#last time although my account was inexplicably back up in an hour support didn’t get back to me by email for three days

[testingtestingonetwofour]

can anybody hear me

[jasperwhitcock]

04. Accidents

yes, the rumors are true. literally there are no rumors nobody is talking about this a month and a half later, i have finally updated my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag.

me to kae like two months ago when i started writing this fanfic: i don't want the plot to follow exactly along with smeyer also me: *copy and pastes midnight sun*

i promise i'll deviate eventually hehe leave me alone <3

It may have been an overabundance of caution, but I decided to hunt again that night once my family had coupled off into their perfectly matched pairs, leaving me to be the odd one out again. I had no desire to be an audience to whatever acts occurred when their bedroom doors locked.

Prior to this, I spent some time in Carlisle’s study along with Jasper. We worked in silence for the majority of our few hours together; Jasper quietly organized some of our recent identity paperwork, making preparations for the next set of documents we would require in a few years, Carlisle read through a very thick medical textbook for research, and though it was months too early, I was distracting myself by preparing to file our family’s taxes for the last year.

Our finances had been in something of disarray since Christmas anyways. Of course, the mind-boggling accumulation of wealth our coven possessed never necessitated a budget, but we still ensured to balance the checkbook to keep account of our transactions. The holidays were always an ostentatious occasion in our household. We tried to make the most out of days deemed special as means to have something to look forward to in the years that began to blend together as our endless amount of time passed.

Other than Carlisle and Esme’s gifts, it was typically a tie between Alice and Emmett concerning who spent the most on presents. Whereas Alice was flamboyant in her gifting – there was hardly a holiday season where hundreds of designer label bags didn’t appear beneath the Christmas tree – Emmett was mischievous. Although he always included something we’d actually enjoy, he managed to come up with something entirely nonorthodox year after year. There was a year where for Hanukkah, he had presented me with a deed to a piece of land each day, and by the eighth day, I was the owner of a very small country.

Carlisle and Esme made sizable donations in our names every year to charities of our choice. It may have been too on the nose of me, but I always opted for something that’d impact children’s reading education. There were many small libraries across the world named after both my immortal and mortal parents.

Just as my jaw nearly dropped upon discovering the amount Emmett had spent this past year on Christmas alone, I had been interrupted by my brother.

“Bella,” Jasper hesitantly spoke to capture my attention.

The look in Carlisle’s eyes as they flickered up from his book briefly and back to the page he’d been reading instantly made me feel suspicious. I knew Jazz would immediately detect as much.

“Yes?” I’d answered, reserved.

“We are always ready to move on at a moment’s notice, of course,” he’d begun, his tone cautious as he sampled the emotional climate. “However, I thought it might be best if we addressed how you’re feeling. Rather, we wanted to know more about your feelings and thoughts on the current situation.”

“Uh, you best of anybody understand how I’m feeling. What else is there for me to say? What are you getting at, Jazz?” I’d demanded, my focus no longer on the paperwork before me.

“I just thought that while we make preparations for additional documents for the future, we should ask if you’ve given any thought to leaving early...as in leaving now.”

“You want me to leave!?” I had almost shrieked, my voice rising a few octaves. Just as the shock had run through me, it’d been instantly sedated by my brother.

“Of course not, Bella,” Carlisle assured, closing the textbook atop his ancient mahogany desk. “It was only a question. We’d be horribly unhappy – Esme, especially – to not have you with us. And if you wanted us to move along with you, we would do so.”

“It was merely something for you to consider. A precaution. We wondered if perhaps providing you with the option might be beneficial bearing in mind how stubborn you are,” Jasper expressed, his words careful and his eyes vigilant.

I had been shocked at what I was hearing. My eyes narrowed.

“Me, stubborn? My tenacity is no match for Rosalie.” My adopted father had laughed in the middle of my response. “Really, I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

“Bella, we don’t wish for you to leave us,” Carlisle had guaranteed me again. “Nor do we wish to move on from Forks so soon. Naturally, neither must happen. It is entirely your decision, and we would all support you. Needless to say, but I have complete faith in you. However, I don’t want for you to feel as though you cannot leave if this is too difficult. There is nothing to prove to any of us, nothing worth proving. Nothing worth endangering the boy. The boy will be gone in a year or two. So if it is the better option, I wanted to offer the idea for your consideration.”

Jasper’s eyes had scrutinized my expression as he read the emotions, searching for some facial indication to explain what I’d felt. I couldn’t provide an explanation even if I’d tried. The idea of leaving emptied me, making me feel worn and hollow.

“It was just a suggestion, Bella,” Jasper had repeated upon experiencing my inexplicable hurt secondhand, offering a tiny smile to soothe me.

I’d absolutely miss my family. But that didn’t seem reason sufficient enough to match the level of anxiety and sadness that accompanied the idea of leaving Forks.

The boy would be gone in a year or two.

Carlisle’s words were just along the line of thoughts I’d had a week ago here in this forest.

I again felt bewildering sorrow for the life the boy would live without me. Rather, the life the boy would live that I could never live.

As I emptied another deer of its life source, I wondered about the question Carlisle had asked when I insisted upon staying.

“What holds you here?”

How could I explain to them what I couldn’t explain to myself?

Carlisle and Jasper had been right to suggest I leave. What was another two years in this small town to me in this endless life? It was merely a blink of the eye, and yet the fact made me feel deeper in desperation to remain here. So little time left to unravel the mystery of the weird bronze-haired boy’s pervasive insight...

But the mystery was not of the same value as the boy’s life. That was true. Edward, no matter how smug and obnoxious, deserved the right to continue on without my presence beside him as a looming threat. I could never forgive myself if in my pride, my stubbornness, I hurt him.

There couldn’t be that much behind him anyways. I’d figure him out in less than a week and resume my previous boredom.

Or at least I would have, had he not been the one human whose blood was temptation enough to consider leaving Forks.

It was the right decision to make, and yet, there was that incomprehensible woe inside me again.

I’d have to say goodbye today. Not only to my family but to the boy too.

I didn’t have to leave Forks, but staying at home for two years avoiding Edward seemed like a depressing waste of time. I could travel or spend some time in Denali.

It was melancholic to look at the forestry surrounding me, knowing now I’d be leaving it behind. By the time the boy graduated, it might be time for our family to move on.

I would miss Forks and its shrouding cover of clouds.

As a human, I’d hated the rain and snow, the gloom and the grey.

As a vampire, the rainfall was freedom–a promise of a day not spent blanketed in darkness. The snow was a beautiful romanticization of that freedom. Once the threats of snow had been removed thanks to the lithe grace that corrected my above average human clumsiness, I could now appreciate the beauty of the water droplets crystallizing in the air, seeing every unique shape of the flakes as they fluttered softly down in an effortless dance.

Today, the snow was stiffened after having refrozen. The scenery was enveloped in ice, the trees and grass and rocks sparkling with glossy glass.

Yes, I would truly miss it.

How many times had I sat on this stone in the past week, so pensive and desolate, as I stared out at the icy river? Last time, I cared little to watch the hidden sunrise beside Esme because of how indifferent I’d become. Now, though I could recall the image perfectly, I regretted not cherishing the moment.

At least my family would no longer have to be an audience to my ineffectual stoicism. That was something of a positive.

A nimble whisper of tiny feet against the glazed over blades of grass made my head flick upwards in time to see Alice appear beside me as if she’d been sitting there all along. Tucked in her hands, she carried two neatly folded stacks of dark fabric.

“One last day?” She asked, attempting to smile for me, though her dark eyes and bleak tone betrayed her.

“Of course you’d see the second I decided. I didn’t even think about that,” I laughed once without real amusement.

“Yeah, you’re very off recently,” Alice gently nudged me, her smiling taking on more authenticity. “Your future’s all blurry and vague. I can’t make much sense of it. I can’t even see where you’re going.”

“I don’t know where I’m going yet,” I shrugged, growing more glum by the second.

“You know Jazz and I will come with you if you want,” she offered, freeing one of her hands to grab mine, gently squeezing my palm.

“Jazz is the one who suggested I go.”

Alice snarled, a hiss escaping her teeth. “I heard.”

“He was right. And I know you’d come, I know all of you would. But I don’t want to uproot everybody, and it’s not that long anyways.”

Her pixie face contemplated for a fraction of a second, looking as if she wanted to argue, but she then sighed, giving in. Her lips twisted into a pout.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I carefully fixed an unconvincing smile onto my face.

My sister rolled her eyes before pulling me into a hug.

“Get dressed. You can tell the others when you’re ready.”

Alice stood up, kissed the top of my head, and darted off to the house.

I tugged the clothes on my body without thinking much about what they looked like, crumpling the old clothes I’d worn into a ball.

On the way to school, we sat in silence. Though Jasper could sense the sadness emanating from Alice and I, she made good on allowing me to be the one to tell them. I could always trust Alice.

Once we’d arrived at school, my eyes searched for the growing familiarity of a pair of sage eyes. The last time we’d been in this parking lot, I’d begun to feel my spirit lifting again. It seemed funny that it was once again crashing down like the first day we had crossed paths.

Today would be the last time I’d see him.

I didn’t know how to feel about the fact. It seemed maybe sorrow was the emotion that’d define my entire morning.

The others left for their classes, but Alice remained by my side as I waited, our backs leaned against Rosalie’s day car.

I tried to avoid Alice’s doll-like eyes as she gave me somber, pleading glances, instead listening for the quiet hum of Edward’s car as it approached the Forks High School parking lot.

It was easy to detect. The majority of students at the school drove older, used cars passed down from parents and grandparents with noisier engines.

I braced for his arrival as the wheels turned onto the slick, icy pavement. I finally gave in to peeking at my sister’s face, but she no longer looked at me with devastation. Instead, her eyes glazed over in search of the future.

I wondered if she was watching my indecisiveness as I grappled with what to say. I knew this attachment to saying goodbye to the boy was bizarre. I didn’t owe him an explanation, but something in me wanted closure with the person who was the reason for my leaving Forks.

I comforted myself by thinking that of course in this neverending span of time I lived, any minute connection was of interest to me – just something to find absorption in. This odd relationship of unwilling predator and over-perceptive prey was just another intrusive thought to occupy my time.

His shiny black car rolled into view as he expertly parked a few spots diagonal from Rosalie’s car, cutting the engine swiftly. He seemed to be a confident driver. How old was he? Seventeen? Eighteen? He couldn’t have been driving for more than three to five years, but I was relieved he seemed far more trustworthy behind the wheel than some of the other students’ reckless driving. It was no wonder we’d had so many assemblies preaching responsible, defensive driving with the way these teenagers ineptly sped around the town. My human father had often complained about the kids’ injudicious carelessness around here.

I was somewhat pleased because with all of my effort to keep this boy alive so far, it’d be a true shame for his own thoughtlessness to lead to an untimely death.

