A/N: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only making her characters do my bidding for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.
Surprise! I decided to post early to help make up for the lateness of my last update.
But first ... There seems to be an assumption that Bella has killed before. I have never once written that and until I explicitly do, that is not an assumption that should be made. I am perfectly aware of what the phrase "having blood on one's hands" means, which of course, means that Bella does as well, and that has certain implications. Even so, don't make any assumptions. All will be made clear in time.
Thank you to all of you that have read, followed, favorited and reviewed. You are awesome!
To one of my anonymous guest reviewers: I did actually take your last review into consideration. You brought up some valid points and I do take those seriously, so thank you.
This is the last time I will be addressing an anonymous review in an author's note. It isn't that I don't appreciate them because I do. I cherish them just as much as all the others I get, but I don't particularly like responding to them for all to see. There are certain things I feel should be kept between me and the reviewer, though I have made exceptions in the past and shared them with everyone. All I can say is that if you actually would like a response or to have a conversation of sorts, please sign in. That's the only way I can adequately answer any questions you might have, and I do take the time to do that if you take the time to ask them. Thanks. :)
Thank you to my beta/pre-reader/sister extraordinaire and best buddy, Shelljayz. I love you madly! And thank you to my pre-readers and good friends, juliangelus and deebelle1. I love you guys too! :)
And now, on to the good stuff!
oOo
Thursday, December 24th, 2080 ... Christmas Eve
JPOV
It was two o'clock in the morning—officially Christmas Eve—and in six hours, Carlisle, Peter, Charlotte, Edward and I had to be at the treaty line to check in with the wolves before I attempted to hunt animals and revert back to the vegetarian diet. Six hours before I had to subject myself to the stench of those judgmental pups and their volatile emotions and to the well-meaning ones of my family.
Oh joy! I knew it was necessary, for Bella's safety and my sanity, but that didn't mean I was looking forward to it or that I had to like it.
In the meantime, I was in my bedroom, stretched out on my bed with my eyes closed, mulling over the events of the day before. It had been fuckin' packed with them from the start, most of them on the negative end of the spectrum, and all unbelievably intense.
First, my nearly obscene but successful feed. It was bugging me. If I had been able to focus on anything other than the new color of my eyes, it would have been bugging me all day. I had noticed it at the time, but caught up in the frenzy of bloodlust, it hadn't mattered to me. When the haze lifted a while later, that observation finally sunk in and took root. Those bags of blood were different from the ones I'd tried and failed to keep down the two times previous. Those had contained three of the four components found in blood: red cells, platelets and plasma, and even though it wasn't fresh, warm, made up of everything found flowing through veins and arteries and had a slightly stale, on the cusp of bitter flavor, that bagged blood tasted better than animal any and every day of the week. The ones I'd partaken of this morning were real, honest-to-God blood that was sure as hell fresher than any of the others. And as great as it was and as true as it was that it was the best I had ever tasted, there was something off about it. I wanted to say that it wasn't pure, but that didn't make sense, and Carlisle wouldn't rig up a human like a flesh and blood keg just to feed me ... I didn't think. Then again, he'd been pretty ruthless lately; first, with his vehemence in his threats on Bella's behalf, and again, in his brazenness with the wolves on mine. Maybe he would go that far, and what other explanation was there? I didn't feel comfortable asking him, and I wasn't sure I even wanted to know.
Then there was Emmett's revelation about his and Edward's part in Gavin's death and my subsequent admission and threat. I had never admitted, at least not out loud, why I did the things I did to protect the family or claimed them all as mine in a far more vampiric way. The former had always been implied but never confirmed. The fact that I had basically promised to kill him if he ever poached a kill from me again wasn't something I ever thought I would do.
And Bella. Did I even want to go there? Not particularly, but I couldn't keep my mind from drifting to her and our conversations constantly. Yet again, during our first one she had rendered me practically dumb, struggling our whole encounter to keep up. It wasn't that I wasn't capable. She just caught me off guard so damn much. She had taken the new color of my eyes in stride, even thought they were pretty! Sure, she'd been mighty unperturbed, matter of fact and accepting of the idea of me drinking human blood the day before, but it was one thing to discuss the theory and entirely another to come face to face with it. And yet, it truly hadn't mattered to her. I had known on a logical level that she could comprehend the need—she had proven that during our time with Chaos two days before—but it was another one of those theories that was a little different when put into practice.
And then there was how she had seen the new color of my eyes. I couldn't get that out of my head. Catching her wrists in my hands and yanking her onto my lap. That hadn't exactly been my intention when I did it. My lap was the last place I wanted her.
The Major snorted at both those claims. So maybe it had been a half intention for her to end up there, and maybe I didn't really mind as much as I was trying to convince myself … except I did precisely because of what ended up happening as a result. I already fantasized about her enough in every which way, but actually having her perched there, rubbing against my cock and feeling the heat of her? Goddamn! It was exquisite, but it was also fuckin' torture because it hadn't gone down the way it always did in my fantasies. Bella hadn't done it on purpose. She didn't want me. Maybe she had in Louisville months ago, but she didn't now, and that hurt, her words from our time with Chaos the other day echoing in my head.
It hurt almost more than I could bear, which was really saying something. The restraint it took not to grasp her hips and keep her there, to continue moving her over me or to press my lips to her neck and trail kisses over her skin that tasted even better than the blood I'd consumed this morning, eventually to capture her lips until she was breathless and understood just how much I wanted her, how much I wanted to worship her, to love her and show her how good sex could be, to just plain make her understand how much I loved her, hurt even more.
And then she'd stolen my fuckin' sunglasses! Just like she'd stolen my motorcycle and my baseball, only she'd given those things back. This time she'd made it pretty damn clear she had no intention of returning the fruits of her latest criminal violation of my property. Granted I hadn't exactly put much effort into stopping her, but that had everything to do with the pain I'd been grappling with, the pain that still lingered like an unwanted ghost. It wasn't that I particularly gave a shit about the sunglasses. Other than to conceal the color of my irises, I didn't need them. No, it was the principle of the thing, what Bella stealing my sunglasses represented.
I didn't like people fucking around with my stuff whether I was all that attached to it or not. The fact that she'd stolen them, and right off my face no less, should have pissed me off, but it didn't. Instead, it turned me on so much I was a little crazy with it. Considering I was already horny as hell before that didn't help. Needless to say, my imagination was running wild with ideas of how to meet her challenge and take them back from her. Why she'd bothered to steal them at all was driving me a different sort of crazy. She'd done it because she cared about me, and ultimately, it was her reasons for lifting them that really mattered. She wouldn't have bothered with any of it if she didn't care at all.
And I knew she cared. It was another thing she'd proven over the past weeks, but now her claim that I meant nothing to her in spite of that was echoing in my head, and I couldn't shut it off. That fuckin' hurt too, more than I ever thought something like that would because she didn't care the way I wished she did. Of course, I had never imagined I would find myself in this situation. None of this changed that we could never be together. It was just that I was stronger than this. The notion that I didn't matter to Bella shouldn't affect me this way. What was it about the woman that made me so fuckin' weak? How had she managed not only to make me fall in love with her but turned me into a pussy in the process as well? Emmett, Edward, Carlisle and Peter were in love and they weren't like this, damn it! It was annoying. I wanted to be annoyed with her, but I couldn't be. I could easily have blamed her for all of this shit, but I didn't. I couldn't ... because I loved her, and she sure as hell hadn't meant for me to fall for her. She had made that very fuckin' clear too, so no, I couldn't blame her. I couldn't be annoyed with her, but I could blame myself. I could be annoyed with me, and I was. I wanted to be irritated that I loved her period, but as I fell deeper and deeper for her, that became harder and harder to do, so being annoyed with myself and how I was letting all this affect me was really all I had. It was all I was left with. And I kept coming back to the same thing: it hurt. Wanting her hurt. Loving her hurt, and I was so fuckin' tired of hurting. I tried my best to deny that I was in pain from all the shit I'd gone through in my life, but that denial had never quelled that pain. Unfortunately, how much loving her hurt me, didn't change that I did.
I had never been dramatic, but I was agonizing over all this when Rosalie ventured into my room without bothering to knock. I remained settled on my back on my bed and kept my eyes closed as I waited for her to say what she came to say.
"Thank you, Jasper," she murmured. Her voice was quiet but clear, her gratitude for what I'd done, or had attempted to do, for Emmett evident as well. I could feel it in her emotions too. "I know you aren't happy with Emmett for taking care of Gavin himself, but thank you for trying to fix things between him and Bella in spite of that."
I knew she would come to me for exactly this reason, and that she would do it before Emmett had the chance to talk to her about the color of my eyes. In the chaos of the day before, he hadn't gotten around to telling her, and he should be the one to break the news. He would tell his mate, and even though she loved him, she would still blow a damn gasket and he would let her because Rose was the type of person who needed to let her frustration out instead of letting it build up. He would stand patiently by while she threw her little—or big—shitfit and then he would step in. First he would calm her down in whatever way worked, though in those instances, none of them involved sex. Then he would hold her and tell her he loved her and that he understood why she was upset and that it was okay to be, even if he didn't agree with that statement as much as he claimed to.
