Everything was... fuzzy. My head felt all at once too heavy and too light, like it was floating inches above the pillow while sinking miles beneath. I didn't feel drunk, no, not even tipsy, and the remaining high was muted and easy to push aside. The weird anti-gravity head feeling, that was closer to pain than anything else. Running over my skull, underneath the scalp, beating along with my heart, was an edging ache that radiated down into my molars; not a strong pain, nor a sharp one, probably not even pain, exactly, but that was the word I had for it. And- wait, wait, I couldn't be in a bed; I wasn't home.
No, no I wasn't home because I never got home, I never got into bed. How was I in a bed if I never went to bed? If I... never... got out of the... forest.
My heart shot out of my chest and I shot up soon after, clutching to my chest the softest sheets I'd ever felt. I was alive. I was alive! Carlisle didn't kill me! Oh god, oh sweet, sweet, merciful god. I wiggled my toes, just cause I could, and those sheets were soft from every direction, Jesus. I let my eyes adjust to the light that seeped in behind the heavy curtains, a yellow light that seemed more midday than morning and fell across the hardwood floor in a way that most closely resembled waves over a rocky shore.
The rest of the room was just as elegant as the windows. A plush throw rug at the side of the bed, a cherry nightstand with a twisted metal lamp and glass shade, two white bookshelves filled to the brim, a large modern desk so pristine in its organization I felt breathing on it would muss it up. There were other decorations, a few framed posters on the walls, and a pair of folding doors I assumed led into a closet. I noticed how large the room actually was, hell, it had a small second level inset into the floor and a window seat.
Over by the door, which I only turned to after pulling the covers up to my chin, were a pair of white armchairs – someone was sitting in one. Instead of scream – I remembered wasted Etta doing a lot of that – a wave of pure exhaustion washed through me, I closed my eyes, and sighed.
I was so tired, I was so tired. Of being scared of the Cullens, of thinking of plans, of throwing those plans into the dust when I inevitably freaked out and lost all my shit, of everything. It was so easy when it was all hypothetical, I'd felt cool as a cucumber, like I could take on this world and everything in it; I'd had all these plots and workarounds and little cheats, and the moment they mattered I forgot all about them, got lazy, panicked, got stupid. When was the last time I decided something with a roll of a die? After confronting Alice and Edward, fuck, I should've carried that thing with me everywhere, used it for everything, but I got... scared, somehow scared and cocky at the same time.
Edward couldn't read my mind, 98% sure of that one, but that didn't protect me from Alice! Sure, I hadn't told them I knew they were vampires, but I planned on it, eventually. I planned on a confrontation at some point, so she obviously saw it and obviously told them I knew. Not to mention, not calling the cops about a freaky boy watching me sleep – not telling my dad – was fucking weird, okay? Normal people would've called the cops, especially when said cops, cop, lived in their own goddamn home.
Normal people would've never moved back to Forks.
Normal people would've stayed dead.
Sheets still clutched in white-knuckled hands I opened my eyes and examined the Cullen who was staring so intently at me from across the room,"Hi Jasper."
He'd spent a good half of his life – his death, rather – as a soldier. Under Maria he used his ability to control and eventually dispose of the newborn vampires she used to win her wars, but that wasn't all he used it for. With practice, and he'd had decades of it, he was able to hook onto emotional signatures, track specific humans or vampires, watch them without watching them. It was survival.
He was so used to relying on his powers that to be in the dark, to be without them, was startling and unsettling and made sitting in a room with the probable cause all the more uncomfortable. Forget the fact they'd never spoken, forget even that Loretta's Swan's blood held no sway over him, a blind spot was a blind spot, was an itch he couldn't scratch and a weakness he couldn't stand. Jasper Whitlock read emotion like Edward read thoughts or Alice read the future, he depended on it perhaps a bit more than he should, more than his other senses, and with Loretta Swan that was nothing but a mistake.
He wasn't used to being surprised, no vampire was ever truly surprised by a human, but when the girl in Alice's bed shot up like a bullet he nearly jumped. If he had been listening to her heartbeat that wouldn't have happened, but the sound often made his thirst ratchet up in intensity so he spent most of his time trying to block it out, instead relying on minute flickers of emotion to monitor truth and lies and everything in between.
