Isabella Marie Swan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yesthatbella) wrote2010-11-10 12:11 am
yesthatbella) wrote2010-11-10 12:11 am
[La Push: March 2006 -- for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
themidnightson]
Bella couldn't sit still. Jacob and the others were tracking Victoria, and she'd done nothing but hide, here and occasionally, when the door allowed, at Milliways.
The hole in her chest was back, the hollow pain taunting her, getting its revenge for those few times she'd been able to chase it back. Too many constant reminders: the wolves, Victoria -- all of it circling around her life and missing the piece that would make it all fit. She hadn't been lying in her note to Alice -- she couldn't do this alone. But it wasn't fair to drag anyone else in, either. Maybe it wasn't even fair of her to want Edward back -- she had no reason to think he was anything other than happy to be free of her.
No reason, except those brief glimpses in which he seemed -- it was surely just her imagination, but she'd swear he seemed different. Strained, somehow. Maybe purely because the last time she'd seen him face to face, he'd been angry with her. Maybe she was letting that color the flashes of memory that her brain managed to call up in times of stress. Maybe she just couldn't bear to imagine him happy without her, because it would make her weak and pathetic for still needing him this badly. Badly enough to put herself in danger just for those glimpses that she paid dearly for once the adrenaline wore off and she had to face another night of screaming nightmares.
It was stupid of her to have expected anything to happen this morning. She'd thought, with the danger of Victoria looming, and Jacob gone -- she'd hoped for something. A word of caution. She was terrified that she was already starting to adjust -- that she wouldn't be able to trick her brain into rewarding her with his imagined presence any longer.
She walked all the way up to the cliffs, half of her terrified for Jacob -- she didn't know what she'd do if something happened to him -- and the other half trying not to suffocate under the weight of all of the above pressing in on her. She breathed in the cool air at the cliff's edge, barely conscious of having come this far until she could see the cliffs' edge up ahead, and the path that would take her out to the spot where Sam and the other boys had been diving from that day.
She wondered if Jacob would keep his promise when he got back. The freedom of falling was so tempting -- she'd be able to forget, just for a few seconds, and maybe she'd be rewarded with another of the flashes. If she shut her eyes and tuned out the crashing of the waves below her, she could almost, almost imagine what the furious, velvet voice would sound like in her ear. She'd already walked this far, and there was no sign of the theoretically safer path down to the lower ledge. And, if Bella were totally honest with herself, she had never possessed any intention of settling for the lower drop, anyway.
The clouds were dark and heavy in the sky, already well beyond the mere threat of rain. The wind had already whipped up the waves below into a mildly choppy mess that was certainly going to make for a cold landing.
This was stupid -- incredibly stupid, and Bella knew it. Still, she didn't hesitate until she was right at the edge. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, waiting, fear dissolving under a hopeful sort of elation.
The hole in her chest was back, the hollow pain taunting her, getting its revenge for those few times she'd been able to chase it back. Too many constant reminders: the wolves, Victoria -- all of it circling around her life and missing the piece that would make it all fit. She hadn't been lying in her note to Alice -- she couldn't do this alone. But it wasn't fair to drag anyone else in, either. Maybe it wasn't even fair of her to want Edward back -- she had no reason to think he was anything other than happy to be free of her.
No reason, except those brief glimpses in which he seemed -- it was surely just her imagination, but she'd swear he seemed different. Strained, somehow. Maybe purely because the last time she'd seen him face to face, he'd been angry with her. Maybe she was letting that color the flashes of memory that her brain managed to call up in times of stress. Maybe she just couldn't bear to imagine him happy without her, because it would make her weak and pathetic for still needing him this badly. Badly enough to put herself in danger just for those glimpses that she paid dearly for once the adrenaline wore off and she had to face another night of screaming nightmares.
It was stupid of her to have expected anything to happen this morning. She'd thought, with the danger of Victoria looming, and Jacob gone -- she'd hoped for something. A word of caution. She was terrified that she was already starting to adjust -- that she wouldn't be able to trick her brain into rewarding her with his imagined presence any longer.
She walked all the way up to the cliffs, half of her terrified for Jacob -- she didn't know what she'd do if something happened to him -- and the other half trying not to suffocate under the weight of all of the above pressing in on her. She breathed in the cool air at the cliff's edge, barely conscious of having come this far until she could see the cliffs' edge up ahead, and the path that would take her out to the spot where Sam and the other boys had been diving from that day.
She wondered if Jacob would keep his promise when he got back. The freedom of falling was so tempting -- she'd be able to forget, just for a few seconds, and maybe she'd be rewarded with another of the flashes. If she shut her eyes and tuned out the crashing of the waves below her, she could almost, almost imagine what the furious, velvet voice would sound like in her ear. She'd already walked this far, and there was no sign of the theoretically safer path down to the lower ledge. And, if Bella were totally honest with herself, she had never possessed any intention of settling for the lower drop, anyway.
The clouds were dark and heavy in the sky, already well beyond the mere threat of rain. The wind had already whipped up the waves below into a mildly choppy mess that was certainly going to make for a cold landing.
This was stupid -- incredibly stupid, and Bella knew it. Still, she didn't hesitate until she was right at the edge. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, waiting, fear dissolving under a hopeful sort of elation.
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And then, then it'd all be gone again. Cloudy.
