm and unflappable. She was suddenly the strong one, while they were reduced to two strident shoppers fighting over the last good cut of meat at the Thriftway store on Highway 101.
It didn't occur to them that their differences were not that substantive, that despite their disparate natures, all three were actually the same under the skin. What might they say if someone older and wiser pointed out that whether breathlessly pounding or deathly still, the fragile heart in each of them--vampire and wolf, man and monster, male and female--was the same shape?
Nothing.
Really.
Story Title: A Single Man
Character/Relationships: Carlisle/Edward
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Chicago, Illinois 1918
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single, devastatingly handsome doctor must be in want of a wife.
Though Carlisle Cullen had never graced any of the nurses with smiles that conveyed more than friendship, they analyzed every twitch of his mouth:
”Did you see that, Marie? That smile lingered a bit more this time. I can hear wedding bells.”
Though he never spoke with a tone one could describe as being lascivious in nature, they fantasized:
”Why yes, doctor, I am looking forward to seeing you later.”
“That line of thinking is going to cost you fifty Hail Mary’s, Annie .”
And for all of the tittering, the pots of coffee they specially brewed in his honor, the covered dishes they trotted in (“You deserve a good, home cooked meal, Doctor”), the eyelashes they batted, the fainting spells, and the daring lies about ailments they weren’t afflicted with (a brief touch from Dr. Cullen, you see, had an affect akin to a blast of arctic air infused with opium), none of the women ever managed to come close to turning his head.
Their failure was maddening; there was absolutely no joy to be had in those sexless smiles, and the cold, technical precision of those fingertips, but there were some who could not, would not be deterred. It’s important to hold fast to dreams. Universal truth was on their side.
Francine Macarthur, a young nurse from the B-wing with doe eyes and a fondness for dreams, tapped her fingers against the bottom of the pie plate in her hand. The cherry red door of the doctor’s apartment seemed to pulse and hum, no doubt a bit of trickery brought on by her own ideal expectations. The scenario played vividly in her mind - the doctor would of course invite her inside (he’s unfailing in his manners), he would think her incredibly sweet for bringing over a freshly baked apple pie and insist they have a piece, he would…
“She’s hoping you’ll feed her pie.”
There was no trace of Carlisle Cullen’s trademark friendly smile on his features. His lips were set in a thin, hard line, while his muscles trembled from the force it took to anchor his progeny to the wall.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said struggling to keep his voice calm and even. “I want you to focus on me.”
Francine’s scent swirled in the air - the rosewater she dabbled behind her ears and on her wrists, the slight muskiness of the thin layer of sweat beading under her arms filled their nostrils. Carlisle swallowed the venom that’d begun to pool in the bottom of his mouth.
“You don’t want to hear it?” Coal black eyes momentarily screwed shut as a low rumble sounded in her chest. “I can’t remember what it’s like to have total silence be an option. This girl, she’s tamer than most people. She thinks it’d be heaven to kiss you…”
“Stop it.”
“She’d love for you to touch her legs and she’s embarrassed, because those aren’t the thoughts of a proper woman,” she continued, ignoring the pleading look on his face. “I wonder if she’d still feel ashamed if she knew your thoughts, Carlisle? Perhaps she’s so enamored she’d be willing to overlook the blood on your hands. Maybe she won’t even blink an eye at your lovely, teenage sister looking suspiciously like your dearly departed, teenage patient.”
The rapping of Francine’s knuckles against the door pounded in Carlisle’s ears like a drum. “I made a promise to save you,” he said, choking on the knot that’d formed in his throat. “I did the only thing I could.”
And in that moment with her wavy, copper hair fanned out, and softened eyes, Emily Masen looked so much like her mother that if Carlisle’s heart could beat, it would have started back up and exploded.
When the knocking stopped and the smell of rosewater was just a lingering memory, Emily broke out of his grasp. “You didn’t have to hold me back, you know,” she said. “As much as I wanted to tear that girl’s throat out, I wouldn’t have. Instead, I would’ve told her to give up hope; Carlisle Cullen likes his women on death’s doorstep.”
Character/Relationships: Rosalie & Carlisle (Father/Daughter Bonding)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slight mentions of Rosalie’s Rape.
