Title: Jar of Hearts

Author: Girl Who Writes

Characters: Emmett, Alice, Seth

Word Count: 2976

Rating: T

Genre: Angst, Found Family, Drama

Summary: There might be something in that, taking the last gift-gesture-offering Rose ever did for him on their End-of-the-World Road Trip. Alice can rip the heads off newborns, he can drive around in the SUV his wife carefully and lovingly put together just to please him, and maybe he'll buy Seth a beer in Tijuana.

Closest thing they'll ever get to therapy, he supposes.

four. five years later

If Emmett could add up the amount of time spent driving over the last five years, it would be embarrassing.

Depressing.

And most likely illegal.

Five goddamn years.

Seventeen trips down to Mexico to deal with overzealous vampires and abandoned newborns. Just because Maria was out of the picture didn't mean that there wasn't another upstart lusting after herd lands, raising an army. Usually someone who wasn't old enough to know the unspoken rules, who was careless and stupid and could expose them all.

Alice sits beside him, in the passenger seat. He can see every single day since written on his sister's face - she says that they have to behave like they're aging, changing, or they won't be able to go back to Forks again. As if the changes had been gradual, and not just her striding out of the house on one of their few visits back, clad in black with the eyeliner heavy around her eyes. Seth had choked on his soda, his eyes wide, and Emmett remembered that gesture that Carlisle used to do, where he pinched his nose when one of the 'kids' was being particularly vexing.

He gets it now. And if he could go back and apologize to Carlisle for actively being a shit, he would. (Some of those incidents were too funny to take back, but he would sure as hell apologize for trying his hardest to give Carlisle a migraine.)

But he'd looked at Seth - who was maybe sixteen at the time, and staring at Alice's leather-clad ass with something between horror and intrigue (and Emmett sympathized with the kid; Seth hadn't exactly clocked much time with kids his own age since the blip beyond online classes, and that wasn't exactly the recipe for healthy romantic relationships. But Alice? Oh hell no) - and he blurted out the dumbest thing he'd ever said.

"I didn't realize the dress code today was for 'Jasper Whitlock's Wet Dream'."

Alice had frozen, Seth had decided that he was going to get another soda immediately, and Emmett hated himself for even saying Jasper's name in front of her. But, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"I'm just saying, that that is a look that he is very sorry he missed," he had continued carelessly, as he finished packing the Jeep. As if he didn't know that he was saying all the wrong things. He wanted to say that it was okay it still hurt - he felt like half his chest had been carved away every single day with Rose. That sometimes when he was scrolling through his phone and an old video autoplayed, just the sound of Edward's voice or Esme's laughter made him feel sick and small. That he missed his brothers and the man that had, for all intents and purposes, raised him in this life beyond anything he ever imagined.

He wanted to hear Alice say it back to him; admit that Jasper's absence was making her crazy, was eating away at her faster than she could control it, and it was making her into a person she didn't even recognize. But she didn't. He didn't. They were words they didn't even need to say because it all boiled down into one thing - they were both in pain. They would always be in pain. Sometimes the shape of the pain changed, and that was okay.

Seth dealt with it better than the two of them, Emmett thought. It had become a tradition to be home in Forks on the Anniversary, where Emmett would supply the booze. The first couple of years, Seth drank with Colin and Brady on the Res; sleep in the Clearwater house, and come home looking older than ever.

But that had stopped. Now it was Emmett and Alice he drank with, out in the woods. He'd tell dumb stories about growing up on the Res, about growing up with Leah, about Harry and Sue and Jacob and all of the ones who had left them behind. Then Seth would cry, just let the tears run down his face because it was unfair. It was so fucking unfair that Seth had lost everyone.

At least Emmett had Alice, and even Tanya and Carmen up in Alaska. The Clearwater family had not been a large one and Seth was the last. The only, now.

Emmett still had no idea why Seth had thrown his lot in with Alice and Emmett. He figured the kid would head back home eventually. But the years passed, and Seth had stayed. Clung to them, almost.

