Well hello! Me apologising for being late is becoming a pattern isn't it!
The results of the poll (as you may be able to tell) was overwhelmingly for two big chapters! I'm kind of surprised! So here is your first time skip chapter, with one drabble for each year we skip.
I hope you enjoy this one, sorry it's literally 1am monday (over here anyway). I got so very distracted by Harry Potter fanfiction and resisting the urge to write Harry Potter fanfiction.
Oh and you might notice that this chapter has a summary without a summary in it! (fancy right?) I'm gonna add a relevant letter quote and a date to every chapter we've had and all the future ones, just to class up the place - yknow?
(also this chapter hasn't even really been proofread by me so all mistakes are so very my fault)
'I know something about slipping into the darkness. Remember, you'll live for eternity. That's too long to linger forever on the fickle lives of humans.' - Rose
1886. Peter.
Peter,
It is hard to know what to say to you, brother. I am so used to you predicting me that it's strange to know something you don't.
I don't know what circumstances you will be reading this letter in. Maybe you just escaped from the camp and the Cullens found you. Maybe you found them - I know better than to underestimate you. Perhaps Bella did the impossible, infiltrated the camp and broke you out. I did try to stop her, brother. She's stubborn, you might already know that.
It would be impossible for her to do that. I don't dare hope for it. I hope you don't blame her if she failed, or even if she didn't try. It's a huge thing to ask of her, as I'm sure you know. She has the world on her shoulders and I certainly don't envy her.
Please forgive her if she failed. Please forgive her for anything she has done.
Care for her as I do. Protect her as I wish I could. We don't deserve her, brother. We never will.
Stay safe with my eternal good wishes,
Jasper.
Peter scoffed at his friend's future self. The boy was right, of course. But did he really need to be so dramatic about it?
He tucked the letter safely into a chest with his other meagre belongings, deciding he would pester Bella about the postscript sometime later.
PS. 10/18/1933 9pm - Billy's Bar, Austen
1887. Jasper.
Jasper sat on the Winnipeg house roof, waiting for Bella and Peter to come back.
It was safe there, he knew this. They were the largest coven around for hundreds of miles, both of them could take care of themselves; they were only going to town for God's sake! There was no point in worrying, no point in anxiously coming up with every single possibility that could end their outing with their deaths.
Yet he couldn't stop himself sitting on the roof and freaking out about the likelihood of their never coming home, and how it would be his fault for not protecting them.
Every negative emotion he sensed outside of the controlled environment of this house whipped him up into a frenzy. That's why when they asked him if he wanted to go book shopping with them, he smiled and declined, they couldn't know how badly it affected him. In town, he would feel every hint of aggression towards them, every drop of lust towards them. Bella could accidentally step on someone's foot and he'd cause a massacre.
He couldn't help it, he was so used to the cold and the darkness being the norm that now he was surrounded by light all the time he found even the slightest bit of negativity impossible to take. He was simultaneously terrified that something would happen to the people he loved and also completely unable to control himself enough to protect them.
This was why he avoided love in the camp, this was why it was better not to grow attached to people.
But it was worth it, for her.
Lord did he love her. That girl who glowed gold every time she looked his way.
They weren't together, in a romantic sense; and they never could be, so she kept telling him. He had decided long ago not to think about the day that she would end whatever this was between them and go to another man. So he would savour everything he could take from her now and worry about the rest of his bleak life when the time came.
He took what he could, but she was a good wife and he respected her limits. He was so in tune with her colours that he would know the second he overstepped. He did on occasion, at first, when his lips lingered over her knuckles a moment too long and the yellow flush of guilt clenched in her chest. He learned her limits like a pianist learns scales, with dedicated practice and beautiful results. Over the past year he'd practiced it into a dance, the perfect mixture of teasing and sincerity.
She could pretend that she didn't love him; could hide the smiles and the lingering glances, the touches of their hands, the way she gravitated towards him when she was sad or weary. But she couldn't hide the gold, not from him.
