-MAISIE-

Jett was a learning experience for both of us in every way. I mean, Jasper had to learn everything about caring for a baby in a very short time. Between being twelve years older than Ava and babysitting here and there in high school, I had the basics down…for a human baby, anyway.

Though he did not grow at an alarming and insane rate as Jennifer and her sisters had, Jett's cognitive and motor skills were… advanced, to say the least. That boy had smiled from the first day we met him, something only older babies typically did, and he had always been vocal. Rolling over at around a month old wasn't too unheard of, but he quickly progressed after learning that little trick.

Rolling entertained him for about a week. Jett would roll from front to back and back to front, seeking praise and smiling all the while. By the end of that week, though, he was holding his head up with ease, laying prone on his belly and smiling up at us.

"You're too much," I told him, watching the way he flailed his arms and legs while lying on his stomach on a blanket in the living room floor, laughing all the while. That new move was worthy of a video I sent out to basically everyone. Along with these new motor skills came a voracious appetite. It was to the point that Jasper and I kept bottles prepped with powder formula, ready for distilled water to be added and shook up at a moment's notice. Unless, of course, he was drinking blood; he was up to two full bottles a day on that front.

"He may be more vampiric than Aro initially predicted," Jasper mused. We had mailed the ancient book that Jasper had based his research around to the Volturi's P.O. box—which really existed, and I had been laughing about it since we sent it off—shortly after returning to Alaska. In return, we had gotten a thank you note penned in Aro's own hand on a luxe, creamy piece of heavy paper. He waxed poetic for a bit about our bravery and what good hearts we had to take Jett into our home. At the bottom was an 'invitation' to return to Italy following the new year.

Jett would be nearly four months old when we returned to Italy. Were he more on track with human development, I would have thought the time frame too soon for Aro to observe any new developments. As he grew, though, it was obvious Jett was going to be full of energy and movement.

"I thought babies spent more time sleeping than this," Jasper commented, standing just behind me with a hand trailing along my hip. We were watching Jett's newest stunt. "Do they not?"

"Human babies do."

He was laying beneath the wooden play gym Esme and Alice bought him, kicking and hitting the toys that dangled above him. The little stuffed elephant had been elusive for Jett, the string of that toy slightly shorter than the rest. After giving it a valiant effort to smack the toy, Jett gave up and moved on to the easier prey of the giraffe beside it. His arms and legs wheeled above him, much to the abuse of the poor giraffe. One hit sent the toy sideways, knocking into the pesky elephant.

Jett turned his head, tracking the flight with his big hazel eyes, and erupted in triumphant giggles when the elephant finally shook the way all the other toys did.

"Don't quote me because I'm not a baby expert, but I've never seen a two-month-old behave this way." Tipping my head back, I just caught Jasper's contemplative nod. His face was a calm mask, but his golden irises were tight; this was his thinking face. I leaned against Jasper, turning my attention back to Jett and his playing. "At least we know he'll tire himself out and sleep well at night."

Tire himself out, he did. Jett played hard every day from the moment he woke to his morning nap. Then, from his morning nap to his afternoon nap. Then, still, from afternoon nap to bath and bedtime. Our saving grace was that he did, indeed, sleep through the night, every night. I didn't want to think about how worn out we would be when Jett was actually mobile. We had fallen into a routine, the three of us.

My classes still felt weird to sit through, but thankfully Jasper had a lot of advice in that area. He had attended, like, a bajillion high schools and quite a few colleges.

"We make it our jobs to be background characters when we decided to pull the high school story," he explained. "Alice and Emmett have the hardest time with it. They like to talk to people."

Thinking back on Forks High, I had to agree. Until I became Jasper's Spanish partner, I had only ever heard Alice and Emmett speak. My sophomore year, I had three classes with Edward and had never heard him answer any questions or engage in conversation with anyone. Three. Classes.

"So, Rule Number One: Keep to Myself. God, I don't know how y'all do it. Go to high school over and over, I mean. I can't think of anything I would rather do less."

Jasper chuckled at that, tossing me another piece of Jett's clothing. Our laundry had tripled, all thanks to Jett. He really ran through his clothes, in true baby fashion.