“Major depressive disorder (also known as recurrent depressive disorder, clinical depression, major depression, unipolar depression, or unipolar disorder) is a mental disorder characterized by an all-encompassing low mood accompanied by low self-esteem, and by loss of interest or pleasure in normally enjoyable activities. The term "major depressive disorder" was selected by the American Psychiatric Association to designate...” Rosalie released yet another sigh as she sat Carlisle’s medical journal next to her on the sofa.
Needing some time to herself and under strict orders from Esme not to leave the house; she had locked herself in Carlisle's study the night before and decided to read. Next week was 75th anniversary of that horrible night and Esme refused to let her out of her sight for any length of time. Rosalie also knew that was the reason Carlisle didn't bother coming in when he arrived home from work.
Over the course of the night she had read everything she could about depression. Rosalie figured she was depressed because the whole day before she locked herself in the study; they only thing she could think about was what if she had been born a boy. How different her life could have been.
“Her parents would have saw her as a person and not a meal ticket.”
“She would have been taught that there was more to her than her looks.”
“Rosalie would been able to speak her mind and others would have listen.”
“She could have chose who she wanted to marry.”
“There would have never been a Royce King.”
“There would have been children in her life.”
“A tombstone that watched over...”
“Kitty, what are you thinking so hard about?” Rosalie had been so caught up in her thoughts that she never heard Carlisle enter the study.
With a faint smile on her face she look up at her father. A man that has been more of a father to her in death, then her birth father had ever been in life and answered, “If I had been born a boy, how life would have been different.”
Carlisle gave a small laugh; not really the reaction I was expecting. Before, I could react in any way, he explain himself. “Now, I understand why Edward told me, my oldest daughter is going crazy.”
Rosalie, just rolled her eyes. 'Figures he would think I was crazy.'
“Want to talk about it?” My father asked as he moved the journal and took a sit next to me.
“No, I rather hear about your day at work.” I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the sofa.
Carlisle's gentle voice, slowly but surely pushed all thoughts of being born a boy out of my mind. Maybe Edward was right and I am going crazy.
“I already knew that.” I heard Edwards voice, from his bedroom.
'Shut Up!!!.' I yelled at Edward and turn back into Carlisle's story of children stuffing marbles and place they had no business.
Story Title: Shattered Rainbows
Character/Relationships: Alice, Jasper
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Mary has long brown hair, green eyes and a deceptive smile. Her lips curl over just slightly as she sneaks into bars she’s not supposed to be in. No one recognize the tiny body of course, she slips in quietly and lowers her hood, throwing down chips in the table among the haze.
She calls back these memories when she’s strapped to a white bed with white sheets staring at a white ceiling. She thinks if the world has not broken her, this godforsaken place will with its dead souls buried between the walls.
They don’t know how to treat her. She is calm, eerily so and they keep a distance from her as her eyes glaze over. She’s given up trying to explain the terrors she sees.
There are moments, though. Lovely moments of peace in which she can glimpse alternate realities. She escapes into them for a second or so and tells herself it feels like a lifetimes. It is the only part of this curse that feels like a gift.
She closes her eyes and drifts into her dream world of shattered rainbows and blades of grass like her eyes.
She is running. But it is with the speed of lightning. Her limbs are strong, and she is free. She walks into the hazy room and throws down her poker chips wearing a pair of pants. Her hands are not her own, they are strong and rugged.
Her hair is cropped so short she can barely feel it. She glances in the mirror and a tale, lithe boy stands in front of her, short brown hair, green eyes and that same deceptive smile.
“Oi! Mason! Get your ass down here!” someone calls punching her - him - in the shoulder.
Her feet are tucked into hunting boots she has only seen worn by other men and she relishes this feeling of absolute power.
It is freeing, to be able to walk into these places without a second glance.
She crosses over to the room and throws down three coins and finds herself staring into the eyes of a blue-eyed blonde stranger.
“Hello.” She finds herself compelled to say this, the presence of this boy has set her off-kilter. So familiar. So fragile.
He sets a glass of beer down for her.
“Hello. Where you from? Oklahoma?”
She can’t tear her eyes from him. It’s not that he’s even that beautiful - he’s not, but she’s still entranced.
“Nope, I’m from good ‘ole Texas.”
“Why are you here?”
“To save you of course. You can’t be stuck here for all your life.”
“But, why?”
“Well if I told you that Miss Alice, there wouldn’t be any mystery left would there?”
She is shaken out of her dream world. It’s the same every time, she relishes being in the boots of a man, with the face of a boy and then he appears, calls her Alice and the illusion is broken.
