"Come on, Emmett, we're going to be late." Edward, Rosalie and their constant fight had left the house, presumably continuing their stalemate in the car. One of them slammed the front door. Emmett just glanced at his watch, focusing closer on the TV. Distantly, I felt Alice's mood shift and I smiled. She may have been in the car with Rosalie and Edward, but it didn't seem to matter how far she was from me, I could always feel the ticks and changes in her mood immediately. She was happy – she would be anticipating a shopping trip.
Gathering up my book bag, I backed away from Emmett. The tension was rolling off of his shoulders, and I knew when the scores came out in my favor, the pen he was holding might not be the only casualty. Perhaps the ante in our little games was getting too high. "You know," I said bracingly, "Maybe five thousand was a little too high to go this early in the season. What's say we just call this one a draw?" I asked from my perch near the doorway. I could see the TV clearly, and we were about to find out for sure.
"What?" Emmett asked, turning toward me. His voice was mocking but still tense – belittling. "Too rich for your blood, little brother? Afraid what Alice will say when…That little fortune teller!"
His tone changed halfway through the last sentence, from jovial and condescending to utterly enraged. The pen, as predicted, took the brunt of his frustration, bursting and spraying black ink everywhere, but that wasn't what I reacted to. I immediately bristled, poised for a fight at the mention of her name. "Emmett," I growled, stepping in front of the doorway now – his only exit.
My brother, for all his brute strength, wasn't actually stupid – he might not have been the most astute among us, but in a family of people who could read minds, the future and the moods of their companions, how could you expect to be as attune with your surroundings without some freakish talent? I stared at him. He braced – crouching down ever so slightly and dropping his shoulders. He was prepared for me to strike. Appealing though that looked, I forced myself to see him as my brother - trying to block out the feelings of his own frustration and to force us both into a quiet calm. It didn't feel like it was working, but I pressed on. If Alice had seen us fighting, she wouldn't be so relaxed right now. I probed her mood again, still keeping my eyes focused on Emmett. She was…irritated, most likely with Edward and Rosalie – their patent refusal to work through their recent dispute was making her more frustrated than the rest of us, because she could see that, eventually they would be okay again. Alice was not what one might call a patient person.
I forced my mind to stay focused on her, not to feel Emmett – not to allow his anger to fuel my own. But, abruptly, he moved. His malice had turned only to frustration now. He was angry, but not concretely with me. He pushed past me and raced for the door. I followed, relaxed now. He slammed the front door so hard that it banged back open and I caught it, letting myself out before closing it more softly.
"Get out, Rose," he said, his hands clutched into fists, holding onto her open window. Alice giggled. Edward rolled his eyes. "You would take her side," Emmett growled at Edward, jerking the door open with little regard for the plastic door handle, before slamming it shut and storming off toward the garage.
"Thanks Jaz," Edward joked as I took the space next to Alice, brushing my hand against her leg. I didn't reply, tossing the broken handle on the passenger seat. In the garage, the convertibles engine revved menacingly and the Volvo jerked into reverse.
Forks High School was fifteen minutes from the house by car. We were only about two minutes into it when Edward started shifting in his seat. Alice glanced anxiously at me, but I just looked back at her, shaking my head. My expression was probably as nervous as hers. "Edward," she started, "I know you're nervous." Edward grimaced, getting more tense. I leaned back, forcing a slow breath into my lungs. "But I promise," Alice continued, "it really will be OK." He shuddered and pressed his foot on the gas a little more firmly. I forced a wave of calm energy into the space around me and felt Alice relax at my side.
"Stop it," Edward warned through gritted teeth. I squeezed Alice's hand apologetically and let the atmosphere return to what it had been, closing my eyes.
"You're being unnecessarily difficult, Edward." Alice said, pressing on. "I've seen it."
"Alice." The warning in his voice was stronger now, the growl evident behind it, but she carried on anyway.
"You won't hurt her."
"No one else seems to think so," he replied, turning to look pointedly at me. I looked at the floor of the Volvo. Alice started to respond, but, when I tensed beside her, she seemed to think better of it and leaned back into the seat, watching the clouds outside the window. All too suddenly, we were peeling into the parking lot next to Emmett and Rosalie.
I got out of the car, refusing to make eye contact with anyone and stalked across the asphalt. Rosalie and Emmett were following – their twin animosity close behind. Even here, in the open air of the morning, the scent of human blood was overwhelming. To believe, even for an instant, that Edward could get as close to Bella, the way Alice saw, without eventually killing her and exposing us all was utterly insane when my throat burned already.