She once told him that that golden feeling was for her sister, that he reminded her of family. But she lied. She talked about Alice now; she wore her jewelry, she showed him pictures. Alice coloured her in pinks and silvers; they fluttered around her heart and her shoulders, lifting her up and giving her courage. She didn't feel golden.
When she looked at Carlisle she felt warm and secure, when she looked at Peter her heart lifted and she felt joy. They didn't make her feel golden.
It wasn't just romantic love either. Garrett and Kate burned red when they thought of each other. They found exhilaration, they felt excited. On the rare occasion that Bella let herself think of Edward she yearned, she felt cold and empty; she faded to a lonesome grey.
No, the gold was just for him. And it wasn't just love; it was adoration, it was magnificent, and it was unique. He knew in his soul that she adored him as much as he adored her.
He could have been upset, maybe angry with her; for refusing to be with him and glowing for him in the same breath. But he couldn't.
Because he glowed too.
1888. Bella.
"There's something I've been wanting to ask you about."
Jasper turned to her, a smirk on his sun dappled face. "Oh?"
"You know how you fought in the Civil War?"
He grinned and leant against a tree. "Yes Ma'am, youngest Major in the Texas Cavalry."
When he smiled like that, his dimples showed. His shirt was ripped by the wayward claws of a bear and his hair a mess from the wind. With the blush of fresh gold in his amber eyes and the exhilarated grin on his lips, Bella couldn't help a huge rush of affection.
He cocked his head. "What is it?"
"Nothing." She smirked. "You're just cute."
He wrinkled his nose at her and made her giggle. "You sap. What d'you want to know about my time in the war?"
"Well…" She joined his side as they wandered back home. "The Confederacy has a bit of a reputation in my time."
"What kind of reputation?"
"That it's pro slavery and against equal rights. The confederate flag is a massive racist symbol, but you've never seemed like the kind of person to be okay with that. So it's confused me." She winced, hoping he wouldn't confirm that he in fact was a massive racist.
He frowned. "When they went 'round all the towns recruitin' for the war, they didn't say a thing about slavery. It sounds bad, but we didn't really care either way, none of us had slaves. It just wasn't somethin' we thought about. I fought to protect my family from Northern invaders, nothin' else."
"Oh phew!" She sighed. "That's the problem with going back to the past, there's every chance that all the people you care about would be awful by modern standards."
"... That's the only problem with goin' to the past?"
"Shut up."
He grinned and kept walking.
"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to go back and talk to him."
"Talk to who?"
"You. But the you I used to know…" She smiled almost apologetically. "Everyone wrote me a letter, but he basically wrote a book. Pages and pages about the camp and the wars and he planned for almost every contingency… yet it still went wrong. If he still exists in some universe somewhere, the curiosity is probably killing him. I wonder how he would react."
He hummed and faced back forwards, eyes on the wildlife. "Do you miss him?"
"Sometimes." She bumped his dejected shoulder. "But I think I would miss you more."
1889. Bella.
Bella glared down at the metres of silk she had been buttoned into. "Really?"
Irina sighed. "Humour me, darling. You say I won't be able to play with the bustles much longer, so I'm making the most of it while I still can!"
Bella grumbled. "I really can't wait."
"Bustles are wonderful and I will miss them forever!" Irina laughed. "When will anything so ridiculous be in fashion again? Do I have much to look forward to?"
"Not much that's this ridiculous, but you'll enjoy the 60s and 70s." Bella fiddled with the off shoulder straps of her dress and all the adornments attached to it. "Is this really necessary? I feel like I'm going to break the bustle cage every time I sit down."
Irina shrugged. "If you still can't work it out despite years of instruction, then just don't sit down. You're a vampire, darling. You will manage. And besides!" She tweaked Bella's hair. "I have a beautiful cousin and want to show her off at an assembly. Is that so wrong?"
Bella rolled her eyes at her cousin's pleading look. "No…"
"Good!" Irina patted the stray hair into place and nodded at her work. "I hereby declare you perfect. Go join our boys while I finish."
