Previously:
But his words inspired nothing in me. No, I hadn't saved myself from anything. I had been human, and barely mature enough to handle the reality of death.
My body had survived the abuse, and I'd been killed to be reborn. But I couldn't protect or save myself from the monsters that took it all away.
Death replaced the pain, but the suffering remained.
Elise
She lay with a hand plastered on the glass.
It was a portrait of desperation—a plea for escape, a yearning for relief. Occasionally, the burn would overtake her. The pain would radiate from the chest and bite at her nerve endings. I knew it all with distant familiarity. I knew it all too well.
I must have stood there in the shadows for almost an hour, trying to gather up any courage to approach the door. Each whimper of pain would shrink me back to where I belonged—dead, deceased, and nonexistent. Because I wasn't supposed to be here. She had most likely grieved her daughter. She must have been through the agony and eventual acceptance. Would I be ripping open an old, sealed wound?
With unknowing courage, I pulled open the door, dismally expecting it to shatter. The movement jerked her, scaring her. And when she turned her head towards me, I knew that she knew. She scrambled quickly to sit up, but her legs moved slowly as they dangled from the side of the bed.
"Oh my God," she said, her voice a gentle whisper.
I stood there stiffly, watching her eyes widen, her attention jumping all over my body. I tried to keep a steady gaze on her face, but her faint heartbeat jumped up to catch my attention. And if I wasn't careful, my eyes would occasionally slide down to her throat.
After a while, her hand came up to rub at her temple, and she seemed stuck in confusion. "Who are you?"
The glint of familiarity in her eyes remained. But her daughter had been dead and gone for so long that her question made sense.
The silence only amplified her pulse, and I wasn't breathing. Breathing was risky. But I couldn't talk if I couldn't breathe, and that was a problem. I pushed open the door behind me and glanced around the remaining bits of the lab's basement. I spotted a yellow bucket tucked away in the corner with some brushes and solvents. Stepping out, I grabbed the yellow bucket of bleach and placed it in the pod with us. My mother's short exposure to the chemical fumes was surely a good trade-off compared to my loss of control.
I tested the scent of the pod after a few minutes of sloshing bleach around. It turned out to be just bearable.
My mother simply watched me, forehead wrinkled.
"You don't know who I am?" I asked quietly.
Her expression was reluctant, but her head was nodding. "You remind me of someone."
She knew me. She did. "Yes. I should."
But then she swung her legs back onto the bed and lowered herself down until she laid flat. "These are new," she murmured.
"What?"
"Hallucinations." She glanced over at me. "Maybe this is rude to say, but you're prettier than I remember."
I couldn't help the little chuckle, though it felt entirely inappropriate. The absurdity of the situation was beginning to sink in.
"But I do remember that laugh," she said fondly, and I warmed instantly to the faint smile on her lips.
"What else do you remember?"
She clasped her hands on top of her stomach, carefully navigating the tubes jutting out of her skin. I slowly lowered down until I could sit on the ground, closer to the bleach.
She took a moment, then her eyes fluttered closed. "Search parties. We printed so many missing posters, there wasn't a day that I'd gone without a paper cut. I saw your smiling face every single day, on every surface I could find to stick paper on." She craned her neck towards me and examined me for a long minute. "It's amazing how the mind adapts. You look so much older."
I couldn't look at her. "I do?"
"Beautiful. You would have grown into such a beautiful young woman."
"Mom," I said. "I'm here. This is me."
She barely acknowledged it. "I hope you stay for a little while longer."
"Of course, I will stay," I said, borderline incredulous. "Mom, I'm real. I promise you, I am real."
Her eyes closed once more, and her tone turned disturbingly bitter. "Yes, you're my dead little girl."