"Lucky for you and I, mi amor, we have an eighteen-year excuse not to play the high school role." He wasn't wrong. Jett was our ticket to playing a young, unconventional family role. In eighteen years, Jett would be full-grown—or at least we hypothesized so—and Jasper and I would be unchanged. Each of us frozen at nineteen, ourselves, though I should be thirty-seven in that much time. And, well, Jasper likely should've been gone with the Civil War had Maria not found him. I didn't like thinking of either of those things, pushing them from my mind even as my stomach twisted over them.

"I knew he would be useful for something," I said instead, doing my best to smile at Jasper. If it was off in its execution, he was too much of a gentleman to call me out on it.

Keeping up with laundry was one of our nighttime tasks. Jett demanded so much attention that there was no point in attempting chores if he was still awake. Housekeeping, dinner for me, hunting for Jasper, homework for both of us: all nighttime tasks. When we first came to Alaska, Jasper had picked up a few online classes here and there 'for fun', which is easy to say when you already hold multiple degrees. Those classes had been a break for him, between his research on my condition. But now that research was finished and my fate sealed, so his classes now became his hobby when not caring for Jett.

He took on most of the baby care during the week, when I was at class and work. Though I knew I didn't technically have to work, I liked the normalcy of it. Especially once Mrs. Wortham allowed me access to the basement and taught me how to scan the old, feeble books and papers to preserve on microfiche.

I liked the cool, dimness of the basement. Even with all the old, yellowed bulbs turned on, the basement was dim in a way that reminded me of my grandmother's ancient adobe house in New Mexico.

"It's nice to have some young eyes working down here for a change," Mrs. Wortham had commented once while checking on me during my shift. Little did she know that I could have done the work with no lights, eyesight unaffected.

Sometimes Mrs. Wortham would come and sit with me for a bit, while I smoothed out papers and scanned them before returning them to their protective coverings. Then the basements smelled of old, dry paper and her floral perfume and face powder, all the scents mixing together in an oddly comforting way. It was nearly November before she had exhausted the topics of my classes, finally commenting on my engagement ring, which she had been eyeing for weeks.

"Tell me about your fiancé." Not so much a command as a request, her words gave me pause. My fingers stilled over the heavy glass sheet I sometimes used to keep the pages flat during a scan.

"His name is Jasper," I began, flicking my eyes up to peek at her. Obviously, even under regular circumstances, I would never reveal the Cullens' secret. My secret, too, now. I swallowed, thinking of Aro and his warnings. "We were partners, in our high school Spanish class. That's how we met."

I set the glass carefully over the delicate book—a rather worn journal of sorts, filled with a looping scrawl—to ready it for scanning. "He's your age, then?"

"A bit older." One hundred fifty-some-odd years older. "I was a junior, he was a senior."

"High school sweethearts," Mrs. Wortham said mildly. She lifted the glass when the light from the scanner faded, turning the page for me with hands as dry and brittle as the paper. "My husband and I were the same. This Jasper, what is he like?"

Perfect, basically. "He's a gentleman, a proper Southern boy, but he's not a push-over. Spends all his free time reading voraciously. He's a thinker and a planner, always looking ahead, like life is a big chess game. Jasper's quiet and thoughtful, not one for crowds. You wouldn't expect how funny and warm he is when he's comfortable."

"Does he go to school here, as well?"

"Um, technically. He's taking online classes."

"Not one for crowds, indeed."

"Well, it's kind of…necessary," I said, quick to defend. Too late I realized that now I would have to explain. I picked my next words carefully. "We, um—we're going to adopt his nephew, when we're both old enough. I know you have to be twenty-one, and neither of us are, but we already have him. He lives with us, I mean. His name is Jett."

I kept my eyes trained on my work though I could feel Mrs. Wortham's studious gaze on my cheek behind her thick-lensed glasses. "How old is this soon-to-be-adopted nephew?"

"Coming up on three months."

"Tell me about him. The nephew, Jett."