As shown mere seconds earlier, such tactics were useless in the face of Loretta Swan's oddity.
Keeping his eyes on her, Jasper let a few words escape his lips too low and too quick for human ears to pick up, "She's awake." Vampire hearing ensured everyone would catch his whisper.
Esme and Carlisle, he knew, were waiting in the hall by the stairs; they were so close the emotions of one seeped into and fed off the feelings of the other, and right then a spike of anticipation cut through the cloud of combined dread, confusion, worry, and curiosity. Congregated on the first floor were the rest of his coven, all stewing in their own distinct flavour of intrigue and concern.
Edward, of course, had an undercurrent of self-flagellation twisting up his insides, apparently finding a way to blame himself for their current predicament. Rose, on the other hand, was nearly past boiling over, her rage only overshadowed momentarily by a deep, trembling fear packed tense under her feet. Everyone held at least a small measure of annoyance towards Alice, and while the short vampire appeared to be taking it in stride Jasper felt the toll those glares were having on her. Though, if he was allowed a moment of honesty, he wasn't too pleased with her decisions either; how could a human knowing about them be a good thing?
"Let me talk to her first," Carlisle said, his voice just as soft. "We don't know what state she'll be in and overwhelming her will make everything more difficult."
Rosalie's scoff echoed through the house.
Jasper's attention was brought back to the human girl in his best friend's bed when that human let out a particularly emotive sigh. Then, instead of screaming or trying to run away – both being things Carlisle assured them happened multiple times in the woods, Loretta Swan stared him right in the eye and said hello. Again, he wasn't used to being shocked, but this human managed it twice in five minutes.
He felt Carlisle lingering just beyond the edge of the doorway, out of sight but certainly listening, and Jasper wondered exactly where this meeting would go. He knew Alice had been intrigued by the human for a long while, and now he was following in her footsteps; curiosity seemed to be everyone's vice – at least, everyone except Rosalie.
He met the human girl's eyes steadily, didn't blink, didn't even bother to breathe, but he did tilt his head in a small greeting. Carlisle said he should talk first and Jasper was going to let him.
Loretta Swan looked a little perturbed though she said nothing of it, just kept her grip tight in the blankets and stared him down in turn. That's when Carlisle rounded the corner into the room, a muted sigh of exasperation clinging to his mouth.
"Good morning, Miss Swan," he said, smiling, his hands clasped at the small of his back.
Jasper let his gaze track the nervous gulp as it travelled down the girl's throat, noticed her white knuckles relax against the deep purple comforter, caught the way her pinprick pupils dilated, and he strained his ability against the void she was, trying fruitlessly to understand. He could see the reactions just fine, but he'd never had to actually read them before – he'd always had his sense to tell him, to nudge him in the right direction.
Her tongue darted out to wet her chapped lips and she said, "Good morning... or, uh, is it really still morning?"
Carlisle made a show of checking his watch, a leather strapped thing he wore on his right wrist, "Ten twenty-seven. Yes, still morning."
Loretta Swan nodded slowly, "My dad, he, well, he's probably really worried about me, I mean, I told him I'd be home and..."
"We called him," said Carlisle, "He was upset, understandably so, when we told him we found you wandering the streets, but we convinced him it would be alright if you stayed overnight."
Another nod. "So that's what you said, huh," her voice was lilting, casual, "That you found me on the road somewhere. You say I was drunk?"
Jasper stood, human speed, but she still darted her eyes across him at the movement. There wasn't really a reason for him to be there, if he were being honest. If his power worked, sure, he could keep the girl calm, pliable, susceptible to suggestion and honesty, but without it he was nothing more than set decoration. Carlisle apparently felt differently, for when Jasper made to leave he caught him gently by the arm and shook his head; another motion so small and so fast Loretta Swan would never notice. Jasper stayed, but didn't sit back down.