When Seth started crying, it was up to Emmett to fill in the silences. Sometimes it was Alice who started with some fragment of a story that she drifted off in the middle of and never finished. And Emmett had good stories, silly stories, the sort of stories that made being a part of a family, of loving someone and losing them a little bit worth it for having known them.

They still marked the anniversary, and Leah and Sue's birthdays, with alcohol for Seth. And maybe it was a fucking irresponsible thing to do, but it was something. It was better than the memorials that had slowly gone up, with names etched into stone. Charlie had escorted them to see them when they got back from one trip, and it felt like some kind of fever dream to see the names on the pillar of marble - one of ten that sat in Forks Municipal Park. Rosalie Hale. It made him want to laugh and vomit. The second time Rosalie got a headstone without a body to bury. There's one back in Rochester, a memorial plaque at the base of her mother's headstone, that they visited once, back in the 60s.

It makes him feel better that Jasper's name is above Rose's. That Jasper's taking care of Rosalie, like he's taking care of Alice. Or maybe Rose is bossing Jasper around, because she hated not being in control, and Jasper knew how to mope. But it would be worse, somehow, if Carlisle and Esme and Edward were all clustered together under 'Cullen', and Rose and Jasper had been alone. They both would have hated that. He still takes flowers down, for Rose and Esme and Bella, when they go to leave again - one of the younger people to do so. Most of them are wildflowers from the forest, because Esme's garden has nearly gone to seed - what was left of it, anyway - and cut flowers are expensive enough to be noticed unless it's a special occasion.

At the Res, Emmett and Alice had stayed in the cruiser, let Seth and Charlie approach their memorial - made of native wood, and hand-carved, there was only one pillar which someone seemed so much worse. There weren't enough people on the Res to begin with, and now there are even less. The spirit wolf carved on the top was so lifelike, Alice had likened it to Sam's wolf, the shiny black eyes following them.

They'd found Seth flowers to bring to his mother and to Leah. Alice had helped him pick out nice ones, ones that were chemically treated to last a whole year.

Flowers aren't the only thing that are expensive. Gas, fresh food, utilities… entire towns have been abandoned because of it. The stock market is a disaster, and he still has no idea how Alice untangled their investments so well. They were never in any real financial trouble, even with their support of the Quileute reservation (he wasn't going to watch that community falter; they needed power and water and food and medical care as much as Forks, as Port Angeles, as Seattle, but they had a hell of a lot more trouble finding help.)

Alice had wondered aloud why Carlisle had never helped them out in the past, and Emmett remembered that it was something to do with 'respect' and 'dignity' but, in hindsight, it felt petty and shallow. Jasper had spent decades pouring money into reparation charities and scholarships down south, and Rosalie had funded numerous womens' not-for-profits. As much as Carlisle wanted to live and respect humans, he had still felt superior to them, had felt the need to turn his back on people who had more than one very justifiable reason to reject them.

One thing that he had learned over the years was that the idea a vampire couldn't change was bullshit. They changed slowly, and they changed in the face of great upheaval, yes. But they also changed with contemplation, with discussion, with compassion, and with new choices.

Vampires were, essentially, humans - just slower.

"Can we stop?" Seth leans forward between the seats, pulling Emmett back to the present. A present where Alice pretends she wears dark eye makeup and skintight black clothing because it makes their cover story more convincing. A present where Seth is nineteen years old - a high school graduate and part-time online college student. He's the same age now, as Leah was. The same age that Alice will always be. Older than Bella will ever be. It's a mind-fuck on the best of days. "Preferably somewhere with pancakes?"

Sometimes, Emmett wonders how long this can last, the way they live. Traveling eight months or more out of the year, only popping back into Forks occasionally; Seth's welcome presence in their lives; it feels temporary, like they're waiting for something that will never, ever arrive. There's no reset button, no grand plan. Just them treading water for five years.