He stepped out of the driver seat, combing a hand through his bronze hair that was striking today in contrast to the cloudy, grey sky and the thick, black fitted sweater he was wearing.

“Hey, Edward!” Sara, the sandy-haired girl from biology who had taken a surprising dislike to me, called from a group of girls for his attention.

He looked in the direction of her voice, offering a wave which resulted in giggles.

I scoffed, once again seeing humor in the absurdity of the effect he had on the student body. Did they not find any annoyance in the grating edge of self-importance that coated his boyish charm? Humans were so unperceptive. Well, I could grudgingly think of one exception.

As I watched him, peripherally I could see the confusion knitting Alice’s thin eyebrows together at my smirk in response to the exchange. The ridiculousness made me grin wider. It seemed a safe bet to say I’d lost my mind, just as my siblings probably suspected behind my back. Well, they wouldn’t have to witness my deepening insanity any longer.

Rather than give in to the sadness that ebbed at the edges of my thoughts, watching the boy this one last time was a rush of dopamine, so I allowed myself this one moment of fun.

It seemed somehow we both could sense when one was watching the other, because as I let out a laugh amongst my own inner turmoil and chaos, the boy looked over, his pretty green eyes meeting mine.

They were alight, brilliant, and amused, asking to understand the joke. His strong face of angular features that garnered the fan club of silly little girls seemed pleased to find my attention on him, to no surprise of mine. Of course his ego would be stroked. I laughed again, a twinkling sound that distracted a part of my mind as the supernatural lure of the noise reminded me once again of the differences between us. He was human, and I was something completely other than that.

He leaned down to open the door to the backseat and reach into the car, pulling out the same leather-bound journal I’d seen him carry before, his eyes never breaking our gaze. Edward raised an eyebrow, smug as ever, his expression a clear invitation for me to approach him.

Just as my unfeasibly fast brain began to consider the words I’d say and the pain that’d come with saying them and the proximity to the boy, three things happened instantaneously.

First, I’d nearly forgotten about my sister before Alice’s tiny hand gripped onto my arm violently, her grasp unbreakably steel.

“Bella!” She hissed, the words a cry of warning as horrified air whooshed out of her lips in a gasp.

Second, I’d grown frigid as the implication of what she might have seen hit me until the shrill squealing of a van rounding the corner onto the parking lot at a negligent speed sent another shock through me. The angle the van’s tires hit the ice at was sending the large vehicle skidding, spinning in an unstoppable trajectory that would result in the destruction of the sleek, black car, the very car Edward still leaned into as his eyes finally left my face to discover the source of the noise.

It was only seconds before the van would crush him – crush and mangle his body to death.

Third, bent over as he was still straightening up from his reach into the backseat, his bewildered sage eyes flickered between the large van inevitably barreling towards him and my terror-filled face.

It was unacceptable. Idiotic. Careless. Moronic. Irresponsible and deeply selfish. But without another thought, I threw myself across the parking lot between the van and the boy.

Lifting Edward like a ragdoll, cradling his lanky legs to his chest, I launched us through the open door of the backseat just as the van made impact with his car, slamming the door shut into my back, the metal pressing and molding into the shape of my body with a groan as the motion sent us forward to crash into the car parked two spaces beside Edward’s, the glass of the window fracturing into thousands of glistening shards that I desperately shrouded him from.

“Holy! Fucking! Shit!” I cried out as I kicked open the door on the opposite side, sending it flying off its hinges into the car we were about to collide with beside us, throwing us flying out through the opening before we could be sandwiched in the wreckage, all the while begging to god or any deity that the glass of the imploding windows hadn’t reached any part of Edward’s skin to expose the blood beneath. Now was not the time to test my self control any further.

I’d crashed us into the pavement, carefully holding Edward beneath me. The warmth of his entire body pressed into mine made me painfully aware of how it burned my skin. One of my hands supported his head while the other held all of my weight off of him, and I was terrified of his fragility. Would my actions alone be what killed him? To my consolation, amongst the cacophony, I could hear the thunderous beat of his heart. Once I’d yanked him through the car, his legs had flown out wildly, stretching out again.

The van alongwith Edward’s car continued to bend and shriek as they warped into new grotesque shapes, smashing into the other car parked a space away from Edward, the friction finally slowing the accident to a stop.

The rest of the glass splintered off in a grating, violent shatter. My hand fluttered to block the stray pieces threatening to hit the boy beneath me, sending the fragments ricocheting back into the frame of the vehicles, denting the metal further like microscopic bullets.

Only seconds had passed, and I’d moved too fast for anyone to have detected any of my movements, but as I finally looked down severely into the eyes of the boy below me, as part of my brain registered immediate relief that he seemed to be unharmed by both myself and the wreckage, the other part of my brain registered the wide, astounded viridescent bewilderment of someone who’d seen everything.

I’d cursed again through my teeth, horrified with my actions, as the students witnessing the accident began to scream in panic. My forehead puckered as my eyebrows shoved together in torment.

What had I done? The risk I’d compromised my family with now was nothing in comparison to the exposure that’d have threatened us had I just murdered Edward Masen the very first day I’d seen him. The risk I’d placed Edward in as he stared wildly at my face beneath me was realer than it had ever been as his breath, warm and sweet, enticed me even without my inhaling his scent. The risk I’d placed myself in had never been greater as, though he looked unmaimed, my actions could have potentially damaged him far more than the van would have, which would only result in decades of deep self loathing for the harm I’d have inflicted.

The panicking footsteps clumsily sliding along the ice towards us meant we only had seconds before the other students discovered me here. Had they witnessed my materialization and supernatural maneuvers as well as Edward may have?

Somehow, it didn’t feel as important as my desperation that the boy beneath me was truly okay.

I knew my face betrayed my agony, so with great effort, I softened my features, though the pucker between my eyebrows remained.

Fiercely, I peered into the intense shock of his pretty face only inches from mine surrounded by a canopy of my long, dark hair.

“Edward,” I asked critically, my voice almost pleading. “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” he responded, though he blinked rapidly, disoriented from the trauma of the past minute.

The solace in hearing the sound of his voice was almost dizzying, and a manic, hysteric giggle escaped from my lips as I basked in the intoxifying relief at his sarcasm. Reluctantly, I sucked in air through my teeth. The scent of his blood was just as dizzying, if not more so, on my tongue, but I embraced the burning pain almost blithely. The blood wasn’t fresh, so it seemed I’d managed to protect him successfully, but whether or not it had been as thorough as I hoped, I’d need Carlisle to examine him internally for damage.

“Okay,” I breathed out. “I’m going to move away from you now. Stay still, and be very careful.”

Gently with as much care as I could, I laid his head down along the concrete, and lifted my body from shielding him. I scooted away, distancing myself from him, the glass clinking against the other pieces on the ground beneath me as I moved to lean against the misshapen trunk of his car.

“How-?” Edward began to prop himself up on his elbow.

“Edward,” I cautioned him sharply, cutting off the question that sobered my internal celebration at his well being.

Slowly – in effort to re-immerse myself into something more believably human – I crawled back over to where he laid, and softly pushed his upper body back onto the frozen ground.

“I said stay still,” I snapped, assertively but delicately grabbing his face to force his head to rest against the pavement. My fingertips were alight at the touch as if they’d been set on fire. I moved again, this time positioning myself to sit on the heels of my feet with my hands resting on my knees behind his body in case he made any effort to disobey again.

“How’d you get here so fast?” His chin tilted upwards to look at my face, his upside down expression revealing intense green eyes that bore into mine, searching intently for answers.

Something about our positioning reminded me of Mary Jane Watson and Spiderman. Except Spiderman never saved Mary Jane in favor of preserving her from a worse death – a death he’d have inflicted on her himself – had her blood been exposed. We were far more akin to Spiderman and Gwen Stacy – but without the romance – because it seemed I’d never stop shouldering more responsibility to keep him alive. If he were to die, it’d be my fault.

“I was right beside you, Edward,” I lied as a scowl pulled the corners of my lips down, severely examining his expression. I began to feel the anxiety of the risk I’d posed to my family.

“Don’t lie to me.” His face grew just as bitter and severe, his eyes accusatory. He began to move again as if he wanted to sit up, but I tugged him carefully back down.

“Can’t you listen?” I almost begged, the words holding multiple meanings.

The scene of the accident became surrounded as panicked students and faculty began to crowd where we were behind the barricade of the three cars. The bedlam was soundtracked by a torrent of shouting.

Although I could hear every exclamation of concern, every question, every instruction as we waited for the ambulance to arrive, I paid little attention to the canopy of humans, instead studying the strange metallic hues of his thick, tousled dark hair, the surprisingly smooth milkiness of his skin, the magnetism of his light green eyes, speckled with flecks of dark green the shade of the forests and brown the color of honey. This was the closest I’d ever been to him, and here I was, not falling into any monstrous temptations. It was a bizarrely beautiful sight – the upside down boy, the sparkling glass, the pretty eyes. I responded when urgent questions were asked of me but didn’t glance away.

Only when the ambulance finally arrived a few minutes later did I look elsewhere as the boy disappeared from the ground, being lifted onto a gurney along with another student, the careless van driver. It was Melanie Dean, a very striking girl with curly hair and luminous dark skin. My frozen heart felt as though it sunk upon realizing it was her. She seemed to be in much worse shape with gashes across her body bleeding profusely. Her mother was very kind to Esme, and she was a very responsible and kind student. She couldn’t have been careless; it must have truly been an accident. I mentally forgave her and let go of the resentment I’d already built for whoever had placed this annoying boy in harm’s way.

After reassuring the EMTs I was perfectly fine, I climbed into the passenger seat of the ambulance, chatting with the driver, a friend of Carlisle’s. I didn’t look back at Edward, procrastinating facing the accusations in his eyes and trusting the medics to do their jobs.

I ignored the fierce stares of my reconvened family members as we drove out of the parking lot. Their anger wouldn’t be enough to keep them from destroying any evidence I’d left behind.

It was a great deal of luck to find Carlisle alone in his office. Hearing my approach from down the hall, his golden eyes were full of perplexity as I entered the room, becoming aghast upon seeing the gravity of my expression.

I could almost see the thoughts flash across his face as he assumed the worst, but he was polite and patient enough to allow me to speak.

“Carlisle, I’ve done something terrible,” I confessed. “Edward – or, the boy – is fine, or at least, I hope so. I didn’t do anything to him per se.” I might as well have been monosyllabic with how effective I was communicating the situation. I continued in a rush. “There was an accident. A student’s van nearly crushed him,” I decided to correct myself, “would have crushed him had I not intervened. It was entirely reckless and irresponsible. Carlisle, I am so, so sorry. I-” I faltered, my voice catching in my throat in a strange way, the sound becoming thicker as I realized this was exactly the kind of mistake they had encouraged me to leave to avoid making. “I’m so sorry. I put you, Esme, the entire family in danger. It’s all my fault. I should have left as soon as you and Jasper said so, I shouldn’t have-”

Immediately, my adopted father materialized by my side, pulling me into a strong hug, shushing me. How many consoling stone hugs would I be enveloped in these days?