I lingered for a moment too long, letting Rosalie and Emmett pass me, before going into the building, savoring what I could of the cool, clean air.
The burn was immediate and intense. It was exactly as it was every other day, no worse, but no better, and there was nothing I could do, so I went in to do exactly what I did every other day.
By morning's end I was forgiven. Emmett may have been quick to get angry, but he was equally quick to forgive, so when I bumped into him outside of the humanities building, waiting for Rosalie, I knew he wasn't angry anymore. That, of course, made the snowball that he lobbed at me – more ice than snow – all the more surprising. Taking refuge behind a shrub, I threw one back at him, glancing it off the side of the tree.
Neither of us noticed when Alice and Rose came out until I heard Alice's sweet voice – chatting about a shopping trip. Emmett must not have heard them, because the next thing I knew, she was telling Rosalie to duck. I was distracted, feeling Rosalie's frustration at Alice's question – and then feeling Alice's amusement – when the snowball cracked into my shoulder, hard enough to knock me off my balance.
"Sorry Rose," Emmett said, emerging from behind the tree, looking sheepish.
I caught up with them a few paces later, still dusting snow off of my jacket. Matching my gait with Alice's, I leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I'm not angry with you, you know."
"I know," she replied, rising up on her tip toes to kiss me on the cheek. "But it's good to hear."
The five of us made our way into the cafeteria, laughing and joking as if nothing in the world had been wrong. Rosalie thumped Emmett's arm playfully and then started chatting animatedly with Edward about her's and Emmett's plans for Dartmouth next year. Edward played up his part well, pretending to listen with remarkable ease. I even joined in on the conversation occasionally, but my hand held Alice's tightly as the surrounding throng of students thickened. The burning was getting stronger now. Lunch was the most difficult time of day – the entire student body in one confined space – no windows, and all allowed to mingle with the noxious smell of human food.
"How about the ladies get lunch today?" Alice asked, turning to Rose, when we reached our regular table. I knew the look she was giving me as soon as our eyes connected – she was worrying, and I probed her emotions, trying to find out if her concerns were based in reality or paranoia. Abruptly, she stopped paying attention to me, tense – looking at Edward. They were having another one of their quiet little conversations – she was thinking something, and whatever it was, it was only for him.
I followed his eyes, watching them trace from one table to next. He was looking for Bella, and it was obvious that Alice was telling him not to. I bristled, tensing. I could hear one hundred beating hearts in my ears, taunting me – but all I could focus on was Alice. My eyes shifted between her and him while she walked away, picking up a tray and getting in line.
Edward didn't relax. He was in no position to keep up his end of our ruse. "Have you and Rose looked at any apartments?" I asked, not listening for his answer. At Emmett's side, I could feel Edward's tension rising and then – terrifyingly – Alice's. My eyes snapped up to find her, but she was already at the table.
She slammed the tray down on the table, "Get a grip, Edward." Edward straightened up immediately, starting to take off his jacket. Emmett and I followed his action, while Rosalie daintily opened a soda can.
The next ten seconds took an eternity to pass. The door opened and a breath of fresh air rushed in. I gulped it down greedily, feeling the new rush of burning. The girl was walking in, her eyes directed at the floor, a few steps behind her friend. They threw their jackets down at an empty table about twenty feet away, making their way toward the end of the line. Another friend, a boy, caught up with them, setting a hand on the girls shoulder. Edward shuddered visibly.
"Don't breathe," I muttered in Edward's direction. I could feel his discomfort emanating across the room. They were sitting down at their table now, and he was physically uncomfortable with their proximity to the heating vent.
Alice pushed the tray toward him forcibly. He took an apple from it, tossing it back and forth, leaving bruises in the flesh each time his fingertips touched it. "She's going to look up in approximately fifteen seconds," Alice whispered. We were all watching Edward, and everyone shifted in their seats, trying to look more human. Emmett winked at Rosalie and stood up, shaking his mop of wet hair so water droplets fell over her and Alice. Rosalie jumped back, laughing and squealing a little. Edward, composed now, forced a laugh and I matched suit, leaning over to drag Alice back into the spray.
Our laughter died out, a little too unnaturally, but with the exception of the girl and her tablemates, no one seemed to notice the little performance. Alice closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, but I could feel Edward risking a glance at her before she could stop him. The burning in my own throat intensified past the point of reason – past the point of restraint – and I gripped the metal table bracingly. Edward's eyes snapped back to the apple.