I stepped forward and held my breath. Towering over her like this made her seem utterly weak and helpless. I stared at one of the bloodied tubes coming out of the back of her hand, then quickly reset myself. My own hands came forward only to hover over hers. "Mom…"
She then cocked her head to the side as she looked up at me. Another spark of recognition flashed before her eyes. Her hand twitched, and I immediately pulled back my arms.
She slowly got up to a sitting position, stretching her legs before her. "Elise?"
"I'm here. You're not hallucinating. I promise."
And then she tried to get up. By God, she tried. When her feet hit the ground, she swayed dangerously, but I knew that trying to steady her myself could cause her more harm.
I backed up almost instantly, stopping before I smashed through the glass door. "Please. Sit back down."
She didn't listen. She moved closer, a delicate hand raised in my direction. "Is this really... you?"
She tried, but she couldn't reach me. The tubes in her arms tugged at her to stay back. She looked down at them, and then back at me, her tired eyes brimming with tears. She took a few steps back to ease the tension in the tubes. "Please tell me. Tell me this is you."
"Yes," I whispered. "Yes."
Her face crumbled and I wanted to crumble with it. Tears fell in beads down her sharp cheeks as her desperation showed. "Come here."
I shook my head fiercely, brokenly. "I can't."
"Come here," she repeated.
"I can't touch you."
And then her arms wrapped around her abdomen as she clutched onto herself. I counted the seconds as if I had been reliving it.
"Breathe," I said roughly. "Breathe."
Her hand rested on the bed's railing as she did just that. I watched her chest rise and fall with each deep breath. How many more of those did she have left? I peeked up at her counter for the answer. It showed just a little less than a miserable year.
She composed herself slowly, her knuckles regaining color as she let go of the railing. Still, she struggled to speak. "There's something wrong with me."
"I know," I said.
She took a deep, painful breath. "I'm very, very sick, Elise."
I turned around, because the sight of her made my chest ache with sorrow. My throat felt raw from emotions I couldn't physically unleash. And I knew the underlying, sickening burn I felt was because of the blood coursing through her veins.
"Elise," I heard her say after a while. I didn't turn around, but my hands were shaking. I couldn't stop them. "What have they done to you?"
"They?"
When she didn't respond, I turned around to face her, and she was staring right into my eyes.
"I think it's in the food." She frowned, her brows drawn together. "It colors your eyes. The doctors here—they look just like you."
I couldn't do this. I couldn't do this. I could not do this. "Just like me?"
She looked around. "I don't have a mirror—God, I haven't seen myself in ages. Are my eyes—are they red too?"
I shook my head. "No, mom. No."
Her face looked so achingly desperate. "Please, come here."
I felt the glass against my back, my mind reeling. She wasn't scared of me. Why wasn't she scared of me?
"I haven't seen you… Jesus, where have you been, Elise?" she asked, a familiar tremor in her voice. "I have been—we have been looking for you for years. And you're—you're alive."
Not quite. "Mom—"
"Come here this instant." Her tone turned angry very quickly. "You need to tell me—" And then she doubled over once more, her hands desperately clutching the rail.
I couldn't touch her. No matter what she said. No matter how furious she became. "Breathe," I pleaded again. "Breathe."
I watched her regain her composure. Helplessly, I watched. Because that was all I could do. Her whimpers and groans filled the pod as I willed for the burn to subside.
"You need to sit down," I said. She was wasting her energy.
She looked up with pure exhaustion. "Help me. I need to lie down."
I shook my head slowly, the pressure behind my eyes becoming unbearable. "Mom…"
"Sweetie, please—"
I straightened immediately at the presence of another. I eased the tension in my shoulders only when I could place the scent.
"A doctor's here," I said. "Let him help you."
I stepped aside as the door opened, and Carlisle walked in. He gave my mother a smile before offering his hand. But she didn't take it. She was focused on me.
"Please," she begged.
"You're very contagious," Carlisle spoke authoritatively, drawing her attention away from me. "Your daughter cannot be in contact with you. Take my hand."
