Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War. That idea belongs to IdreamofEddy.
A/N: Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)
Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing and to Laurie for surprising me with it. I will be setting up a link in my bio so you can view it.
Thank you so much to everyone who have favorited, put this story on their alerts, or taken the time to review! You are all awesome! :)
I should probably also mention that my posting schedule will be on Sundays unless something comes up.
Just a reminder: Edward's gift is a bit different than usual. Not only can he read minds but he can also put his thoughts into other people's heads as well as do something akin to a 3-way phone call. It's not limited to three people but, essentially, he and anyone of his choosing can have conversations that are completely silent through his gift. To denote this, conversations that take place through Edward's gift are in "italics with quotes" while Jasper's individual thoughts are in plain italics.
oOo
Late July 2080
JPOV
When The Notebook ended, I couldn't get up fast enough. I had intended to leave the room but found myself taking a seat at the chess table in the corner instead, which only served to piss me off more and make me feel restless. I would make Alice pay for this. I didn't yet know how but I would make her suffer. Now I just had to figure out how to move things along in regard to Carlisle and Esme getting rid of the human. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this god-awful itching anymore; I wouldn't have to deal with the bloodlust, the ridiculous images it put in my head, or the way it made my body react against my will. Fortunately for me, I didn't have to figure out anything. Esme and Rosalie did that for me.
When the movie was over, Esme disappeared upstairs. While she was gone, which was all of about ten minutes, everyone but Rosalie and I tried engaging the girl in conversation without much success.
When Esme returned, she was carrying a garment bag, and a big shoe box with a brand new pair of thick, wool socks perched on top of it. She set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch the girl was sitting on and opened the shoe box to reveal a brand new pair of winter boots. Then she opened the garment bag, which had indeed contained an equally brand-spanking new winter coat. Both items were a product of Alice's last shopping spree and both items still had the tags on them.
"You're a size 8, right?" Esme asked, pulling a boot out of the box and setting it next to the girl's foot to compare.
The girl looked at Esme like she had grown a second head and didn't answer ... more like refused to.
Shit! This isn't goin' to end well. Maybe I couldn't feel it with my gift but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Esme was playing with fire. She didn't seem to notice this and continued on, pretty much answering her own question.
"These are a nine," Esme informed the girl, pulling the other boot out of the box and inspecting it, "but you need a bigger size with winter boots because of the kind of socks you have to wear with them."
This revelation ratcheted Rosalie's anger and irritation up a couple of notches. If those boots were a size nine, it meant they were hers and Esme had just given them to the human girl she hated without even asking her about it first.
"I didn't know that. I'll look into it," the girl said. Her wording was intended to let our well-intentioned mother know that she wanted nothin' to do with any of the clothing Esme had brought out.
Esme's emotions told me she was perfectly aware of this but she feigned ignorance. "Nonsense! There's no point 'looking into it' when I've got a perfectly good pair right here."
"That's not necessary," the girl said. Her tone was mild but her eyes held a warning in them that Esme would have been wise not to ignore.
But she did, completely fuckin' dismissed it actually, "Of course it is, dear. It's summer here so it's a little odd for it to be so cold right now but it's always raining whether it's summer or not so you need these things. Your sneakers and hoodie didn't survive the storm and even if they had, they're not appropriate for life here on the Olympic Peninsula. This is a small," she continued, gesturing to the coat, "so it should fit you."
Esme was really pushing her luck with this girl. From the looks on everyone's faces and the wariness they were projecting, I knew I wasn't the only one that thought so.
"No thank you," the girl said, her lips turning down into a scowl. I once again felt the urge to bite the bottom one.
Goddamnit! If she didn't leave soon I was going to start pulling my hair out.
"Esme-" Carlisle started, obviously hoping to avert disaster.
Esme ignored this too. She cared so much about this girl she was willing to do anything to help her, even if the girl didn't want it. "Don't be ridiculous-"
"I don't appreciate being called ridiculous," the girl said in a low, dark tone. She crossed her arms over her chest, her posture rigid.