If she tilts her back far enough, sometimes she can see a tiny broken part of the moon and she shuts her eyes and wishes on it.
Please, help me escape.
She wishes to something she is not quite sure is real, to a Southern stranger who probably doesn’t exist. But, it is her only source of light for the time being. Her own shattered rainbow.
Story Title: Jakie Two-Spirit
Character/Relationships: Jake/Bella
Rating: PG
Warnings: coarse language
Bella Swan showed up at Jakie Black's in the middle of January on a Saturday. Bella was wearing Old Navy hip huggers and a wool shirt. Her cheap cotton thermal peaked through the gap where she had missed a button. It proved that Bella Swan hadn't lived in Forks long enough to know no one wears cotton when the humidity is damn near one-hundred percent. Bella worked at Newton's Outfitters, where she sold the polypropylene underwear she should have been wearing. Bella Swan didn't know squat about being in the outdoors. Truth told, she wouldn't be working at Newton's if her father wasn't a police chief who spent a pile of money on Newton's fishing tackle.
Clerking at Newton's was the kind of job made for a person like Jake. If you added up all the hours and minutes that Jakie had spent fishing and running through the forest, you'd probably discover that Jake had spent at least a quarter of her life in untamed places. Elders like her father, Billy Black, might say that Jake's love for unspoiled vistas and mountain tops was part of being a Quileute, but Jake knew there was a force bigger than tribal loyalties pulling her into the wild.
Bella was almost two years older than Jake, so by the time she stopped visiting Forks, Bella had started to grow breasts and pubic hair. Jake knew that for sure, because after they'd gone to the hot springs, the smell of sulfer made Bella sick, and she changed out of her puke-covered swimsuit behind a car. Jake held the barf bucket on the ride home. Later, she wished that she really had played doctor with Bella Swan when they were little instead of making mud pies.
Jake wondered if Bella took medicine that made her sensitive to sunlight, because Bella was paler than a grub under a log. Anyone that untouched by the sun probably had a serious allergy or something. Jake Black assumed there had to be a medical reason a person would stay inside all the time - or stay covered up all the time. Jake bet that Bella didn't have tan lines.
Jake wondered if Bella shaved her legs. Jake didn't shave anything, but that didn't stop her from wearing shorts and tank top shirts. Jake cut the sleeves out of her plaids, just to show off her biceps. Sometimes Jake looked in the mirror and wondered if she should to cut her hair to prove that she was on the path of a two-spirit person.
After Billy gave up trying to turn Jakie into a lady, Jake announced she was going to learn auto mechanics. Billy still insisted that Jake learn how to take care of a house and cook. Although diabetes put Jake's dad in a wheelchair young, Billy was pretty self-sufficient; so for awhile, Jake thought housekeeping and cooking was Billy's way of making Jake do something girly. Eventually Jake figured out how to make spaghetti and Billy stopped feeling guilty about not buying Jake fancy clothes.
What Billy did buy was a 1954 Chevy 1/2 ton pick-up truck off a Makah. Jake had a hard time imagining the rusty old truck would bring a profit, but Jake never turned her back on a challenge; besides, girls like Bella Swan got all the good after school jobs.
As it turned out, Charlie Swan's bought Billy's hoopty for Bella. Charlie didn't care what brought his daughter to Forks; he wanted her to stay in the worst way, and that truck would have looked like a bribe if it hadn't been a clunker. Jake had to teach Bella how to drive it. Jake shook her head remembering how Bella tore the hell out of the truck's unsynchronized manual transmission. Giving a double-clutched motor vehicle to the uncoordinated should have been a crime.
Maybe Bella Swan was just looking for trouble when she took up with Edward Cullen. The day Bella turned up at First Beach with a bunch of kids from the county school, Jake tried to warn Bella about the dangers lurking around the corner. Jake wasn't impressed with the silly stories the elders told, but he was sure that Cullen was bad news. When Cullen disappeared, Sam Uley found Bella curled up like a dying cat taking its last breath. Turned out, Bella was a two-spirit person herself, living between the dead and the dying.
Now, Bella Swan, stood there in her wet jeans and matted hair and told Jake about a couple of junk motorcycles that might be fun to repair. Jake knew Bella was trying to put her life back together and fill the hole Edward Cullen had left behind. Good thing Jake could fix anything.