Bella rustled down the stairs to the drawing room, carefully holding her skirts up with her index finger and thumb - terrified that she'd rip them.
Jasper and Peter were waiting for her there, in identical dress suits and identical amused smirks. Jasper bowed theatrically, took her gloved hand in his and lifted it to his lips. It would have been awfully romantic if he weren't obviously trying not to laugh.
She glared. "Stop it!"
He snorted. "What? You look wonderful."
She couldn't help a laugh bubbling up too. "Seriously, stop. I had no control over this!"
"I have to compliment you if I'm to reserve the first dance! You will be the most sought after lady in the room after all!"
"If you think I can't kick your ass in a bustle cage, you are sorely mistaken."
1890. Tanya.
Tanya cared a lot for her little cousin. Bella had been a surprise to them all, but a welcome one. A ray of sunshine into their sometimes uneventful lives. But the past four years with her had built up some concerns.
It was obvious that there was something between Bella and Jasper. He looked at her like she was his moon and stars, and she looked like she was racked with guilt whenever she was alone with her thoughts.
Bella was a sweet girl, a moral one with strength in her convictions. But she was hurting herself by clinging to this idea that her past mate could be the only love she ever had. One day, when Jasper had gone on an extended hunting trip with his brother and Bella had begun overthinking the second he was too far away to stop her; Tanya sat her down to reattempt to teach her fumbling fingers to embroider and try to talk some sense into her.
"I'm just trying to say, sweet girl, that soulmates are a fairytale. I know you love your husband, but perhaps there might be others who you could love even more?"
Bella kept her eyes stubbornly trained on the mess of thread she was making. "I know we aren't destined to be together or anything, I'm not a child. But…" She bit her lip. "You don't understand, the only thing he wanted was for us to be together. That is literally the only instruction he gave me. I had to make a plan for how to get him out of Chicago just with information I already had!"
Tanya frowned. "It being their last wishes is not a good reason to marry someone."
"I love him, Tanya." Bella finally looked up, her brow furrowed. "And he waited a century for me. I can wait thirty years for him."
"Okay, that's fair!" Tanya tried to casually return to her embroidery, as if she wasn't trying to alleviate her cousin's great pain. "But thirty years is a long time, and torturing yourself for perhaps having feelings for someone else is no way to spend them. It may lack foresight, but I suggest you live your life in the moment and worry about your quest later."
Bella stayed silent, so Tanya didn't push further; not wanting to pester. But some time later, Bella piped up in a small sullen voice.
"You might have a point…"
1891. Jasper.
They had a good life with the Denali sisters. Jasper had never known such safety and companionship before. Bella was right all those years ago, the joy and love they were always feeling were like a drug to him. He was so at peace he could barely stand it.
But that didn't detract from Bella's position in his heart; the way that when he was away from her there was something cold inside him that yearned to go home.
It was because of that, that when a french human drinker stumbled across their coven and asked to stay, his hackles were raised. Bella never said anything, but he knew when she was hiding something. The false edge to her smile and the flashes of fear whenever she looked into Irina's new mate's eyes was enough for him to suggest they travel alone for a while.
She jumped at the opportunity to get away, and Peter had been itching to explore for years. So with that; Jasper, Bella, and Peter left the safety of the Denali home and set off on their own. To see the world and all its glories.
1892. Jasper.
A few miles out of Houston was a small farm. The family who worked that land were hardly well off, they made just enough selling their crops to get by; but their children never knew hunger and their clothes were always clean and well mended. The Civil War had taken much from them, but they survived. The Whitlocks always survived.
It was just barely cloudy enough for Jasper to be there, but in the end he was grateful for the sun. Any more overcast and it might have ruined the day.