All our eyes were glued to what was going on between our mother figure and our guest. In all the years I'd lived with the Cullens, I'd never seen anyone argue with or talk back to Esme. She was too sweet-natured and loving for anyone to even consider it, so it was shocking, to say the least. It was like we were in The fuckin' Twilight Zone or something.
Esme cringed and Carlisle moved to her side, "Esme-" he tried again.
But Esme wasn't willing to give up yet. She was so determined and hopeful that she could change the girl's mind, but the girl was so fuckin' stubborn.
"I'm sorry," Esme apologized genuinely. "That's not what I meant to imply but you really do need these things, sweetheart."
"I don't need anything. You are not my mother," the girl growled even more venomously than she had the night before. Her anger in that moment was so strong that I felt it clearly. In spite of that anger, there was something in her eyes, a sort of desperation, that made me think that maybe she did want a mother whether it was Esme who filled that role or not; but the flash of emotion I'd felt from her faded away so quickly I began to question whether or not I'd actually felt it in the first place or if it had just been a figment of my imagination. "I am not your sweetheart. I don't want your boots or your socks or your coat!" she shouted, gesturing violently at the items in question. "I am not a charity case!"
If we'd all been shocked at the way she'd been talking to Esme before it was nothing to how we felt by the time her outburst was finished. Esme looked like she had been slapped, her despair at the girl's rejection so strong venom gathered in the corners of my eyes just the same as it had in hers.
Carlisle wrapped an arm around his mate's shoulders in comfort but, in typical Carlisle fashion, he felt empathy for the girl.
"Honey-" he began, speaking to the girl this time.
Before Carlisle could say what he'd intended, Rosalie stepped forward. She was feeling a sick sense of glee and anticipation, and as much as the girl had been driving me crazy, I felt a flash of foreboding. A part of me wanted to do something, to stop Rose from whatever it was she was planning but I couldn't. We were supposed to be playing human. Humans couldn't feel or manipulate the emotions of others. Maybe I should have made an exception at this point but I wouldn't.
She's just a human. You do not care.
"Aren't you?" Rosalie asked sweetly.
The whole time the girl had been here she hadn't shown much emotion in regard to anything and had proven to be hard to rile; except for when anyone so much as implied that she was a charity case. It was obvious that being considered charity was her Achilles heel, so Rose choosing to rip her claws into that particular wound was like kicking the girl in the figurative balls.
The girl looked confused for a moment, "What?"
"A charity case," Rosalie clarified, her lips curling up in a vindictive smile.
The girl's eyes flashed dangerously, her rage written all over her face and in her body language. Her fingers kept curling into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms hard enough to draw the tiniest bit of blood, the pressure turning her knuckles white before she released them; only to start the process all over again. I knew my eyes had gone black just as surely as everyone else's had. The burn in my throat intensified, again, just as I was sure everyone else's thirst was now more of an issue, but we were all too riveted by the confrontation between the two women to pay much attention to it. Later we would all reflect on how odd that was, but in that moment it didn't register.
"Rosalie!" Carlisle snapped, infuriated.
Rosalie ignored him. "I mean, here you are, sleeping in our guest room, using our shower, eating our food, wearing my clothes, making us all feel sorry for you. If that's not the definition of a charity case, I honestly don't know what is."
If someone had asked me before that moment if the human could get any angrier than she already was, I would have told them no. I was absolutely, utterly, horribly wrong.
The girl stood there breathing heavily, chest risin' and fallin' like she'd just run a 25 mile marathon at breakneck speed. The expression on her face was murderous, every bit as scary as any of Rosalie's at her most pissed off. It looked like she would have liked nothing more than to go all Fight Club on Rose's ass and that would have been a very, very bad thing.
I don't know what I'd been expecting to happen next, but what actually did blew my mind.