“Sweet Bella,” he began, smoothing the top of my head. “You are not the first – and I’m certain you won’t be the last–” Carlisle chuckled before continuing, “–of our family to be less than perfect. You have had grace for us countless times, and we will have grace for you.”

It was typical of Carlisle to include himself in the plural even though it seemed he had never made a mistake in his mortal or immortal life.

He pulled away from the embrace but only to hold me at arm’s length and examine my face. I looked up into his comforting eyes more than a head above me, so full of compassion and understanding that I felt unworthy of. Something about the unrelenting and unconditional love in his perfect face made me think of my human father. “Now, explain again what happened.”

I recalled every action in meticulous detail. Every shriek of the tire, every movement of my sin, every expression on Edward’s face as he watched me. As Carlisle listened, he left my side to straighten up his desk, closing the thick textbook atop it, and folded up the prescriptionless reading glasses he sometimes wore at work to hang on his collar.

“You did the right thing. And it couldn’t have been easy for you. I’m proud of you, Bella. Perhaps only the boy saw, and with all of the shock and trauma of the moment, he might be considered the least reliable witness.”

“He knows we’re...different. He knows something is wrong with me,” I whispered like a scared child.

“If we have to leave, we’ll leave.”

I frowned.

“Has he said anything?”

“Not yet, but he asked that I didn’t lie to him. Well, demanded really. Which is a very privileged stance to take when someone’s just saved your life.” The frown on my face deepened as I recalled how maddening Edward could be in the little time I interacted with him.

Carlisle brightened at my words, a small smile pulling at his lips. I wondered what he found funny.

“Anyways, I’ll come up with an explanation. I’m sure I could be persuasive enough to discredit his account of the events.” There was an edge of doubt to my voice.

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary. Shall I check on our patient?”

“Please!” I said. “I’m worried that maybe I ended up hurting him instead!”

Carlisle’s fair eyebrows raised, and then he shook his head, laughing aloud. “With Alice a part of our family, we rarely have such a strange day that comes as a shock to us, don’t we?”

Strange, indeed. This morning we discussed how it may be more beneficial for me to leave to protect the boy, and yet, had I been gone during the accident, my absence would have accomplished the opposite.

I found myself unexpectedly laughing too as Carlisle left the room.

I impatiently waited alone in his office, distracting myself by listening to the passing voices throughout the hallways of the small Forks hospital. The anticipation was too much as I listened to the van driver’s diagnosis of injuries. I felt bad for her mom but was relieved there seemed to be no permanent damage.

Edward patiently awaited his turn for x-rays, and I was anxious to hear Carlisle’s voice. He seemed to be allowing the physician’s assistants to do the bulk of the assessment. It was probably better this way. Carlisle’s face would instantly trigger the memory of me snatching him and all but flying through the backseat of the car. Who knows what might break Edward’s silence.

Melanie and Edward chatted back and forth. He consistently brushed off the staggering guilt that led her to apologize profusely, instead charmingly turning the conversation onto other subjects as if they weren’t sitting in a hospital post accident. He seemed to always know the perfect thing to say, soothing the tension of the circumstance and distracting her from the discomfort of the PA’s inspection. Edward asked about her now deceased van, her home life, her aspirations once completing high school, making guesses as to the reasons behind her answers. Melanie was shocked at how spot on some of his assessments were. It seemed he truly was a good reader. Only when she chuckled at some of his words did she remember where they were as the laughter pained her bruised and maybe broken body.

I froze with stress as Melanie finally asked how he had gotten out of the way.

Without hesitation, Edward smoothly replied, “Oh, Bella pulled me out of the way.”

This was true, but it didn’t pose a significant risk to me.

“Bella Cullen,” he spoke again as Melanie hesitated. She must have looked confused.

Edward had spoken my name before, but something about hearing it again this time overcame me with inexplicable excitement.

“Bella was right next to me in the car.”

“In the backseat?”

“Yes.”

“What was she doing in the backseat?”

“That’s not really any of your business,” Edward laughed. He said it perfectly in a way that made it clear he wouldn’t reveal more but wasn’t rude, making Melanie laugh as well. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the implications of what he said.

“Bella Cullen… That’s weird. I didn’t even see her. It was all so fast, I guess. Did she make it out okay?”

“I think she’s perfectly fine. She’s around here somewhere, but she seems to have the right connections at this place. No stretcher required and a first class ticket to sit passenger side in the ambulance.”

I smiled to myself.

Absentmindedly, I wandered around, feeling frustrated at the distance the circumstances forced between Edward and I. I wanted to see his face for myself, know that he was okay, and figure out what needed to be said.

Near the radiology room, I snuck a peek at the X-rays they just imaged of Edward when the nurse was looking elsewhere. His scent lingered in the hallway, though muddled by the movement of passing visitors and orderlies. It tickled my throat, but the temptation didn’t consume me. I could tell he’d already been moved back to the emergency room.

Carlisle caught me, giving me a meaningful glance as he pinned the images to the light board.

“He’s absolutely fine, Bella. No harm whatsoever. Well done,” my adopted father whispered so quietly that only I could hear.

The praise evoked a complicated reaction in me. I was very pleased but remained silent for a moment.

“I think I’ll go talk to him before he sees you. Act as though nothing happened,” I whispered back. He nodded approvingly. “Act as though I didn’t kick the door off a car,” I added sarcastically.

Carlisle chuckled quietly to himself.

Arriving at the ER, I hesitated. This would be the last time I’d ever see Edward Masen. A slight ache in my chest kept me from beginning this last of moments with him. I guess I could toy with the possibilities for the explanation as to why later once I’d left Forks.

I inhaled deeply, moving into view.

Edward’s thick eyebrows raised once he saw my face, his eyes accusatory again, but he relaxed his expression immediately before Melanie could see. “Ah, our fellow survivor’s finally decided to join us.”

Melanie’s dark eyes snapped over to look at me. She blinked rapidly, distracted by either a disorientation from her wounds or the proximity I stood to her. I was rarely this close to humans I didn’t share classes with. I probably looked even more unnatural, more inhuman under the fluorescence of the hospital lights.

“Oh, hey, Bella.” She said once recovered. “I’m so sorry-”

“No blood, no foul,” I interrupted her apology, shrugging. I smiled widely.

Glancing over her wounds, I found myself relaxed by the lack of desire. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be so strong and unaffected. The fleshy areas of her skin and fresh blood soaking through some of the bandage wraps around her arms hardly distracted any part of me.

It was nothing in comparison to Edward’s unexposed blood.

I strolled over to seat myself on the end of Melanie’s mattress.

“So, fellow survivor,” I mimicked the name he used, “give it to me straight. What’s the verdict?”

“As I said before, never better.” He answered. Edward’s green eyes were narrowed slightly in suspicion, though I doubted Melanie would detect as such. His eyes held allegations. They seemed to say I don’t trust you.

As he shouldn’t. “They won’t let me leave though. Is there a reason you’re not strapped to a gurney? I didn’t know nepotism could extend to medical treatment.”

“It’s all about who you know,” I smiled again at his irritation. Carlisle’s tread was nearring us down the hallway. “But lucky for you, I came to spring you.”

As Carlisle entered the room, I glanced down at my hands, unwilling to watch Edward’s reaction to my father’s face. I knew he’d notice the resemblance immediately. I winced when a quiet gasp escaped from Melanie’s mouth as she dropped it open in surprise.

“So, Mr. Masen, your X-rays look good. How are you feeling?” Carlisle clipped the X-rays to the light board on the wall opposite the bed.

“I feel perfectly fine,” Edward replied smoothly.

“Does your head feel alright? I heard you hit the ground pretty hard,” Carlisle crossed over to Edward’s hospital bed. He reached forward to gently run his fingers through Edward’s bronze hair, searching for any bumps from the impact.

I froze again watching this, stunned by the nearness. A bizarre surge of something like envy crashed over me as I wished I could have the control to so tenderly touch him, no fear of inflicting pain or harm… No longing for his blood the way I longed for it now.

“I can assure you, I really am okay, Dr. Cullen.” Edward laughed.

“Well, in that case, you’re free to go. Although, I’m afraid your car wasn’t so lucky with its fate. We spoke on the phone to your father, but he-”

“Had a meeting in Seattle today, I know,” the boy finished for him.

“He’s on his way back to Forks as we speak, however if you don’t want to wait three hours, I’m sure Bella wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

I was unprepared for Carlisle’s words. My eyes immediately flashed to his, searching for an answer as to his madness. Was now truly the optimal time to push the boy’s luck? My father’s honey eyes were partly apologetic but full of faith. Clearly he trusted me too much – trusting me to ensure the safety in our secrets and the safety of the boy’s life. He reached for a clipboard of medical paperwork, looking away.

Edward barely had time to glance in surprise at me by the time our exchange had occurred. Again, he raised his eyebrows, the green irises beneath full of questions.

“Of course I wouldn’t mind, Carlisle. However, I don’t have the car with me,” I began with false politeness, knowing I was being extremely rude to question his judgment but questioning it nonetheless.

“You can take mine.” He didn’t look up as he flipped through the paperwork.

“Perfect,” I replied before standing from Melanie’s hospital bed and walking towards the exit of the room. “I’ll be right back, Edward.”

“Mr. Masen, if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all, come back. Bella will stay with you until your father comes home or she’ll leave a phone number for you to call if you require assistance,” Carlisle instructed as I walked down the hallway in pursuit of his office.

“Thank you,” Edward replied politely.

“It seems you were extremely lucky.”

I entered Carlisle’s office, crossing to collect the key from his belongings.

“Lucky that your sister in law happened to be beside me,” he agreed, a stern edge to his tone. I grasped the car key so tightly I nearly molded it into a new shape.

“Ah, well, yes,” Carlisle replied. I’m sure he detected the same note in his voice that I had. I listened to the near-silence of his feet and the turning of papers. “Unfortunately, Ms. Dean, it seems you weren’t quite as lucky. You’ll have to stay with us a little while longer.”

As I heard the shuffling of Edward sliding off the hospital bed, I rounded the corner of the hallway to the ER.

“Handle it whichever way you think is best,” my father mumbled silently beneath his breath upon hearing my approach.

I leaned against the wall outside the doorway, listening to the beating of Edward’s heart sending the blood circulating throughout his entire body. With every step of his feet against the tile, I wondered how I was going to do this. Sit so close beside him. Lie to him. Say goodbye.

Every thought pained me.

Edward exited the emergency room and was startled to see me already leaning there.

I smiled mournfully as I listened to the pounding of his heart in reaction.

“You scared me.”

“You ready?” I asked, holding up the key for him to see.

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked down the hallway, silently gasping in the waves of air as other people passed by. He followed behind me through the automatic doors.

“Would you like to wait here as I bring the car around?” I turned to look at him.