A girl that Jasper didn't recognise, but looked uncannily like his mother, was getting ready in the house he was born in. At first he tried his best not to look through the windows. That was rude after all, and his momma didn't raise a boy without manners. But when he saw her he couldn't help it. His baby sister, Ellie. She was in her 40s, just like he would be if he were still human, but still undeniably her. The girl was getting married, and judging by the tears in his sister's eyes it was her daughter.
The family was gathered in the garden. His mother was painfully nowhere absent, but his father was sat in a tall chair, blanket tucked dignified around his thighs to protect against the spring breeze. Jasper stayed in the cover of the trees, Bella and Peter hovering behind him.
It was a small affair, orchestrated by a preacher Jasper dimly recognised as a cousin. He almost felt sorry for intruding, until Bella softly rested her hand on his shoulder and whispered how happy they would be if they knew he was there.
It was her words that spurred him on, after all the festivities were over and everyone settled down to sleep, to sneak silently into the house the way he had done as a teenager. He first made his way to his father's room. The man had always been a deep sleeper, but Jasper never realised just how deep when even a jolt of energy barely roused him. He knew it was risky, but his father had always believed in angels.
Father's eyes cracked open and saw him. A sleepy smile stretched across his face and he clasped his boy's arm, whispered "It's good to see you, son." and immediately fell back to sleep. Jasper smiled, put a large amount of money in the stash he knew was kept in his father's bedside cabinet, and crept out of the room.
Next was his sister. He gathered from talk at the wedding that she had been recently widowed, and lived with his father so they might take care of each other.
She was not nearly such a deep sleeper as their father. Her eyes peaked open almost as soon as he made his way to her bedside.
"Am I dreamin'?" She whispered.
Jasper swallowed the painful lump in his throat. "Yes." He lied.
He knelt by his sister's side, stroked her graying hair from her face and told her all about the world. He told her about Canada, and all the places he'd seen. He told her about the future - or what little he knew of it. He told her how proud he was of her.
In return she told him everything he wanted to know, and everything he didn't. What happened after he disappeared, how their parents reacted, how his older brother didn't come back either, but his younger did. Who they married, how old all their children are. Everything he'd missed.
When it got too close to the dawn and he had to lull her back to sleep, she gripped his hand in hers and remarked on how cold it was.
He smiled sadly.
"That's because I'm dead."
1893. Bella.
One might say that being nomadic was bad for them. They jumped from place to place, sampling the local culture; and quickly the local 'cuisine' in Peter's case. He had never fully committed to the vegetarian diet, choosing to flip back and forth whenever he felt like it. It was fair, without Bella's attachment to human life and the benefits Jasper felt from staying away from negative emotions, there was no real reason for him to settle for second best - even though Carlisle insisted he hunts several cities away when he feels the need. Bella understood both of their reasonings, she always had.
She felt the urge more and more, without the company of Carlisle and being around humans she didn't know. In Winnipeg, at least she knew the name of the shopkeeper and the butcher and the old lady who hung around the back of the bar. She understood them, she would mourn them if they were gone, let alone if she killed them. But with these humans that she saw for a week and then never encountered again, there was no such attachment, and their blood smelled sweeter with every stop they made.
They never stayed long, and they never brought anything with them. Jasper carried a satchel, a different one; filled with nothing but money, a mending kit, and one or two sentimental items. Nothing that was too much, nothing that would hurt too much to lose. They would take a room at the local inn, wander around, maybe buy some new clothes or go to an assembly. Bella took to playing historical bingo, where she took a famous figure she knew would be around and try to find them. Thus far she was unsuccessful, but still enjoyed trying.
They were in Washington DC, watching Grover Cleveland get inaugurated, when they bumped into another of their kind. He was a human drinker named Michael and was absolutely delighted to find some folk he could actually have a proper conversation with. He commented on their scars and they told him the whole sordid tale of the Southern Wars and their escape (minus the time travel, of course).
"What a good thing it must be," he remarked, "to be out of there. You must feel so relieved all the time!"
Bella joined in on the good natured agreements, but didn't quite believe what she was saying.