The girl let out a breath and all the anger appeared to have left her body with it. She leveled a piercing gaze at Rosalie, her eyes triumphant, mocking. Then she leisurely peeled the navy, scoop-necked sweater Esme had given her to wear over her head and tossed it to the ground. Next, she unfastened the ill-fitting skinny jeans, letting 'em pool at her ankles, stepping out of them calmly so that they were lying in a neat heap at her feet. That left her standing there in the middle of the room in nothing but the blue, lacy bra and panties that had 'Rosalie' written all over them, the silver necklace, which had a phoenix pendant, and a thick, wide, silver cuff bracelet with some sort of engraving on it that I couldn't make out because of the angle I was at.
Christ! I cursed, trying not to stare and failing miserably. The girl was too fuckin' skinny, and the bra and boyshorts didn't fit right. I shouldn't have found her sexy in the least. I liked my women somewhat curvy and curvy she most definitely was not, but even though she was underweight, what little body mass she did have was firm muscle. Plus, she was all long legs and her breasts were damn nice for how thin she was. I could see that with some meat on her bones, her shape would be heavenly with a tight little ass and fantastic breasts to boot.
What the hell is this girl tryin' to do to me?
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get the image of her warm, scantily clad, little body out of my head but it was seared into my eyelids. Even if it hadn't been, she would still be standing there, nearly naked, in the middle of my living room when I opened them again and I would open them again. I was a man, after all. I wasn't going to keep my eyes shut and miss the opportunity to ogle a perfectly decent looking half-naked girl.
It's okay to look, Jasper, I reassured myself as I finally reopened my eyes. Just because you look doesn't mean you actually give a fuck. She's still just a human. She still doesn't matter. You still do not care.
The girl cocked her head at Rose, gave her a cocky little smirk and shrugged, "Now, I'm not wearing your clothes … mostly." She glanced down at her breasts and ran her finger under the strap of the bra, letting it snap back against her skin, "This is yours as well, right?" The girl looked back up, that cocky, fuckin' sexy, little smirk still on her lips, daring Rosalie to say something, but my sister wasn't quick enough. "Because if you have such a problem with me wearing your clothes, I could take this off too," she said, "and from the way your brother is staring," and Emmett was staring - we all were, "I don't think he would mind."
The thought of her stripping off those lacy bits of fabric had me biting back a groan and my dick twitching in my pants but from the way the girl had enunciated the word brother, it was clear she wasn't referring to me or Edward, and Rosalie knew it. The saucy little wink the girl threw Emmett's way was confirmation that none of us needed. It was pretty much the equivalent of stabbing a rabid bull in the ass with a red hot poker, but the girl had known that when she'd done it.
I'd never been more turned on or impressed in my life. The success of Rose's little scheme to make the human miserable had hinged on taking what had obviously been her deepest insecurity and turning it against her. Instead, the girl had fought through Rose's mind fuck, figured out her game and turned the tables brilliantly. Rosalie may have kicked the girl in the balls but, damn, she'd kicked my bitch of a sister right back with even more zeal.
Human-1; Rosalie-0.
With a shriek of unadulterated rage, Rose lunged only to be held back by her mate.
"You skanky little bitch," she howled, struggling hard against Emmett's strength. "I'll fucking kill you! I swear to God, I'll-"
"Rosalie, that's enough!" Carlisle snapped again, glarin' at her. It was the harshest look I had ever seen him give anyone and it actually shut her up.
Then he gave me a look that told me I had his blessing to take control of the situation, so I shot a dose of calm at Rosalie. It took the edge off her fury - I couldn't very well turn her into a docile little lamb now could I? It did stop her struggling immediately but that could easily have been explained away by Emmett's size and current hold on her, which circumvented any suspicion off of me and anything supernatural in origin.
"Take a walk and cool down," Carlisle commanded his oldest daughter coldly. "We'll be having a serious talk when you get back. Emmett, go with her."