An image of Jett's gummy smile flit through my mind. "He's happy. And busy. I don't think he's ever sat still if he's not sleeping. He likes to play with my hair, swatting at it. I think he would run, if he could, always wheeling his legs around. Oh, no, I lied; he sits still when Jasper reads to him. But he can't be read to at night. It doesn't make him sleepy, it holds his attention."

I managed to stop myself before I added on my favorite thing Jett did. Being a hybrid, as he was, he had excellent eyesight. Jasper's scars fascinated him. His tiny hand always sought them out, mapping the geography of the scars along Jasper's throat, arms, and hands when he held Jett. My chest felt warm just at the thought of Jett's reverent exploration. But to reveal this detail would necessitate explaining how Jasper came by so many wounds in the first place.

Secrets. Everything led to secrets, now.

Mrs. Wortham was smiling, though, by the end of my description. She asked if I had pictures; I pulled out my phone immediately, scrolling through my favorites. There was much cooing over Jett. I blushed fiercely when Mrs. Wortham commented on 'what a stunning specimen' Jasper was.

"That little boy is a doll," she concluded, eyes soft as they roved over a picture of Jett sleeping. The morning sun backlit him, illuminating his wispy, fair hair into a halo above rosy cheeks and a slack o of a mouth. "I'll bet your families are thrilled with the holidays coming up, to get to spend time with such an angel."

My breath left me at the white-hot stab of pain that came with Mrs. Wortham's good intentions. Something about the elderly woman made me want to tell the truth—so much that I dared, that is.

"Um, we aren't going home. Not for Thanksgiving, for sure. Maybe Christmas? But for Thanksgiving, we're going to go to New York. Jasper's twin, Rosalie, is there for New York. She isn't Jett's mother, that's their other sister. My parents—well, my mom, anyway—she doesn't approve of me adopting Jett with Jasper after we're married and old enough. She thinks I'm ruining my life unnecessarily."

She didn't ask the obvious question, like why we had taken in Jett and not Rosalie. Or their parents, as she didn't know Jasper and Rosalie were 'adopted' themselves. Instead, she ventured forward with a question I wasn't expecting.

"And you, Maisie? Do you think you're ruining your life?"

No one had asked me that. Aro had given me no choice but to take on caring for and raising Jett. Of all the questions Jasper and I had posed to one another following our horrific visit with the Volturi, this was not one of them. And Mom? No, she hadn't even thought of such a question, I was sure.

Though surprised, the words fell from my mouth immediately. "No, of course not. But I know I'm saving his. Jett's."

Mrs. Wortham's soft, dry hands covered mine, stilling them in their work. I looked up at her, meeting her kind gaze. "And that is all that matters."

I didn't mean to cry, but I'm not sure I had a choice. The sob left my lips before I ever had a chance to clamp them shut and barricade it in my throat. Tears ran hot and furious down my cheeks. I stepped back from the table, lest my tears stain the delicate papers I was supposed to be scanning. This left an opening for Mrs. Wortham to pull me to her, enveloping me in a soft, warm hug that I melted into at once.

I knew I was no longer human, not really, but this human connection was something I desperately needed. To have this stranger, who wasn't bogged down with the gory details of how I had landed this lot in life, tell me I was doing the right thing. An unbiased observer reaffirming me was a deep and gnawing need I had not recognized until it was filled.

My thanks was offered to every potential higher power—fate, destiny, God—as I sobbed into Mrs. Wortham's shoulder.

I left the library feeling raw but hopeful. There were big, fluffy snowflakes falling, plopping first in my hair and then onto my windshield as I drove home. When I parked in the driveway, I sat for a moment, peering through those flakes smacking into the glass to watch Jasper's silhouette through the window. He was carrying Jett around as he paced back and forth, his strides bouncing as he went. I knew exactly what he was doing. Sometimes, Jett refused to rock, preferring instead to be bounced to sleep while resting his head on someone's shoulder.

The scene played out fully before me, with Jasper moving upstairs to take Jett to bed at the end of it. Only then did I leave the car, making a short sprinting effort to get to the door through the now-heavy snowfall without ending up soaked from the sopping wet flakes. I slipped through the door, abandoning my backpack and boots on the rug. Jasper was coming back down the stairs by then, looking somehow fashionably rumpled with his wrinkled shirt and tousled hair after a day of caring for Jett.