“Please, Bella. I’m not that fragile. I’ll walk.” His jaw tightened. He looked down at me, the same indignant expression from earlier on his face. Don’t lie to me, he had said…

“Okay.” I frowned, storming off in the direction of Carlisle’s black mercedes.

Once no longer beneath the overhead of the hospital, the dreary grey gloom of the sky released the frosty droplets of an oncoming rain.

I groaned internally. The rain made everything smell so much more saturated, and Edward Cullen didn’t need the extra help. The universe seemed determined to rid him from the planet today.

I unlocked the car, sliding into the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life. Although unaffected by the weather, the air was glacial, so I reached to blast the heat throughout the vehicle for his sake.

Edward caught up to the car then, opening the passenger door and dipping down to settle into his seat.

I turned to face the outside world one last time, taking a deep breath of the wintry air before closing my door.

It was worse than I imagined. The tension. The longing.

Here, in the intimacy of the interior, the heat from Edward’s body was deliciously sweltering. I was almost dizzy as the venom began to pool. I swallowed hard.

Slightly less tortuous, I could sense the resentment in the air.

I slammed my foot on the gas, reversed the mercedes out of the parking spot, and sped to the highway as if I could avoid all confrontation by racing to his home.

“Address?” I asked through gritted teeth.

He answered quietly, and I nodded, redirecting myself in that direction.

I refused to look over at him as I swerved through any traffic. There wasn’t much at this time. Hardly any witnesses…

I accelerated.

Even without breathing through my nose, I could still taste him on my tongue just as I did in biology class. Just as I did in the parking lot. But now, there were hardly any witnesses...

My foot slammed down on the gas again.

This was exceptionally more dangerous for multiple reasons. There was no hope for fresh air from a hastily closed textbook or a passing student unless I inexplicably opened a window in the very end of a chilling winter. There was no menagerie of other human scents to dilute the potency. There was no means of exiting the situation without leaving him in a car with no driver barreling down a highway. It was an inescapable inferno.

“Bella,” Edward finally spoke. His voice was softer than I anticipated. Less accusatory. I wished I could read his thoughts to understand what led to the resolvement in his tone.

I kept my eyes on the road ahead of us.

“Bella,” he began again. “I understand that for whatever reason, you don’t want to provide an explanation as to what happened today.”

He paused, waiting for me to respond in any way. I felt his eyes scrutinize my face. I kept my features fixed into an impassive mask.

“But I’m not as gullible as you think I am. Or hope that I am. I know what I saw.”

“And what do you think you saw?” I demanded, still watching the giant firs streak past.

“Bella,” he groaned. I couldn’t help but notice he’d said my name so many times today. This time, his voice was as accusatory as his eyes had been. “Don’t patronize me. You were next to your cousin-sister by your car. I saw you. And you were laughing at something as you watched me. Then, when Melanie’s van began to skid toward me, suddenly, impossibly you were beside me, pulling me through the backseat of my car. And even more impossibly, as we were about to crash into the other car, you somehow kicked the door of its hinges and got us out, pinning me to the concrete as the collision crushed my car like a soda can. It would have crushed me, killed me even, had you not been there. So don’t act as though you were beside me the entire time, and I’m just too stupid to remember clearly. Or don’t act as though I’m too stupid now to not know when I’m being lied to.”

Finally, I looked at him.

I was horrified. But even more than that, I was awestruck. He had seen everything.

His face was fierce and weirdly beautiful.

“Nobody will believe that,” I almost whispered.

“Bella,” he quietly said my name again. The intensity of his expression softened slightly. “I had no intention of telling anybody.”

As I looked into the sincerity of his magnetic sage eyes, I was shocked to see how genuinely he meant it. I believed him.

“Then what does it matter?” I asked stubbornly.

“I value transparency. If I’m going to lie, I want to know why I’m lying for you.”

What he asked of me was fair. And I was surprised that I wished I could give it to him. That I trusted him. Something in me wished he could trust me.

But he couldn’t do that. And he shouldn’t.

I realized what was so stirring about the connection to this strange, bronze-haired boy. The draw of his blood was the inciting complication driving us together but outside of my family, these were the first real conversations I’d had in years.

And I can’t even truly be honest.

I pulled onto his street, scanning the numbers for the correct address.

“Here,” he said as we slowed in front of a lonely house nestled behind giant trees and bushes, much too large for the boy to go in to be alone. It was one of the nicer houses in Forks with its latticed bay windows and small wraparound porch. But it was a grey home against a grey sky and lifeless within. The windows were dark as if nobody had been home for a long time.

There wasn’t much I could do about having to breathe to speak. Reluctantly, I inhaled. The appeal was every bit as powerful, and I battled with the instinct to grab hold of him and crush his neck to my mouth.

I gave myself a moment to recover, willing myself to clarity.

He waited, watching me. I turned my head to face him.

“Edward,” I began this time. “Please. Can you please let it go?”

He stared me down, his eyes dark and contemplative.

“I can’t.” He moved to unbuckle his seatbelt. “But I can see that you won’t tell me, so don’t worry about it. Thank you for the ride.”

I placed the car in park and cut the engine as he began to exit the car.

I should have just let him go, but stubbornly I couldn’t let that be the last moment I’d ever spend with him.

“What are you doing?” He asked as I got out, shutting the door.

“Carlisle said to stay with you, didn’t he?”

“He said that after you’d left the room,” he pointed out. I wanted to kick myself, but this was a minor slip up in the grand scheme of today. “Well, it wasn’t hard to assume. How else will you make it back to the hospital if something happens to you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

His words took on a double meaning to me. Maybe I should just leave now. He will be fine. Or at least, he’d only ever truly be fine once I’d left Forks.

“You’ll still have to wait three hours for your father to make it home. If you died in that time, it’d be my responsibility.” Tenaciously, I kept pace with him easily up the walkway to the porch. Whether Carlisle missed something crucially life-threatening from the accident or not, the words were true.

“I don’t see myself dying soon,” Edward fished in his pocket for a set of keys. “But whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

His strong face was sullen. The heavy eyebrows pulled together in frustration as he used the key to unlock the door.

“You’re angry with me,” I said.

He sighed heavily, pausing to look down into my eyes. His eyes were stormy and brooding. Then, he swung the door open and stepped inside.

Hesitantly, I followed him in.

His home was shrouded in darkness – not that my eyes needed the silvery light pouring in from the open door he was shutting behind me. I could see how carefully decorated it was. Navy walls and dark wooden accents everywhere – the floors, a great big grandfather clock, bookshelves, the frames on paintings. There were touches of white and black here and there too – gothic white lattice doors to the right leading to a home office with shelves of books nearly rivaling Carlisle’s collection behind a massive, intricately carved desk, a glossy black grand piano in the small, living area off to the left up a small step.

Here in the dark, it was even worse than it had been in the car. Though there was more distance between us now, lessening the heat his body washed over me, still, everything smelled of him and I was waging a war within. A bizarre current of energy coursed through the air between us and into my dead veins.

He turned on a small lamp illuminating the small entrance hallway with golden light that warmed his angry eyes.

“Do you play?” I asked in an attempt to distract myself from the inevitable bloom of the mouthwatering aroma beneath his skin, glancing again at the piano.

“Yes,” he responded, not bothering to elaborate.

“We have a piano just like this at home. Rosalie plays,” I spoke quietly. Aside from the bloodlust begging for attention in another corner of my brain, the intimacy of the two of us in this large house made me feel shy.

He looked at me meaningfully again for one moment, the mesmerizing green of his irises betraying some of the hurt he felt, before he turned to walk down the hallway.

The aching in my chest returned and without consciously deciding to, I was following him much too fast. The monstrous side of me was instantly excited by the pursuit, so I slowed myself to subdue it.

I paused for a moment before rounding the corner he had turned, wrestling with myself, suppressing the violence that begged me to lurch forward and empty his body. I smoothed the anguish contorting my face but finding that the pucker between my eyebrows was unwilling to undo itself.

With another excruciating breath through my mouth rather than my nose – I told myself that the burn ripping across my tongue was a good thing seeing that it was a reminder he had survived the car accident and the unexpected car ride that soon followed later – I turned the corner.

This must have been the real living room. Again, it seemed much too large for just the boy. His house wasn’t overwhelmingly huge but definitely bigger than average for this town. The room was decorated again in the strange assemblage of something victorian, something gothic, and something modern. It seemed reminiscent of another time. The room was still in the rich, dark jewel tones of navy, onyx, and pearl with the dark accents of wood. Patterns and textures of damask and velvet covered the rugs, tapestries, and drapery.

The boy was squatted down by the ornate white fireplace, his silhouette dark against the brilliant orange that erupted from the wood once he successfully got the fire started. The room was instantly filled with a heat that could nearly rival what it felt like to sit beside him in Carlisle’s car.

He stayed down for a moment, his back to me. Although completely vulnerable, the monster was quieted for now as I watched him in wonderment.

Finally, he stood up, looked at the fire for a second longer, and then settled onto a long white couch before the fireplace, stretching the length of his tall body across it.

“Edward,” I almost whispered from the entrance of the room, unsure of what to do with myself.

Tentatively, I took slow, cautious steps towards the couch as if approaching a wounded animal. With every movement, I measured the risk I posed. When I trusted myself, I crossed around the couch, gradually sinking down to sit down on the rug that extended from the edge of the fireplace across the length of the room.

I might as well have sat in the fire and allowed it to consume me for how much distance I tried to leave between the two of us. I was practically a foot from being perched on the wood. I wrapped my arms around my knees as I watched Edward’s eyes move along the mantel, the heat of the fire on my back and the boy in front of me warming me wonderfully. The flickering of the flames cast shadows that danced along his face, illuminating his green eyes. His rain-sprinkled hair appeared redder than ever, all traces of the warm bronzy-brown having vanished before the orange light of the fire.

“I know you’re not stupid,” I spoke. Edward’s eyes flickered over to me.

“I’m not,” he agreed, a halfhearted smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re not,” I said again, surprising myself by laughing. His smirk grew into a sweeter smile, and I was relieved by the change in expression. In this moment, it felt as though no barriers existed between us. Like I had no secrets to hide from him, no differences among two friends. Except I did. And we weren’t friends, nor could we ever be.

“But?” He asked, already reading that I was unwilling to relent.

“But I can’t explain myself. I simply can’t. And I need you to promise me that you’ll let this go.” It was too much to ask and horribly unfair.

He sighed, sensing that the moment was clearly over.

“Okay,” Edward replied simply, reaching for a blanket hung over the back of the couch. He unfolded it, throwing it across his body. “I’m going to try to take a nap.”

“Okay,” I answered.

He propped his head up on a plushy brown pillow, his arm sliding beneath it, and closed his eyes.

I watched him for a moment, wishing he’d change his mind and open his eyes instead of hiding them from me. I hadn’t been ready to never see them again.