Part of her resolve seemed to crack at the lie. "Contagious? This disease?"
"Yes."
"But you—"
"I've been around enough sickness, Mrs. Adams. Do not worry about me. Worry about your daughter."
As Carlisle held her hands, maneuvering her onto the bed, I marveled at how easy touch came to him.
"I've been worried enough," she huffed quietly. Carlisle eased her down to a resting position.
I was too focused on her to notice Carlisle digging around in his coat pocket. When he pulled out a syringe, I wasn't prepared in the slightest.
"No, Carlisle," I warned.
"Step out, Elise. Please."
"Elise?" my mother called, her eyes heavy.
"Elise, please," Carlisle warned sternly. "Step out."
My legs moved automatically. The glass door shut in front of me as I watched through the useless barrier. The contents of the syringe barely colored the clear tubes as they made it to her veins.
My mother's head turned to the side, staring at the door. She couldn't see me, but I knew she could feel my presence. She had to.
Because as the poison filled her veins, she was staring directly at me.
Jasper
"They're sending two members of the guard," Alice announced, smoothing a hand on the wooden table. "But they're not the twins. Not Demetri."
"Aro usually sends Demetri. At least," A delegate member across from her argued.
"They're hooded, and they carry the Volturi's crest. But they're unfamiliar faces," Nathaniel insisted beside her. "They must be new additions. I'm sorry, but it seems that the kings have changed their mind."
Displeasure graced Maria's face, who leaned back in her chair beside me. "Ridiculous. We'll need descriptors. Hair color, frame, build. Anything our contacts in Volterra would need to identify them."
"Don't waste resources on that," William grumbled. "Without Demetri… I really don't care who else they're sending."
The whole table of delegates shifted in their seats. A sense of disappointment blanketed the meeting. Alice and Nathaniel exchanged a quick glance.
"They're coming here? Virginia?" Maria asked tersely.
Alice's head whipped to the right, her gaze resting heavily on a pair of trees in the distance. "Yes."
"And then?" She pressed.
Alice tensed instantly. Nathaniel placed his hand on hers, resting on the table. He supported her through her tumultuous vision.
After a brief silence, her body relaxed. "You'll kill them both," she said quietly, looking at Maria. "Is that your final decision?"
Maria narrowed her eyes at her. "It's a decision."
"It's your current one."
I understood the instant gut reaction Maria had to the news. Any member of the Volturi guard scouring the states and stumbling upon multiple training camps would be on high alert. The alliance's operation had grown substantially, and it would be hard to hide under a guise of Southern territory conflict. It had worked initially, but I doubted it would sway them now. Our numbers were too high, and our presence was too large.
"If we kill them, we're instigating war," I said. "Aro won't get his two scouts back, and he'll send more to investigate. Soon, the Volturi will be on our shores."
"If we let the scouts leave unharmed, it's the same outcome," Maria hissed. "But if we let them live, Aro will see everything through their minds. Demetri will have names to hunt. And unless our shield can expand to the whole Southern territory, we'll be tracked."
"Those who have been in contact with Demetri will be tracked," I amended, glancing at Maria. "How big of a concern is that?"
She averted my eyes for the briefest of moments. I leaned back in my chair, partially smug at the taste of her fear. Fascinating, I thought. She had history with the Volturi that I wasn't aware of.
"Demetri has to go," Maria said firmly. "There are too many unknowns. We don't know who he knows and which one of us can be tracked. We can't give Aro a picture of any part of the alliance through the scouts. They must be eliminated before they can spread any information."
Nathaniel's eyes closed briefly as Alice looked up at him. When he searched for the future, he didn't have as much of a dramatic reaction as Alice.
He frowned at the delegates that were congregated around the table. "You're indecisive. All of you."
"They must be eliminated," Maria repeated, meeting the eyes of the delegates.
"We'd be declaring war," a delegate member said uncertainly.
"We're ready," Maria pressed.