I met him halfway up the staircase, throwing myself into his arms. Were it not for his superb reflexes, we likely would have fallen and slid down the stairs. He caught me in strong arms, though, pulling me to him. I could smell baby lotion and milk on him, remnants of Jett mixing with the smell of laundry soap and Jasper's own heady, woodsy scent. With Jasper, words weren't always necessary. I opened myself to him instead, letting all the muddled emotions run free across my chest and along my limbs, no longer held tight and contained in my middle. All my fear, worry, guilt. The deep, mourning sadness I felt for Jennifer and her sisters. These heavier emotions were undercut by a growing thread of brightness: love for Jasper, happiness over Jett. It was hard to feel these things even now, but Mrs. Wortham's kind reassurance had somehow taken the bite from them.

Everything coursing through me was echoed back from Jasper's own emotions. He helped me see through the dark by amplifying the light into a beacon, so that all I could focus on for the moment was reflected love and happiness. But Jasper had added something to the light, something I wasn't sure I would be able to feel for myself after everything we had endured. He diffused me with his pride, buoying me as his hands sought to tip my head back. His lips found mine and, quite suddenly, my broken world felt like it just might be okay.

I confessed to sharing our sanitized version of events with Mrs. Wortham later on in the night, when Jasper was lounging in bed beside me. Sleep didn't come easy for me, most nights, though my sleep was blessedly devoid of the nightmares I had in the past. Jasper always stayed with me until I finally drifted off.

"She sounds kind," he commented mildly, voice humming against my cheek where it rested in the crook of his neck. "Like Angela Weber, but geriatric."

My heart gave a small pang at the name. I hadn't kept up well with my high school friends at all. Pushing that sadness away, I nodded instead, tracing a ridge of scars over his ribs with my finger.

"She is," I agreed instead. Sighing, I rolled more fully into him. Sleep was finally coming for me. I drifted off listening to Jasper's steady breathing.

In Alaska, Edward monitored Jett's growth and development. Carlisle gave him a more thorough exam when we congregated in New York for Thanksgiving.

"He's not abnormal in terms of size and growth rate, it seems." Fully in doctor mode, Carlisle had measured the circumference of Jett's head and his total length, head to heel. I nodded along.

"Yeah, he's not really any bigger than any other two-ish month old baby I ever babysat."

"But cognitively…"

"Oh, yeah, no, he's crazy advanced." Even as I said it, there was Jett, perplexed by the fact that Emmett had moved his little stuffed sloth—his favorite—out of his reach. Emmett hadn't done it intentionally. His attention had been drawn away from Jett, laying on his stomach in the floor, to the football game. He and Jasper had a bet going, per usual. Carlisle and I watched as Jett furrowed his brow in concentration before grabbing too tiny fistfuls of blanket and dragging his body forward in an approximation of an army crawl. This brought him within reach of his toy, which he grabbed with a victorious peal of laughter, before rolling onto his back to babble to the stuffed sloth.

"Does he sit up?" Carlisle asked, continuing to watch. Unlike Jasper, who's gaze turned steely and cold when running calculations in his head, Carlisle's stayed molten and warm.

"He wants to, but he can't do it on his own yet. Not enough core strength yet, I guess." Esme and Alice had needed to go hunting. Jasmine went along with them, and Rosalie had needed to go herself, if her pitch-black eyes were any indication. Yet Rose stayed back. Currently, she was sitting on the floor ogling over Jett and clapping for him.

"And his feedings?" Carlisle continued. We were interrupted by Emmett's whoop of excitement, both of us turning in time to see him catch Edward in a headlock and ruffle his brother's bronze hair.

"How do you like that, Eddy-Boy? Can't cheat with our resident smoke screen around making it hard for Ali to see. Thanks, Jett." Emmett threw over his shoulder. Rose had the baby's attention captivated, though. She had since lifted him into her lap and was singing a nursery rhyme to him. Jett's eyes were glued to her lovely face, one hand reaching up to touch Rose's chin. He didn't respond at all to his name, though he typically turned toward you when called.

