Hi everyone! I know it's not a good idea to start a new story when I'm in the middle of another one, but I've had the idea for mixing Twilight and Heroes rattling around in my head for a while now, and I figured when I got to the point of planning out actual dialogue, I had no choice but to start writing. This is my first attempt at a crossover, as well as my first shot at a non-Bella-and-Edward fic, so I really want to know what you think. I'll take any advice or constructive criticism; I'd prefer not to be flamed, and I intend to ignore those if I do get any. Here's a special thanks to my friend twilighter616 for reading my first draft of this story and encouraging me to keep going!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR HEROES. I've also done a search of fanfiction, and I'm 98% sure this story isn't similar to anyone else's; if it is it's an accident, 'cause I'm no copycat. All insane ideas are mine.
Resurgence: an instance of rising again, as if from death; resurrection, rebirth, or revival
Chapter 1: Rude Awakening
I was halfway through poking cereal into my mouth and not tasting a bite of it when Charlie's persistent throat-clearing finally made me aware that he was in the room. I raised my head and returned his scrutinizing stare with my dull, lifeless one. "What is it, Dad? It's Saturday; why aren't you out fishing with Deputy Mark or somebody?"
He shifted nervously in his chair. "I'm here because I want to talk to you, Bella. I really wish you'd reconsider moving to Jacksonville with Renée. Now, I know you want to stay here, but I just can't see letting you do this to yourself anymore. Maybe it would do you some good to get away from here, get away from things that remind you of Ed-"
"Dad, stop it," I said sharply; my survival instinct demanded that I shut him up before he finished saying the one name I couldn't stand to hear, the one that caused me unendurable pain every time I came close to thinking it. "Getting out of Forks won't do me any good."
"Well if that won't, what will? Bella, he's not coming back and you can't live the rest of your life like this waiting for him!"
"I'm not waiting for anything," I mumbled to the tabletop. "I know nothing's going to change. I don't expect it to."
"Then I don't see why you won't even-"
"I have to go. I'm late for work." I grabbed the keys to my truck and hurried out the door before Charlie could say anything else. I had lied about being late; I got there five minutes before my shift started, but I went on in. Sitting alone in my truck with just my thoughts for company was too depressing, and I needed all the distraction I could get.
"Hey, Bella. Glad you made it," Mike called, waving at me from behind the checkout counter as I walked into Newton's Olympic Outfitters.
"Hi, Mike," I answered, just like I did every Saturday afternoon when he greeted me that way. I didn't know why he always said he was glad I made it; I made it every weekend, with the single exception of that week six months ago- the week right after he left me.
I felt a sharp, ripping pain in my chest at the mere thought of that memory, and wrapped my arms around my torso to try to keep myself together. "Bella, are you all right?" Mike asked, leaving the cash register wide open as he ran over to make sure I wasn't having a heart attack.
"I'm fine," I lied. "Did the new shipment of water-resistant backpacks come in today?"
Mike stared hard at me, seeing if he agreed that I was fine, so I forced my face into the best approximation of a smile I could manage these days. As far as anyone could tell just from looking at me there was nothing wrong, so Mike gave in and sent me to the back supply room to unpack the backpacks.
I was robotically putting the new stock on the shelves when a strange feeling penetrated my numbness- a feeling like someone was watching me. I turned around, and there was a man leaning against the shelf on the opposite side of the aisle, staring at me. For some reason, his intense gaze made me uncomfortable.
"Can I help you with something?" I asked politely; although I didn't like the way he was looking at me, this was a store and I was an employee here, so it was entirely possible that he needed help finding something but had decided to wait for me to finish what I was doing rather than interrupt me.
"Yes, if you could just point me in the right direction," he paused to check my name tag, "Bella. I was wondering where the tents are."
"Um, sure, right this way." I led him to the right place and pointed out what Mike had mentioned was the most durable model.
As I started to walk back to the rack I had been filling he asked, "What's your last name, Bella?"
Why does he want to know that? Maybe he's just trying to be polite… but I wish he'd stop. The whole time we were walking to the tent aisle, he had never stopped staring at me, and there was something unsettling about the look in his dark brown eyes. It was almost like he was hungry and I was a chocolate torte, and I didn't like it one bit. The idea that he thought of me as some kind of food reminded me too much of someone else for whom I'd been a potential meal, and I couldn't stand to have him brought to the front of my mind.
"Bella? Did you hear me?" the man asked.
"I heard you," I muttered. "My last name's Swan." Even if I didn't like his apparent interest in me, I couldn't be rude to a customer if I wanted to keep my job.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Bella Swan." The man grabbed my hand and shook it, gripping a little harder than I thought was necessary. "You've been very helpful."
"No problem." I pulled out of the handshake as quickly as possible and hurried down the aisle; once I reached the end I looked back and saw that the man wasn't comparing tents at all – he was still watching me. "Go away," I muttered as I headed back to the backpack display.
It was ironic; I had told Charlie that I didn't expect anything to change, and then something did. Until now, I had felt nothing but pain and the numbness I had sunk into to escape that pain, but now I felt something different: nervousness.
The way that man looked at me had really gotten under my skin; customers didn't normally care enough to find out my first name, they certainly never asked for my last name, and the hungry gleam in this customer's eyes as he watched every move I made would have disturbed me even if it hadn't brought to mind things I couldn't bear to think about.
"Bella, are you okay? You look upset," Mike said. I jumped – I hadn't noticed him walk up behind me.
"Oh, I'm- I'm fine, Mike, thanks. It's just this one guy I helped was looking at me funny, that's all."
Mike frowned. "It's all right, he's gone now," I said quickly.
"That's good. Tell me if he comes in again, and I'll take care of him."
"Thanks, Mike." I forced myself to smile at him. Mike really was a nice guy, and I wished I could be a better friend to him. It was just so impossible to muster any enthusiasm for anything now that I imagined he wouldn't like hanging out with me even if I did agree to.
Mike and I both went back to work, and two hours later we closed up shop. "Bye Bella," Mike called as he hopped in his Suburban and drove off.
I waved, then headed for my old truck, but before I reached it something stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't explain it; my feet just froze and I fell forward, thrown off balance.
"Hello Bella; I thought that guy would never leave. It's lucky for him that he did though, and for me; now I can forget about dealing with him and skip straight to what I came for."
I shuddered; the voice was one I'd heard before. I twisted my head to look behind me, and there was the creepy guy who had stared at me this afternoon. "What do you want? I don't have any money!" I cried.
He chuckled quietly. "That's not what I want from you, Bella Swan." He grabbed my arm, hauled me off the ground, and slammed me against my truck.
Oh no, I can't believe this is happening! It was like a repeat of that horrible night in Port Angeles, but there was no one to save me this time. The one person I used to depend on to save me was gone, the parking lot was deserted, and there was no help coming.
The man didn't physically assault me, though; instead he raised his free hand, the index finger pointing at my forehead, and traced a line through the air. I had a split second of wondering what he was doing before a terrible pain hit my forehead, as if my head was being cut open.
I screamed in pain, and then in shock as I felt warm liquid run down my face and smelled the nauseating scent of blood – mine!
This story probably won't be updated for a while because as I said at the beginning, I have another one going and need to work on it; I just wanted to get this one up before someone else did something like it. But if you like this one and want more (if anyone does), leaving reviews will definitely encourage me to get going on the next chapter.