Managing to look disapproving, like the father he played and the coven leader he was, Carlisle replied, "Yes. He's expecting a call, actually, we said we'd have you phone once you woke up." She began to pat at her pockets, had one hand poised to shove the covers back, when he cleared his throat – in his left hand, held up so she could see, was her cell phone.
Jasper watched as Loretta Swan's face drained of the little colour it had, but she refused to falter. "Well, at least that means you won't kill me yet."
"We aren't going to hurt you, Miss Swan," Carlisle told her, "And we aren't going to keep you here against your will, we just want to ask you a few questions. Once we talk, you can make your call and be on your way."
She gulped again, "What kind of questions?"
"I think you know, Miss Swan."
"Is he here to keep me calm?" She asked, and gestured awkwardly to where Jasper stood at Carlisle's side, "Cos, y'know, he's not doing a very good job."
Silence, a pause, as the two vampires once again adjusted to one human girl uncovering their secrets. Alice's power, they knew she was aware of, but Jasper's too? What else? She knew their species, their abilities, what about their pasts? Was it only them? How much of anything, everything, did she know?
More importantly, it seemed Loretta Swan didn't know she nullified all their enhanced senses.
Jasper felt Carlisle's indecision as fog clouding the vampire's normally clear heart. He appreciated honesty, they all saw the value in it, but this was an opportunity. Loretta Swan had already revealed so much because she thought they knew and were after her, what else would she divulge if they kept her believing that?
In the end, it was Carlisle's decision, and Jasper couldn't find it in him to be surprised at what he chose.
"To be frank, yes, that is usually Jasper's role," Carlisle said, "However you seem to be singularly equipped to negate his influence."
She was quiet, eerily so, for a good while, before, "Are you telling me he can't feel my emotions?"
He nodded, and Jasper flicked his eyes to the side.
"Can – can Edward read my mind?"
"No, he cannot."
Another space filled with only Loretta Swan's shaky breath. "What about Alice?" She asked softly, waveringly, "Can she see my future?"
"No."
This was a blow. He saw it hit, too, saw it cave her rib cage in and steal the air from her lungs."I fucking outed myself, didn't I?" She choked.
It was kind of pitiful, her distraught realization that she'd brought this upon herself.
Carlisle thought so too. At least, he felt some measure of disbelieving sympathy. "I'm afraid so, Miss Swan," he said.
With every answer she'd deflated in fractions, but that was the last she could take. All her bravado, her bluster, was pushed out and what remained was a girl who looked so impossibly old. In the eyes, in the set of her mouth, as if years weighed on her the same way they weighed on each of Jasper's coven-mates. How did she make seventeen look so world-weary?
Carlisle's eyes were soft, understanding, and there was tempered steel beneath his tone as he continued, "I've been honest with you, Miss Swan. I can only hope you'll return the favour."
Her head moved up and down in short jerks – a nod, but only just, "Yeah."
"Do you mind if I sit?" Carlisle asked, waving to the chair Jasper had sat in earlier.
"No," her voice was whisper quiet, and a mirthless laugh crawled out of her throat, "It's your house."
"Yes, but courtesy can always be offered," he said, settling into the cushion, "Now, I know my children have a few questions they'd like to ask you later, but we'll start with mine."
Jasper took that moment to move towards the door. Slowly, as not to startle the human girl or make Carlisle think he was running away, just enough to convey how much he really did not care to be there. Carlisle nodded, a tiny movement Loretta Swan wouldn't see, and he took that as a dismissal.
Leaving the room in one smooth stride Jasper saw Esme leaning gently against the wall, hidden from both Carlisle and the human, glass of water in hand, listening to the exchange. She smiled softly and tilted her head, curiosity draped over her like a blanket, a question shone through her gaze – why was he leaving?
"I'm not needed," he said, barely a whisper.
Esme's amusement was a delicate halo brushing against his skin.
As Jasper descended the staircase his coven-mates, conversing in half breaths around the coffee table, fixed him with imploring looks. They heard everything, obviously, thanks to vampire senses, but there was still hope he could've broken through whatever supernatural wall Loretta Swan had built. He shook his head, and they all sank lower in their seats. Lowering himself into the empty space next to Rosalie, Jasper kept his attention on the conversation starting in Alice's room. Despite the soundproofing, the door was open – every word was clear as day.