It's not that they aren't doing good - stemming the vampire population down south is important; it wouldn't take much for the decimated cities to be overrun. It's a fact of life that predators require prey and that a balance must be maintained. It's the reason that he and Alice log their hunting grounds, to make sure that no one area is targeted too often. Not until nature has a fighting chance. He's bored to tears of deer and fox blood, but the number of bears he's seen in the last few years can be counted on one hand. It's why hunting - for humans, at least - is so expensive and regulated now - there just aren't enough animals.

Sometimes he wonders if it's time to sit Alice and Seth down and have a talk. Confess that he feels like this arrangement is reaching the end of its practicality - that Seth deserves to have a life. When he's home, he spends time on the Res (enough that last summer, he stumbled home at dawn with lipgloss on his collar and a stupid grin), but not enough. He should be at his house, studying and working and hanging out with his old friends. Rejoining his old pack. That they can still be friends, still get drunk in the woods on the anniversary, they can still harass him about his studies and eating healthy. Good-bye doesn't have to mean forever.

Alice looks over at him, from the tops of her sunglasses, as if she knows he's worrying again. It's the very same look he gives her when she's been talking to herself again, mouthing the words and slipping into Spanish, and answering questions no one ever asked.

"Pancakes for Seth," she orders, as he nods and taps on the GPS for the nearest reputable diner.

She's plotting the next stage of their route; they aren't talking about the scene they left behind in Mexico City, of gang members with gruesome blade wounds that had drawn a few newborns out to ravage the bodies. Alice had carved out the bite marks on the bodies to look like torture, but something about the scene had left her in a strange mood.

Every time he looks at Alice, he knows his brother would hit him if he saw his wife and the state she was in. She's taken a few bites over the last few years, putting down newborns - thin, feathery scars on her arms that she never acknowledges. She doesn't talk as much, and he's not sure when the last time she mentioned clothes - beyond making sure that Seth is warm enough and has clean laundry. He would never, ever say it, but he sees the broken little mental patient in her more and more.

It's overcast enough that he and Alice can join Seth in the diner; Alice stirring a lemonade absently with a straw, him staring into a cup of black coffee as Seth eats his body weight in pancakes. Things like eggs and meat are harder to get now, and Seth's eaten enough pancakes, enough pizza and spaghetti and goddamn Pop-Tarts that Emmett's almost entirely convinced they don't smell vile anymore. They sure as hell don't smell like something he plans to ingest, but like river water and grass, like car exhaust and nail polish, they aren't bad scents anymore. He's used to them.

Alice looks at him like he's crazy, but he knows she agrees - he's known that since Chicago when Alice brought Seth back a pizza without complaining. The same way that Seth doesn't complain about 'vamp-stink' on his clothes anymore, or that none of them really notice that the house in Forks doesn't smell like the family anymore. No Esme or Carlisle or Rosalie or Jasper or Edward. They've all faded away entirely. Even the dresses still hanging in his closet don't smell like lemon-roses-cars anymore.

He still remembers the day Alice realized their mistake, not packing things away. The day she tore her closet apart because nothing smelt like him anymore. The great gulping sobs and desperate pleas for Jasper to come back. It had been hell to listen to, obscene and terrible. Seth had gone to the Res, and he'd hidden out in the garage, amongst Rose's forgotten babies.

Alice had shut herself up in her room until they left again, a week later. He was near-certain that she had never cleaned up the mess either, unable to face it. Thinking of all of Rosalie's cars, undisturbed in the garage, all of Rose's interrupted projects and plans, he understood.

Breakfast passes without incident - they've got the act down to an art form, where Seth artfully trades his empty glass for Alice's lemonade, and Emmett orders a sandwich to go, ostensibly for Seth to eat later. The most notable thing about them is Alice's outfit and make-up, and honestly, it doesn't even stand out that much. People wear what they can afford, what they can find.