“Are you just going to watch me sleep?” He asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His eyes remained closed.

“No,” I shot up, unsure of whether I should leave or stay or where to even place myself if I did.

“Well, make yourself comfortable. You really don’t have to stay though. I can take care of myself,” Edward chuckled, readjusting his position on the couch.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see, deciding he was right. As I noiselessly made my way out of the room, his voice stopped me.

“Bella?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For saving my life.”

“Goodbye, Edward,” I whispered.

“Oh, and by the way,” he yawned. “I’m still not letting this go.”

I said nothing as I left the house.

i hope u enjoyed. sorry for taking so long!

nobody: vampire bella: my vampire mind is infallible and so strong and fast because i'm a vampire and i can smell everything and see everything even in the dark because my vampire powers are so strong did i mention i was a vampire?

if we’re being real, smeyer’s bella would have said holy crow at the accident, but MY bella can curse because i’m not a mormon.

[sushigirlali]

The Politics of Dancing - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Summary: Ben has known Rey most of her life, but when things change between them one tumultuous night, can he convince her that they have a future? Or will secret legacies, scheming parents, and fetching suitors get in the way?

Parings: Rey + Ben Solo|Kylo Ren, Finn + Rose Tico

Continuity: Regency AU

Rating: E

A/N: Pride and Prejudice is my jam, so I’ve been wanting to set a story in the Regency period for a long time. This is also a Christmas fic, so happy belated holidays, everyone! Also, special shout-out to a few of my fellow Capricorn mutuals! Happy Birthday, @rad-braybury & @dvrkrey & @atchamberlin​ 💙❤️ Can’t wait to see what you talented Reylos come up with on the lead up to EPIX and beyond!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr 

——————

The Politics of Dancing - Part I

By: sushigirlali 

——————

London, December 1818

——————

Lounging indolently on his mother’s favorite crimson chaise, Ben Solo pretended to listen to the incessant prattle of the desperate debutant sitting across from him. Miss what’s-her-name was more demanding than most, but unfortunately for her, he was too busy searching for his uncle’s distractingly beautiful ward to care.

Where is she? Ben frowned, smoky eyes darting toward the grand staircase for the fourth time in as many minutes. It’s been nearly three hours.

Impatiently tapping his fingertips against the soft velvet of the couch, Ben wondered whether he should go check on her. Purely out of concern for her wellbeing, of course. She must be tried after last night, he smirked.

Recalling the sated look on Rey Niima’s flushed face as he brought her to orgasm after shattering orgasm the night before, Ben shifted restlessly in his seat. It would be unseemly to make a spectacle of himself in his parents’ drawing room, but the memory of his lover’s tantalizing response was proving difficult to suppress.

Turning in the direction of the immaculately decorated evergreen tree in the corner, Ben attempted to focus on something less sexually charged when a sudden sense of déjà vu struck him. The room had been similarly decorated the first day he’d met Rey, more than fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years, Ben marveled. It seems like a lifetime ago now…

Orphaned at the age of five when her parents died in a freak factory fire while touring their holdings in the industrial district, Rey’s future had been precarious in the days leading up to Christmas. The Niima’s were of the nouveau riche variety, and consequently, they owed money to numerous lenders, up to and including the Bank of England itself. But with no other family or capital to help settle her parent’s ill-kempt accounts, Luke and Leia had felt it was their duty as longtime friends of Lord and Lady Niima to take care of Rey in their stead.

As a spoiled teenager, he’d been resentful of the attention she’d garnered from his family, feeling left out while his mother fussed over Rey like the daughter she’d always wanted. But despite his attitude in those early years, Rey had blossomed under the Skywalker’s care.

Since money was no issue for one of the wealthiest families in the country, Rey was afforded everything a young lady needed to thrive in society, including a world class education in music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages. In addition, Luke fully supported her dream of studying mathematics and engineering, something no other lady of his acquaintance could boast.

But then, we’re an unconventional family, Ben allowed.

Although Skywalker Manor was entailed to Luke as his father’s heir, his uncle had opted to raise Rey in his small but comfortable country estate instead, leaving the mansion in London to his beloved sister and best friend. The move had raised quite a few manicured eyebrows, but Luke had never been one to follow tradition.

I’m still curious about what his motives could have been. Beyond the Skywalker party line, that is.

Whenever the subject was broached, his mother simply stated that her brother had volunteered to mentor Rey out of loneliness, but Ben wasn’t so sure; the old hermit seemed pretty self-sufficient to him. Still, it was impossible to deny the effect that Rey’s bright personality had had on his uncle’s taciturn disposition.

Or mine, for that matter, he thought wryly, acknowledging how thoroughly the young ingénue had wormed her way into his heart.

The initial antagonism he’d felt toward Rey had ended the year before he’d gone away for University, when old man Snoke had slashed him across the face for stealing apples from his prized orchard. Although he’d been guilty of the crime, the brass seven-year-old had covered for him with his parents, making up a story about how he’d cut his cheek on a tree branch while out riding instead.

He’d felt guilty for deceiving his parents, but when Snoke suddenly succumbed to syphilis a few weeks later, Ben didn’t see the point in correcting the lie; it was best to let the past die with his attacker as far as he was concerned.

Tracing the faint mark still maring his right cheek, Ben contemplated the old injury. It had piqued his vanity at first, but the slight imperfection hadn’t stopped him from attracting friends—or women—while attending Oxford. In fact, most people seemed to be interested in the faded scar while far less were off-put by it.

I’m sure my family’s money had something to do with it as well, he mused, not blind to the fact that his status had paved the way through a great many obstacles.

After school, Ben had worked for his father for a number of years, traveling around the world and securing their interests against outside threats. By twenty-six, he’d earned a reputation for being a ruthless negotiator and was able to stave off French control of his family’s assets leading up to Napoléon’s defeat at Waterloo in 1815.

He was proud of all he’d accomplished while abroad, but once the war was over, Ben was shocked to discover how much Rey had grown up in his absence. Coming home on her eighteenth birthday, he’d been instantly captivated by her delicate beauty and unbridled intelligence. Ignoring his growing attraction to the lively orphan had become more difficult with every subsequent family gathering, but the ten-year age gap between them had given him pause.

Up until last night, that is.

Now twenty-one, Rey was fully in control of her own sexuality; she knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. He supposed he should’ve resisted her advances when she slipped into his room after the rest of the house had gone to bed the previous evening, but after flirting with her all throughout dinner, not to mention the several glasses of wine he’d imbibed, Ben hadn’t been able to keep his hands off his adopted cousin.

Thank the maker that we’re not actually related.

Succumbing to her charms had been a long time coming and he was frankly impressed with himself for holding out for so—

“Don’t you think, Lord Ren?”

“Huh?” Ben stared blankly at the source of the interruption.

“I was remarking on unpatriotic Lady Lintra’s gown is!” she tittered. “It’s just so French!”

Lady who?

“Lord Ren?” she said when he didn’t react, resting a hand on his muscular thigh. “Are you listening to—”

Staring past the airhead still jabbering away at him, Ben’s jaw dropped as Rey appeared at the top of the stairs in a striking ivory gown. She wore no jewelry or makeup, but the healthy glow in her cheeks made her look radiant. Her hair, swept up into an intricate coiffure and studded with little white flowers, completed the look to perfection.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said absently, ignoring his suitor’s feeble protests as he brushed her off.

Moving to intercept Rey, Ben’s jovial mood quickly soured as she brushed past him without a word, crossing the room to seek the company of Finn Johnson instead.

What the hell?!

Ben had only known the Earl for a short time, but judging by the warm reception on her lovely face, Rey and Finn were old chums. Up until tonight, he’d liked the younger man, but now he wasn’t so sure…

——————

Rolling her eyes at the frivolous bows and bonnets vying for Lord Ren’s attention, Rey covertly tracked his movements through the crowd. He was all politeness and grace when it was time to turn on the charm, but if the ladies of the ton knew how hot-blooded he really was, they’d be shocked senseless.

Glaring at the dark-haired woman who’d been fondling Ben’s thigh when she walked in, Rey wondered whether Ben had slept with her as well. Had this painted tart been as agreeable as she’d been the night before? The thought didn’t sit well with her, but having fallen for the conceited wretch herself, she really couldn’t blame the young coquette if she had.

Don’t be a hypocrite, Rey, you would’ve done anything to have him just last night; and you did. Shivering as she recalled the pleasure of losing herself in Ben Solo’s arms at long last, Rey diverted her attention back to her lifelong friend. It was much easier to endure her inexplicable jealousy with Finn around.

“So, how is Rose? Have you proposed yet?” Rey inquired mischievously.

“Shh!” Finn whispered, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. “I’m still working out the finer points, so I’ll thank you to hold your tongue until the moment is right.”

“It’s been three years, Finn, how much longer are you going to make the girl wait?” she teased.

“Until such a time as I can convince my family that I’m not throwing my life away by marrying a, and I quote, ‘uncultured commoner who’s only after my fortune.’ ”

“Oh, Finn…” Rey said sympathetically.

“Why do you think my mother has been pushing for us to make a match? She’s in love with all that nice Skywalker money,” he said in disgust.

“It’s not like she would see any money out of the arrangement. Uncle Luke has been like a father to me, sure, but I’m not a Skywalker. I’m not blood,” she said without heat.

“But you’re his heir,” Finn stated glibly, “so that doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“I’m his—what?” Rey exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Wherever did you hear such an outrageous lie?” she hissed.

“What?” Finn gaped at her. “Wait a minute! Wait just a damn minute! You don’t know? He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” she said uncertainly.

“Luke submitted a last will and testament to his lawyer right after your twenty-first birthday, naming you heir to the Skywalker fortune,” he informed her.

“But…what about Ben?” Rey made the mistake of glancing at him across the room, drawing Ben’s attention away from his latest admirer. “Oh, no, he’s—”  

“Leia’s son, not Luke’s,” Finn reminded her.

“No! He’s walking toward us,” Rey interrupted. “Quick! Dance with me! I need a moment to think.”

Finn immediately complied, taking her hand and leading her into a simple country dance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring this on you. I assumed you knew.”

Rey shook her head. “Luke never said a word.”

“I know he’s not the most talkative chap, but he should’ve discussed this with you before acting,” Finn said thoughtfully, tracing his foot along the floor.

“Tell me about it,” she said, matching his steps with practiced ease.

“Why do you think he kept it to himself?”

“Probably to keep me from running off before Christmas,” she sighed. “I never would have come to London if I’d known that Luke was going to strip Ben of his inheritance.”

“Do you think Ren knows?”

“I’m not sure,” Rey said hesitantly. “Why?”

Finn eyed the other man over her shoulder. “He’s been watching you since you descended the staircase. He looks…well, angry isn’t the right word. Jealous, maybe?”

“Jealous? I’m sure you’re mistaken,” she laughed, trying to play down Ben’s interest. Now wasn’t the time to admit that she was a fallen woman and Ben was likely feeling territorial. There were more pressing matters at hand. “He’s probably just bored and looking for someone to talk to. We are family, after all.”