I watched Jasper leave, my eyes wide and unblinking. Was I grey? I bet I was grey. My face, not my hair. My cheeks felt cold, like there was no blood in them; despite my tan I could still go dreadfully pale. I clenched and unclenched my fists.
Jasper was gone. It was only me and Carlisle, and an ocean of space between us that didn't feel nearly wide enough. His gold eyes – and they were gold, I was done trying to fool myself with words like amber or caramel – chips of some precious stone, unyielding even as his mouth smiled a minute, comforting smile.
He had his ankle crossed over his knee, was leaning back as he regarded me, and I noticed belatedly that his skin was almost an exact match to the colour of the upholstery. I saw the black plastic of my phone peeking out of his fingers, taunting me, letting me know I was trapped.
"Miss Swan," his voice like honey, sweet and smooth and curdling on the back of my tongue, "How do you know about us?"
I shifted to the edge of the bed, plush sheets drawing lightly against my legs, "You're not going to believe me..."
"If it's some sort of power-"
I cut him off, too quickly, "It's not."
"It's alright to be afraid," Carlisle said, and for fucks sake why did he look like he cared so much? "Enhancements, abilities, they're not easy to cope with, especially as a human. We can help you, if you let us."
"No, I'm not-" I struggled for the words, annoyed that there were tears prickling my eyes, "I don't have any power, okay? I just – I-" Why wasn't I lying? They were giving me an out, they had dropped it in my lap with a nice little bow. I could go along with their idea and say I... I don't know, say I could see the future like Alice or something. Why wasn't I doing that?
I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling and blinked away the wetness before looking back at the vampire, the one who was interrogating me as nicely has he could. He was young. Not really, not in actual age, but physically. How old was he when he was turned, twenty-three? I was near that, or older, when whatever it was happened to me, when my whole world had been remade and I'd had to start over.
The same thing happened to him, happened to all the Cullens. Not exactly, but in essence. They died and were reborn and could never go back to their old lives, could never see their loved ones again, could never un-know what they knew, what they saw, what they were.
I wanted somebody, anybody, to finally understand.
"Miss Swan?"
"I died." It came out stern, loud, heavy on my tongue. "I don't remember how, or why, or how old I was, but I died."
Carlisle sat. He didn't try to fill the space I left, didn't interject again with his own assumptions, he just sat there and looked at me with those awful, gorgeous eyes.
I breathed in shakily, "I woke up, after, and I was – I wasn't me, anymore. I was a baby. I had new eyes and new muscles and a voice that wouldn't make words. I couldn't tell anyone, no one would believe me if I tried..." Tears were pooling again; this time I didn't stop them. They spilled over down my cheeks as I stared at Carlisle, my lips trembling, my shoulders shaking.
He waited, patiently watching, though there was a crease forming between his brows. Whether it was more pitying concern or disbelief, I couldn't tell.
"And I was devastated, and scared, but Renee and Charlie were – are – good parents, they tried so hard," I said, "When their baby girl wouldn't cry or crawl they were so worried, they cried and fought, and I learned to be a kid for them, so they wouldn't cry or fight about me anymore; it wasn't their fault their baby was all fucked up.
"But I still remembered," I felt teardrops drip onto the backs of my hands, my chest all knotted up. "Not well, not as much as I should, but I did – I do." I was gasping, then, maybe panicking, maybe hyperventilating, but air wasn't coming in right. I slowed down my breathing, counted the seconds to calm myself down; all down my shoulders and spine was tense. "And, before this, in my first life, Before, there was this... woman."
Carlisle opened his mouth, but I barrelled right on over him.
"She wrote a story, a book – four books – about this stupid, boring bitch named Bella moving to Forks and nearly getting eaten by some broody, boring vampire because she smelled so damn good."
"Miss Swan..."
I was talking fast enough a human probably would've had comprehension problems, "And this vampire had a family, a family of sparkly, veggie-vamps with magic powers like mind-reading and future-seeing and emotion-feeling, and then broody-face and boring Bella fell in love and they went on a bunch of stupid, melodramatic detours on their way to getting married and-"
"Miss Swan," Carlisle was louder, this time. Not yelling, not even raising his voice, but like he was talking right in my ear. Again, I ignored him.
