This chapter was kind of hard to write for me (except for the end) because I couldn't figure out many INTERESTING things to happen in this chapter. This is unfortunate, because I'm itching to get to later chapters that may involve Jasper (or Major Whitlock, w/e) straight up killing some dudes. At least one dude, who is an actual canon character! ZOMG.

I guess I just needed a chapter to set things up. I also couldn't decide from which POV to do the last part from. Yeah, this has some of Bella's POV. I know some of you (other than Claire Sail) are all, "But Testament, Bella is apparently dead! How on Earth can she have a POV?" Well…just read. And Review. Seriously, it'll answer all your questions. Well, probably not.

Bella's POV

I stood there in the quiet room, watching the preternaturally beautiful man hold the silent, pale girl. In faint light, they both looked unnatural to me. The whole room had been tainted with a sad, blue tinge. But, at the same time, it was sort of lovely. I somehow realized that I had been standing there for what seemed like a while...

What's going on...? What am I doing...?

At that point, I wasn't even sure of what, let alone who, I was. I felt as if I were just a mind, if that; just a disembodied point of view. The only thing that obvious to me was that I had been here for some time, but was only just becoming vaguely aware of myself. I was not sure when I got here, when I'd become aware of myself or why. However, I now realized that I could observe what was happening here. First, I examined the young man; only he did not seem young at all. I felt as if I could see into him, perceive more than the physical form I was watching and right now, he was almost completely made up of despair and confusion, though he was being strong.

Two worlds played through his mind; parallel and overwhelming. Similar memories, almost identical, and too many for one mind to handle. They were gory and self sabotaging...I couldn't decipher them properly; they were foggy through the red cloud of lust and rage and need. He spiraled out of control, trying to gain control of himself but in the end it was useless and the red torrent of his insanity turned into a cold, monochrome nightmare.

Maybe he could have prevented whatever was hurting them, whatever had made her so unresponsive and unmoving. But he had so much trouble doing so that he had succumbed to his instincts. I felt sorry for him, in a distant, uncommitted way. His remorse was almost tangible to me. He was unintentionally projecting it; though at the time I didn't see why that would be abnormal.

Can you see me, too? At the moment, it didn't make a difference to me whether he did or not; but sometimes he would look around, as if he knew someone was here. Once, he even stared straight in my direction; straight into me, I thought. But I could tell by the lack of recognition in his crimson eyes that he was just looking through me, and he grimaced subtly (though, I could tell the expression was significant to him—as evidenced by the stoic demeanor he usually kept) before looking away, back at the cold figure cradled in his arms.

Those red eyes regarded her with a strange, subtle sadness. I knew he was feeling so much more than he let on, even when he seemed to think he was alone. He stoked the girl's pale face with such regret in his handsome features. I felt marginally worse for him.

This had happened before…she'd gone from rosy, bright, and animate to cold, frail, and just as stark white as him; only she didn't move or feel or think anymore. She was gone, but he was still here.

He had been tortured by a presence unheard and unnoticed by anyone other than himself, a living but intangible relic of the past. And somehow it had led all the way up to this sad embrace with the shell of a person he held tightly in his arms. I was reminded of something I read, a long time ago... what was it?

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

I'd read it many times. I'd loved it, in fact…what was it?

My attention was stolen by a familiar voice, a voice that somehow promised reunion. Gentle, sweet...

"Bella..." She called. It was my grandmother. I wasn't sure of who I was then, but I recognized the voice of my grandmother better than I would have recognized my own.

"Sweetheart, it's time to go..."Her voice was so kind and loving; I'd missed it so much. I knew that, too. I wasn't exactly hearing her, but at the same time she wasn't only in my head. And while I could not see where she was leading me, I 'knew' where it was. I knew all I had to say was, 'yes, grandma,' and I would be there with her.

The blond man jerked just a little, as if in response to something. I briefly thought he'd heard my grandmother's voice. He froze and listened; yes, he could hear something I could not. But as the sun, smothered by gray clouds, peeked over the treetops I could assume the world was waking up.

Waking up without me...

Please don't leave me behind...

"Bella!"She called again, worried, as if sensing my moment of sadness.

Bella. So, that must be my name. I hadn't even wondered before she'd called me, My name is Bella and my grandmother is calling me, she wants me with her...

What are their names?I wondered as I watched him spend a brief but profound moment regarding her, the way held her almost Pietà-style; but before I could process it, he was swiftly gathering things from a suitcase. You're quick...And more than just in physical speed,I was fascinated by how instantaneously he could switch from sentimental to cold and serious. How are you doing that...?

He snatched a small ring of keys that jingled in a pleasing way, there were feelings imbued in them and the sound they made…kindness, generosity, nostalgia… and I decided: I needed to know what was going on here, more about those feelings and this world I was about to leave. I even wanted to know how this story ended. I even cared, on some strange personal level, about what happened to this young man...

"Not yet, grandma..." I called back, and I followed him instead.