After that he hit her with logic—irrefutable arguments that were impossible to deny and that would ease her mind, even if it was only a little. If anyone else tried any one of those things, especially right after she got upset, we promptly would have been told to fuck off until she had a chance to let it all sink in so she could push her heart aside and mull it over with her brain. Rosalie was smart, she could even be reasonable sometimes, but more than anything, she was stubborn. If we didn't have Emmett with us, I wouldn't be surprised if it had taken her years to pull her head out of her ass over some of the disagreements she'd had with Carlisle.
Emmett, however, was still not here. He was still out at the edge of the property, no longer moping, more like contemplating whatever it was he had to contemplate to get his head screwed back on straight before he and Bella cleared the air once and for all between them. That left me to give Rosalie the glorious news.
This should be fun, the Major predicted.
Oh, yes, I agreed sarcastically. About as fun as it is for a human to have all their teeth pulled with no novocaine to dull the pain.
You aren't afraid of the giant Barbie doll, are you?
I rolled my eyes behind my lids. The last thing Rosalie is is a Barbie doll. She's more like a Pit Bull in a tiara, but either way, I'm not afraid of her. I'm not afraid of anyone. I'm just really not in the mood for this shit.
"Hey, Edward!" I called out to my telepathic brother through his gift, not giving my irritating mental co-pilot a chance to reply. "Do me a favor and be ready when the shit hits the fan."
"Will do, Jasper," he responded evenly. He had been there through all the meetings with the Quileutes and could show her everything. "I'll have Carlisle at the ready as well."
"Thanks, brother. I'll let you know when to step in. Otherwise, stand down," I instructed firmly.
"I just let Peter and Charlotte in the loop," Edward said. "Do you want me to bring Em in too?"
I let out an internal snort. "Once the screeching starts, you won't need to."
"True," he conceded. "Ready when you are."
All of that had taken place in seconds, and while it was necessary tactical planning, I mostly did it to give myself those few extra moments of peace.
There was one thing I had to say before I opened the gates to hell and let it break loose. "You're right, I'm not happy he took care of Gavin himself, but Emmett and I are good. All I did is what brothers are supposed to do for each other."
Then I took a breath and braced myself, twisting my head in the direction the sound of her voice told me she was and opened my eyes.
And cue the dramatic, overwrought, ear-splitting screeching …, the Major said.
Rosalie's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in rage. "What the fuck, Jasper? You give Emmett hell for killing Gavin and then you go and kill a human yourself? An innocent human? You're a damn hypocrite, and you were supposed to have your bloodlust under control! How could you do this? How could you put the family in danger? How could you put Bella in danger? I thought you lo—"
"Shut your mouth, Rosalie!" I snarled with menace fierce enough to snap her mouth closed despite her fury, shooting up into a sitting position in a threatening gesture. Her shouting would not be stifled by the soundproofing, and it was obvious what she'd been about to say—that she thought I loved Bella and wouldn't risk putting her in danger—and I would not allow her to reveal my feelings for Bella to Bella because she was pissed over something she didn't understand. If anyone was going to tell Bella how I felt, it would be me, but I still had no intention of doing that.
I relaxed back onto my bed and folded my hands behind my head again, which infuriated my sister all the more. As predicted, Emmett had heard Rose's shouting and was on his way to defuse the situation. I planned to have the situation well in hand by the time he got here. "Edward, Carlisle, Peter, Charlotte, would you care to clear this up for me? I'm not in the mood to bother with it myself."
I opened my mind enough to see everything Edward showed our sister, as well as Alice and Esme—so much for my fuckin' privacy. The meetings with the wolves, including Carlisle's proposal, my inability to stomach the first bags of human blood that had been forced on me and the failed attempt two days later, my next attempt at drinking animal blood when I couldn't even bring myself to sink my teeth in to the wolf's neck and the one after when I forced myself to and lost it, and finally, my successful feed yesterday.
Also as predicted, none of this made any difference. Instead, it just pissed her off more, her rage mingling with hurt. "Weeks, Jasper? You hadn't fed for weeks? How could you have kept this from us?"
Emmett came bursting into the room then, pulling his mate into his arms. She pushed away from him. "No! No! You kept this from me too! You all did!" She threw accusing glares at Carlisle, Peter, Charlotte and Edward before returning her attention to Emmett. "You don't get to hold me!"
Emmett didn't let Rosalie keep the distance between them. He pulled her back into his arms, settling her against his chest and squeezing her tight until she gave up and stopped struggling, slumping against him. "I know, babe, I know," he murmured into her hair. "I'm sorry. I never meant to but things got so crazy yesterday. I just didn't get the chance. It's okay now. Jasper is getting better. The color of his eyes doesn't matter, even if he did kill someone, because you love him. But he didn't. I know you're upset, but it's okay."
Emmett's words did very little to assuage Rose's anger and hurt, but I knew that eventually, they would sink in. However, I didn't have the patience to wait for that, especially when she peeked out from her perch against her mate's chest and hit me with a pained, betrayed and confused expression.
"I love you, Rosalie," I said darkly, "but I won't say this again. I am not in the fuckin' mood. None of this has anything to do with you. It wasn't any of your business. It still isn't. Get over it. I suggest you all do."
This was also said for the benefit of Alice and Esme, the only ones besides Rose who hadn't known.
I watched as everyone filed out of my bedroom. Nothing about what had gone down here had been surprising. It had been downright predictable in fact. What I did find curious was that our human, who was unequivocally pissed at me, had lingered outside my door for the whole of it.
oOo
APOV
It was a quarter to six in the morning on Christmas Eve, not even three hours after Jasper and Rosalie's argument over the color of his eyes and just under ten since Bella and Emmett's fight and her subsequent one with Jasper.
I hadn't known about Jasper's troubles with feeding. I still couldn't see him the majority of the time, which drove me crazy, not because I had to know every little thing he decided to do or what was going on with him but because I knew he wasn't exactly himself and I was worried. Being able to see him provided me with some comfort, but I didn't have that, not when it counted it seemed, though I knew not being able to feed wasn't his choice. That didn't make me feel any better about it. I knew he had Peter and Charlotte, but once upon a time, he had needed me too, and I loved him. I still wanted him to need me, and I wanted to be there for him, to help him; but how could I help him if I couldn't see him? Finding him the perfect outfit, which he probably wouldn't wear anyway, wouldn't make a difference this time. I knew it rarely ever did, but it was another thing that made me feel better, less useless.
It hadn't helped that the whole thing was wrapped up in the Quileutes, whom I had never been able to see. That also made me crazy but only because that made them wild cards. All my life, my visions had nullified any possibility of being blindsided, but they had that capability. I knew we could ultimately handle them, but I still liked to be prepared.
I had known about Emmett's plot to kill Gavin Nichols. Unlike Jasper, Peter and Charlotte, who all had the ability to thwart my gift because of their time in the Southern Wars, Emmett couldn't. As soon as he resolved to end his life if Jasper didn't, I had seen it: him and Rosalie lying together on the beach watching the waves as they comforted each other over what had happened to Bella and all the memories it had dredged up, burrowed in the sand like they were part of the beach itself. Because of Edward's gift, he had seen it too, and his decision to help our brother when he made his move was immediate, if that move was necessary. I hadn't argued because I cared absolutely nothing about Gavin Nichols' life, and I knew how much both Emmett and Edward needed to do it. Emmett's need was obvious. Edward's was less so, but I had always known. His relationship with Rosalie had started out rocky and he was ashamed of his initial ambivalence toward her but that didn't make him neutral to the events that led to her change. He loved Rose now, and as her brother, his desire to do something that could avenge her even a little—despite that who they were punishing weren't those guilty for hurting her—was strong. The fact that he and Emmett both fiercely loved Bella only made Gavin's death more necessary for them, and Jasper's failure to do it himself meant my tentative vision over their part in Gavin's future, or lack thereof, solidified.
Just like my brother and mate, I had known Bella would figure out one of us had done it even if I couldn't see it. I had also known that, while Emmett hoped her reaction wouldn't be a hostile one, he knew she would more likely go nuclear than throw her arms around him and Edward in gratitude. My love had suspected the same. I, on the other hand, being the eternal optimist I was, thought they were lunatics for believing that Bella wouldn't feel grateful to them for getting her the justice she deserved. I mean, who didn't appreciate knowing they had people who loved them enough to avenge their hurts? Imagine my utter surprise when I discovered how wrong I was and how right they were.
I wasn't mad at her for thumbing her nose at their efforts necessarily. Having principles wasn't a bad thing, and sticking by them was an even better trait to have. All of us in the family strived for that ourselves, but Jasper was right—we weren't human. As much as we tried to be, we just weren't. We were vampires, and vampires just didn't do things the same way as humans sometimes. I knew Bella understood that as much as was possible after their little chat, but she still didn't. She couldn't. Unless she became one of us, it was impossible for her to fully grasp that, and that was okay. We all may have wanted her to become a vampire, but that wasn't what she wanted. It saddened me that she didn't want to be with us forever, but it wasn't something that could be forced. I knew that, but that didn't mean I had to take it lying down. I wasn't going to badger the girl I loved like a sister about it, but I was going to try my best to change her mind. Bella belonged with us. Things weren't so great between her and Jasper or her and Emmett at the moment, but they would work things out. I didn't need to have a vision of it to know. Families forgave each other and got past their issues. Bella would come around because she belonged with us. Now all I had to do was convince her of that.