"-There was this weird pro-life agenda in the last two books and this baby fucking ate it's way out of Bella's goddamn uterus and-"
A hand was on my shoulder. My eyes focused again, taking me out of the weird haze I'd found myself in, and Esme was leaning over me with worry brushed over her face. "Take a few deep breaths, alright dear?" She said, and handed me a glass of water. "Small sips, then we can sort this out together."
I took the glass with both hands, not sure I wouldn't spill all over with how I was shaking, and forced myself to do as Esme said. The water soothed my scratchy throat, cooled the heat in my chest, washed the dry, old puke taste away. I watched Carlisle over his wife's shoulder. He was perturbed, it was obvious in the set of his jaw, the tilt of his mouth; I wondered if he believed me. Hell, I knew all the others were probably in the house, probably heard every word I spewed – I wondered if any of them believed me.
Esme sat down next to me on top of the covers and rubbed her hang up-and-down my back. Two sides of myself warred, then; one wanted to recoil, the other wanted to lean into to the touch and accept that reassurance she was offering.
"There, feeling better?" She asked.
I nodded, then gave into my more terrified half and scooted away from her. As I moved I noticed the knees of my jeans, the dirt stains from last night stark against the light denim, and my stomach churned, there was transfer smeared all over the bed. I'd gone and gotten some vampire's bed all dirty.
Carlisle had his elbows on his knees and leaned forward intently, "Are you saying you've been... reincarnated?"
Again, I nodded meekly.
"Well," he sighed, "This isn't exactly what we were expecting."
"You believe me?"
"Not really, no," he said, "The idea is pretty out there, and the idea that you know about us because of some book series is even more so."
Sticking my thumbnail into my mouth and chewing, I muttered, "I don't know how to convince you..."
Esme shot Carlisle a look, "We believe that you believe it, dear. We have a good eye for lies, even without our children's abilities."
I looked between them, "How else could you explain what I know?"
"I don't know," Carlisle admitted. He looked older, somehow, wearier.
"Tell us more about these books, first," Esme said, doing her best to look inviting and harmless, "Tell us what you think you know, and we'll go from there."
I didn't know what to say to that. Would that be a good idea? What about, I don't know, the timeline? Wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey, right? Carlisle still held my phone, and I remembered I still had to call my dad. "What about my dad?" I asked quietly. "Shouldn't I call him now?"
Carlisle nodded, "Yes, you should. Tell him we'll drive you home."
"I..." I started, "I know he won't be happy with me. Hell, he'll be pissed – really pissed. How are you gonna get the answers you want if I'm under house arrest?"
"Have you told anyone else about us?" He asked.
Shaking my head so violently my vision blurred, I was quick to deny it, "No, no! I haven't told anyone!"
"Then we can wait." He tossed me my phone and it landed soundly in my lap. "Call your father."
I gulped. Why did I bring that up? I didn't want to call him, honestly. Charlie-Dad was going to be angry, very angry, super-duper angry, especially if Carlisle had told him I was utterly wasted when he found me. With nervous fingers I flipped the phone open and pressed two, the speed-dial number for home. Esme and Carlisle were both watching me, unblinking.
Charlie-Dad picked up on the first ring and didn't let me get a word in edgewise before saying, low and flat, "Loretta Jane Swan, you are in so much trouble."
AN: Okay, there we go. Sorry this is so late. I do not have my life together, so, I'm a mess and I'm not good with schedules. We're getting to the point of the story where I really wish I'd done more than a rough plot outline before starting to post, ha. Anyway! Thank you so much to everyone who checked out the blog (lorettastwilight dot tumblr dot com) and sent asks and reviewed the last chapter, it means so much. Hope y'all are having a good March.
Oh, also, would anyone be interested in a Harry Potter OC story? Or would you rather I just keep my focus on this? I've been getting some inspiration for an SI-as-Ginny story, and I'm wondering if anyone would be into that.