Years later, Jake would say that mending Bella's broken heart took more patience than replacing the transmission in Bella's truck, because Jake knew that part of Bella's heart would always live in two worlds: the one that came creeping back, offering eternity and looking for forgiveness; and the one with Jake that she decided to keep.
Story Title: The Same Shape
Character/Relationships: Edward and Bella and Jacob
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
He hated it when he felt he was thinking like a girl, worrying too much about his unruly hair like Rosalie or feeling a spiteful, jealous pang like Jessica. Edward had been born into a world where women were considered helpmates, keepers of home and hearth and heritage, more concerned about raising children than paying taxes. Most women didn't hold down jobs or hold office; in fact, they didn't even have the right to vote, although some were fighting for it.
But that, of course, was a long time ago.
With the person he most loved and respected--a woman--by his side, he quietly enjoyed a long drive on a late summer day. Well into their fifth hour on the road, they were now in Oregon heading east on I-5, passing through one of the world's natural wonders, the Columbia River Gorge.
Edward didn't consider himself sexist. He just found it natural for men to be stronger and calmer, to be the protectors. He appreciated the differences between the genders, even though his second life--his life as a vampire--had shown him those differences were far more subtle, far more superficial than most men knew.
His gift of reading minds had lessened the gulf between man and woman, and had sometimes rudely reminded him that the separation was sometimes spanned with confusing construction. His own reaction to a ballad or a sunset or a sad movie was often more in keeping with the females surrounding him than their football-playing, beer-swilling escorts.
He wondered how many times he had overheard someone thinking he must prefer his own sex, mentally calling him "faggot."
That Cullen is so gay. Where did he get that jacket?
As he stepped on the gas pedal and switched lanes to pass an 18-wheeler, he glanced over at Bella and wished for the thousandth time that he knew what she was thinking. He figured she was enjoying the awe-inspiring sights surrounding them, but he couldn't be totally sure. She was the one person he couldn't read and the one he most wanted to.
Bella interrupted his thoughts. "Charlie took me on this ride once when I was about nine or ten. I was in Forks for a couple weeks that summer, and he got tickets to see the Backstreet Boys in Portland."
Edward grinned. "The Backstreet Boys?"
"Yeah. He thought it would be a treat for me. Then when they cancelled the concert, he ended up driving me to Portland anyway, and we came here to see Multnomah Falls."
How often had Edward been mistaken for a member of some boyband back when they were so popular? For a while he had actually enjoyed it, hiding his body but not his brain from the unbridled hysteria.
"I may have one of their songs there somewhere," he said, referring to the cd collection spread out on the floor of the car.
"That's okay. Really."
"Come on, Bella. One of the Now's, the one with 'Drive' by Incubus."
She picked through the pile and found the sixth edition of the compilation series. She inserted the cd and hit fast-forward, passing such classics as 'Bye, Bye, Bye' by *NSYNC and Britney Spears' 'Stronger.' Finally the heavily produced strains of a ballad filled the Volvo. Edward adjusted the speakers, sighing at the sound, cocking his head to listen. The cryptic words of the song 'Shape of My Heart' were like the story of his relationship with Bella--hiding who he was before he finally revealed himself.
"Oh, my gosh, that's so corny," she said. "I can't believe I ever liked them."
Edward grimaced, exposed as girly again.
"What?" she said.
"Nothing. Really."
* * * * * * *
He hated it when he felt he was reacting like a girl, when he flushed with a jealous surge of anger toward Bella or barely fought back a desire to slap Edward Cullen silly. As much as he had longed for his broken body to heal enough to allow him to phase, he dreaded the communal thoughts and emotions inherent in the experience.
Sharing Leah's naked passion and pain was not only uncomfortable, it was confusing, reminding him too much of his own romantic issues, the ones he was trying so hard to shrug off. He hated the thought that the rest of the pack was feeling the same way about him that he felt about Leah, that his emo-driven fingers were plucking inappropriately at their more stable minds.
Why the hell couldn't he just get over it?
He crouched on his belly, shoving his muzzle into the warm soil and scratchy, summer-dried grass. He loved the smell of the earth, the smell of the air, the smell of the creature who had hidden in this very spot during some not-so-distant time. The scent of the latter was musky and male, and for a moment he forgot that he was the same.
He bared his teeth, silently cursing himself, then reluctantly returned to the form that didn't fit there, face down in the dirt.