And so here I was, standing outside Bella's bedroom door clutching a painstakingly wrapped package and debating whether or not I should knock. She was awake. She hadn't ever actually gone to bed and she wouldn't be any time soon. She was scheduled to work from half-past six until three this afternoon, which sucked since it was Christmas Eve, but according to Bella's boss, the diner was always pretty busy on this day every year. At least she had Christmas day off.
I knew she would answer if I did knock. She was already out of the shower and was done blow drying her hair; whether or not she was dressed was up for debate, but she didn't have to look fancy for her job, so doing that wouldn't take long if she wasn't. What she would need a chunk of time for was to accept the gift encased in the meticulously wrapped package I held. There was no other choice. I had to do this now.
"Come in," she called only seconds after I rapped my fist against her door.
"Good morning, Bella," I greeted brightly, smiling. Even though I was more subdued because of the events of the last few days, I couldn't help but be excited. My disposition was forever sunny, even if my sky filled with a cloud or two … or two dozen.
She was indeed dressed, and her outfit was decidedly Christmasy: a deep red sweater and black pants with knee-high, brown leather boots to break up the monotony of what would have been black on black. She had even attached little green, gold and silver bells along the chain of her phoenix pendant that chimed softly when she walked. She looked great.
"Good morning, Alice," she replied. Her voice was neutral as she took me in, probably because there was no way I could effectively hide the present I planned to give her. I had never intended to anyway. I figured it would be best just to rip the Bandaid off, so I went straight to her and offered it up.
Bella glanced at it briefly before she brought her gaze back to me. "You didn't have to get me anything."
"I know," I said good-naturedly.
"I don't want anything," she persisted, dropping her eyes to my gift, again, for just a moment.
"Everyone wants something, Bella," I contradicted. I just wasn't talking about presents, mostly.
"That isn't what I mean," she grumbled irritably. It was like she thought I was trying to annoy her on purpose or something.
"I know that too," I responded, still with unflappable good nature. When I carried on though, I knew I sounded sly. "That's why I didn't actually get you anything."
Bella's brow furrowed, lips turning down into a frown as she regarded me for several moments before switching her contemplative stare to my gift yet again and back.
I thrust it at her again, making sure my smile was still in place. There wasn't a whole lot that could make it falter. "Just open it, you stubborn brat."
She rolled her eyes and took the beautifully wrapped box as reluctantly as she'd taken Esme's ornament, which was actually a family gift even if it was her idea, but Bella didn't tear at the wrapping paper the way she had with that one. That one had been opened with caution and wariness. The wariness was there with this one too, but mostly there was a sense of resignation. Instead, she ripped the wrapping to shreds in seconds like she wanted to get all this over with as quickly as possible. It hurt a little.
She stared at the contents of the box for a long time, keeping me on pins and needles for every second of it. It made me antsy but I kept quiet.
"You made this," she stated, not looking up at me until after she'd uttered the words. There was no uncertainty in her voice.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. I hadn't been this nervous in a long time.
"Alice—"
I couldn't tell by the tone of her voice what she was going to say, and I couldn't remain silent any longer. I talked a lot when I was anxious. Most of the time it was a bunch of babbling that didn't make much sense. I hoped it did this time.
"It's okay if you don't like it," I muttered quickly. "I know it's a little different from what you normally wear. I tried to keep some elements of your style while thinking outside the box some. It's just, Rose is right. You're beautiful and hot with a body every woman who's not you would kill for. You don't have to show it off all the time, but you should every once in a while. You look gorgeous in a simple t-shirt and jeans. You would look gorgeous in a ripped up burlap sack, but you deserve to wear something as beautiful as you are at least sometimes. I want you to feel beautiful and sexy and as worth it as you are because I know you don't think you are, but you don't have to wear it if you don't want. I would understand."
By the time I was done rambling like an idiot, though nothing I'd said wasn't true or anything I didn't feel, I was gasping for breath since I had used all the air I'd sucked in in order to speak. So I didn't need the air but I was more in the habit of breathing than not, whether or not it was necessary. It was a reflex.
"Alice," she said again, patiently this time and faintly amused. "It is beautiful. And yeah, it isn't what I would normally wear, but I do like it."
"Oh," I murmured. I was still a little flustered from before and didn't know what else to say. I had taken a risk with the dress by going a little outside her style. I wasn't unsure about the color—a deep purple in a bandage-style fabric. It was everything else that had me concerned. While she generally wore dresses that were loose around the hips with very little cleavage and preferred hems that went no higher than the knee, this dress was tight from its one-shoulder multi-straps down to the hem that reached just below mid-thigh. It showed just a hint of cleavage—tasteful but still sexy—and I had added silver, pyramid studs around the trim of the neckline, which had various-shaped cutouts, and at the empire waist, side seams and on either side of the zipper at the back, making it both badass and beautiful. In other words, pure Bella. Therefore, despite the conscious effort I'd made to make her comfortable, it was those departures from the norm that had shaped my low expectations. I had hoped, of course, that she would like it. I was an eternal optimist after all. I just hadn't put much stock in that hope.
"Is this your own design?" Bella asked, smiling.
"Yes," I admitted, grinning back.
"You're really talented," she said, fingering the material absently as she gazed at me.
I shrugged. "Well, when I find fabric I like, I buy it, and I've had that longer than I've known you and the design for even longer. That means it doesn't count as buying you something," I reasoned.
Bella chuckled. "I suppose," she conceded with more grace than I could have hoped for. "Will you show me some of your other stuff? The other clothes you've made, I mean."
That I was not prepared for, and I pursed my lips. "There isn't anything to show."
My answer was met with a frown and furrowed eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"I sketch a lot and I do make my designs." My face reflected in Bella's mirror turned wistful. "But the only person I ever show is Edward and sometimes Jasper. Then I pack them up and ship them off to a storage space I have in New York."
"But why?" she questioned, miffed.
"The family doesn't understand my adoration for fashion. They all like to look good, of course, but the only ones besides Edward and Jasper that are supportive are Carlisle and Esme, but they still don't show much interest in it. They all just have different interests, which I get. Everyone does, and I know I can be overbearing about it sometimes. I've gotten better, but my past behavior still makes the others wary. They really only tolerate it because of that, and that's fine. I understand and I don't hold it against them. Anyway, I know I have talent, but I guess I just figure my designs don't matter."
I didn't lack confidence in most things but I did have certain insecurities. The reason no one in the family understood my obsession with fashion was because they had never really asked me about it, and it really did have everything to do with how I had behaved in the past. It didn't exactly make them inclined to want to. So, they didn't know that shopping and arranging outfits was a form of art to me, that I thought it could enhance all the good things about the person wearing it or that, most importantly, it made me feel like I was in control of something. Maybe my visions should have given me that, but they didn't. My designs were my primary way of expressing myself. If ever the darkness that came with the memories of my first years of my life as a vampire threatened to overwhelm me, I sketched. It helped clear my head. When I was so happy I felt like I could burst, I sketched. Almost every emotion that took hold of me ended up on paper as an eclectic mix of clothing designs, and sometimes, the emotions I saw in others inspired me. Either way, I felt more composed, more sane each time I finished one. Each of them was me. As confident as I was, I didn't like the idea of showing them those sketches and bringing them to life only to have the people I loved scoff at it. Maybe that wasn't a fair assumption for me to make, maybe I should have more faith in them than that, but that was one of my insecurities. I would not be able to bear their disapproval in that. It didn't change how much I loved and adored them.
"They do, Alice," Bella declared with ferocity in every part of her. "They matter."
Now I was positively beaming.
"So, I'm guessing the reason you're giving this to me now instead of tomorrow is because that's when you want me to wear it," she presumed astutely.
"You guess correctly," I confirmed with a laugh. "I just figured that since you dressed up for Thanksgiving you might want to do the same for Christmas, and that you might need a little time to get over the fact that I gave you a gift." Bella nodded. "You don't have to wear it, of course, but if you do, I'm leaving it up to you to accessorize, if you even want to accessorize at all. I have a whole bunch of different options. So do Rose, Charlotte and Esme. No one will care if you borrow stuff as long as you ask first. Same goes with shoes. You and Charlotte are the same size, and I'm sure she would be willing to root around in her closet with you if you decide you want her input. I will be here too, of course. All you have to do is ask."
"I know," she said. "And thank you, Alice. Really. Hey, do you have any more of these studs?"
That was a random question but I didn't care because Bella liked the dress and was going to wear it. What else mattered?
"You're welcome, Bella, and yes. They're in the design studio I share with Esme," I chirped, wanting to give her a hug but knowing better. Instead I just nodded, gave her another, wider smile and retreated back to my room where my exceedingly sexy husband was sprawled out on our bed, waiting for me.
As soon as I shut the door behind me, I pounced, leaping across the room and landing on top of him with my knees on either side of his torso. Since I was so short, if I straddled any lower, like his hips for instance, I wouldn't be able to reach his face … you know, if I wanted to kiss him. He smiled up at me.
"Hi," Edward greeted, his voice tender.
"Hi," I said in return, brushing my hand over his cheek.
His eyes fluttered shut at my touch, and he hummed in contentment. "That went well."
"Certainly better than expected," I agreed softly but cheerily. His gentle smile widened even as his eyes remained closed, and I leaned down to kiss him. "Thank you for keeping your promise."