Murky insubstantial. His mind losing cohesion.
He struggled against it. Against loosing everything.
Except that she would be there. In the insanity beyond.
Not real. Not right. But real enough, almost clear enough.
Almost enough to let go of reality for what still mattered.
The way she stood him now, as he opened his eyes slowly. As though he could tired, could be seeing from so far away, when she seemed feet away. All of him so thin and still and not here. With her back to him as she stared beyond a cliff.
With a set to her shoulders he knew too well.
"Bella." Her name escaped him, as he was suddenly feet closer.
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"Yes?"
It wasn't even a whisper - her lips barely shaped the question for fear of breaking the illusion. His voice had been so clear this time, as though the strength of her memory were directly proportional to the amount of danger she was in.
It was going to be hard to top this one. Maybe this will be the last time -- all the more reason to make it good enough to count.
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The way she isn't moving. Almost seemed to be leaning further toward that gaping emptiness beyond the cliff face. He didn't have a heart and yet it clenched. The distance. Her will. "Don't do this."
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If obeying his plea would bring him back, she would do it. But time and reckless experimentation had proven that the only way to have even a clear semblance of him was to do this.
Of course it was stupid. That was the point.
You wanted me to be human. Well, watch me.
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He tries to reach out, but he can't touch her.
"Please. For me."
The words burst from him; annoyance, concern and fear.
Words he has no right to say, that the wind takes anyway.
He doesn't care what happens to him. But to Bella. To Bella.
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She didn't have room for half-measures, not with death chasing her down anyway, threatening everything left for her to care about.
You won't stay with me any other way.
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Desperation in velvet.
It's the only word he has.
He gave up everything for her.
His family. His home. His very mind.
There is nothing he wouldn't if he could now.
Except that he can't. Look away. Not try something.
Through the rain that pelted her, and went through him.
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She leaned forward, rising up onto the balls of her feet, stretching her arms out as though she could just fly off the cliff and glide down to the bottom. A part of her wondered at the absence of fear -- she was the girl who used to get scared when he ran too fast with her, the girl who'd had to close her eyes to deal with heights.
A glimpse at the waves below does nothing to quell her intent. Her mind is silent now in anticipation of the fall.
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It's an order.
It's too late.
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It was over so quickly; she'd barely had time to feel the drop. The water was cold, icy, bone-chilling, but it barely reached her; adrenaline still propelled her forward as she struggled to surface.
And then the current caught her.
Suddenly she was drowning -- the knowledge didn't alarm her, even as she struggled against the waves and fought for the surface. She didn't have any fear left in her, but a part of her still reached for her vision of Edward, wanting to have him with her if this was how she ended.
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All of the world didn't matter when the water over took her.
"Keep swimming!" He begged urgently. A spectator before horror.
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confusion as she flailed for what she thought might be the surface.
It was strange how a part of herself stepped back and watched it all with a sort of vague fascination -- acceptance, even. Her lack of fear didn't even come as a surprise, nor did her conflicting actions in light of her sudden certainty. She fought because she didn't want to die, not when it wasn't going to count for anything. She accepted death because she had stopped fearing it sometime in between the van and the half-moon scar on her hand, and because as hard as her body struggled to swim and not to breathe, she didn't have that hollow ache in her chest any more.
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She was fighting but her movements were becoming more and more sluggish. She kept looking about for half seconds as though completely unaware of the very danger that threatened to swallow her whole.
"Stop that!" Edward hissed the next time she paused again. It shouldn't have worked. Water. Even when they didn't need to breathe. Sound shouldn't have. But there was no thought. Only terror and anger. "Don't you dare give up!"
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The unnecessarily morbid part of her brain reminded her that this was a less painful death than she'd already prepared herself for, with the unfortunate drawback that she wasn't actually going to survive it. She hadn't been under long enough for her lungs to start really protesting yet, though she clenched her teeth together hard in determination not to give in til she had to.
With the firm belief that, eventually, she would have to. She was only human, and she couldn't see a way through to the surface. All her struggles weren't doing any good.
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It didn't echo. It was just a sound. He could die.
Plan it. Do it. But not her. And she was moving less.
"Damnit, Bella. Keep fighting!"
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It was a thought born of pure frustration, even a twinge of resentment, though she immediately felt guilty for feeling that. It's not like he'd told her to jump off a cliff. But he'd left, and everything was so much harder than this.
In the darkness that surrounded her, she could see his face in the crispest detail she'd been able to achieve since that last day. She reached out toward the vision, surprised when the faint ripples her hand created didn't disturb it. Of course they didn't.
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The anger was overwhelming, shards of desperate rage, as all of her limbs, aside from her reaching hands, succumb to the drift of the water. He struggled, pointlessly, against water he couldn't feel to reach for her, with little ability to meet her movement.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't give up. Even if it was never real, why would he ever want to come back from seeing this, even as a creation of his own mind?
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Maybe it was the cold, or the way her vision was going black around the edges, but she felt such a sense of peace. She felt removed from the way her lungs burned for air, the heaviness of her limbs, and from the pain that had been an ever-present companion for months now. Couldn't he tell she was happy?
And couldn't he be happy for her?
Suddenly, the current pulled even harder, and as she felt herself being dragged away, she sent one last thought in his direction before the water comes flooding into her nose and throat.
Goodbye. I love you.