CHAPTER EIGHT
Revelations
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-Carlisle-
Carlisle was pretty sure that was the hardest thing he's ever had to witness. He knows Jacob imprinted—to Carlisle's granddaughter, no less—but that didn't mean it was easy to sit calmly and passively while the young man's hands comforted his mate, held her close and kept her calm in a way Carlisle couldn't have in that moment. He kept her warm even after the cold water chilled her—Edward told him the story as Jacob had repeated it to him in his mind from what Abigail had said—and kept her panic low. It was Jacob's shoulder she hid her face in, Jacob's body she took warmth and comfort in, Jacob's words that made her giggle beautifully.
And Carlisle would never be able to do that again. By his own choice. He remembers making her laugh and smile, remembered comforting her and keeping her calm, soothing her with words and soft touches. He gave that up in 1955 when he let her die. And now she was back, but it wasn't him that would do any of that stuff. It was Jacob. Or whoever she would choose to love for the rest of her life.
If he couldn't handle it with Jacob, someone who was just her friend, how was he supposed to handle it when those touches were sensual caresses? When the kiss wasn't to her hair, but those soft pink lips? When she was burying her face in his chest to keep passionate cries at bay? When she was sated and satisfied from making love to him?
The beast roared at that, carrying on for hours and hours until Carlisle realized his entire body was trembling enough to shake the whole house, and had been for some time, but luckily nobody said anything. And still the beast carried on, snarling out protection and possession, begging him to make her belong to him before another man did, and it took everything in his power not to go stalk over there and do something he would regret later, like letting her believe that they had any sort of future. It was a moot point, he fought the beast until he felt like he was actually exhausted. It wanted her, he loved her, and neither of them could get what they so desired: the love and tender caring of their beautiful mate.
Nobody commented on what just happened, but all of them were tense with the emotions they weren't willing to express. Edward's eyebrows were drawn tight and his gaze was almost accusing as he stared down Carlisle who took up his usual position in the window. He had been the one there when Jacob had come into sight with Abigail in his arms. It was he who alerted the others; not even Edward had been paying attention. But he had paused and repeated Jacob's words and the fury in Carlisle was so intense it almost suffocated him.
Clearly the wolves weren't there to hurt her; the wolf she had seen was Sam Uley and he never would've done anything to hurt her. Her seeing him had probably been an accident as Jacob also told Edward it was he that noticed she was gone as she wasn't picking up her phone. Once night hit, he had enough and called out the packs to find her, and it was Sam simply sounding the alarm. Carlisle would always be grateful that they found her and brought her home, but that didn't make it settle any easier in his stomach that she was alone in the woods at night with the pack in their wolf forms. He trusted them, but this was his mate, he watched her die once and he was sure he couldn't do it again.
We'll have to leave before that happens, he thought, eyes sliding to Edward. His son stared him down, but finally gave him a solitary, resolute nod. They would have to for Bella's sake anyway, maybe another year or two at most, but that didn't make it any easier. So Carlisle went back out to staring out the window, expression grave and pained as his mind replayed those familiar, horrific memories with those of tonight twisted in.
.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.
-Abigail-
Abigail woke up coughing, her chest achy and unable to breathe through her nose, ears warring to try and hear anything other than her own breathing. Great, the cold water made me sick, she thought with a miserable groan and buried her head under pillows and blankets. She couldn't hear any sign of Jacob downstairs, no sounds of movements, snoring, or the television. Or it was just her own ears not cooperating because of being congested. But she still couldn't help the pang of disappointment at the thought of him not being there. Deal with it, Goodwin. He was here all night and protected you like he said. You're a big girl. The pep talk didn't help one bit.
Slowly she extracted herself and dragged her aching body to find some clean clothes and then into the shower. Her dirty clothes were shed and tossed in the hamper, and then she turned to put the hot water on full blast. Climbing in helped a little bit, the steam making it a bit easier to breathe through her nose, but as soon as she was done, she was back to congestion and sniffles. She dried off quickly and yanked on her clean clothes: older very warm bunny pajama pants Jacob got her for her birthday one year, slipper socks that went almost to her knees, a ratty old Mariners shirt that had been her dad's, and her plain black hoodie. It felt better to be so warm and she yanked a brush through her hair quickly as she padded downstairs, not surprised to find the house empty.
It made her frown, but she pushed away her stupid feelings and went to get some soup. Immediately she was upset about her book as she realized it wasn't on the coffee table, so she sighed and grabbed another one instead, one of the Faulkner's, and curled up with the small quilt she kept on her dad's chair—one her grandma, his mom, made her when she was six. It was soothing and she laid there quietly, letting the peace of the moment wash over her.
Well, until a loud knock at the door made her yelp and she jumped in her spot, frowning as her fingers tightened on the hard spine of the book. "Jake?" she called out tentatively and slowly stood, dragging the quilt with her to the door as she gingerly opened it and peaked out. Jacob was there alright, but what shocked her even more were the two people with him: Alice and Carlisle Cullen. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to ask, but then a coughing fit hit her and she weakly waved them in and went to slump back in her dad's chair.