Edward had wanted to come up with an exit plan in case Bella went berserk, especially after everything that went down the night before. He'd proposed coming to my rescue in some way, but I'd staunchly refused anything of the sort. He was protective and had a bit of a hero complex. I loved him for it, but there was a difference between being protected and coddled. On a rare occasion, that line blurred for him. I needed him like nothing and no one else, but I was strong. If things went south, he could help me the most by being my shoulder after the fact. It hadn't taken much convincing on my part. He knew me better than anyone. He knew I could handle myself even if his only desire was to keep me from hurting.
"You know there's nothing I won't do to make you happy, and you're right," he said, picking the thoughts out of my head the way he couldn't help but do, "I knew you could handle yourself. Doesn't mean I wouldn't have raised some hell if she tore in to you, no matter how much I love her."
I kissed him again. "Thanks."
He finally opened those striking golden eyes of his and studied me intently. You would think all of our eyes were the same color, but they weren't. Each of us had a subtly different shade of it, and Edward's was my favorite. I could stare into them for hours. Jasper's were next in line.
"You wanna tell me your other reason for making Bella that dress?" he questioned quietly.
There was no point in trying to deny it. I hadn't lied about my reasons for making that dress for her, but I had left one of them out and I had purposely kept him from reading it in my mind. He hadn't asked me about it before now and it was time to come clean. I had never intended to keep it from him forever anyway.
Now this was one of those times when I was ridiculously grateful for the part of Edward's gift that allowed us to have silent—and therefore, private—conversations. I grinned. "To torture Jasper."
"Alice—" He managed to turn that one word, my name, into both a scolding and a warning. Was it wrong that when he narrowed his eye, I thought it was cute instead of menacing? Maybe it was just that I knew he would never be menacing with me. Angry but not everything menacing entailed; hence, the cuteness.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"We made a promise to Peter and Charlotte not to interfere," Edward reprimanded me sternly.
"I know," I assured him. "I'm not breaking it. I'm not telling him to get his shit together and tell Bella how he feels or anything, and isn't that the promise we made? It's just a dress. A dress that will make her even more irresistible than she already is to him, and all the other guys in Forks—"
"Not me," he interrupted.
"Okay, not you," I corrected myself, using a nonchalant tone mostly to drive him crazy. "Or the other guys in this house. A dress that just might push him far enough to make a move," I finished with a shrug. "You never know. Mostly, I just wanted to do something nice for her. If it ends up resulting in something nice for both of them … well, I certainly won't complain about it."
"In that case," he replied mischievously, a devilishness taking over his expression. "Neither will I."
"Now shut up and kiss me," I commanded.
With lightning speed, he complied.
oOo
BPOV
Laurie had let me leave my shift at the diner an hour early, at two instead of three, as a thank you for all the extra hours I'd worked, either by extending my shifts or flat out covering them for Ellen, whose kid was constantly sick, or Gale, who was undergoing the last sessions of her chemo and could only work intermittently if she could come in at all. I had used that extra time to go on patrol, which had made everything easier for me since I had some unfinished business from yesterday to attend to before Christmas Eve could really be Christmas Eve. I was already cutting back from two to one because of the holiday and the time constraints the aftermath of yesterday had placed on today. It was a risk, but I had to fix things, and I would be keeping an eye on the feeds from the surveillance cameras I'd set up. That would have to be enough.
It was now quarter to four and I was home and on my way to Emmett and Rosalie's bedroom, where my nose told me the two of them currently were. Thankfully, my ears and nose told me they weren't up to anything explicit, and my hope was that they wouldn't mind the interruption.
My knock was neither loud nor soft but firm as my fist thumped against the wood. Emmett's booming invitation to enter was not filtered in the least by the soundproofing and came immediately after my knuckles left their door. He knew it was me.
I entered swiftly, not bothering to shut the door behind me, and focused on the couple lounging in the middle of their massive bed, tangled up with each other in a way that I envied only slightly. Emmett was on his back, his head buoyed by a plush pillow that was braced against their ornate headboard and one hand, his dark, curly hair contrasting richly against the cream of the pillowcase. Rosalie lie with her body draped over her love's: her long legs twined with his, her shapely hips tilted to half-cover his trim, masculine ones, her left hand joined with the hand he had tucked behind his head, fingers seeming to be laced together, her other running aimless, lazy patterns over his torso, her cheek resting on his shoulder as she looked up at him with intent golden eyes and her pale, luminous blonde hair fanned out on the bed at her back like a sheet of sunbeams. Emmett gazed back at her intently and with ardor, whatever they had been discussing before my arrival clearly weighed with as much gravity and thought by him as he was capable of good humor and mischievousness. They looked content, satisfied … happy.
I liked seeing Emmett and Rosalie that way, I liked seeing all of the Cullens that way, but it bothered me too because it made me wonder and imagine. What would it be like if I could cuddle up with someone that way? How would it feel? As I asked myself these questions, of course the person I pictured myself wrapped around was Jasper. Didn't it always come back to Jasper? I cursed myself for seeing it in my mind's eye, but it didn't do me any good. It didn't banish the image of us together nor did it erase the profound ache of the knowledge that I would never have what Emmett and Rosalie and all the other couples in the house did, not just with their brother but with anyone at all. It sent a stab of grief through my veins that fizzled out almost as quickly as it had flared within me.
My sadness must have flashed briefly across my features because it was just after that thought that Emmett spoke. "Are you okay, Little Bird?"
It pained me that he'd asked me this even after what I'd said to him the day before, that he had still used his nickname for me. He still loved me even now, but he had said as much, hadn't he? That he always would. That nothing I could say or do could ever change that. That hurt me even more. I almost wanted him to take those words back, to suddenly acquire the ability to stop loving me. It would certainly make everything easier in the long run. A selfish part of me never wanted him to stop though, and I hated myself for it.
He and Rosalie were watching me, Emmett with concern and Rose with wariness that hovered on the edge of anger in case I hadn't come here to mend fences, waiting for me to answer.
I gave him a small smile. "I'm fine, Emmett," I professed evenly. "Will you go for a ride with me?" I asked him before I looked to his wife. "I promise I'll bring him back in one piece."
That was my way of assuring her that my intentions weren't malicious ones without actually saying the words. It was a gesture that had to be made because I had done just as much damage to my relationship with Rosalie as I had to mine with Emmett during my confrontation with him over Gavin's death, if not more. Things between us had only just gotten to a good place when the figurative shit hit the fan, and my reaction to her mate's actions could only have fucked with the suddenly not-so-shaky foundation of our friendship, even if that might have made things easier in the long run too. Still, I wasn't happy about that either, but I wasn't the one whose better half had just gone and murdered someone.
She returned the small smile I'd graced Emmett with and nodded minutely, first to me and then to him. Her easy acquiescence was a good sign, a favorable omen that pleased me. Maybe all this fence mending business wouldn't be as complicated and unpleasant as I figured it would.
Emmett smiled at me as well before placing a kiss to the crown of Rosalie's head and extricating himself from underneath her, climbing off their bed and making his way to my side with the noiseless grace of a jungle cat. When he reached me, we turned and headed out, but I cast one more glance at Rose before we left the room. She was watching us, her gaze more trained on me than her husband, and I sent her a genuine smile. It was another offering of my intent to make things good again and her leery expression immediately brightened to one of relief. I knew then that at least one fence, if not totally repaired, was again standing tall.
oOo
Emmett and I ended up on the side of the short stretch of the 101 highway where Gavin had met his end. I had driven us here purposely. It was a strategic ploy, a symbol. It had thrown Emmett for a loop, and I could tell he was doubting whether or not I actually intended to make up with him but our conversation had to be here.
At the moment, this patch of pavement was relatively sleepy. It was the middle of the day so people were either still working or they were already where they intended to be to celebrate the holiday. For the most part, it was as if the accident had never happened. The rain and snow the night it had occurred in addition to the road crew sent out by the Forks Department of Transportation to clean up after the fact and clear the snow away for safety reasons had seen to that, but my stellar vision revealed that there were still a few stray slivers of fiber- and plexiglass littering the concrete. At least there wasn't any blood. That would have been a little too macabre for my taste.
We sat there in silence only for a moment. I refused to torture Emmett over all this any longer even if I was still irked over Gavin's death, but irked wasn't the same as angry.
"I don't hate you, Emmett," was what I began with. I needed to lay that to rest more than anything else.
He let out a breath I couldn't be sure he'd been holding.
"That's good to know," he murmured with relief, sighing and dragging his hands through his short hair. Quiet settled over us again after that. I knew everything I needed to say for the most part, but I hadn't ordered all of it in any particular way in my head. In a situation like this, a list wouldn't have done me as much good as waiting for Emmett to give me cues. "Jasper is right, you know. I didn't tell you all my reasons. I did kill Gavin for myself. I needed to do it for me, and for everyone, especially after …"
He paused, still reluctant, but we were past that now. We had to be. I had lost my temper the day before and I had my reasons for that, which I fully intended to explain, but I wouldn't judge him. I couldn't, not after the things I'd done.
"I won't flip my shit, Em," I promised him gently. "I swear," and then I prompted him again when he still hesitated, even though he did seem to believe me. "Especially after …"
"After Edward read Phil Dwyer's mind," he supplied finally. He brought his golden eyes to my brown ones, his face filled with grimness at the information he was about to share. "Jasper didn't lie to you. He is pretty much always the one that takes care of the violent shit when it comes up so the rest of us don't have to."