Finn seemed to accept her explanation, but he kept looking from her to Ben and back again as if trying to work something out.

“But back to you!” Rey attempted to divert him. “Tell me more about Rose. I hear she’s quite the tinkerer…”

Rey half-listened as Finn began talking animatedly about the woman he hoped to marry, thinking back to the morning of her and Luke’s arrival several days ago. Ben hadn’t been hostile when he’d greeted them at the estate’s grand entrance gate and helped them unload the carriage, so it seemed unlikely that he knew about Luke’s revised will. If anything, he’d been more approachable than usual.

Ben’s never been particularly sociable, although his attitude has certainly improved over the years…among other things. Rey bit her lip as she remembered how he’d looked without a stitch of clothing on, how he’d felt lying full-length on top of her.

She’d been shy at first, despite provoking the situation, but Ben had taken his time with her, arousing her until she was breathless and begging. But did he take such good care of me because he wanted me as much as I wanted him or…? Rey stalled as a terrible thought crossed her mind.

What if Ben knew about his change of status and simply hadn’t let on? What if he’d slept with her knowing that she would be compromised and therefore beholden to him if he chose to make her loss of innocence known? Would Ben stoop to sleeping with her to ensure that he had access to Luke’s money?

Once again searching for him in the crowd, Rey started when she realized that Ben had maneuvered himself behind her partner, clearly intent on cornering her before she left the dance floor.

“Rose and her sister, Paige, are both—”

“Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Finn said, giving Rey a quizzical look.

“Ben’s right behind you!” she whispered. “What should I do if he asks me to dance? I have no idea what to say to him right now.”

“You’d better brace yourself then,” Finn chuckled as he looked over his shoulder, “because I don’t think he’s going to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

——————

Glowering as Rey leaned into conversation with her handsome partner, Ben waited impatiently for a break in the music. Feeling like a fool for waxing poetic about her for hours on end while she was content to ignore him in favor of another man, Ben was determined to get an explanation out of her. Had their midnight rendezvous meant so little to her? Was he the only one who’d laid their heart on the line? He had to know.

“Lady Niima, may I have the next dance?” he requested as soon as the last note sounded, giving Finn the barest of nods before holding out his arm for Rey.

“If you must,” she said tightly, curving her fingers around his thick bicep while her friend respectfully stepped to the side.

“Thank you, my lady,” Ben said, amused by her haughty tone. Damn, but he liked her. “Give me your hand,” he directed when the orchestra took up a dreamy ballad.

“A waltz?” Rey inquired curiously, assuming the correct posture by placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his. “Are you sure we should be doing this, my lord?”

“Whatever do you mean?” he replied, expertly leading her into the foreign dance.

“In some circles, the waltz is considered inappropriate between unwed men and women, as you well know—oh!” she gasped as he suddenly swept her off her feet and twirled her in a wide circle. “Ben!” she laughed in an unguarded moment of pure joy, exhilarated by his display of strength.

“That’s better,” Ben beamed, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve been waiting to see you smile again all day, sweetheart.”

Rey’s eyes widened at the endearment before sliding surreptitiously around the room. “Put me down, please,” she said coolly.

Gently lowering her to the ground, Ben searched her pretty face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she denied curtly.

“You’re angry with me,” he said in surprise, picking up on her mood.

“I’m angry with myself,” Rey corrected.

“Whatever for?”

“I’m not like you, Ben,” Rey huffed. “Despite what I instigated last night, I can’t just sleep around and damn the consequences. I can’t just flirt with whomever I want and hope for the best. If I want to make a good marriage, I have to—”

“Who do you intend to marry?” he interrupted sharply, pulling her to a stop. “Johnson?”

“It doesn’t matter. Look, there’s something I need to tell—”

“Of course it matters!” Ben growled, tightening his hold. “You’re mine!”

“Excuse me?! I’m no one’s property,” she shot back.

“Don’t test me, Rey, I’m not in the mood for games,” he said, dragging her flush against him and lowering his lips to within an inch of her own. “We’re nowhere near done with each other and you well know it.”

“I don’t—Ben, you’re too close,” Rey whispered, swaying towards him in spite of her words. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

“Ben…”

“Come out onto the terrace with me, then,” he said, ghosting his lips over hers. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until we’ve discussed this properly.”

“I shouldn’t,” Rey faltered.  

“But you want to,” he said confidently.

“Yes,” she conceded, “but don’t let that go to your thick head, you arrogant swine!”

“Never,” Ben smiled, backing off slightly and placing her hand in the crook of his arm. “Right this way, my lady.”

——————

Alarm bells were going off in her head as Ben lead her out to the deserted veranda, but she ignored them. What could he possibly do to her thirty feet from his mother’s packed drawing room?

Quite a lot, as it turned out.

Rey moaned as his wide lips crashed over hers the moment they reached a secluded alcove. He didn’t give her time to think let alone argue, backing her into the cool balustrade and cupping the back of her head with firm fingers. Leaning into his massive chest without a shred of self-preservation, Rey gripped the front of his finely made dinner jacket, pulling him even closer. It felt so good to be in his arms again.

Too good. Get ahold of yourself, Rey. You were supposed to discuss…you were…there was something… Losing her train of thought as Ben’s hips slid into contact with hers, Rey was instantly aware of the hard jut of his body. He was a large man, her Ben, all over.

When they parted to catch their breath few tumultuous minutes later, Ben took the opportunity to rumble, “Does Finn Johnson kiss you like that?” and ruin the moment.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded by the abrupt accusation.

“Johnson,” he glowered. “How long have you known him?”

“Finn? Why do you—Ben, are you jealous?” Rey gaped, shocked by the notion. The man’s family had more money than the crown for goodness sake! He could have anything he wanted, any woman he wanted. So, why was he jealous of her?

“Of course I am! You went from my arms to his within a matter of hours!” he grumbled, honest to the point of insolence. “It’s insulting!”

“That wasn’t my intent.”

“This isn’t funny, Rey. I need to know how deeply you’re involved with—”

“Ben, it’s not like that,” Rey interjected. “You needn’t be jealous; the Earl and I are just friends. We used to play together as children, that’s all.”

“Just friends, huh?”

“Yes! And if you don’t believe me, you can—”

“I believe you,” he broke in. “You’re many things, Rey Niima, but you’re not a liar.”

“Oh, well, good,” she said lamely.

A tense silence stretched between them until Ben chuckled, his deep voice surrounding her in the relative darkness of their hideaway. “Is that what we are?”

“What?”

“Friends,” he said with a crooked grin. “Are we friends?”

“We’re…” Family? Friends? Lovers? Rey trembled with uncertainty and barely repressed desire. Tell him, Rey. Tell him about Luke. “I don’t know what we are.”

“Is that why you’re upset with me?” he probed, absently playing with the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. It was an oddly comforting gesture and Rey had to fight not to lean into it. “Because you’re unsure about the future of our relationship?”

“The future of our relationship?” she parroted.

“We’re lovers, Rey,” Ben reminded her with a smirk. “You’re my woman now.”

“I’m not—we’re not—it was a one-time thing,” she stammered. Tell him!

“We’ll see about that,” he challenged, dipping his head toward hers again.

“Am I the only one?” she queried, quickly turning her cheek to avoid his tempting mouth. “What about that woman who was hanging all over you earlier?”

“What woman?” Ben tilted her chin to make her look at him again.

“The one sitting next to you on that ostentatious bolt of red velvet when I came downstairs,” Rey reminded him.

“Oh, her?” he said dismissively. “I barely heard a word she said to me; I was waiting for you.”

“You were?”

Ben nodded, gently framing her flushed face. She tried not to melt under his sincere stare, but it was tough going.

“Well, you still shouldn’t have let that black-haired hussy put her hands on you the day after making love to me,” she chastised half-heartedly. Did you make love to me? Or was it just…

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her freckled cheek.

“Stop it,” Rey breathed.

“Stop what?”

“You know what!”

Ben trailed his lips across her face to her mouth, but he didn’t close the distance. “Kiss me, Rey.”

Don’t you dare, Rey! You need to find out what he knows about the inheritance before you give into your baser needs. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it!

“Please,” he whispered longingly.

Dammit.

Rey slammed her lips over his, kissing him so fiercely that he actually staggered back a few paces before wrapping her up against him. His hands were in her hair, on her body, everywhere, as uncoordinated as his harsh breathing, showing her without words just how much he wanted her. Emboldened by his enthusiastic response, Rey fumbled with the buttons holding his coat closed, frantic to push aside her doubts and lose herself in his arms instead.

Argh! Why won’t these stupid things—

“Ben? Rey? Are you out here?”

The young couple froze in horror as Han Solo’s voice cut through their passion like a knife.

“Oh my god!” Rey exclaimed. “Your father!”

“Bloody hell,” Ben swore.

“Oh my god!” she repeated. “Ben, if he catches us like this…”

“It’s okay, we’re well hidden,” he assured her, but his tone was less than convincing.

“Are you sure? What if—”

“Calm down,” he mumbled, still breathing harshly.

“Calm down?!” Rey returned incredulously. “Calm down?! How dare—”

Ben laughed despite the seriousness of the situation, hugging her close. “I was talking to myself.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” she said sheepishly as his arousal nudged her flat stomach. “So, what should we do?”

“You go first and take my father back inside. If he asks, tell him something came up and I had to step away,” he instructed.

“What about you?”

“I’ll follow in a few minutes, once I’ve had time to collect myself.”

“Okay,” Rey agreed. “How do I look?” she asked, stepping back.

“Beautiful,” he said gruffly.

Blushing to the roots of her sable hair at the appreciative look on Ben’s handsome face, Rey impulsively reached up to place a kiss on his long chin. “Don’t be too long.” Hurrying forward before he had a chance to respond, Rey intercepted Han before he could wander too far from the house. “Here I am, uncle! Is it time for supper yet? I’m starved!”

“Just about,” Han replied. “Leia sent me on a mission to find you and my son. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“Ben? He went upstairs to take care of something,” Rey said easily. “He should be back shortly, though.”

“Is that so?” Han raised one dark eyebrow, taking in her slightly disheveled appearance.

“Yes,” she lied, nervously tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “Shall we?” Rey indicated the patio door.

“We shall, my dear,” he chuckled, looking toward the spot where she and Ben had been sequestered before turning around and opening the door for her. “I think you’ll find the seating arrangement interesting this evening,” Han said conversationally, taking her arm and leading her across the dance floor and into the dining room. “Your aunt really knows how to plan an entertaining party.”

Confused by his enigmatic statement, Rey just smiled and nodded. As long as nobody looked at her too closely, she was sure that she could survive the rest of the evening without scandal and have a civil conversation with Ben about Luke’s will after dinner.