"Too soon," I growled through clenched teeth.
Rosalie was watching me, concerned. It was infuriating – her self-control was as unparalleled as Carlisle's and when she watched me like this, I was acutely aware of what she thought of me when no one was looking.
"It's OK," Alice said, touching my hand. "She won't look again."
I shook my head.
The rest of lunch passed without incident. As soon as she left the cafeteria, Edward pushed his chair away from the table noisily, taking both of the trays to the trash and leaving without another word for any of us. Rosalie just shook her head, jaw set hard with fury and left through the other doors, headed for the parking lot. Emmett just shrugged and followed her. My biggest brother was the only one who had, for the most part, stayed clear of the fray in this particular trial. He didn't seem to care either way. If Edward killed her, he wouldn't pass judgment any more than he was passing judgment on Edward for trying to coexist with her. His wife – or girlfriend, at the moment, I supposed – felt differently. My only sister felt that he should have stayed away. I, as it were, agreed. Alice, on the other hand, felt that Edward and this girl – Bella – that they would be a great love. Assuming, of course, that he didn't kill her.
Alice brushed a fingertip along my arm, calling me from my contemplative reverie. I shook my head, holding out her jacket, an easier smile in my eyes. The cafeteria was nearly empty now, and I could breath easier. "You felt it, didn't you?" She asked, slipping her arms into the sleeves. The pretense of wearing a coat was a less appealing one now that we lived in rainy, mundane Forks, so she forgot it – a lot. When we'd lived in Paris for a few months… Well, then there was couture, but here in Forks, utilitarian was the way to go, and she was loathe to be seen in the all-weather attire.
I nodded slowly, pushing the door open and sighing.
"So you understand, then?' she asked, taking a lung-full of the clean, crisp, non-deep fried air outside.
"To a certain degree," I said. A student brushed up against me and I reached for Alice, lacing an arm around her waist. "I understand that there's something there. She's terrified of him, in a way, but she's…drawn to him, in another. But," I added, bracing for her response, "I don't know how you can be so confident that he won't…hurt her."
"I just am," she replied, looking up at my face.
"I know you are. But, Alice, we both know that you're not always right." I stressed the word "always," trying to be gentle with her feelings. "You're right a lot of the time," I added, "but you can't be sure that his resolve won't break at some point and change everything you're seeing."
As the gym came into view, she considered him for a moment. This was a conversation Alice and I had had before – the one about her visions being flawed and imperfect. "Are we still talking about Edward?" she asked. The last time we discussed this subject, the conversation had a very different cast of characters. In fact, the last time we'd discussed this, we were discussing whether or not I was capable of going school after the near miss over the holidays.
"We are," I promised - my tone even. "But it's not as if I don't have a unique understanding." I said, trying to be persuasive, to make her see my side. Forcing Alice to feel something was one thing, but her visions gave her a stubborn streak that couldn't be easily swayed.
"Jasper," she said, stepping in front of me on the sidewalk and forcing me to make eye contact. "I stopped you." The rush of emotion I felt at remembering the moment made me feel ill.
"Barely," I intoned.
"But I stopped you. And if Edward does the same thing, we'll know." Her expression was confident, probably in response to my pained one. For whatever reason, everyone always thought that I resented their self control, and perhaps I did at times but Alice always understood that, when push came to shove, I wouldn't wish my trials on anyone. She knew that it hurt me deeply each time Edward was tempted – each time the girl got too close – and it terrified me, perhaps even more than it terrified Edward, to feel exactly how close Edward was coming to the brink of disaster.
I didn't answer, just smiled weakly and let her shrug herself underneath my arm. The two of us started walking again. P.E. was the most difficult hour of any given day and I longed for next year when I would officially have done my time, so I didn't pay much attention to Alice throughout the hour. This class was just the two of us and Emmett, there was nothing in a gym class that could cause her any harm. I could feel her, across the room – as relaxed as I could imagine her to be given the current situation, she was clearly watching Edward. Emmett tossed me the basketball, harder than he would have thrown it to anyone else and it took everything I had not to crush it in my palms. This wasn't a distraction I could afford. With physical activity came sweat and higher blood pressure – the hearts thumped faster now.
When I looked up, trying to find someone to pass to, the rhythm of my dribble falling pace with heartbeats, I caught a glimpse of Alice, fading back from her game of Ultimate Frisbee, feigning a limp. Dismissing that image, I tossed the ball to a boy in a blue t-shirt, but before he took his shot, Alice's behavior had my attention again. She was running, flat out as far as a human could see, making a beeline for the outside.