Because she still felt that jab jab jabbing at her spine. No matter how far from the wars she got, Anton was still looking for her.
1894. Bella.
It was only a matter of time before she fell from grace.
She and Jasper were at a bar in Ohio, pretending to sip whiskey and listening to the drama going on around them. A man had been harassing a waitress there for hours. Donald, he said his name was while relentlessly asking for hers. He eventually excused himself and left the bar, but both vampires could hear him linger in the alley outside. When the waitress finally left at the end of her shift, Bella quietly followed to make sure she got home okay. Jasper stayed behind, lest he scare her more.
But when Bella was barely out the door, a hand shot out of the alley and grabbed her by the arm. Surprised, she let herself be dragged backwards and found herself face to face with the lecherous, red faced man.
"Hmph." He snorted. "Not the one I was going for, but you're much more beautiful."
With a hand on her chest he pushed her back against the wall. Bella wasn't quite sure what she should be doing. Obviously she wasn't going to let him have his way with her, but she couldn't exactly show her strength. She could call for Jasper and Peter, but they would likely be so incensed that the man would have a very slow and painful death.
Did she care? Was it more important that the man lived or was it just that she didn't want to be the one to kill him?
All pondering went out the window when he shoved his face into her neck, took a deep inhale and licked at her collarbone. Instinct kicked in and she shoved him away, cracking a rib and sending him flying back into the wall.
He wasn't dead, she had enough control for that, but he was bleeding where his skull had hit the sharp stone and where his wrist had snapped.
But so close to her instincts and so bereft of human blood, she couldn't help but want. This man was scum, scum of the Earth and she was so so angry. He didn't deserve to live. He didn't deserve to live and perhaps she deserved the right to kill him. Maybe this was her sign, her gift. Maybe she could finally drink human blood again.
Her desperate reasoning drew her slowly forward to the trembling man. He made a low whining sound as her sharp teeth slid into his skin and she joined him as the first drop of blood hit her tongue. God, she had missed this. Warm and musky and almost as sweet as the brandy he had been drinking. It was perfect, she thought as she drew his lifeblood in, delicious, life giving, she finally felt complete.
What are you doing?
Her thirst quenched, she came back to herself and threw herself away from him. She hit the wall at the back of the alley and stared at her still twitching victim. She'd killed, she'd killed again.
She grabbed at her pinned hair and pulled to keep herself on the ground. She hadn't quite killed, the man was still alive, but she needed to fix that soon. Else she hadn't killed a rapist, she'd just given him superpowers. She let out a whimper as the man gurgled through the blood filling his mouth. She was sitting there having a crisis and yet she still wanted it. How would she kill him? Would she drink the rest? That seemed like the worst possible option, although really there was no reason why it would be.
A voice interrupted her panic, although she wasn't within herself enough to understand what it said.
Jasper stood at the mouth of the alley, staring at the scene before him. He took one strong look at her and stepped to her victim, whipped him up to his level and sunk his teeth right in the spot where hers had been. He drank what little the man had left and shot to her side before their victim hit the ground. His hands whispered over her cheeks and neck, pulling the bedragged strands of her hair out of her clawed fingers and soothing them down.
"It's okay, it's okay…" He murmured to her. "You didn't kill him. I did."
She stared into his amber orange eyes and crushed her lips to his before she had time to think about it. He responded immediately, winding the hand resting on her jaw to the back of her neck and holding on to the hair he loved so much. He pulled it from its pins and let it fall across her back so he could get a better grip to tilt her head back and kiss at her throat.
She clenched her hands in his lapels, pulling him as close to her as she could without them melding together as one. She acknowledged for a moment that that was what she really wanted. To forget who she was and become one with him; this dark man who would follow her anywhere.
He pulled her to his lap and she let him. His arm wound around her waist to keep her close and she moved her hands to cup his cheeks, moving his face to the exact angle she wanted it. He pushed her forwards against the wall, so she was pressed against every inch of his body. His hands were everywhere, on her face, her neck, her thighs. She responded in kind, tracing the muscles on his arms and the planes of his chest and the bites on the back of his neck. They stayed there until the sun rose, tasting blood on each other's tongues and dreading the morning.
