Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight

Author's note I: I completely forgot to include this in last chapter's notes. This is really important because a surprising number of you mentioned it and you're really, really wrong. Bella is NOT indestructible. Get that thought out of your heads immediately. Guns and knives and pills and whatnot don't work on her WHEN SHE IS THE ONE TRYING TO HURT HERSELF. Think of it like a gag reflex. No one is capable of holding their breath until they die. Eventually the urge to breathe will overpower them. The same thing happened every time Bella tried to take her own life. Her gifts, like a gag reflex, took over and saved her from herself. That doesn't mean she's immortal however. Her blood can be spilled as easily as anyone else's. If, for example, she's asleep in a car and there's an accident and she hits her head hard enough before waking up, she will die. She's not aware of the danger and so neither are her powers, which then can't kick in to protect her. Bella is mortal. She is human. She ages normally. Left to her own devices she'll die of old age or disease. She has superpowers, sure, but she is not superwoman. She's not made of steel. Ok?

Author's note II: Listen to "Send In the Clowns" performed by Bjarne E. Nielsen for the second half of this. It's pertinent to the chapter. Remember, all music mentioned in the story is available in one playlist on youtube entitled 'The Music of "Gifted"' which is under my youtube username, darcythe2nd.

It took his ancient alarm clock 20 minutes of incessant ringing before Charlie finally opened his eyes. The most basic things in his small world demanded more energy from him than he had to give. Even brushing his teeth in the morning felt like a monumental task, and he had to consciously remind himself to do it lest he get another lecture from his dentist.

Harder still were the days he didn't go to work. He was the boss, but even the boss couldn't schedule himself 24/7. And his deputy and other coworkers would notice anyway. So he took his obligatory time off without complaint and struggled to fill the days. Struggled…and rarely succeeded.

He padded downstairs and set about for the day, already feeling overwhelmed with the number of hours he'd have to fill. Probably just turn on ESPN as usual. But he needed to eat first. That, at least, he managed to remember.

It was when he set his bowl and spoon on the counter that he noticed something was off.

Right in front of his house, sat an unfamiliar car that had not been there the night before.

A new car was not completely out of the ordinary, but he knew all his neighbors and this one didn't belong to any of them. His house was also rather a ways from theirs so there was no logic in parking a car here.

He was grappling this when a movement caught his peripheral vision. Across his back lawn, nearly half a football field away, he could've sworn he saw something move right next to the garden shed.

Instincts trumped everything else as he slid into a pair of shoes and reached for his weapon. But when he reached the shed's door, when he whipped it open and stormed inside ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind and saw that it was Bella—Bella!—without thinking he immediately threw his gun to the ground.

"Oh my god," was all he could say.

Relief flooded him. Happiness flooded him. It was Bella. It was Bella! She looked more weary than him (which was saying something) but it was her. She was sitting on the couch, leaning back. And she was looking straight at him.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," she replied.

Charlie had no idea what to say next. Or what to do. He didn't own a single picture of his daughter so he just stood there, drinking the sight of her in. It had only been a couple of months since he saw her last, but she had grown in that time. Taller, he thought. And her shoulders looked a little broader, like she'd improved her posture. Or maybe she just carried herself differently. Her hair had a lot more color too. They used to be plain brown but now there were more shades of it, some as light as red. The lone window in the loft let a little sun in, and some of it touched her hair, confirming the red he thought he saw. Like fire, he thought.

She was still beautiful, but she didn't look seventeen anymore. She never really did, he reminded himself. She always looked eons older than she was. Who could blame her, with what she shouldered? An old soul, Renee used to say during the less than happy days of her childhood.

An old and terrifying soul. Charlie would never forget the first time he witnessed Bella's strange power. For Renee it was a lit stove, but for him it was the open flame of his welding equipment. He would never forget walking into the garage and finding his daughter covered with flames. The terror that overcame him. Bella crying not because of the pain but because she disobeyed her promise to her mother (though Charlie didn't know any of this then). Charlie thought he lost his daughter that day, and every day since and until the unthinkable happened, he lived in fear of losing her and in fear of her.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't still scared of her now. But he struggled—oh, how he struggled—not to show it.

"Do you want me to go?" She asked suddenly, and he refocused his attention on her.

"No!" God no. Not again. Never again.

She nodded. "Then…can I stay a while?"

Charlie's turn to nod. "Did…did something happen with the Cullens?"

Bella looked down at the floor before she replied, "yes."

His heart sped in his chest. "Did they hurt you?!"

She looked up quickly, quizzically, but she shook her head at least. Ok. Ok.

But she did look hurt. Heartbroken. And lost. As lost as I feel.

He looked around the tiny shed with its shabby furniture, the pathetic things that passed for a kitchen in the corner, that impossibly small bathroom (big enough though, he thought with a deep blush, remembering what he saw there). Deeply ashamed of his treatment of her in the short time he had her here, he made up his mind.