"Two bottles a day now, both eight ounces. One in the morning when he gets up and one in the evening, before he goes to bed."

I was certain Carlisle only chanced the next question because his sons were otherwise occupied. Jasper was doing his best to rescue Edward from Emmett's roughhousing, though it looked like a lost cause to me. "How does Jasper do with that?"

"He just holds his breath," I whispered back, trying to match my tone to Carlisle's breathless words. "Like he does when I drink."

Nodding, Carlisle excused himself to wrangle the tangle of brothers occupying the center of the living room. Rose may only have had eyes for Jett at the moment, but it was obvious to us that the boys were in serious danger of breaking not a few pieces of the expensive furniture dotting the apartment. I turned from the impending scolding, folding my legs beneath me as I sunk to the floor.

"…an absolute little angel," I caught the end of Rose's sentence.

"You're gonna give him a complex." Jett truly was captivated by her. Rosalie shook her hair for him, the golden waves shimmering. Emmett and Rose had 'privacy windows' in this apartment. Essentially, they were high and narrow, not allowing any glimpses of the interior from outside but letting in a surprising amount of sunlight. Sitting in the shaft of sunlight arcing across the wooden floor, Rose's skin shimmered along with her hair.

"He deserves to know how perfect he is," she defended, lifting Jett to plant a kiss on his apple cheek. I watched them together for a bit. There was no hiding how enamored Rose was, running a finger over the curve of his nose and watching the sunlight illuminate his hair. I wouldn't doubt if she thought him an actual angel, come to earth to fit in the crook of her arms.

My heart squeezed at the thought. The remembering. This was Rosalie's lifelong dream, not mine. Yet Aro had forbidden me from giving it to her. The tightness constricted further when Jett grew fussy; it was approaching time for his afternoon nap. He reached for me, stretching out of Rosalie's arms. Guilt flooded over me as I took him, Jett instantly turning to nestle his face into my shoulder. Suddenly I couldn't bare to be beside Rosalie anymore, so I pushed up and took Jett to one of the thankfully unscathed, plush chairs.

"I'm holding the baby," I reminded Emmett of the rule Esme had invoked shortly after seeing how eager her reunited sons were to physically harass one another in the name of Thanksgiving. "You can't come be an asshole anywhere near me."

"Maisie," Carlisle chastised, shaking his head. He was righting a wicker basket filled with blankets that had been overturned in the scrabble.

"You can't cuss around the baby!" Emmett sputtered, looking around the room. He looked panicked until his gaze found Rose still perched on the floor. "Is that even allowed, babe? Cussing in front of babies?"

Not taking his eyes from the game, Jasper reached back and clapped Emmett on the back of his knee. The blow made Emmett falter, laughing, his massive hand finding leverage on Jasper's head to keep him from tumbling over. "Did you forget Maisie's his mother?"

"No, he's kind of right," I interjected before another round of brotherly destruction could take place. "I really shouldn't cuss in front of him. At this rate, he'll be repeating things we say in, like, a week anyway. Sorry, Jett."

As the only one who required human food, I spent Thanksgiving eating Chinese takeout and watching sports. I tried not to think too much about my family in Forks… or, rather, in Oregon, most likely. Or perhaps New Mexico? I had no way of knowing, that year. We always traveled to a relative's house for Thanksgiving but given my dramatic exit from my parents' house barely a month earlier, I wasn't included in the holiday plans. Even this low-key family day with the Cullens was exhausting, though, and I was all too happy to retreat to the hotel Jasper had insisted on getting for our stay in New York.

In true Emmett fashion, he had called after us, "You don't need to spend all your time trying to make a baby when you already have one!" He probably never would have guessed that our desire for privacy had less to do with sex than it did with boundaries. A hotel blocks away from Rose and Emmett's apartment was a considerable boundary.

"You did good today," Jasper complimented, tugging his shirt over his head. He tossed it on the settee before slipping off his boots and undoing his jeans. Jasper wasn't a huge fan of New York. Esme and Emmett didn't care overmuch for cold climates and Jasper disliked cities. He hated the smell of NYC specifically. The entire shower he was preparing for would be spent scrubbing his skin and hair until he couldn't smell exhaust and waste on himself anymore, I was sure.