Jacob was by her side in an instant, frowning as he laid a warm hand on her cold, clammy forehead and she instantly felt better. "This is why they're here," he murmured after her coughing had eased, answering her unspoken question.
"How'd you know?" she croaked.
Jacob clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I heard you, I was here all night. Didn't I tell you I wasn't gonna leave?"
She gave him a smile that was probably more of a wince. "Yeah. But you were gone when I woke up so I assumed you got bored..." Her voice trailed off at the aggravated look on his face.
"Like I can ever get bored with you around."
"I was asleep," she pointed out.
Jacob snorted. "Doesn't matter." He sat back with a sigh and beckoned Carlisle forward and she eyed the three of them wearily. "Just let the good doctor here check you out. If he prescribes anything, I'll run and get it."
"Thanks, Jake," she murmured.
It was all she could do not to cough on him when he started checking her out. The night before had been so intense and draining, she couldn't focus on how his fingers felt on her skin, all she had wanted was Jacob's comfort. But then, with sleep in her system and the effects of the adrenaline gone, she could focus on how good it actually felt, Carlisle's fingers soft and tender against her skin. He was much colder than her even in her clammy state, but it felt incredible and her heart started to race, pounding viciously behind her ribs as he carefully checked her over. He was close enough that when he checked her ears, she could feel his cool breath in her cheek and she had to keep from making a noise. Why is he still getting to you? You let them go, remember? Don't let him effect you. But it got worse as it went on, so much so that she was holding her breath by the time he was done. He prescribed amoxicillin and handed Jacob the small sheet of paper to be filled.
"If they have any questions, make sure they call me," Carlisle instructed softly. Jacob nodded and put the paper in his pocket. Carlisle backed away carefully, eyes passive as always as he gazed at her, and only then did she breathe, pulling herself back in the chair and curling into it, sniffling. "Peppermint tea is also good."
"I have some," she croaked, gesturing weakly for the kitchen and Jacob jumped up to go out the kettle on, leaving the rest in an awkward silence, Abigail's fingers twisting together in her lap as she stared at them intently, not willing to bring them up. She felt eyes on her, unsure if they were Carlisle or Alice, but it was unsettling. Maybe they're just tired of taking care of you, she thought sullenly. You've gotten hurt, fell ill, and pulled a couple dangerous stunts since you met them. They're not your family, they barely know you. No wonder Alice was so annoyed last time. She wasn't scared for you, she didn't want to save you.
Abigail hated the thoughts, but decided she was right. It's like she got back to Forks and became stupid. So she promised herself it would never happen again, she wouldn't do anything to make them or Jacob have to save her or feel sorry for her. She would strengthen her self-preservation so nobody would have this burden. When did I get to be so depressed all of a sudden? She had a sick feeling it was the first look into a certain doctor's ochre eyes. Well, not because of him, but rather because she couldn't have him.
Her heart squeezed and fell into her stomach, a gasp stuttering in her throat as it felt like she was drowning even more so than when had fallen into the water the previous night. She forced herself to stop because it was silly. He would never want her to begin with. Besides the fact that she just met him, he's spent his time proving more than once he wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe he saw the feelings on her face that told him how she felt whenever she saw him. But that couldn't be, could it? She wasn't exactly a "wear your heart on your sleeve" type of girl. So all she had to do was let it go, let him go. But she knew that was easier said than done.
Because she was in love with Carlisle Cullen.
A squeak left her throat and it ceased the quiet, almost silent conversation she then noticed between Carlisle and Alice, both of them looking to her in surprise. She jumped up, head spinning as her breath hadn't caught up with her yet and she wheezed as her lungs tried to work double time even through the ache in her chest, and she stumbled slightly around the edge of the couch.
"Gonna go see if Jake needs help," she muttered and then turned and fled the room like that wolf was there to finish the job and kill her.
She had been left alone soon after that as Jacob went to fill her prescription and the Cullens left to...well, she didn't know, but they were gone and that's what was important. She could've handled Alice or any of the others, but having Carlisle so close when she knew the future held only anxious heartbreak for them hurt her more than the wound on her arm or the cold settled into her lungs. It felt like she couldn't breathe around him, like she needed air that she couldn't ever have.
It never occurred to her that he was that air.
Not until her next dream, but it wasn't the same. For the first time, she dreamed about something different, and of course Carlisle was there.
It started off in dark streets where she was running, legs and lungs burning, and she was terrified. She thought at first it was an extension of her usual nightmare, like how she came to find the red-eyed killer, but soon she was on a boat with some other women and a few men. She realized they were all dressed in colonial style clothes, the men in ragged uniforms and the women dressed as nurses. With a glance down she saw she was as well. She blinked in confusion, but then she was standing in a tent and it was daytime. A man stood next to her, the name unknown, but the name of the man in front of her was one she knew well: Carlisle.