"Bella, you can stay in the house," he said quickly, excited. "I can move your bed there right now. There's plenty of space and—"

"No," she said, catching him off guard.

"What?"

She shook her head. "I'd rather stay here, Charlie. But thank you for the offer."

He deflated a little. It was just a few seconds from the formulation of the idea to its death, but in those seconds he imagined a real blank slate with Bella. He imagined making her breakfast like a real father would and helping her with her homework.

"Oh…all right."

Then, because it suddenly occurred to him, he asked, "What is that car out front?"

She pursed her lips like she had forgotten something embarrassing. "Oh, uh…I stole it."

Say what? He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"From Whitehorse. Canada. I don't really want to talk about it. Can you just…take care of it?"

He stared at her. Can he take care of it? Is that what she just asked him?

"Okay…I'll just…pretend I didn't hear that."

He opened the door and left after deciding against asking her if there were bodies in the trunk. The joke would be funny with anyone but her. He almost forgot he was still wearing his pajamas when he laughed and went back to the house to change. Ten minutes later, he was dressed and had wiped every place where Bella could have left a fingerprint on the car. So she stole a car! At least it's in one piece, he consoled himself. And covering her ass—well, he damn well owed her. After calling a tow truck and directing the station to make a call to the Whitehorse police station, he got into his own cruiser and headed for town.

The shed's fridge needed to be stocked. And when that was done, he'd make a trip to the antique store downtown. There was an old upright piano that was on sale there for as long as he remembered. Bella used to play. She used to love it.

It's a bribe, he berated himself.

But it's a start.

Jasper couldn't take it anymore. His usually infinite vampire patience fizzled as he bolted towards Bella's door. Charlie had gone in there over an hour ago and judging by the music wafting from the shed, he wasn't coming out on his own accord any time soon.

Hold your breath, he reminded himself. Move slowly. Blink at least three times a minute.

He knocked three times, hoping it sounded like a polite knock and not a bloodthirsty vampire knock.

The music came to an abrupt stop, and Charlie opened the door.

"What did you say to him?" Jasper asked her, later after Charlie left them in peace. "He's extremely nervous."

Bella shrugged. "He's probably afraid I'll leave with you."

The off-handed way she said it made it clear to him that that wasn't happening.

He sighed and sat down on the couch next to her. It had taken more time that he would wager on to get Charlie to finally give them privacy. On top of the time during which Bella was missing...Jasper was bursting in the seams with all that he wanted to tell her. All he wanted to ask her.

"How did you know I was here anyway?"

Jasper tipped his head in the direction of the house. "I was in town with Alice when we saw him. He was...much too excited. I guessed at the reason, and Alice looked into his future and saw him buying that piano. Deductive reasoning led us here."

She nodded, smiling a little, probably at the thought that Charlie was so happy to have her back.

"Where is she?" She asked.

"Waiting for us to finish. I wanted to a chance to figure out your emotions first," he said with all honesty.

She raised an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes at the same time.

"And what...am I feeling?"

Bella's tone completely changed with her question. She was quieter. More intense. Her words, he could tell, were measured and careful. I guess small talk is over.

Jasper studied her before answering, letting himself brush over her gently so he could give her an accurate answer. Emotions weren't black and white. They weren't labeled for him, all neat and orderly for him to sift through and identify. No, Jasper's skill was part sensing the emotion and part translating the many facets of it into proper words that could be understood by others as well as himself. The more intense the emotion, the easier it was. The more complex, and the more conflicting emotions he felt, the harder.

"You're sad," he said, choosing the simplest thing of all the things she felt. "Disappointed. Anxious. Scared."

And guilty. Always guilty...but he didn't say that out loud.

She looked away, and Jasper wondered for the thousandth time how she could go on each day with that mountain of guilt crushing her...how she found the will to even laugh. It crushed him...when he was stupid and concentrated too hard on her to feel what she felt.

"Is it because we're monsters?" He asked her quietly when neither of them could stand the silence any longer. "Why you don't want to join us?"

Bella looked up, surprise etched on her face. "No!" She cried. "That's not-and you're not monsters!"

Compassion poured out of her as she said the words and Jasper, though he believed the words alone because it was Bella who said them, found that her heart backed them up. She meant what she said.

"Then why?"

"Because," she gave him a pained look. "Because I can't allow myself to become even more dangerous than I already am."

"You can't sugarcoat this," she continued quietly. "You know better than anyone how difficult it is to stay sane when all you want to do is bite somebody. Can you honestly guarantee that I won't kill anyone?"

"No, I can't," he replied sadly.

"Then there's nothing more to talk about."

He shook his head, more to clear his thoughts than for her benefit. Bella's argument was sound. Hell, if any of them had been told of the agony and hurt that lay in store for them after turning, he was sure everyone in his family would've chosen to die if given the choice. Logic agreed with Bella but...Jasper was not ruled by logic. Emotion. That's what he knew and understood. And everything he felt screamed at him that Bella should be turned...that she would be happy with Rosalie forever...that she would control her inner monster better than logic would suggest. But how on earth could he get her to understand?

