Chapter Text
I woke up slowly, my head still fogged from sleep as I burrowed deeper under the blankets for warmth.
Nessie, my mind reminded me, trying to prod the rest of me into some semblance of wakefulness.
It's barely light out, and yesterday was a long day. She's probably still sleeping. And Bella and Edward would not appreciate me barging in on the first peaceful morning we'd had in weeks. Not that I wanted to risk smelling what they were probably getting up to right now-- the regular vampire stink was bad enough, thank you very much.
Besides, it was cold, and my bed was cozy and warm and-
I sat up suddenly, startled. Cold? I didn't get cold these days, even standing outside shirtless in a blizzard. So why would my own bedroom, in the house I'd made sure had working central heating for my dad's sake, feel cold?
I pressed a hand to my forehead. It felt warm, of course, but that was only in comparison to my palm. Absentmindedly, I uncurled my fingers upward, burrowing them into my hair… which went on and on and on.
Pulling my hair-tangled hand forward in disbelief, I stared. This couldn't be my hair, so long that I could tell it would probably hit my shoulder blades, or maybe a bit further down my back-- a length I'd used to wear my hair at quite comfortably, but hadn't in at least nine months, having cropped it short a day or two after my first shift, after Sam had explained the necessity.
I'd decided last night that I was going to try letting it grow out a bit again, but I'd been thinking maybe chin length, not… this, and anyway, it wasn't possible for this much hair to grow out in one night, even with the accelerated growth things like my hair and nails tended to get these days.
And now that I was paying attention to it, there was something strange about the way my arm looked, too.
I stood up slowly, taking in the sight of my body beneath me. It didn't look right, didn't look like me.
Except that it did.
I walked through my room, noticing in some dim corner of my mind that everything around me seemed… bigger, somehow. Scrambling out the door, I managed to bump the side of my foot against the doorframe, and it hurt.
I reached the bathroom in a daze and gazed into the mirror, already knowing what I would see.
The face in the mirror was my own, of course. Same brown skin, same dark hair and eyes. But it was all more… youthful, somehow. I looked more like the sixteen year old I actually was than the twenty-five year old my speed-run growth process had left me.
And, clad only in the loose sweatpants I wore to bed, I was still cold.
I backed out of the bathroom, horrified, and ran down the hall as fast as I could-- which wasn't nearly as fast as I knew I should be able to.
What was happening to me? Was this some weird new bloodsucker ability? Had one of those Volturi guards had some power Edward hadn't known about, left some gift behind for some unlucky werewolf that would strip away my ability to shift-- which I knew, without trying, was gone the same way as my lost height and muscle definition-- to try to weaken us?
Is Nessie okay?
Or was this something I had somehow done to myself? Was this something that had happened before, something that had been recorded in one of our legends that I just couldn't remember at the moment?
My dad would know.
I banged on his bedroom door, hoping he wasn't still asleep, and some part of my mind prayed all this noise wasn't disturbing Rachel-- I couldn't deal with her mother-hen worrying right now on top of whatever was happening to my body.
"Good morning, Jacob," Dad said, sounding as calm and unruffled as he usually did. I pushed open the door and found him sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling his arms through the sleeves of the shirt he'd left on his bedside table the night beforehand.
So I hadn't woken him up. Good.
"Happy New Year," he said, his head turning up to look at me. The smile slipped from his face as he took in the worried expression on mine. "Is everything okay?"
"Dad, I think something's wrong with me," I told him, walking to the bed and bending down slightly so my head was only a few inches above his. I'd known it would be easier than it had been yesterday, that I was already much closer to the ground than I had been then, but it still sent a shock of surprise through me.
Dad raised his hand to my forehead and sighed, looking… resigned?
"You do feel a bit warm, Jacob, but I think you'll be alright," he said, and there was something in his eyes I didn't quite understand. "If you didn't already have the day off, I'd tell you to stay home from school anyway. Maybe go back to bed and get some rest?"
School? I hadn't been in school in six months, since the end of sophomore year. Before going to bed last night, I'd promised Dad we would talk about my plans today. He wanted me to go back as soon as the next semester started, and make up for what I'd missed out on in summer school. I was arguing in favor of taking the rest of the year off and starting back next September as junior.
And then I thought about the first part of what he'd just said. I felt warm?
"You don't understand," I said, shaking my head.
"I promise you, it's all going to be alright," he said, his lips raising in a slightly pained smile. "It'll all make sense soon."
"No, Dad, I feel cold," I insisted, rubbing my hands along my arms to warm them up.
"Well, it is a bit cold outside," he said, looking a bit confused. "Maybe turn up the heat a bit?"
"You're not-" and then my eyes caught on something on his bedside table and my mouth fell open.
It was a calendar. Dad always like to keep one next to his bed, to cross off the days as they passed. The first box already had a bright red X cutting through the number 1 and the words New Year's Day.
But it wasn't that X that had startled me. It was the words at the very top of the page.
January 2006.
I picked up the calendar, flipping it closed to confirm that that wasn't some typo, but the cover had the same year printed in neat letters on some generic floral background. 2006.
"Um, Dad," I asked, looking back at his now utterly bewildered expression. "Did you accidentally leave out the wrong calendar? Maybe got a half-price discount and didn't check to make sure it wasn't because it was about to expire?"
"What do you mean?" Dad's voice was calm, almost placating, which didn't quite match with the confusion on his face. It was almost like he was trying to make sure I didn't catch onto his concern, like he didn't want me to be worried.
But I was already worried. Very worried. Pieces were falling very slowly into place, and I didn't like the picture that was forming.
"What's today's date?" I asked, closing my eyes as though I could avoid hearing the answer.
"It's the first of January, Jacob," my father said in a soothing tone.
"The whole date, Dad," I insisted, opening my eyes. I wasn't a child-- I couldn't just shut my eyes and wish the whole world away, no matter how much I might want to.
"It's January first, two thousand and six," said my father, tilting his head as a fond look crossed his face. "Now, why don't you go back to bed and get some rest? I'm sure everything will make sense once you've had a bit more sleep."
"Yeah," I said dully, unable to muster up any kind of enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it. I guess I'm just coming down with something and it's making me a little confused."
Slowly, I turned and left the room, not bothering to close the door behind me. I trudged back down the hall at the same slow, even pace. A million thoughts clambered for attention in my mind as I entered by own room, as I crawled into my bed and pulled the blanket over my head.
The thought that rang the loudest, that overpowered everything else, that repeated itself over and over in a steady, pounding beat that thumped through me like a second heartbeat, took the form of a single word.
Nessie. Nessie. Nessie.
I wanted-- needed-- to see her, to know that she was okay, that the world was still in order, that something about life still made sense.
But nothing about any of this made sense. The world was completely out of order. And Renesmee wasn't okay.
It was the first day of January, in the year 2006, and the point of light my life orbited around no longer existed.
Or, by another definition, that sun had never existed.
I drifted into unconsciousness, half-hoping I wouldn't wake up again.