I had been wondering about that. Why would Jasper's role in the family be to take out potential hostile threats to it? Was it because of his military background? I didn't think that was fair.
"That's just how it's always been. It was more than a little odd for him to retaliate in a way that didn't involve killing that little shithead to say the least, and when he didn't, I decided I had to be the one to take care of Gavin. Putting him in the hospital the way Jasper did actually put suspicion on Carlisle after the way he underhandedly threatened Gavin and his family in Principle Greene's office the day he attacked you, and Edward had been keeping tabs on the situation," he stated, still holding my gaze, everything about him saturated with seriousness. "He got a speeding ticket on purpose so he would have an excuse to go into the police station, and what he found out when he went there is what truly tipped me over the edge."
I nodded when he paused again, looking for my acknowledgment of the gravity of the information he was about to impart.
"Phil Dwyer spent some time on the Seattle police force before he moved back to Forks," he said. "In the Special Victims Unit. He dealt with douchebags that committed sexually based offenses all the time, so he knows the signs. He knows what to look for. Hell, he doesn't even have to look, he just notices when he sees them. Gavin showed a lot of the signs, Bella. What he did to you may not have been that bad in the grand scheme of things, and if he was any other person, what you did to him may have taught him enough of a lesson to get him to change, but he wasn't any other person. The kind of person he was doesn't change because they explain away their actions to themselves, rationalize them in order to make them okay so they don't have to feel bad about what they do. They don't care. That kind of person thrives on hurting others, and it wouldn't have mattered if his dick never worked again after what Jasper did to him either. What people like him do to others is never really about sex, even if they get sexual gratification from it. It's about power. He would have found another way to exploit those weaker than him, another way to hurt others to make himself feel better and more powerful. He had to die. I had to make sure he couldn't grow up to hurt anyone else. To think that he might do the kind of emotional damage that was done to my Rosie, even if he couldn't do it in the same way … he had to die. Don't you understand?"
Emmett was right. I had read Gavin Nichols and disliked him from the start, and as I had continued to observe his interactions with others over my weeks at Forks High School, that dislike had only deepened.
"I do understand," I said, gripping my phoenix pendant briefly, absently, before dropping it and letting it thunk back against my breastbone. "Really, I do. I believe in justice, Emmett. I even believe in vengeance."
"Then why did you get so angry, Little Bird?" he queried with confusion. A deep crease had formed between his eyebrows, his lips curving down into a frown that didn't look right on his ever-jovial face. No matter the circumstances, that expression would never look right to me. Then again, the menacing, infuriated one that had overtaken his features when he'd discovered what Gavin had done hadn't looked wrong to me either.
I had to think how to explain to him why I'd gotten so furious over what he'd done. It wasn't easy, and I sighed as I puzzled it out. How could I make him understand without revealing too much?
I shifted my gaze from him, fixing it to a spot miles away for several minutes. When I returned it to him, I had finally found the words. "Is Gavin the first person you've ever murdered, Emmett?"
"No," he admitted immediately, bluntly and with mild abashedness. "I've killed several people. I told you I don't like killing, and I meant that. I'm sorry about it, but I can't be ashamed, not when I've got eternity ahead of me. That's no way to live, and I try not to repeat the mistakes I've made. It's how I do my best to make up for it."
I nodded. "I told you I believe you're a good man. That hasn't changed," I told him sincerely. "But I didn't use the word killed. I said murdered. For the purpose of this conversation, we're going to qualify the two."
His brows furrowed again, so I elaborated. "Let's define killed as people whose lives you may or may not have ended purposely, to fulfill a physiological need. You may not have been in control of yourself at the time or perhaps you started out in control and then lost it, which then resulted in a person's death, okay?"
He nodded this time.
"And murder means a premeditated act. In those parameters, is Gavin the first person whose life you took?"
"Yes."
"Justice and vengeance don't always have to do with taking someone's life, but in that context, you really don't have a lot of experience with vengeance or justice, do you?" I reasoned. "Especially since you aren't typically the one who eliminates threats against the family. If I'm being honest, I don't think you have much experience with them in any context."
This produced another frown. Clearly I had caught him off guard, made him think about things he'd never considered—probably about both that he didn't have much experience with either of those things as well as whether or not I did. "And you do?"
"Believe it or not, yes," I confessed. My voice showed none of the reluctance I felt. This was another admission I never thought would see the light of day, but here I was ... I didn't like it. I hated it in fact.
There was no doubt in my mind that Emmett was disturbed.
"With justice, a person gets what they deserve, but they are also granted leniency in a sense," I explained. "However, under the right circumstances, justice can be worse than vengeance and much sweeter."
"I don't see how," he said with a disbelieving scoff.
"That's because you aren't using your imagination," I replied with a smirk, thinking of Derek Henry and Rafe Jones. Derek Henry had endured hours of torture and no longer had the full use of his hands after I'd removed his fingers at the second knuckle. More than that though, he would no longer be able to satisfy his compulsive need to exert control over women, demean them, render them powerless and then delight in ending their lives. As for Rafe Jones, I doubted he had gone very long without suffering dire consequences at the hands of the other inmates when his reputation as a child abuser got around. I may or may not have anonymously used some of the money I'd accumulated from betting on horseracing and playing poker to pay off a guard to spread the word that he not only beat on his foster kids but got a little too handsy with them. The guy had tried to murder me after all, and he had made his kids and wife suffer for years. They would endure the aftermath of all that for several more. Those punishments could count as both justice and vengeance.
"Vengeance is different. No matter how justified it might be," I said with an ironic twist of my lips, "it changes you. It isn't only the offender that suffers. You lose a little piece of your soul in spite of the vindication you get out of it. I can't say that's something I want for you, even if you don't doubt your decision."
He nodded again, slowly this time, taking in my words, absorbing them.
"There's a reason I chose justice for myself with Gavin," I continued. "Choosing vengeance isn't an easy choice. It's a heavy one, and it should be, no matter how much you or someone you love has been wronged. It is a choice I have made in the past but it is never a choice I've made for myself because Jasper is right. I have a code. I have to abide by that code for my sanity, Emmett. It isn't that I don't believe I'm worth avenging, but I have to choose justice for myself. I can't have blood on my hands for my sake, whether it be figurative or literal."
It was part of how I could lose my humanity. I wasn't willing to risk that.
"Avenging other people is a little different," I said. "That blood is easier to bear. I know you didn't kill Gavin solely for me, but that you did it for me, even just a little … it's like his blood is on my hands. Maybe I wasn't the one that killed him, and maybe it doesn't make sense, but that is why I got angry with you."
"Have you killed someone, Bella?" he asked hesitantly.
That was a tough question to answer, one I didn't want to, so I didn't. He would make his assumptions about it as a result but it wouldn't be what he thought. I just couldn't explain it to him for many reasons: because of my past and where I came from, and also because I just didn't have the words or the will to do it.
"I understand," he finally told me minutes later. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."
I didn't respond.
"I don't want this to change things between us." I wasn't sure if I was referring to my non-answer about whether or not I'd killed anyone, my revelations about my experience with justice and vengeance or our fight. "I don't like attachments," I said, gazing at him intently, "but you are the closest thing I've ever had to a brother. Peter and Edward too. I don't want to fuck that up."
Emmett reached over and grabbed my hand, interlacing our fingers and squeezing reassuringly. "You haven't fucked anything up. I am your brother, Peter and Edward too."
I sighed with relief, squeezing his hand back and smiling.
"I noticed you didn't include Jasper in that," he stated, trying not to sound sly or amused and failing.
My smile soured and I wrenched my hand from his. "That's because he's not my brother," I snapped, annoyed and impatient. "He's a pain in my ass, and don't be a dick."
"I'm not being a dick," he retorted without offense at my name calling. "And I would just like to point out that brothers are perfectly capable of being pains in the ass."
I flat out glared at him now and crossed my arms over my chest. "Then maybe he is my brother."
They were words I had to force myself to say and I had to fight off the cringe and gag they evoked.
Emmett snorted. "Right. I'll believe that the day I grow a tail."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded, gritting my teeth and growing more irritated by the second.
"The two of you flirt, a lot," he said, rolling his eyes. "You flirt with him a lot. The guy's an empath who absorbs the lust of four mated couples on an everyday basis with only his hand to relieve the pressure—" he smirked at this, "—and you are the hot girl thrown in his face all the damn time, so he has a reasonable excuse. You supposedly have no interest in him whatsoever, so what's yours?"
My mouth dropped open in indignation. "We do not flirt! I do not flirt!"
"Right," he came back at me sarcastically. "So what about last week when you asked him to 'play' with you? And what on earth do you call the other day when you threatened him with fatigues and combat boots? Because all that sure as hell reeked of innuendo to me and those are only two examples, both initiated by you."
"The play with me thing was not flirting," I insisted, though I guess I could see why it might have looked like it. "It was just after the Gavin incident. I needed to be distracted and nothing distracts me like fighting with Jasper."
"You mean nothing distracts you like flirting with Jasper?" he contradicted, a teasing yet serious lilt to his voice.
"He keeps me on my toes," I growled stubbornly because he was wrong. It was not flirting. I did not flirt with Jasper. "And don't make me smack you."
Emmett held up his hands in surrender or what I thought was surrender. "Fine, fine, the play with me thing wasn't flirting, but the other day so was."