"I can feel you," he whispered carefully. "So many times since Christmas...a lot more lately...I can feel your emotions when they turn black with glee and boredom and contempt, and I know that whatever it is that's a part of you that you call the monster wants to destroy."

Bella, who by now was quite still in her seat, kept her head down and fixed her gaze on her lap. Shame and panic flooded Jasper's senses, and he tried to ease her.

"But you win every time!" He exclaimed, smiling. "However you do it, you always overpower the worst parts of you."

Jasper alone knew how much willpower it must take for Bella to overcome the terrible things she feels and the terrible thing she must want to do. Her desire to burn ran deep. Deeper than most of her other emotions.

Bella finally looked at him. She didn't bother to hide the fear from her face. "One of these days, I'm going to fail. That's my biggest fear."

"I don't think that's going to happen," he explained gently. "You get stronger everyday. And Bella, I think it has to do with your bonds with the family"

She gave him a look.

"It's true!" He leaned forward as he spoke as if more animation on his part would help her see that he was telling the truth. "You're better at dispelling the negativity when you're around one of us."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "I won't argue with you on that. Even if you're right that doesn't mean life will be rosy and death-free for vampire Bella. There will be too much to fight, Jazz. The burning. The blood. And then there's these so-called gifts. If they're this strong while I'm human, how much stronger will they get if I'm turned? How much harder will it be to fight them?"

In her eyes, he saw her emotions cloud with stupefying fear. People are afraid of countless things, but the fear that tops them all...the fear that stops you in your tracks and weighs down on you from all directions until you're neck deep in your own despair is fear of yourself. When you are your own worst enemy, how do you fight? When your own mind and body can betray you, when you aren't even sure which way you ought to go, which set of rules to follow and which to defy, what then do you do?

"I can't predict your gifts," he said. "They're a variable honestly none of us can make sense of. But I can tell you that the control you've mastered over them is the same control you'd need to overcome bloodlust. I've worked with newborns for nearly a century, Bells, and your control surpasses all of theirs by miles. I believe in you."

But she doesn't. One look at her and he knew. She really doesn't think she can do it.

"Forever is a long time to avoid mistakes," she whispered, trailing off into silence, then, because Jasper didn't respond, ran her fingers over the keys of the piano and turned to him asking, "any requests?"

"I like the one you you were playing when I came," he responded. "Send in the Clowns. It's one of Rosalie's favorites."

Bella would forgive him one day, he thought as he watched her face fall and a new tidal wave of anguish explode from within her. But she kept her composure and started to play after only the briefest pause.

He waited a few beats before risking another mention. "She still hasn't come home. Emmett's with her."

A wisp of relief from her. Despite all the other distractions, Jasper grew contemplative as he thought of Bella's, Rosalie's, and Emmett's strange relationship. It said a lot that Bella didn't feel any flashes of jealousy when he said Emmett was with Rosalie. On the contrary, she felt relief. Bella was glad that Rosalie wasn't alone as she dealt with the trauma of her rejection.

"You really hurt her Bells."

She nodded, and he spied the formation of a single tear in the corner of her eye. He watched it leak far enough until it splotched down her face. The music slowed a little, and Jasper almost laughed at the odd appropriateness of this song. He knew the words by heart. It was about regret…about the cruel irony of finally overcoming your personal scruples only to find your struggle was meaningless in the end.

I thought that you'd want what I want. Sorry, my dear.

What will Rosalie do? What will all of them do? None of them considered the possibility of Bella's refusal. That was a foolish mistake, Jasper could now see. They had all gotten used to the idea of Bella in their family forever. Take a bow, clowns. Take a bow.

"Won't you reconsider for her sake?" Jasper felt awful for manipulating her guilt, but what choice did he have? If playing dirty could one day lead to an immortal Bella by Rosalie's side than he would happily play dirty.

"You see what hurting her is doing to me," she whispered. He nodded. "But no. I won't reconsider. I hope she forgives me one day."

One day…

One day, Bella will die. One day, Bella will disappear. Forever.

One day, he would lose his sister. And Rosalie would lose…

Half her heart.

"I won't give up hope," he said, standing up. "Some of us might. Some of us will respect your choice and never bring it up again. But I know...I know, somehow deep down I'm sure of it...that you're meant to be an immortal. You more than anyone else in the world."

Having finished her song, she watched him tread back to the door. His hand just touched the door handle when he remembered something.

"Oh, you should probably stop by our house sometime soon," he said, trying to keep the sadness and disappointment out of his voice. "Edward's back. He says he has something extremely important to tell us, and that he wants you there for it."

Author's Note III: BookCon tomorrow in NYC. Anyone here going?