What was the matter with him?
Nothing really.
* * * * * * *
They hated it when they felt they were acting like girls, the monster in both of them as green-eyed as Edward's real mother. They would meet accidentally, their complicated natures flaring with competitive fury while Bella stood between them, firm and unflappable. She was suddenly the strong one, while they were reduced to two strident shoppers fighting over the last good cut of meat at the Thriftway store on Highway 101.
It didn't occur to them that their differences were not that substantive, that despite their disparate natures, all three were actually the same under the skin. What might they say if someone older and wiser pointed out that whether breathlessly pounding or deathly still, the fragile heart in each of them--vampire and wolf, man and monster, male and female--was the same shape?
Nothing.
Really.
Story Title: A Single Man
Character/Relationships: Carlisle/Edward
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Chicago, Illinois 1918
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single, devastatingly handsome doctor must be in want of a wife.
Though Carlisle Cullen had never graced any of the nurses with smiles that conveyed more than friendship, they analyzed every twitch of his mouth:
”Did you see that, Marie? That smile lingered a bit more this time. I can hear wedding bells.”
Though he never spoke with a tone one could describe as being lascivious in nature, they fantasized:
”Why yes, doctor, I am looking forward to seeing you later.”
“That line of thinking is going to cost you fifty Hail Mary’s, Annie .”
And for all of the tittering, the pots of coffee they specially brewed in his honor, the covered dishes they trotted in (“You deserve a good, home cooked meal, Doctor”), the eyelashes they batted, the fainting spells, and the daring lies about ailments they weren’t afflicted with (a brief touch from Dr. Cullen, you see, had an affect akin to a blast of arctic air infused with opium), none of the women ever managed to come close to turning his head.
Their failure was maddening; there was absolutely no joy to be had in those sexless smiles, and the cold, technical precision of those fingertips, but there were some who could not, would not be deterred. It’s important to hold fast to dreams. Universal truth was on their side.
Francine Macarthur, a young nurse from the B-wing with doe eyes and a fondness for dreams, tapped her fingers against the bottom of the pie plate in her hand. The cherry red door of the doctor’s apartment seemed to pulse and hum, no doubt a bit of trickery brought on by her own ideal expectations. The scenario played vividly in her mind - the doctor would of course invite her inside (he’s unfailing in his manners), he would think her incredibly sweet for bringing over a freshly baked apple pie and insist they have a piece, he would…
“She’s hoping you’ll feed her pie.”
There was no trace of Carlisle Cullen’s trademark friendly smile on his features. His lips were set in a thin, hard line, while his muscles trembled from the force it took to anchor his progeny to the wall.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said struggling to keep his voice calm and even. “I want you to focus on me.”
Francine’s scent swirled in the air - the rosewater she dabbled behind her ears and on her wrists, the slight muskiness of the thin layer of sweat beading under her arms filled their nostrils. Carlisle swallowed the venom that’d begun to pool in the bottom of his mouth.
“You don’t want to hear it?” Coal black eyes momentarily screwed shut as a low rumble sounded in her chest. “I can’t remember what it’s like to have total silence be an option. This girl, she’s tamer than most people. She thinks it’d be heaven to kiss you…”
“Stop it.”
“She’d love for you to touch her legs and she’s embarrassed, because those aren’t the thoughts of a proper woman,” she continued, ignoring the pleading look on his face. “I wonder if she’d still feel ashamed if she knew your thoughts, Carlisle? Perhaps she’s so enamored she’d be willing to overlook the blood on your hands. Maybe she won’t even blink an eye at your lovely, teenage sister looking suspiciously like your dearly departed, teenage patient.”
The rapping of Francine’s knuckles against the door pounded in Carlisle’s ears like a drum. “I made a promise to save you,” he said, choking on the knot that’d formed in his throat. “I did the only thing I could.”
And in that moment with her wavy, copper hair fanned out, and softened eyes, Emily Masen looked so much like her mother that if Carlisle’s heart could beat, it would have started back up and exploded.
When the knocking stopped and the smell of rosewater was just a lingering memory, Emily broke out of his grasp. “You didn’t have to hold me back, you know,” she said. “As much as I wanted to tear that girl’s throat out, I wouldn’t have. Instead, I would’ve told her to give up hope; Carlisle Cullen likes his women on death’s doorstep.”