I huffed. "That wasn't flirting," I insisted again. "It was strategy. He was avoiding me and I was trying to fix it, but he's stubborn—probably the most stubborn person I've ever met—smart and even more well-versed in strategy than I am. I had to think outside the box to get him to talk to me, so I took a calculated risk that catching him off guard with sex might jump start the process. Everyone has a weakness that can be exploited, and like you said, he's an empath constantly bombarded by everyone else's lust. He may not like me that way or want me that way—" he snorted, which caused me to furrow my brow— "but he's a guy and I've got a nice body. He fell for it. End of story."
"Whatever you say, Little Bird," he said merely to placate me. "It would just explain why you're so hard on him is all. I mean you do think he's a good guy. You've said so, but you really are, more than all the rest of us. Why are you so hard on him?"
"I am not hard on him," I protested. Emmett's expression turned pointed. "Okay fine, maybe I am sometimes, but I do think he's a good guy. He just … irks me. I just ... I don't know what he is to me, other than that he's not my brother or what you seem to think, but he gets inside my head. I don't like it."
Emmett turned away in the hope of hiding his smile but his lips shifted upward a second too soon. I wanted to smack it off his face. Everything I was saying was coming out wrong.
"But why is he different?" Emmett persisted then, getting serious again and bringing us back to why we'd come out here in the first place. "Why are you willing to give me a pass but not let him off the hook if he would have been the one to kill Gavin? He just would have been doing what he always does—being the family fixer."
"That's why," I responded with apathy. "Not because he's the family fixer. I don't care about that, but because in that case, there wouldn't have been any other reason for Gavin's death but me, and you heard me, Emmett. I can take care of myself. Vampire rules or not, I don't need him to be my fixer."
Emmett said nothing to that, and that was good because I had nothing more to say on it either. As far as I was concerned, the subject was closed. He and I were good now. That was all that was relevant.
oOo
I stood in his doorway, watching him. This was the last stop I had to make to put everything right, and he didn't make me wait very long to get down to the business of it.
"I recall you tellin' me just eighteen hours ago that you weren't willing to corner me in my bedroom," Jasper stated. "Something about not wanting to risk the possibility of walkin' in on me naked, and yet, in less than two days, this is the second time you've done it."
I restrained the urge to come back at him with a sarcastic retort and continued to watch him instead. I needed to know what I was walking into here. I had said and done some very combative things last night, things that I'd felt were necessary at the time, and there was a very real chance that I could be navigating a minefield by coming back before more time had passed.
He was on his back on his bed with his hands folded behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles, and his eyes closed—the picture of peaceful, but I knew better. Jasper wasn't peaceful. He was anticipatory, always, even in his moments of relaxation, few and far between as they seemed to be.
"You and I?" I began, simply ignoring his taunt. "We're still good unless you don't want us to be."
It had taken us quite a bit of work to get back to a place where we were at peace with each other, and even though I'd been pissed last night, it was more at the situation and my own issues than at him. I didn't want us to regress.
His eyes opened and he turned his head just enough to meet my gaze. "I don't want us to be at odds, Bella. I'm good if you are."
I nodded and shut his door before I moved further into his room. I didn't mind if the rest of the family, all of whom were home, had heard that Jasper and I were fine. I wanted that even, but I did not want them privy to any more than that. There were things I needed to say to him that would be hard enough with him as my only audience member. I didn't need the added discomfort of knowing my audience was any bigger, especially when my words weren't meant for anyone but him. I knew the double soundproofing didn't guarantee our privacy, but it was better than nothing.
I settled myself on the corner of his mattress diagonal and furthest away from him, angled in his direction as I pressed my back into the wooden footboard that jutted up to my mid-shoulder blades and folded my legs Indian-style. He observed me as I did with no comment, gaze impassive. It did nothing to ease my nerves but I didn't let them show.
"I said some things last night," I started off again before pausing.
"I remember them quite clearly," he responded with an evenness I found frustrating. I didn't let that show either.
"I meant most of them," I continued, mildly thankful for his interruption since it gave me a chance to collect my thoughts when I had already thought I'd gathered them together enough to have a coherent conversation with him about this. "Not needing you, or anyone, isn't personal." And why would he give a shit if I needed him anyway? "I just … don't. I never have, and I really do care about you, Jasper. I care about the family too. More than I ever thought I would. More than I ever wanted to. I'm not used to it, to caring, to letting myself care. You and I are … friends, I guess, and I can't say I've ever really had those before. All of it kind of fucks with my equilibrium, and that's a really difficult thing to do."
"And meaning nothing to you?" he queried calmly, though there was an emotion in his eyes I couldn't place.
I wanted to tell him that he didn't mean nothing to me, that I had said that to convince myself more than him, or at least tell him why him meaning something to me was so fucking dangerous. To tell him that one of the three things I was afraid of was what would happen to anyone who meant something to me if Project Apotheosis ever found out the truth, but I couldn't force the words past my lips. He couldn't know what I was or where I came from. Despite everything, I didn't trust him enough to reveal it, and even if I did, the image of his disgusted face when he found out what a freak I was was a powerful deterrent.
"That's complicated," I decided on, muttering it distantly, knowing it was dangerous to say even that. "But that's just how it is, and you really aren't nothing … as a person, I mean," I emphasized again. I knew that was something he didn't always know, but I knew it. I knew it in my bones. The fact that he didn't bothered me. "Stubbornness and unspoken rules aside, you're a good man. A badass with a cold practicality but still a good man, and someday, you're going to be everything to someone. I know it's not what you want, but if what all your family members have is any indication, I think it just might be what you need. What you deserve."
And he did. He deserved to be happy. He deserved to be someone's world the way all the couples in the house clearly were to each other. He just couldn't be my world.
Jasper maintained his silence and that impassive expression.
"Thank you," I expressed lastly, and this was probably the most important thing for me to say. In my anger the night before, it had been impossible to be thankful to him at all, but I was.
"For?" he questioned.
"Respecting my code," I answered. "You didn't have to do that. I know you didn't, but you did anyway. It, uh, it means a lot. Your respect means a lot."
He didn't do anything more than nod, his face still neutral, and having accomplished what I had come here to do, it was time to go. It wasn't until I was nearly to his door that I decided to ask one of the questions that had been nagging at me for hours now just so I could have a little peace. It would be nice for what was supposed to be my first normal Christmas Eve to actually be normal-ish, and if I didn't put this curiosity of mine to rest, normal-ish would be much further out of reach.
I turned back to him, though what I was about to say wasn't actually my question, just the precursor to it. "The idea of me hating you bothers you."
Jasper finally reacted, climbing to his feet and closing most of the distance between us. I wished he hadn't. Why couldn't he have stayed across the room where it was safer? He peered at me, face no longer impassive, but the emotion now decorating it was a mystery to me.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Why?"
"It just does," he answered evasively. "Maybe it always has. Why did you lurk outside my room when Rosalie tore me a new one this morning?"
Of course he knew I was there. He would have heard my heartbeat. I had just hoped he would be too distracted by his sister to pay attention or at least not bother to acknowledge it after the fact. I should have known better.
"You're my friend," I stated, more certainly this time. I still wasn't entirely sure that was true in his case—I hadn't lied to Emmett when I said I didn't know what Jasper was to me. I had never known that. But I did have friends here. I couldn't deny that any longer. "And you didn't do anything wrong. You needed that blood and you didn't hurt anyone to get it. It wasn't even your idea, but Rosalie isn't always the most rational about things, especially before they really have a chance to sink in. You don't need me to fight your battles for you just the same as I don't need you to fight mine, and I'm not that person to you even if you did need someone to do that, but I've got your back … even when I'm mad at you. And really, I was less mad at you and more just … mad. You know what that's like."
Later I would register the way his newly ruby-colored eyes went black, how his nostrils had flared so suddenly and the look of comprehension that passed over his features, but even I, who with my enhanced senses took in everything at once, didn't catch it in time.
He was on me in a second, forcing me back against his door with a bang and groan of the hinges and wood, so fast there was no time to deflect him. My body was flush against it, but more importantly, it was flush against his, and that was bad. One of his hands grasped my hip while the other gripped my forearm and yanked it upwards, twisting so my palm was face up and raked his nose across the skin on the inside of my wrist, inhaling deeply.
Oh shit! I cursed to myself, instinctively attempting to back away from him, but there was nowhere for me to go. The door was behind me and my sides were caged in … by him. I knew he wouldn't let me slip away if I tried to sidestep him and I had no room to maneuver. Again, I was not afraid he would hurt me, though the other vampires in the house weren't so confident that he wouldn't judging by the way they had rushed up the stairs at the sound of my back colliding so loudly and violently, violently enough for even me to bruise, with the door. They made no move to interfere for the time being. I was afraid of other things, however, like the way my body was bound to react at the feel of him pressed against me. Mostly though, I was afraid that his sniffing meant he'd figured out that I had appointed myself his flesh and blood Happy Meal that just didn't happen to come in the same sunny packaging … or with a toy.
Even the touch of only his nose to my wrist set me on fire, but as difficult as it was, I refused to let myself be consumed by it. What I needed, what was necessary, was to get myself out of this situation, and I figured that sort of reaction would only make things worse.
"Jasper …" I said, hoping the sound of my voice would distract him and give me the opportunity to make an escape.