Emmett took Rose by the elbow and had to forcibly drag her from the room, the girl smirking all the while as she watched them go. Not long after, the sound of screeching tires filled the air and an engine revved as Rose's BMW pealed out of the garage and sped down the driveway.
"You weren't kidding when you said this girl had balls," I told Edward, unable to keep the admiration out of my "voice."
"She has a goddamn death wish!" he exclaimed.
"Some people just aren't born with a survival instinct," I said. I couldn't shrug but it was implied in my tone.
"Even so," Alice chimed in, "you have to admit that was pretty awesome. I've never seen anyone put Rosalie in her place like that."
The three of us just grinned at each other. It's not that we didn't love Rose but she'd taken things too far.
She's just a human. You do not care.
"Please put your clothes back on," Carlisle requested of our near naked guest.
Please, please don't.
Carlisle was 100% composed, acting as though a teenage girl hadn't just stripped down to her underwear in front of his entire family and almost provoked his most volatile offspring into murdering her in a very gruesome and bloody manner.
The girl bent over to collect the sweater from the floor by her feet and my eyes zeroed in on her ass. She really was trying to torture me. She did the same thing with the jeans and I felt the urge to choke her again. Either that or rip those panties off and take her from behind. It was then that I came to a sudden realization. I didn't want this girl at all. It had just been way too damn long since I'd gotten laid and that was easily fixable. This girl would leave, I would head up to Denali to get my rocks off, and I would never think about her again. I let out a breath of relief. Didn't mean I wasn't sorry when she pulled her clothes back on.
"Alice, Edward, Jasper," Esme said, sounding calm when she was anything but, "please go to your rooms."
We didn't argue, just headed upstairs. I went to my room like a good little boy but a good little boy I was not. I was restless, pacing, literally unable to stand still. I couldn't stay in this house and there was no longer any reason I should have had to. My presence was no longer required, not that it really had been in the first place and so I pried my window open, stepped out onto the sill and jumped gracefully to the ground.
"Esme and I would like to speak with you, Storm," I heard Carlisle say.
As I headed toward the tree line, I couldn't stop myself from looking back at the house. The girl would be gone by the time I got back.
Good riddance.
Once I started running, I didn't look back a second time.
oOo
"Esme and I would like to speak with you, Storm," Carlisle said, ushering the girl ahead of him and in the direction of his office.
He was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened between his daughter and this formidable girl who had broken into his home not fifteen hours ago. He wanted to kill Rosalie. Regardless of how they'd come to meet, the circumstances of which Rose was still ignorant, the girl was still a guest in their home and should have been treated as such whether Rosalie liked the idea of her being there or not. He'd thought she at least had enough respect for him to honor that. He'd been wrong and he couldn't remember ever being so angry.
As far as the teenager before him went, he honestly didn't have any idea what to do with her. He had come to care about her a great deal in the short amount of time he'd known her. She was hard, stubborn, sarcastic, and proud with trust issues a mile high but she was also vulnerable, considerate, smart, and brave with a great sense of humor. He knew nothing about her and yet he wanted to protect her, to care for her as if she were his own. If things were different, he wouldn't hesitate to try to make that a viable option for her but things weren't different. He and his family were vampires and bringing her into their lives on a more permanent basis was too great a risk. Even if it hadn't been, the likelihood of her being open to such an offer after the events of the past hour had just dropped to nil.
Storm moved ahead of him, still straightening her clothes, following his directions to his office without a word. As soon as they entered, she flopped down into one of his wingback chairs. He and Esme took a seat across from her on the matching couch.
The three of them just looked at each other for a moment, gauging each other's moods and reactions. This wasn't something Carlisle was used to having to do anymore. He had been with his family members long enough to be able to tell what mood they were in with nothing more than a glance. Jasper was the only exception to this. He was still very much an enigma to Carlisle most of the time. He only let you in when he wanted to and most of the time he didn't want to, but he was still a good man who cared immensely about the family.