But as Rey sat down in her assigned seat near the head of the huge dining table, Han’s words came into startling focus. Reading the name cards on either side of her plate with growing trepidation, Rey realized that Poe Dameron, Viscount of Yavin, was to be her dinner companion for the evening, not Ben.

Oh, Leia, she sighed when Ben arrived a few moments later, looking apoplectic as his mother escorted him to the other end of the table. You don’t even know what you’ve done.

——————

A/N: Or does she?! Haha! You’ll just have to wait and see, friends! I’m planning to finish up the second part of the tale in the next week or so, so please let me know what you think so far. I hope everyone is ready for the Year of Reylo because I sure as hell am!

[miadwa]

I’m Coming Out…Again: Living with BP1

I’ve always struggled with my mental health. I was formally diagnosed with clinical depression in college, but looking back over my childhood, I can now see signs that things have always been a bit off. As a kid and an adolescent, I was irritable and anxious, going through periods of intense inexplicable anger and sadness. Anyone who has taken a child psychology class could easily see that I was clinically depressed. But I was also a little Black girl, and unfortunately, little Black girls don’t get to have depression and anxiety. Instead, we’re just written off as emotional teens with bad attitudes. I don’t blame my parents because they didn’t know anything about mental health. But I do acknowledge that I could have benefitted from professional help earlier on.

Since college, I’ve done a fairly decent job of taking care of my mental health. I haven’t maintained my regimens perfectly, but I’ve pretty much always stayed in therapy and on medications. Although there were some hard times, I worked really hard to keep everything under control. In working on bettering my mental health, I was able to live a fairly normal life: I partied with friends, had romantic relationships, continued to excel academically. But all of that changed about a year ago.

What was once a sometimes crippling but still manageable depression turned into a living nightmare. I went from just experiencing symptoms of depression occasionally to suddenly experiencing insurmountable lows and frightening highs. It wasn’t until I walked into my psychiatrist office babbling (well, I thought I was babbling, but I was actually yelling) about all the great trips I had planned the night before when I didn’t sleep at all that my treatment team realized something deeper was going on. I walked out of that appointment with a new diagnosis: Bipolar 1 disorder.

The term ‘bipolar’ has been co-opted in popular culture to mean any slight change; people refer to the weather as ‘bipolar’ when it’s sunny one day and rainy the next. People equate a slight mood change or mind change with being ‘bipolar’. But I’m here to set the record straight. You feeling sad one day and then happy the next is NOT bipolar.

So what is bipolar? Clinical definitions from organizations like the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) define it as “a mental illness that causes dramatic shifts in a person’s mood, energy and ability to think clearly. People with bipolar experience high and low moods—known as mania and depression—which differ from the typical ups-and-downs most people experience.” There are different types of bipolar disorder, differing based on the intensity and severity of symptoms. I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder, meaning that my symptoms can be very severe and last from weeks to months at a time. So that’s the clinical definition, but what does it actually look like?

For me, bipolar has been monstrous. The depressive episodes are crippling and darker than any I’ve experienced before. I’ve frequently found myself curled up in a ball sobbing because I can’t make the darkness go away. I’ve withdrawn from family and friends to the point that they’ve started entire phone webs looking for me. It’s impacted my ability to work and do my schoolwork because it almost feels like walking around in a fog. Nothing is clear, food has no taste, everything is dim, and motivating yourself to do simple tasks like showering takes an immense amount of energy. The mania on the other hand…well I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy some of the times I was manic. You feel on top of the world and full of energy and ideas. I’ve written some of my best papers for school while manic. I hit the gym 7 days a week for hours when I’m manic. But it has it’s downsides as well. Mania is the reason I’ve completely emptied my bank account in 3 days. Mania is the reason I’ve gone 5 days on 4 hours of sleep. Mania is the reason I now have certain tattoos and piercings that I otherwise wouldn’t have gotten. Mania is the reason I’ve gotten myself into really dangerous situations because I literally felt invincible.  And I would simply cycle between the two, being manic for a few weeks and then crashing into a depression for a month at a time.

Getting the diagnosis was difficult because of stigma. I was consumed with the fear that someone would find out and label me as crazy. I was terrified to start dating someone new because I knew at some point, I would have to disclose my diagnosis. I was even more stressed because now, every time I started to feel good again, I had to worry that I was slipping into a manic episode. Add to that the stress of mental health stigma in the Black community and you had a perfect storm. I had to contend with family members who thought I was overreacting and didn’t need medication. After facing my family, I decided that I would never tell a soul because if this is how the people that love me most reacted, how could I ever expect anyone else to be accepting? All these things made me feel as though I was now hiding an ugly secret.  But the diagnosis also allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief, because it finally made sense. Before I was diagnosed, I couldn’t understand why I would crash so hard into depression after feeling so high and on top of the world. But now, I learned that there was a word for this, and I wasn’t simply being erratic. I could get help and people wouldn’t look at me like I was crazy. And the best part was that I could finally have someone help me learn how to manage it.

And managed it, I have. I still have really rough days and have had some scary experiences (more on that later), but I no longer walk around in shame. I’ve tried to eliminate the word “crazy” from my vocabulary. I now think of myself as I would a person with a physical illness: I simply have some chemical imbalances in my brain. And that’s okay. I don’t have to pretend it’s not real or hide in the shadows of society. I just have to take care of myself. That means taking my meds no matter how I’m feeling, keeping up with therapy, and practicing self-care by protecting my energy. I no longer look at living with a mental illness as a death sentence; instead I see it as an indicator that I’m doing more than just surviving; I’m thriving.

**If this has resonated with you or you just need someone to talk to, text ‘NAMI’ to 741741 to find support in your area.

[readbookywooks]