"Thanks." Though generally always in a good mood, Jett was not an excellent traveler. It tired him out; though the sun had only slipped below the horizon about twenty minutes earlier, he was already sound asleep in the center of the extra bed. I used the pillows to create a barrier around him so he wouldn't roll right off in his sleep. Not ideal, but considering Jasper would be up through the night anyway, I didn't worry much over his sleeping situation. "It's easier with Esme."

Jasper left the bathroom door open, so I could still hear him over the shower. I thought I would have been able to even with the door shut, but I appreciated the thought. Shower steam billowed from the open door, warming the bedroom. He must have turned the water up as hot as it would go.

"She's softer than Rose." Indeed, she was. I didn't need Jasper to tell me that Rosalie was jealous over Jett. Though Esme and Rosalie both would have loved to find themselves in my shoes, Esme was happy to have Jett in the family at all. Rosalie was, too, I knew, but… she just showed it in a different way, I guess. That way being dominating Jett's attention. I picked up Jasper's shirt, giving it a delicate sniff. It only smelled of him, as far as I could tell. Dramatic. Still, I quarantined the tainted clothing in the closet.

"Very subtle, by the way." With Jasper's clothes taken care of, I sat gingerly on the bed beside Jett's sleeping form and turned the tv on. I surfed through the channels until I found a kid's channel, just in case he woke during the night, and muted the volume. At home, Jett had a nightlight. This would have to do for him.

Already, the shower shut off. There was some rustling as Jasper got out and dried off, then the sound of running water from the tap. I listened to him puttering around the bathroom, smiling to myself. Jasper took it so seriously every time he drew a bath for me.

"It's only the truth," he told me once he had returned to the bedroom. His hair was dripping wet, still; he hadn't bothered much with drying it. Droplets plopped on my jeans when he leaned down to kiss me. "You are his mother, now. Not ideal for Rose, but she has to respect it. Or learn how to, anyway."

I thought Jasper was too hard on Rosalie, but then, he could tune in to her true feelings. He denied it, but I was almost certain that he asked Edward about the general climate of their sister's thoughts concerning our whole situation with Jett.

We didn't talk about my parents. Not yet. Aside from that basement conversation with Mrs. Wortham, I hadn't managed to force anything past my constricted throat to broach that subject. I was relieved when Jasper didn't bring it up. Instead, he simply took up my Jett sentry duty while I went to take a bath. Unlike Jasper, I shut the door behind me. The bathroom was pleasantly muggy from his shower steam, warming me before I even slipped into the tub.

Even in my own thoughts, I didn't like to dwell on my mom. Wouldn't or couldn't, I wasn't sure. With Thanksgiving done, there was only two weeks of classes before winter break. Christmas would be the last hurdle before I found myself back in Italy. We can only move forward, my father had told me. Moving forward, for me, meant getting to the next obstacle and ignoring all the rest. Unfortunately for everything else going on in my life, that meant final exams got top billing until I was done with them.

Jasper helped me study after I got out, our damp heads bent over my books while Jett snored softly in the background. I still felt raw and frayed on the inside, but ignoring all the external factors, I felt… okay. Just okay, sitting on a hotel floor with Jasper, answering his drill questions about Alaskan marine life, and Jett dreaming on the bed beside us.

Okay. I was okay.

And what a grand thing to be, for now. Just okay.

A/N: I think we all need a little bit of a buffer before we get back to the Volturi, yeah? No? Only me and Maisie? Oh, okay. Don't worry, they're coming back soon.

Princess: I love your suspicion of Mrs. Wortham! It made me giggle. Maisie is in for some unexpected friendship.

I don't mean for Rosalie to come of as the bad guy in any way, but I never could accept her being totally fine and unaffected by Renesmee in the books. So, I'm going with what I feel would be more realistic now, with Jett.

With Maisie out of Forks indefinitely, we'll be spending some time with everyone's favorite female werewolf and her imprint next chapter, then, I promise we'll spend some more time in Italy. Until next time! I hope everyone is happy and healthy!