I hesitated, trying to find Edward, feeling my way down the paths and trying to block out the pain, frustration, boredom and competitive feelings that currently made up my environment. Emmett and I exchanged glances and shook his head. "Going after her?" he asked, moving closer to me.
I shook my head. "I think it's OK. Edward seems to be holding his own emotionally."
Emmett glanced at the clock. "Just a few more minutes."
I didn't see Alice again until the end of the day. She was waiting at Emmett's locker. They both looked as exhausted as I was. "Where's Rose?" I asked when I got close enough.
"Went home," Emmett answered. "She wants us to get a ride from Edward."
Alice looked at him quizzically. "Edward left." I felt my shoulder's slump. This was precisely the thing that I didn't want to hear. "About three minutes ago," she added.
"Oh," Emmett said, furrowing his brow for a fraction of a second and looking me over carefully. "I'll call her."
"Don't," I said, zipping up my jacket. "Not on my account, anyway. I'd rather walk."
Emmett shrugged his shoulders and zipped up his own jacket. "See you two kids at home, then," and moved purposefully toward the treeline.
"Jasper?" Alice asked when we were safely out of hearing range of the rest of the student 'd been together long enough that she knew she didn't need to actually pose the question for me to know what she was asking. I knew she was wondering why he looked as if I didn't have the energy to take another step forward. I knew she was scared now – more than she'd ever been afraid that I would bite a human – to see me looking so listless and despondent. It would bother her, to see me this way – and I understood why. Depression wasn't a mark of our kind.
I turned my face toward her, smiling gently. "It's trying," I said, "Living in this kind of emotional current. It's never been this tense before – not at home."
"I know," she said, her voice soft and gentle. I shifted uneasily as she stared at the forest floor beneath our feet. I knew she was having a hard time, trying not to simply find out what I would say next. She seemed to be focusing on the route more than the conversation and I shifted my attention to it as well. We weren't walking the path we'd started out on – the one we were taking now was the most direct route to the house, but it wasn't one often tread by humans. "It's going to work out," she said, finally. "It won't be like this forever – I promise."
"You've seen that?" I asked, a little sarcastically.
"No," she admitted. "But I've known Edward as long as you have – and, more than that, I know us. I know Carlisle and Esme and Rosalie and Emmett. We're a family and we've made it through worse than this before." I snorted a laugh involuntarily. She was, no doubt, referring to one of my indiscretions. "She's just a girl. He can handle this and, if he can't, then we'll do what we always do when someone slips up – we'll deal with it and move on."
I shook my head, a little sadder for having heard her words. She, the thing I loved most in the world, was completely misunderstanding my nightmare. "Alice, it's unbearable. Rosalie is so angry – Edward is so conflicted. It's difficult enough to deal with my own thirst, let alone the aftermath of his, and it's so strong. Carlisle has never been more afraid – not even when he worries about my mistakes. Esme? The last week has been one of the worst in her life, and she tried to commit suicide." Alice flinched. That wasn't a story we often discussed. "She was torn apart. I think…I think I need to be away from all of this for a while." I formed the last sentence very carefully, letting each word dissipate before moving on to the next.
"Would you like us to go away for a while?" she asked. I could hear the concentration in her voice as she tried not to probe into my thoughts – to see what I was going to say. More than that, though, I could hear what it was costing her to offer to leave. Alice loved me, and she would do whatever I asked of her, no matter what the personal pain would be. She wouldn't want to leave Edward unprotected, or to force Esme and Carlisle to say goodbye to both of us, but I knew she would, if that's what I needed.
Strangely, she smiled.
"Alice," I said, my voice softer now. "I think," I hesitated. "I think I need to go away for a little while – alone."
She stopped.
I stopped too, taking hold of her shoulders and leaning down to look into her eyes. "You can't help seeing them. You'll channel their future and you'll bring them with you." I was right, and she knew it. No matter how distantly related we felt to Tonya's family, after spending any length of time with them, their future, however mundane, would creep into her visions when we left Denali. There was nothing she could do about it, but it didn't make the saying it any easier.
"I understand," she said. Her voice was normal, but the pause between my words and hers was too long for me to believe she hadn't been cut by my words. I looked at her sadly, narrowing my eyes against the lie. "No, really – I understand," she repeated, sounding more sincere this time. "Just, please, come home and explain to everyone. You don't have to go into detail, just promise them that you'll be back."