Shortage of Air

CONSEQUENTLY, above, below, and around the Nautilus, there were impenetrable frozen walls. We were the Ice Bank's prisoners! The Canadian banged a table with his fearsome fist. Conseil kept still. I stared at the captain. His face had resumed its usual emotionlessness. He crossed his arms. He pondered. The Nautilus did not stir. The captain then broke into speech: "Gentlemen," he said in a calm voice, "there are two ways of dying under the conditions in which we're placed." This inexplicable individual acted like a mathematics professor working out a problem for his pupils. "The first way," he went on, "is death by crushing. The second is death by asphyxiation. I don't mention the possibility of death by starvation because the Nautilus's provisions will certainly last longer than we will. Therefore, let's concentrate on our chances of being crushed or asphyxiated." "As for asphyxiation, captain," I replied, "that isn't a cause for alarm, because the air tanks are full." "True," Captain Nemo went on, "but they'll supply air for only two days. Now then, we've been buried beneath the waters for thirty-six hours, and the Nautilus's heavy atmosphere already needs renewing. In another forty-eight hours, our reserve air will be used up." "Well then, captain, let's free ourselves within forty-eight hours!" "We'll try to at least, by cutting through one of these walls surrounding us." "Which one?" I asked. "Borings will tell us that. I'm going to ground the Nautilus on the lower shelf, then my men will put on their diving suits and attack the thinnest of these ice walls." "Can the panels in the lounge be left open?" "Without ill effect. We're no longer in motion." Captain Nemo went out. Hissing sounds soon told me that water was being admitted into the ballast tanks. The Nautilus slowly settled and rested on the icy bottom at a depth of 350 meters, the depth at which the lower shelf of ice lay submerged. "My friends," I said, "we're in a serious predicament, but I'm counting on your courage and energy." "Sir," the Canadian replied, "this is no time to bore you with my complaints. I'm ready to do anything I can for the common good." "Excellent, Ned," I said, extending my hand to the Canadian. "I might add," he went on, "that I'm as handy with a pick as a harpoon. If I can be helpful to the captain, he can use me any way he wants." "He won't turn down your assistance. Come along, Ned." I led the Canadian to the room where the Nautilus's men were putting on their diving suits. I informed the captain of Ned's proposition, which was promptly accepted. The Canadian got into his underwater costume and was ready as soon as his fellow workers. Each of them carried on his back a Rouquayrol device that the air tanks had supplied with a generous allowance of fresh oxygen. A considerable but necessary drain on the Nautilus's reserves. As for the Ruhmkorff lamps, they were unnecessary in the midst of these brilliant waters saturated with our electric rays. After Ned was dressed, I reentered the lounge, whose windows had been uncovered; stationed next to Conseil, I examined the strata surrounding and supporting the Nautilus. Some moments later, we saw a dozen crewmen set foot on the shelf of ice, among them Ned Land, easily recognized by his tall figure. Captain Nemo was with them. Before digging into the ice, the captain had to obtain borings, to insure working in the best direction. Long bores were driven into the side walls; but after fifteen meters, the instruments were still impeded by the thickness of those walls. It was futile to attack the ceiling since that surface was the Ice Bank itself, more than 400 meters high. Captain Nemo then bored into the lower surface. There we were separated from the sea by a ten-meter barrier. That's how thick the iceberg was. From this point on, it was an issue of cutting out a piece equal in surface area to the Nautilus's waterline. This meant detaching about 6,500 cubic meters, to dig a hole through which the ship could descend below this tract of ice. Work began immediately and was carried on with tireless tenacity. Instead of digging all around the Nautilus, which would have entailed even greater difficulties, Captain Nemo had an immense trench outlined on the ice, eight meters from our port quarter. Then his men simultaneously staked it off at several points around its circumference. Soon their picks were vigorously attacking this compact matter, and huge chunks were loosened from its mass. These chunks weighed less than the water, and by an unusual effect of specific gravity, each chunk took wing, as it were, to the roof of the tunnel, which thickened above by as much as it diminished below. But this hardly mattered so long as the lower surface kept growing thinner. After two hours of energetic work, Ned Land reentered, exhausted. He and his companions were replaced by new workmen, including Conseil and me. The Nautilus's chief officer supervised us. The water struck me as unusually cold, but I warmed up promptly while wielding my pick. My movements were quite free, although they were executed under a pressure of thirty atmospheres. After two hours of work, reentering to snatch some food and rest, I found a noticeable difference between the clean elastic fluid supplied me by the Rouquayrol device and the Nautilus's atmosphere, which was already charged with carbon dioxide. The air hadn't been renewed in forty-eight hours, and its life-giving qualities were considerably weakened. Meanwhile, after twelve hours had gone by, we had removed from the outlined surface area a slice of ice only one meter thick, hence about 600 cubic meters. Assuming the same work would be accomplished every twelve hours, it would still take five nights and four days to see the undertaking through to completion. "Five nights and four days!" I told my companions. "And we have oxygen in the air tanks for only two days." "Without taking into account," Ned answered, "that once we're out of this damned prison, we'll still be cooped up beneath the Ice Bank, without any possible contact with the open air!" An apt remark. For who could predict the minimum time we would need to free ourselves? Before the Nautilus could return to the surface of the waves, couldn't we all die of asphyxiation? Were this ship and everyone on board doomed to perish in this tomb of ice? It was a dreadful state of affairs. But we faced it head-on, each one of us determined to do his duty to the end. During the night, in line with my forecasts, a new one-meter slice was removed from this immense socket. But in the morning, wearing my diving suit, I was crossing through the liquid mass in a temperature of -6 degrees to -7 degrees centigrade, when I noted that little by little the side walls were closing in on each other. The liquid strata farthest from the trench, not warmed by the movements of workmen and tools, were showing a tendency to solidify. In the face of this imminent new danger, what would happen to our chances for salvation, and how could we prevent this liquid medium from solidifying, then cracking the Nautilus's hull like glass? I didn't tell my two companions about this new danger. There was no point in dampening the energy they were putting into our arduous rescue work. But when I returned on board, I mentioned this serious complication to Captain Nemo. "I know," he told me in that calm tone the most dreadful outlook couldn't change. "It's one more danger, but I don't know any way of warding it off. Our sole chance for salvation is to work faster than the water solidifies. We've got to get there first, that's all." Get there first! By then I should have been used to this type of talk! For several hours that day, I wielded my pick doggedly. The work kept me going. Besides, working meant leaving the Nautilus, which meant breathing the clean oxygen drawn from the air tanks and supplied by our equipment, which meant leaving the thin, foul air behind. Near evening one more meter had been dug from the trench. When I returned on board, I was wellnigh asphyxiated by the carbon dioxide saturating the air. Oh, if only we had the chemical methods that would enable us to drive out this noxious gas! There was no lack of oxygen. All this water contained a considerable amount, and after it was decomposed by our powerful batteries, this life-giving elastic fluid could have been restored to us. I had thought it all out, but to no avail because the carbon dioxide produced by our breathing permeated every part of the ship. To absorb it, we would need to fill containers with potassium hydroxide and shake them continually. But this substance was missing on board and nothing else could replace it. That evening Captain Nemo was forced to open the spigots of his air tanks and shoot a few spouts of fresh oxygen through the Nautilus's interior. Without this precaution we wouldn't have awakened the following morning. The next day, March 26, I returned to my miner's trade, working to remove the fifth meter. The Ice Bank's side walls and underbelly had visibly thickened. Obviously they would come together before the Nautilus could break free. For an instant I was gripped by despair. My pick nearly slipped from my hands. What was the point of this digging if I was to die smothered and crushed by this water turning to stone, a torture undreamed of by even the wildest savages! I felt like I was lying in the jaws of a fearsome monster, jaws irresistibly closing. Supervising our work, working himself, Captain Nemo passed near me just then. I touched him with my hand and pointed to the walls of our prison. The starboard wall had moved forward to a point less than four meters from the Nautilus's hull. The captain understood and gave me a signal to follow him. We returned on board. My diving suit removed, I went with him to the lounge. "Professor Aronnax," he told me, "this calls for heroic measures, or we'll be sealed up in this solidified water as if it were cement." "Yes!" I said. "But what can we do?" "Oh," he exclaimed, "if only my Nautilus were strong enough to stand that much pressure without being crushed!" "Well?" I asked, not catching the captain's meaning. "Don't you understand," he went on, "that the congealing of this water could come to our rescue? Don't you see that by solidifying, it could burst these tracts of ice imprisoning us, just as its freezing can burst the hardest stones? Aren't you aware that this force could be the instrument of our salvation rather than our destruction?" "Yes, captain, maybe so. But whatever resistance to crushing the Nautilus may have, it still couldn't stand such dreadful pressures, and it would be squashed as flat as a piece of sheet iron." "I know it, sir. So we can't rely on nature to rescue us, only our own efforts. We must counteract this solidification. We must hold it in check. Not only are the side walls closing in, but there aren't ten feet of water ahead or astern of the Nautilus. All around us, this freeze is gaining fast." "How long," I asked, "will the oxygen in the air tanks enable us to breathe on board?" The captain looked me straight in the eye. "After tomorrow," he said, "the air tanks will be empty!" I broke out in a cold sweat. But why should I have been startled by this reply? On March 22 the Nautilus had dived under the open waters at the pole. It was now the 26th. We had lived off the ship's stores for five days! And all remaining breathable air had to be saved for the workmen. Even today as I write these lines, my sensations are so intense that an involuntary terror sweeps over me, and my lungs still seem short of air! Meanwhile, motionless and silent, Captain Nemo stood lost in thought. An idea visibly crossed his mind. But he seemed to brush it aside. He told himself no. At last these words escaped his lips: "Boiling water!" he muttered. "Boiling water?" I exclaimed. "Yes, sir. We're shut up in a relatively confined area. If the Nautilus's pumps continually injected streams of boiling water into this space, wouldn't that raise its temperature and delay its freezing?" "It's worth trying!" I said resolutely. "So let's try it, professor." By then the thermometer gave -7 degrees centigrade outside. Captain Nemo led me to the galley where a huge distilling mechanism was at work, supplying drinking water via evaporation. The mechanism was loaded with water, and the full electric heat of our batteries was thrown into coils awash in liquid. In a few minutes the water reached 100 degrees centigrade. It was sent to the pumps while new water replaced it in the process. The heat generated by our batteries was so intense that after simply going through the mechanism, water drawn cold from the sea arrived boiling hot at the body of the pump. The steaming water was injected into the icy water outside, and after three hours had passed, the thermometer gave the exterior temperature as -6 degrees centigrade. That was one degree gained. Two hours later the thermometer gave only -4 degrees. After I monitored the operation's progress, double-checking it with many inspections, I told the captain, "It's working." "I think so," he answered me. "We've escaped being crushed. Now we have only asphyxiation to fear." During the night the water temperature rose to -1 degrees centigrade. The injections couldn't get it to go a single degree higher. But since salt water freezes only at -2 degrees, I was finally assured that there was no danger of it solidifying. By the next day, March 27, six meters of ice had been torn from the socket. Only four meters were left to be removed. That still meant forty-eight hours of work. The air couldn't be renewed in the Nautilus's interior. Accordingly, that day it kept getting worse. An unbearable heaviness weighed me down. Near three o'clock in the afternoon, this agonizing sensation affected me to an intense degree. Yawns dislocated my jaws. My lungs were gasping in their quest for that enkindling elastic fluid required for breathing, now growing scarcer and scarcer. My mind was in a daze. I lay outstretched, strength gone, nearly unconscious. My gallant Conseil felt the same symptoms, suffered the same sufferings, yet never left my side. He held my hand, he kept encouraging me, and I even heard him mutter: "Oh, if only I didn't have to breathe, to leave more air for master!" It brought tears to my eyes to hear him say these words. Since conditions inside were universally unbearable, how eagerly, how happily, we put on our diving suits to take our turns working! Picks rang out on that bed of ice. Arms grew weary, hands were rubbed raw, but who cared about exhaustion, what difference were wounds? Life-sustaining air reached our lungs! We could breathe! We could breathe! And yet nobody prolonged his underwater work beyond the time allotted him. His shift over, each man surrendered to a gasping companion the air tank that would revive him. Captain Nemo set the example and was foremost in submitting to this strict discipline. When his time was up, he yielded his equipment to another and reentered the foul air on board, always calm, unflinching, and uncomplaining. That day the usual work was accomplished with even greater energy. Over the whole surface area, only two meters were left to be removed. Only two meters separated us from the open sea. But the ship's air tanks were nearly empty. The little air that remained had to be saved for the workmen. Not an atom for the Nautilus! When I returned on board, I felt half suffocated. What a night! I'm unable to depict it. Such sufferings are indescribable. The next day I was short-winded. Headaches and staggering fits of dizziness made me reel like a drunk. My companions were experiencing the same symptoms. Some crewmen were at their last gasp. That day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo concluded that picks and mattocks were too slow to deal with the ice layer still separating us from open water - and he decided to crush this layer. The man had kept his energy and composure. He had subdued physical pain with moral strength. He could still think, plan, and act. At his orders the craft was eased off, in other words, it was raised from its icy bed by a change in its specific gravity. When it was afloat, the crew towed it, leading it right above the immense trench outlined to match the ship's waterline. Next the ballast tanks filled with water, the boat sank, and was fitted into its socket. Just then the whole crew returned on board, and the double outside door was closed. By this point the Nautilus was resting on a bed of ice only one meter thick and drilled by bores in a thousand places. The stopcocks of the ballast tanks were then opened wide, and 100 cubic meters of water rushed in, increasing the Nautilus's weight by 100,000 kilograms. We waited, we listened, we forgot our sufferings, we hoped once more. We had staked our salvation on this one last gamble. Despite the buzzing in my head, I soon could hear vibrations under the Nautilus's hull. We tilted. The ice cracked with an odd ripping sound, like paper tearing, and the Nautilus began settling downward. "We're going through!" Conseil muttered in my ear. I couldn't answer him. I clutched his hand. I squeezed it in an involuntary convulsion. All at once, carried away by its frightful excess load, the Nautilus sank into the waters like a cannonball, in other words, dropping as if in a vacuum! Our full electric power was then put on the pumps, which instantly began to expel water from the ballast tanks. After a few minutes we had checked our fall. The pressure gauge soon indicated an ascending movement. Brought to full speed, the propeller made the sheet-iron hull tremble down to its rivets, and we sped northward. But how long would it take to navigate under the Ice Bank to the open sea? Another day? I would be dead first! Half lying on a couch in the library, I was suffocating. My face was purple, my lips blue, my faculties in abeyance. I could no longer see or hear. I had lost all sense of time. My muscles had no power to contract. I'm unable to estimate the hours that passed in this way. But I was aware that my death throes had begun. I realized that I was about to die . . . Suddenly I regained consciousness. A few whiffs of air had entered my lungs. Had we risen to the surface of the waves? Had we cleared the Ice Bank? No! Ned and Conseil, my two gallant friends, were sacrificing themselves to save me. A few atoms of air were still left in the depths of one Rouquayrol device. Instead of breathing it themselves, they had saved it for me, and while they were suffocating, they poured life into me drop by drop! I tried to push the device away. They held my hands, and for a few moments I could breathe luxuriously. My eyes flew toward the clock. It was eleven in the morning. It had to be March 28. The Nautilus was traveling at the frightful speed of forty miles per hour. It was writhing in the waters. Where was Captain Nemo? Had he perished? Had his companions died with him? Just then the pressure gauge indicated we were no more than twenty feet from the surface. Separating us from the open air was a mere tract of ice. Could we break through it? Perhaps! In any event the Nautilus was going to try. In fact, I could feel it assuming an oblique position, lowering its stern and raising its spur. The admission of additional water was enough to shift its balance. Then, driven by its powerful propeller, it attacked this ice field from below like a fearsome battering ram. It split the barrier little by little, backing up, then putting on full speed against the punctured tract of ice; and finally, carried away by its supreme momentum, it lunged through and onto this frozen surface, crushing the ice beneath its weight. The hatches were opened - or torn off, if you prefer - and waves of clean air were admitted into every part of the Nautilus.