"So, which way?" Emmett asks as they make their way back to the Jeep. The Jeep has held out like the true hero of the last few years - other than running out of gasp a few times, and a busted radiator that was an easy fix, it hasn't faulted. But that was Rose; thorough, reliable, and thoughtful. She had covered every base when she rebuilt it, and there was nothing that would separate him from the damn SUV. Rose's last gift.

"Up through Wyoming, I guess," Alice said, snagging the passenger seat before Seth could, and reaching over to sync her tablet with the GPS. "The roads are better. No trouble that I can find."

Emmett nods once - Wyoming has become a popular route; the roads have held out well, it's quiet, and a lot of the smaller towns have managed to say afloat. Utah and Nevada are goddamn train wrecks - their sole journey through Nevada had nearly gotten Seth injured.

They pull back onto the road, and Seth has control over the radio and is currently obsessed with the sort of weird-ass music that would have given Edward a stroke. Alice is tapping away at her tablet, probably making sure there's money on their credit cards, that the house is still okay, that Charlie Swan hasn't bombarded them with emails about their welfare (he'd tried to send them money once, worried they'd get stranded without food or gas. Alice hadn't accepted it, explaining that Carlisle and Esme had provided them with more than they would ever need, but Emmett appreciated that gesture. Understood Charlie had done it for Alice - for Bella and Edward - more than anything else.)

Alice gasped suddenly, the tablet slipping from her hands as she sits straight up, her eyes unfocused.

"What?" Seth looks alarmed, and Emmett always thought that it was kind of cute, the weird relationship Alice and Seth had built - both of them taking the overprotective sibling role as needed. Seth needed to be a little brother, needed that security in his life. And Alice had realized quickly, how lost Seth was, how alone in the world he felt - she probably remembered that feeling vividly.

"Alice?" Emmett pulled the car over. Alice's eyes were wide, and she reached out and grabbed Emmett's arm.

"Please please please," she whispered, not reacting to them, and then gasping again. Emotions flickered over her face too fast to decipher and suddenly she was back, her eyes lit like they hadn't been in years, before she buried her face in her hands.

"A rat," she mumbled. "A goddamn rat."

"Alice, what's going on?" Emmett said. "Talk to us."

"I don't know," she said, her eyes shiny as she looked back up. "But I… I saw something. I saw them, Emmett. A rat just ran across the dashboard and everything changed…"

"What rat?" Seth asked, looking confused.

"You saw them? In the future?" Emmett asked urgently.

Alice nodded. "I did. I saw them at home. They didn't know what was going on. That any time had passed. But not yet. The rat started something we need to get them back… Emmett, we have to go to New York."

Note

- One of the laws that was brought in after the Blip was to limit unnecessary travel, including heavily taxed fuel/personal vehicles. Emmett and Alice would get into fairly significant legal trouble if anyone found out how many miles they were clocking.

- I think it's fairly disingenuous to say that vampires cannot change. They'd have to, to move with the times convincingly. Otherwise, Carlisle would still be applying leeches and vibrators to cure certain medical conditions; Esme and Rosalie were permanently be stuck in the midst of their trauma and grief, and Jasper would still be a feral animal. I think that change does happen, it's just much slower than a human, and that trauma would certainly inspire even faster change.

- Seth, Alice, and Emmett have all undertaken different grieving processes because of the difference they all have. Seth has taken a lot of comfort in his 'kid brother' role; I think that gives him a lot of security. Alice is just a disaster because she's never known a world without the certainty of Jasper. And Emmett has, as I imagine he did in his human life, taken adult responsibility for the more vulnerable members of his family. Their grief was never going to look the same, but it is all as deep and encompassing.

- Yes, Alice and Emmett have documented Seth's milestones with a single-minded ferocity. Charlie Swan might have attended Seth's high school graduation, but there were still dozens of photos of Seth in his cap and gown posed at the Cullen house.

- Please standby for the most self-indulgent chapters of this entire fic. I'm not even sorry.