"Alice," I scolded, drawing back from her. "You know I'll come back."
She looked at her shoes.
Speaking gentler now, I crouched down to see her, eye to eye and tilted her chin up so she faced me. "Stop trying to protect me. Close your eyes. You'll see it. I'm coming back."
Her eyes closed and she concentrated – concentrated on me, on the family, on the future – but before she could wander too far past the very real moment we were in, she stepped forward and locked me in a tight embrace. "I don't need my visions to know you're coming home," she whispered.
We walked for a few more minutes, talking idly about our lives – me trying to understand where she was coming from – why she had this herculean confidence in Edward that not even her glimpses into the future could shatter. After awhile, the conversation died out – not in an uncomfortable way, just in the way a conversation often did between two people who were truly capable of agreeing to disagree.
"We should probably get going," she said, gesturing toward the little chinks of light that slid into view between the trees. It wasn't anywhere near dark yet, but too much time had passed, everyone else would be long since at home.
"I think I'll hunt some," I said, letting my gaze wander into the trees.
"Jasper…" There was a warning in her tone – almost maternal.
"No, really, it's OK. I just need some time to clear my head, and it's been a long week."
Alice left at a sprint and, the further she got, the easier it became to block out her feelings from my mind. Here, in the forest, there was nothing I could feel but my own emotions. It was the only way to really sort through what I was feeling at any given time. I stayed where I was, standing in the middle of the snowy path, flipping through my own emotions like they were someone elses. The experience was still foreign to me.
I felt…concerned. But I also felt…relieved. And under that, there was…frustration. Mostly I felt…scared. But was I scared of myself, or of Edward?
Somewhere in the distance, I caught a whiff of something living – something large enough to peak my interest. A deer?
I crouched and sprung.
When I came home, coming in through the open window wall, Edward was gone. Alice said that he and Carlisle had gone out hunting, which didn't seem odd to me, until mentioned that he was looking for me before he asked for Carlisle. True to form, though, she had me distracted before I could contemplate that oddity for very long. "Jazz," she was arguing, toying with the zipper on her hooded sweatshirt teasingly. "You can't leave without saying goodbye to the boys – and there's really no reason to upset Esme prematurely. I mean," she unbuttoned my top button. "she's been through so much lately."
"Alice," I said, bracingly, taking hold of her hand gently and pulling it away. She blew a frustrated sigh threw her lips, knocking a strand of fallen hair out of her eyes and I smiled.
"Fine," she retorted, retrieving the remote and flopping onto the couch. I laid down across its length, resting my head in her lap. She entwined her fingers in my hair, staring out the window. I knew what she was thinking about, because I was thinking about it to. From the day that Alice and I met so many years ago, we'd never been apart for more than a few hours. She'd left before, and I certainly left as well, but we always left together – no matter how much security we could take in knowing the outcome of the separation, being apart was simply too hard. We avoided it at all costs.
Feeling her worry, I rolled onto my back and smiled up at her. "I love you, silly thing," I said, reaching up to tweak her nose. She let the corners of her lips curl, a look in her eyes like she was trying to memorize the moment.
"Jazz," she said, but I smiled wider, shaking my head.
"I know," I whispered, catching her hand and kissing each of her fingertips in turn.
The door opening downstairs made both of us jump. I moved to get up. The moment was over, it was time to tell them, but Alice stopped me. "Don't bother," she said softly, "Carlisle has to go into work."
A few minutes later, Alice got up, gingerly putting a pillow under my head. She knew I didn't want to go downstairs – that I was afraid seeing Edward would clip my focus, causing me to reveal more than I intended. Laying on the couch, arms crossed on my chest, listening to the sounds of my family shuffling around the house, I inhaled the crisp, clean forest air that streamed in, tainted with snow and switched the channel to something that might have a chance at holding my attention. I never watched tv, really. Little human melodramas so lauded in sitcoms seemed so inane when faced with the reality in which I lived. I wondered, idly, if they seemed equally pointless to the humans watching them.
After a while, the door opened again and I felt a new emotion enter the house – followed by Alice's increased sadness. They're moods changed over the next few moments. The frequent shifts implied they were having a serious conversation and then Alice began showing him what she saw, because her emotions – usually very easy to read – started to flux from one instant to the next. Then, Edward's voice, a whisper too low for me to hear the words, but a mummer none the less, was joined by Alice's own whispers and followed by her footsteps, first up the stairs – then down them at nearly a run. I cringed.