And I could back her up there. "Yes. We are. We have enough recruits in Virginia. We'll place our own scouts all around the state. Given the order, we can kill the Volturi representatives on sight."
"There should be a vote," William said.
I saw Maria's hand tighten on the edge of the wooden table. The tent flapped loudly above us with the wind, and I carefully scanned through the emotions I was processing. Fear was a constant. The delegates feared the consequences of a war with the Volturi. Even though each and every one of them understood the reality that we would one day face the kings, it wasn't going to be real until it was.
I was sure that each and every delegate at the table had their own reasons for wanting the Volturi gone. But if getting rid of them was easy, it would have already been done. Nothing here would be accomplished without sacrifice.
"Alright. Let's vote." Maria raised her hand challengingly. "Kill the scouts. Because the alternative is worse."
"Perhaps a more diplomatic approach," a woman delegate member suggested quietly. "We could communicate the cause, persuade the scouts to join. It would buy us time. Demetri's death should start this war. Not the death of two inconsequential randoms."
Maria nodded annoyedly. "Yes, but Demetri isn't coming."
Silence. This discussion was suffocating, mostly because I could feel Maria's agitation.
So, I finally raised my hand. "Kill them. It will take a while for the kings to feel their absence. We should devise a way to reach Demetri before then."
Peter nodded once beside me and raised his own hand, followed by William.
Slowly and unsurely, hands started to come up to cast the vote on the demise of the two Volturi scouts. Once we had more than half of the table in agreement, it had been settled. We had majority, and the rest of the votes didn't matter.
Alice and Nathaniel were instructed to stay in Virginia to help guide the exact time and location we would expect for the scouts' arrival. The meeting was adjourned.
As the delegates were getting up and out of their chairs, Maria turned to me. "Thank you for supporting the vote."
"It's what I would have suggested," I replied, staring straight ahead. "It's too risky to keep them alive."
She watched as the two psychics ran off into the trees nearby. When I made the move to get up, I felt Maria's hand clamp down on my arm. I stilled in place.
"We are ready, aren't we?" She asked lowly.
I wasn't bullshitting. The alliance was in good shape. "We don't have as many gifted as we'd like, but our training is strong. Our location—strategically—is the best we could ask for. We're ready."
Her grasp lightened, and I realized that she wasn't looking at me. Instead, she was tracking the rest of the delegates as they made their leave. "Then what do they know? Why are they paranoid?"
I traced her gaze. Three delegate members had grouped together as they put distance between themselves and the meeting tent. None of the three had voted in agreement today.
War wasn't for everyone. Supporting a coup was certainly not easy. I could reason through their hesitation easily, but Maria's emotions were distracting.
"Why are you paranoid?" I asked her.
She looked at me with light disdain. "It's a natural state of existence for people like us, Mr. Whitlock."
"An exhausting existence."
"It's got us to where we are," she said adamantly.
"Yet, you seem tense."
She ignored that entirely, and instead looked pointedly at the group in the distance. "What are they feeling?"
I stood, forcing her to release her grip. "We're going to fight this war, Maria. It doesn't matter what they're feeling."
She looked up, defiant. "Unfortunately, this is a democracy. So, it does matter what they say, what they feel, what they think."
"Then perhaps Edward Cullen is willing to indulge you in the secrets of your ruling class. You can bribe him with sheet music and deer."
Maria merely stared daggers at me. "I don't appreciate your humor. Or your tone."
I shrugged. "I think you should shift your focus onto the Demetri problem. You can play politics only to a certain extent."
She clasped her hands tightly on the table, seemingly composing herself. "Agreed."
She agreed, but she was worried. I stood beside her for a few moments as she sat, staring at seemingly nothing. She didn't notice how I studied her, and she was uncharacteristically careless with her feelings.
"Careful, Maria," I eventually murmured, catching her attention. "Your fear is showing."
A/N: It's been a little while. Hello.