It didn't. While he did release my wrist, he didn't let me go. Instead, he pressed himself against me with even greater force and relocated his nose to my neck.
My eyes fluttered shut and it took everything in me not to touch him, not to pull him even closer. I should have tried to push him away, but I couldn't move. He felt too good, so good that I momentarily went deaf to the alarm bells resounding in my head. I didn't want to push him away. I didn't want to listen to those alarm bells. All I wanted was this—him and I pressed together like we were something more than what we were. Just for a moment. A moment was all I could afford to let myself have.
He dragged his nose from the skin just behind my ear and down the column of my throat, over my pulse and the chain of my phoenix pendant, and across the muscles of my shoulder, continuing to breathe in my scent like it was oxygen and he was a human who'd been long deprived of it.
"Jasper …" I repeated, and it was more of a warning this time.
"Shut up," he growled, the words brushing against my flesh as he spoke them, his lips still so close that it was unavoidable.
And then he licked me. His velvety tongue glided from the top of my collarbone and over my pulse again, dragging the silver chain across my skin until it no longer impeded his access. He lingered there for a few seconds before he closed his lips around the flesh just over my artery and sucked for fucking eternity, and as he remained, his teeth dug lightly into my skin and drove me that much more insane. I gasped sharply, a shiver ripping through my body, and threw my head back at the jolt it sent straight to my core, the impact shaking it in its frame. My hands shot to his shoulders and clutched them hard, in part to keep them from flying to his head to ensure he kept his mouth right where it was and also just because. Even I, who was so tightly in control of my physiological reactions—even to him—was helpless to stop the rush of wetness that seeped from my core as a result of his actions, and I wanted to throttle him. A tiny, tiny voice in my head cried out that I just plain wanted him.
Stupid, stupid little voice!
I knew the moment he smelled my arousal because he let out a primal growl, his cock going rigid against my belly, just above where I really wanted him, due to our height difference. I cursed under my breath for more than one reason; the first, I was still fucking pinned against a goddamn door, two, he was still sucking on my neck and was going to leave a mark like an asshole, and three, that fucking growl. All three of the aforementioned did nothing for the state of my panties and that clearly wasn't helping.
"Jasper," I uttered dangerously, snaking my hands between us and placing them firmly on his chest, "unless you plan to sink your teeth into me, Get. The fuck. OFF. Me!"
Then I shoved and actually managed to push him a good foot away from me, which had never happened before—I had only ever succeeded in moving him a few inches from me at most when we'd been in this position previously. My body protested the loss of his weight against it, missed it so intensely I felt like curling in on myself, but that didn't matter. It couldn't matter. I clapped my hand over my neck as soon as his lips left it so he couldn't see the damage he'd done and studied his face. I knew by the look on it that the only reason I'd moved him at all was because he'd let me; my demand had penetrated whatever haze he'd been in. My chest was heaving with strained breath from adrenaline and desire I desperately wanted to quell.
"What the hell?!" I knew, of course, but playing dumb was necessary, at least a little. I wasn't sure if he was in his right mind yet, but if he was, he knew I was too smart not to have some sort of clue.
He scratched the back of his neck and tore his gaze from mine but didn't answer right away. "I downed a little over four pints of blood the other day, but I went weeks without feeding. It helped but it didn't really even put a dent in my thirst. I'm still a little crazy with it."
"A little crazy?" I exclaimed in disbelief, fingers flexing where they still grasped my neck. "A little crazy? No shit, Jasper! I don't care if you're crazy, and a little doesn't even begin to cover it by the way. You have got to be the dumbest son of a bitch on the planet! Or have you forgotten I work with Leah Clearwater the day after Christmas? You could have left a fucking mark! On my neck, you jackass! That would have been a neon sign that flashed 'Attempted Vampire Meals on Wheels'!"
This was a minor injury that would fully heal in sixty seconds—probably less—which was why I didn't plan to remove my hand any time soon. I wouldn't be able to explain my quick recovery, and I would rather Jasper not know he actually had left a mark. He already felt bad enough.
"You just smell so—"
"Good?" I interrupted with impatience and exasperation. "You've told me that before, but that doesn't mean you get to pin me to a fucking door and suck on my goddamn neck! And what the hell is up with you and your fixation with pinning people up against flat, vertical surfaces? Or am I the only one you subject to that particular fetish?"
"Yes, you smell fuckin' delicious but you also smell like the blood I drank yesterday, Bella!" he yelled, eyes flashing as he lost all sense of bumbling awkwardness and returned to the fierceness that defined him. "What did you do?"
Shit!
"What do you mean, 'what did I do'? I didn't do anything!"
"How?" he demanded furiously, ignoring my denial. "Why? Why does it smell like you?"
"Does it smell exactly like me or just similar?" I countered, frowning for effect.
"No," he admitted. His eyes, which had only just morphed back to red, shifted to black again. "God, no! It smelled great. You smell better."
Well, isn't that awesome, I couldn't help but grumble. What the hell kind of mess did I get myself into just to get Jasper out of his?
"Yeah, well, no one has the same scent, do they?" I challenged rationally, not waiting for him to confirm this and rubbing at my neck without meaning to. I didn't need him to—it was something my own nose had confirmed long ago. "And yes, I knew all about your issues, but how would I have gotten my blood to you, Jasper? Even if I made a donation right after you told me two days ago, it wouldn't have been available for use unless Carlisle decided to steal it before it was prepped, and honestly, do you really think he would risk feeding you my blood when you're off your fucking rocker with starvation just because I smell good? You know he wouldn't, and I sure as hell couldn't somehow manage to switch the bags he stole for you! How would I even know which ones he was going to take? I'm a juvenile delinquent and burgling shit happens to be one of my specialties. Even so, I'm good, but I'm not that good, and even if I was, I wouldn't. Just like there's only so much you'll do for me, there's only so much I will do for you, and that is not something I would."
Buy it! Just buy it! I urged silently, hoping my very valid points had convinced him. Just let it go!
He sighed. "Fine, whatever," he relented, still sounding dubious before he reached down and adjusted the still prominent erection straining against the zipper of his jeans. He let out a forceful gust of air that wasn't precisely a sigh this time and grasped the back of his neck again, and judging by the brief, low keen that sounded, dug his nails into his skin. "And, uh, bloodlust can get tangled up pretty heavily with actual lust. That's what this—" he gestured to his groin— "is. It's not anything else. Just that."
"Yeah, well," I said peevishly, "push a seventeen year old girl with errant hormones up against a door and suck on her neck like that and there's bound to be a reaction there too."
He nodded carefully and scratched where his fingers were gouged into his neck. His scent, which always permeated the air when he was around, intensified, and I assumed it was because, with the tearing of his flesh, there were small amounts of venom flowing freely from the wounds.
"You just smell so—" he started to repeat, seeming at a loss as to what to say next.
"I know," I interrupted again. "And you're crazy right now, which is why I'm letting this go, but I swear to God, Jasper, you pull that shit again, batshit bloodlust crazy or not, and I will send your balls straight up into your stomach, even if I end up with a shattered kneecap!"
So my kneecap would hold up just fine, but I had to sell the idea that it wouldn't.
He nodded again and I finally went to make my escape, turning my back on him as I reached for the door.
"Bella," he called softly just as my hand closed around the knob.
When I faced him, his exquisite features were tortured and whatever he was going to say, the words wouldn't come. Still, I knew.
Against my better judgment, I almost but not quite closed the scant distance between us and reached up to cup his cheek. Haunted black eyes searched mine, and under different circumstances, I would have wondered what they were looking for.
"You wouldn't have hurt me," I assured him with quiet conviction. That was what he was going to tell me, had to tell me, before I left … only he couldn't; he didn't have enough faith that he wouldn't have to utter those words. I let him take in my sincerity and faith in him, and then I caressed his face with my thumb. It was very difficult to resist the urge to hug him or the even more powerful one to kiss him. "And this doesn't make you like him."
That had to be said. I knew he was wondering if this snafu with his bloodlust changed whether or not he was like Gavin Nichols—for forcing himself on me—but what he had done wasn't the same, and he was still nothing like him. If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that he never would be.
I smiled, and when I turned away this time, I didn't look back … but then I realized something as I walked away. I couldn't give Jasper another dose of my blood. I had to hope that one was enough to fix him.
oOo
When I shut the door behind me and came face to face with the eight other vampires that lived in this house, all looking like they would have been ashen-faced if they still had blood running through their veins, I was still holding my hand over my neck. It wasn't so much to hide the mark Jasper had left behind—the capillaries he'd broken when he'd sucked on my skin had already knitted back together, meaning the bruise had disappeared—but because I could still feel the tingle of his lips. It wasn't a sensation I should have wanted to preserve for as long as I could, but I did nonetheless.
Even Peter and Charlotte, who had the utmost faith in Jasper, looked a little rattled.
Carlisle was the first to approach me. He reached for the hand still grasping my neck but stopped just short of prying it off. "Bella, let me see."
I had every intention of doing just that, but not yet.
"He didn't hurt me. He wouldn't have," I declared with narrowed eyes, training them on him and everyone else in turn. "He went weeks without feeding and just had human blood for the first time in half a century. Cut him some fucking slack."
Then I whipped my hand off my neck to show every one of them my perfect skin. "See? No harm done."
I turned on my heel without waiting for their reactions but spun back around a moment later.