"This is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. You will be his assistant, Miss Goodwin." He glanced at Carlisle wearily as if expecting a fight, but the young doctor wasn't looking at him. His eyes were on her, burning and tender with smoky affection in their depths. Her breath caught, her knees trembling, and the man beside her continued to speak, but Abigail wasn't listening. She was lost in the caramel swirl of Carlisle's ochre eyes. They had more emotion than she had ever seen in them, and she almost fainted when he took her hand and brought it up to his lips, bowing and letting his cool breath waft over it as he pressed a gentle kiss to her skin.
"How do you do, Miss Goodwin? It is a pleasure to meet you. I am very happy you are here."
The scene changed and she was laying on the ground. Something was wrong, though: she couldn't breathe. She tried to draw in ragged breaths, but it only made rough gurgles fall passed her lips. It was a second later she realized her mouth and lungs were full of something, and by the coppery metallic tang of it, she figured it was blood. The right side of her chest felt like it was on fire, and all she could do was pray, Dear, God, I am sorry for my wrongdoings. I am sorry for leaving my father and for loving a man I should not. Please allow me into Heaven's gates as I repent my sins. I pray to you, Heavenly Father, to forgive this poor peasant girl. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. She was confused because she was never a religious person, but she was dying and it seemed like the right thing to do
Only she was sure her prayers, weak as they were, had been answered because an angel appeared over her. That's what he had to be because there's no way any mortal could be as beautiful as the golden haired, topaz-eyed creature that crouched over her now. He spoke to her, his words muddled in her foggy mind, but his eyes were so full of pain and agony that it ripped her open and she found herself reaching for his face even as her body fought to eliminate the blood gurgling from her throat, though she knew it never could. He leaned over her then as if to whisper something in her ear... And she was burning, writhing in agony, twisting right there on the bloody ground.
She shot up, gasping and covered in sweat and tears, wrapped in her blankets as she struggled to determine reality from her dreams. She was in her bed, in her house, alone. It was 2007 and she wasn't in a war. She was a nurse, but at a safe local hospital. Carlisle was a doctor, but not during the American Revolution. She wasn't dying, she wasn't on fire. She was safe...though, thinking about it, even while dying and drowning on her own blood, she felt safe and cared for...she felt loved. So much, in fact, it was stifling. She didn't know how to deal with that level of emotion. It ate away and ate away until she was sobbing into her pillow. Because even though she didn't understand, she knew she was missing something for the first time in her life, it felt like she wasn't complete, like a part of her—a large part—was missing. It ached, growing stronger and stronger until she was gasping, trying to draw in air, and it kept getting worse.
She didn't sleep again that night, crying into the morning where she debated whether or not she should go to work. She was exhausted, still sick, and she didn't know if she could face anybody, but she knew if she laid there she would just dwell on the dream and her aching soul, desperately longing for whatever it was that was missing, and she knew she couldn't handle twenty-four hours of that. So she got up, showered, changed, and left. Beth wasn't back yet and her friend had warned she might not be back until that night, so Abigail found the pepper spray Charlie had given her a couple years ago, finding that it was still good. She also put her gloves and scarf in her bag because it would be chillier later that night, and her small flashlight.
As usual, she didn't see a single sign of Carlisle anywhere once she entered the ER. She said a quick hello to Mackenzie and then Brett showed up. Immediately he knew something was wrong and tugged her onto the couch with him to talk.
"C'mon, Abs, I'm a good listener." He sat with a patient smile and she sighed softly, looking at her twisting fingers. Once again, she had to hide the annoyance at the nickname.
"Just a bad dream," she said softly. Though it was a total lie. It was the best dream she's ever had, to be that loved and cherished and by Carlisle no less, she realized she wanted to have it again that night, even if she woke up early gasping in emotional agony again. Then again, maybe it was a bad dream, because it taunted her with images and feelings she would never have in real life. Giving her Carlisle only to yank him away under the harsh rays of morning. She still didn't understand, they've barely spoken and he seemed to dislike her, and here she was like a silly school girl. But she wasn't about to tell Brett any of that.
The man frowned and reached for her hand to squeeze it. It made her a bit uncomfortable and she shifted, but didn't pull away. "Aw, Abs, I'm sorry. Next time just think of me and I'll save you." He grinned broadly and she knew he was trying to make her feel better, but it made her uncomfortable again and she chuckled lightly.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Goo— Oh, hello, Dr. Cullen."
Abigail froze, her eyes shooting up to Brett and then over to the door where she realized Carlisle had paused in the doorway. While his gaze was passive as always, his hand was squeezing the doorknob so hard it was a wonder it didn't break. She hadn't even heard him come in, but she had been so wrapped up in her thoughts and what was okay to tell Brett and what wasn't, so that was her fault for not paying attention. Her eyes flickered from his grip on the doorknob to his beautiful face and felt her heart spasm, pounding and breaking behind her rib cage, and suddenly it felt like in the dream when she was drowning.
She was on her feet before she knew it, trying not to panic like her body felt it was going to, limbs tense and she looked quickly back and forth between the two men. "Thank you, Brett, but I should get to work. I'll be fine." She nodded and glanced at Carlisle who had slowly let go of the door and stepped aside so she could leave. "Carlisle." She nodded as a lame greeting and quickly fled the room, heart pounding and she had to force herself into an empty room to calm herself down before she could begin working.