"I'm sorry for making a scene," Storm said, and she did sound like she meant it, "but I won't apologize for not taking shit from your daughter. Not to you and, most definitely, not to her."
Her tone was fierce, non-negotiable. Carlisle respected it even if most of his beliefs centered on the concepts of compromise and pacifism. Esme respected it also. She wanted to apologize for her earlier actions, for Rosalie's, but she was afraid to say a word. Everything she seemed to say or do was wrong with this girl and she didn't want to make things any worse, so she was going to let Carlisle do all the talking from now on. He always seemed to know what was best to do in any situation.
"I don't expect you to apologize for that," Carlisle told her, his expression serious. "I never should have let things get so out of hand. I apologize to you for my daughter's behavior."
Storm's face showed a brief moment of shock before she schooled her features. Apparently, she'd been expecting Carlisle to reprimand her for her behavior.
"Do I wish you would have handled the situation without the shedding of clothes?" he said, unable to keep one corner of his mouth from quirking up. "Of course, but I much prefer shed clothing to shed blood."
The girl had no idea just how true that statement was.
"Oh," she said, her expression on the cusp of amused, "I don't know about that."
Carlisle looked at her questioningly.
"I would think it would depend on what's easier to get out," she replied dryly, "the blood stains or the image of me in my underwear."
This effectively broke the tension in the room, wide smiles breaking out on Carlisle and Esme's faces, though Esme was still filled with guilt and anxiety.
"If you didn't bring me in here to discuss my stripping, what did you want to talk to me about?" Storm asked, getting back down to business.
Carlisle folded his hands in his lap. "We need you to tell us how to get in contact with your parents."
Storm folded her arms across her chest, her expression hardening stubbornly the way he and Esme had seen too many times since they'd met her. They were in for another fight it seemed. It was hardly surprising to either of them when she didn't respond.
"Storm," Carlisle said, his voice even and reasonable, "if you don't tell us how to contact your parents, we'll have to call Child Protective Services instead."
She regarded Carlisle with contempt but remained silent.
"We don't want to call them," he told her emphatically, a note of pleading in his tone, "but nothing has changed since last night. We're still the adults in this situation and we still have to take your best interests into consideration here."
Storm laughed. It was a full belly-laugh, the kind that should have made you want to smile and join in. This laugh made Carlisle and Esme feel sick.
"Adults are hilarious, you know? They think that just because they have managed to live beyond the ripe old age of 18 that they're omniscient and all-powerful. I was starting to think that you might be different. Obviously, you're not but that joke's on me, I guess," she said bitterly. "Well, newsflash, asshat," she bristled, "you don't know me. You don't even know what my best interests are, and you sure as hell don't get to decide where I go, what I do, or how I live. Those are things that belong to me and me alone. You don't get to take that away from me. No one does."
She stood up abruptly, sending the wingback chair skidding backward several feet, and marched over to his desk. Closing her hand around the phone, she jerked it off its base and held it out to him impatiently.
"Be my guest, Doc," Storm challenged, "make the call; but the only way I'm sticking around for Child Protective Services to haul me off is if you employ the use of fisticuffs and you really don't look the fisticuffs type. Feel free to prove me wrong if you're that determined, but I don't fight fair when it comes to shit like this and considering that the only bullet you've got in your gun is how filthy, fucking rich you are, that doesn't count for much because there is no amount of money in the world that will keep me here."
"We just want to help you," Carlisle said miserably, trying desperately to figure out at which point in this conversation he had gone so horribly wrong. He'd known it would be tough but he hadn't been expecting this. Then again, she was just coming off her confrontation with Rosalie so her emotions were high and she never had responded well to the threat of authority of any kind. Maybe he should have requested Jasper's presence for this.
"Fuck you and your help," Storm spat, her eyes full of hurt and hatred.
Then she turned on her heel and walked out of Carlisle's office … out of their lives.
oOo
A/N: So ... What did you think? Hopefully you guys aren't too mad at me for some of the things in this chapter. Be kind. :)