"There may not have been any harm done to me but the same can't be said for Jasper," I told them quietly. "Let it go, if not for me, then for him. Do it for him."
Then I marched to my room to get ready for the Christmas Eve festivities we had planned, but if any of them mentioned this little incident, I would raise some hell.
oOo
I wasn't wearing the outfit I'd worn to work, opting instead to don a wine-colored wrap top I'd purchased on my shopping trip to Seattle when I'd first moved in with the Cullens, a pair of dark jeans and my ever-present phoenix pendant and cuff bracelet. The bells were still attached to the chain of my necklace so I looked at least a little festive. Though I had showered for a good long while to scrub Jasper's scent from my skin, to emphasize that my neck was completely unblemished, I had threaded my hair into a messy braid.
My first stop was Jasper's bedroom. I had a suspicion that after he'd more or less attacked me, he had no intention of making an appearance tonight. I, however, had other plans. If this was the only normal-ish Christmas I ever got, he damn well was going to suck it up and spend the night with me whether he liked it or not.
For the third time in two days, I ended up cornering him in the one place I had never wanted to. Unfortunately, Jasper wasn't the only one who needed to suck it up.
"Move it along, Whitlock," I urged obstinately as I leaned against his door frame.
"This is turning into another eerily similar habit I'm not too fond of," he bitched, glaring at me. "I have half a mind to camp out here naked all the time just to make sure you do end up walking in on me au naturel."
I refused to respond to that little taunt. Contemplating a naked Jasper was still not a good idea, especially when a clothed one had been pressed against me not even an hour ago. Nope, not a good idea at all.
"Do you or do you not intend to hide up here like a hermit asshole instead of joining the rest of us downstairs?" I questioned with a raised brow. "I do believe I told you just yesterday that that isn't the man you are."
He glowered severely at me. "I do not hide, Crawfield, but I don't particularly feel like subjecting myself to awkwardness and disappointment."
"Please," I scoffed. "Your family isn't disappointed in you. Yes, awkwardness is inevitable but it's only going to fester if you stay up here all night. There are at least two people down there who treat you like you hung the moon just for them or invented sex toys or something that won't treat you like a black sheep, which you aren't. If the others give you shit, we'll do our own thing. I highly doubt that will be necessary, but if it is … anyway, tap into the balls I know you have and man up."
"You would do that? Do something else, just with me?" he asked, trying to hide his skepticism.
There isn't much I wouldn't do for you, Jasper Whitlock. I sighed internally. You are too fucking dangerous.
I shrugged. It made him frown, but I didn't care. I walked over to him and held out my hand. He took it with only a moment's hesitation and let me pull him to his feet. It prolonged the contact of our skin, which I enjoyed entirely too much. Then I eyed him from head to toe.
"Is that what you're wearing? It isn't even remotely Christmasy," I complained. "I don't expect you to pull on one of those awful holiday sweaters or anything, but don't you have one of those smartass, one-liner t-shirts or something?"
He rolled his eyes but withdrew his hand from mine and tugged his long-sleeved, thermal henley over his head. My mouth went dry as the Sahara Desert, and if my gaze lingered on the defined muscles of his chest and then of his back as he retreated to his closet, I would never admit it. Ever.
When he returned, he wore a white t-shirt with a cartoon elf on it, the words "What the elf?" emblazoned across the chest. I didn't even bother to hide the tiny grin that curled my lips or the amusement that surely shone in my eyes.
"Emmett's doing," he said, though I hadn't asked and hadn't planned to. All I did was chuckle at how very Emmett it was and Jasper couldn't seem to help but smile too.
The atmosphere was indeed tense and awkward when Jasper and I first came downstairs, but it dissipated quickly. I was right. His family wasn't disappointed in him for attacking me. It had freaked them out a little but my reassurance and the proof that he hadn't hurt me, as well as that of Peter and Charlotte—I had overheard them while I was showering—went a long way towards quelling their misgivings, and Jasper finally relaxed. Just in case, I stuck close to his side. It didn't have anything at all to do with the fact that I just wanted to be close to him. It didn't. I really didn't.
Yeah, that's really convincing, Bella, I scolded myself sarcastically.
Dinner wasn't a fancy affair—awesome beef stew from scratch in a homemade bread bowl, Greek salad and sparkling apple cider. It was the first time I'd ever had it, never having been allowed at Fort Ares nor taken the opportunity since I had escaped, and as far as I was concerned, sparkling apple cider was one of the best things ever created by mankind. The big meal would happen tomorrow and this time, Esme would make good on her promise to deliver the leftovers to the Forks soup kitchen.
This was followed by gathering around Edward's piano and singing Christmas carols. I did not join in and it didn't go unnoticed.
"Come on, Little Bird," Emmett whined, hitting me with admirable puppy dog eyes and full-on pouty lip. "Don't be a buzzkill. We don't care if you sound like a troll with a frog in its throat."
I did not, in fact, sound like a troll with a frog in my throat when I sang, but I didn't like to sing for the mere reason that it was yet another thing I was insanely good at. Why having a great singing voice was essential to being the perfect soldier and covert operative I did not know. Maybe it was in case I ever needed it for a cover. I didn't particularly care. It was another thing I hadn't earned, another by-product of being slapped together in a Petri dish. It reminded me of what a freak I was and I didn't want to be reminded right now. I honestly wished there was at least one thing I wasn't good at, one thing I couldn't learn almost instantly. It would make me feel so much better. It would make me feel like less of a freak.
But Emmett wasn't to be deterred and once Alice joined in, throwing in her own puppy dog eyes and pouty lip, I was too annoyed to bother arguing over it.
I let my voice weave in with all of theirs half way through "O Come All Ye Faithful," barely singing the words at a volume above a whisper. It was my hope that it would be drowned out by the beauty of all theirs, and instead of focusing on the reality that there was no way that would happen even if I only mouthed the lyrics, I focused on the rough tenor of Jasper's singing voice. The variety of all the Cullens' voices was immense and striking in their gorgeousness, but his was different. It was lower than the rest, gruff but somehow still silky smooth. It did things to me I didn't like. It was annoying and I wanted to slap my hand over his mouth to shut him up.
Unfortunately, one by one, each of the family let their voices fade out, leaving mine the only one echoing through the room. As intent and mesmerized as I was by Jasper's voice, I didn't notice right away. When it registered a few seconds later, I snapped my mouth shut and regarded them all with annoyance.
"Bella," Esme breathed. "Your voice … It's magical."
"Right," I said with a snort. "Like it holds a candle to any of yours, and this is my real singing voice."
My evasion was in the form of belting out "Last Christmas" by Wham! a capella and making it sound precisely how I imagined a troll with a frog in its throat would if it tried to sing. I hated that song with a fiery passion, so much so it made me shudder with revulsion. I mean, what was there to like? It had to be one of the pussyiest songs ever written and George Michael was an asshat for thinking it was worthy enough to be recorded and grace the radio airwaves. Listening to it was a particularly horrendous form of torture and always would be, no matter how many decades passed, and nearly ten already had.
"Oh, God, stop!" Peter cried dramatically, clapping his hands over his ears. "My ears! My ears are leakin' venom!"
Most everyone else in the room had similar looks of horror and distaste on their faces, so I ceased my torment. Needless to say, our caroling ended after that.
Next came curling up in the living room and settling in to watch Christmas movies with a cup of Esme's hot chocolate. Our marathon started off with Home Alone and progressed to the first two Santa Clause movies —Emmett's choices. Jasper sat next to me on the couch I'd chosen, perched two inches away from my body. It reminded me of the day I'd first met him, when Alice had finagled us all in to watching The Notebook. The same weird energy that had crackled in the space between us then was there now, and just the same as then, those two inches and that tension had me feeling both the loneliest and most claustrophobic I had ever been. Also, like then, it made me want to touch him—to ground myself, to seek comfort, to convince myself he was real. I honestly didn't know why, and it was again my necklace that brought me the distraction I needed not to.
We had started the movies at eight o'clock and by the time they were over, it was nearly two and time for bed. I hadn't slept in nine days, and after the events of the last two, I wanted the escape. I wasn't sure if sleep would find me, but I had to at least try to find it, so I wished everyone a good night and a Merry Christmas and retired to my room, feeling the burn of Jasper's eyes on me as I walked away.
oOo
A/N: Alright, so now all the Gavin stuff is wrapped up as is the drama associated with it. I hope you all like how I handled it. :)
In case you didn't notice, I have a serious hatred of the song, "Last Christmas." No offense to any of you who feel otherwise. :)
I think Christmas Eve turned out to be relatively merry by the day's end, don't you? Now, will Christmas Day? Find out in two weeks!
And now, the final but most important thing I have to say in this update. I lost someone very dear to me this week. Her name was Maxine, and she was a brassy, ballsy, tough-as-nails woman who told it like it was but who was also kind and compassionate and wise. She helped a lot of people, including me, over the course of her life. She probably helped me more in certain areas than anyone else ever has. She brought me a greater understanding of many things, which sometimes brings me peace when I am in a state of mind to be logical. I have a great amount of admiration for her and the gratitude I feel for her is immeasurable. I loved her like she was my own blood. The world lost an amazing and brilliant woman. This chapter is for you, Maxine. Rest in peace, for you are loved and missed and irreplaceable.
Take care everyone.