Jasper's POV

I lay where I was for the last couple of hours before the day started. The time flew by as I thought about Bella and what I had done; all the while straining to identify whatever this presence I felt around me was. When I heard the Chief stirring downstairs, I jerked back to the here and now and listened. Son of a bitch! I lost track of time. How the hell could I lose track of time?

Carefully, I stood up with Bella. Again, she caught my eye and not because of the disturbing image of her stillness and death. That wound on her neck, the one I left: it looked somewhat shallower and smaller. It was fading. Healing! As much as I wanted to mull that over, Bella's father was rolling over and threatening to drag himself out of bed. A quiet, annoyed growl formed deep in my chest and I quickly grabbed the keys the Major had pointed out to me and darted down the stairs. I didn't bother faking footsteps, since Bella probably would have been downstairs by now. I did make sure the sound of the door opening and closing rang through the house and took my time getting to what I could now tell was a 50's era Chevy. There was no time to check it out, though its apparent age intrigued me a little bit. I got in and carefully laid Bella in the back seat. I'd just have to avoid larger cars that could see into the cab of the truck.

'Where are you even going?'It seemed I had an especially cynical side that decided to join the mental party. 'There's nowhere to go.'

But there was, the way I saw it. I'd go back to the Cullens, no matter what the consequences were, as long as I got help for Bella. Hell, I'd almost settle for just some answers or even one of Carlisle's usually accurate theories. Besides, I wasn't rejoining them or planning on staying any longer than I had to.

At the very least they could keep her hidden. My little ruse wouldn't last past this afternoon, until nightfall at the very best, depending on when Chief Swan got home. He'd be expecting her back at some point, obviously. But Carlisle was considered an upstanding citizen, and we never gave anyone any trouble.

'Not until now.'

Still, everyone could tell we were different. And the old Quileute was the Chief Swan's friend. He'd convince him that we were suspects. I smirked bitterly as the classic image of an angry mob; torches, pitchforks, and all marching towards the Cullen house flashed through my mind. That'd go over well.

I took the most remote roads that I could. My sense of hearing allowed me to avoid other cars. It also allowed me to detect that something wasn't right as I pulled into the small road leading to the Cullen house and parked behind the strange, modern structure.

The house was too quiet, even for a 'school' or work day. I could sense its emptiness from here, the only activity being Esme's somber concern in the air. She was the only one there. I knew the others wouldn't be returning.

I got out of the car, keeping my face blank. It wasn't hard. I was surprisingly unaffected by their apparent departure, and I wasn't afraid to face what I had done. Esme was cautious as she approached. I didn't hear her step out, but I could feel her apologetic stare on me as I took Bella out of the car. I wondered what her face would look like when I turned around, carrying a dead girl—a dead girl I murdered, no less—around like some kind of doll. Even though she probably already knew exactly what had happened, there was nothing like actually seeing one of Alice's more grim visions come to its conclusion.

It was like looking at a ghost. For a moment, I wasn't looking at Esme.

"Jasper." I was trying to leave for the battle early, even for a soldier, before everyone woke up. Nothing could get past my mother, though. I'd said my goodbyes, made my arrangements just in case…But I couldn't watch my family huddle on the porch to see me off, looking at me and silently begging me not to go; projecting their sorrow and fear all the way to the battle field. I didn't want to bring it with me.

"Please don't go." She'd changed her mind, "stay with us. I don't care if they think you're a deserter. Please don't…" She couldn't finish her sentence, choking on a stifled sob though I could see tears beginning to burn her eyes. I wonder if she somehow knew that she'd never see me again.

Her eyes, black from thirst and restlessness, no doubt, still held an apologetic sorrow. She felt like she'd failed me, and the girl. She looked down to Bella, broken looking and diminutive looking in only my shirt and stepped forward.

"Oh, Jasper…" She threw her arms around me—us, really—and sobbed. It was a strange, choked sound but I'd heard it before. I hadn't heard it from her, "I was hoping…I didn't think this would happen…I'm so sorry."

My face didn't change, but I felt guilty for having steeled myself for this. I wasn't sure exactly what she was talking about, but I knew I'd let her down.

"I believe in you, Jasper. You'll do the right thing."

She'd had faith in me and found out the hard way that it was gravely misplaced. Yet she blamed herself.

"Come with us…" She'd changed her mind, too. "We'll manage somehow…"

I shook my head, but I tried to ease her guilt and reassure her with my ability, "I can't go with you, Esme. If I'm not part of the Olympic Coven, you can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Carlisle and I will come check on you…once we get everyone safe." Even my gift couldn't completely ease her grief, "where will you go?"

"I don't know yet." Her attention was back on Bella, stroking her hair mournfully, "I'll find you, though, once everything settles down."

"But you won't stay with us." She stifled another broken cry. I wondered if I'd never see her again, too.

"No."

"I-If you change your mind…"

"I know, Esme. Thank you."

She held onto me again and cried for as long as my own mother had.

The little bit of poem Bella was remembering was "Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allan Poe. But you knew that.