In the dawn, they disentangled, disposed of the body; and never mentioned it again.
1895. Carlisle.
Carlisle very much loved living with the Denali sisters; but when Peter told him quite bluntly that Bella and Jasper would never be comfortable visiting for long periods of time while he lived with Laurent, he moved out as soon as he could. He took up a house near Seattle, hoping that being so close to her home might tempt Bella to come see him.
He didn't need to take such measures, she was on his doorstep the day after Kate and Garrett found her wandering Chicago and told her of his whereabouts. She sent him postcards every time they came by a new settlement, but other than through Kate and Garrett, he had little way of replying.
They all looked well, not as primped, perfect and clean as they were in Canada, but nowhere near as bad as they were when she returned to him from the wars. Her eyes were bright gold with hints of something darker running through them, almost as if she had glutted herself on animal blood to hide the red. Jasper similarly had orange eyes, although clearly less effort had gone into hiding them. Peter's were unapologetically red, although he had never bothered to hide his lack of care for the vegetarian lifestyle before.
He didn't blame her, of course he couldn't. Bella was all he'd ever wanted, and whatever life she wanted he would do his best to give. He took Peter aside a few days into that first visit, as he could always trust him not to obsess over his good opinion, and asked what exactly their feeding habits were.
The man raised an eyebrow and informed him that it was a rapist and murderer only diet, and Bella only ever seemed ashamed of it when she thought of him. Carlisle nodded, it made sense. He only hoped that her worry didn't cause her too much pain and made an effort to be extra accommodating for Peter's needs in front of her, so she knew he didn't judge.
He wasn't fully successful, but at least his plan to move away from the Denali's worked. After years of his daughter barely visiting, he was seeing her every few months. She and the boys would pop in sometimes for weeks and trade books and stories with him. He continued working as a doctor and got to keep his family. He would take the compromises, since everyone seemed so happy.
1896. Peter.
Arizona was a hot, red wasteland and Peter found it so strange how Bella seemed to fit there.
It's not that she blended in, hell no. It was so bright all the time that they couldn't go out during the day and at night their snow white skin got them stared at wherever they went. But there was just something so comfortable about her. She walked with a confidence that said 'I am home' and it suited her.
Phoenix was even better, as she excitedly pointed out all the buildings she faintly remembered from her childhood. They stopped and explored the empty patch of land that would one day be her childhood home, and a half constructed ballet studio; where Bella laughingly told the story of how she tried and failed to fight off a vampire. She was so swept up in her past that she made a rule that they didn't kill in Phoenix, just in case one of her childhood friends had an unsavoury ancestor.
That was fair enough. So they fed in Tucson.
1897. Jasper.
It wasn't that Jasper was lonely. How could he be? He travelled with his brother and the love of his life. But that separation that Bella enforced between them sapped his strength, it only seemed to waver when she didn't have any more strength to stay away. He savoured every embrace, every time her cool lips touched his - but couldn't stand that it was always after something bad happened. He felt so guilty for enjoying it, and was so starved of the touch that he wanted from her that he decided to try getting it elsewhere.
So he started sleeping around. It wasn't a big deal, Peter did it too. But he couldn't help the empty feeling inside when he was done, scrubbing himself of the evidence and returning to the girl he really wanted.
Of course he loved her. Of course he was settling for second best. For God's sake, he would picture her the entire time no matter how beautiful his partner was. But he didn't have this wonderful future to look forward to like she did. No matter how many times she told him that in the future he will be just as happy as she is, he couldn't see a world where he would be content loving her from afar.
So he had his little affairs. Sometimes he would take a woman as he drank from her, the ecstasy occasionally drowned out the fear if he did it quick enough. Sometimes he would sleep with a woman and then leave her alone, if he didn't deem her deserving of death. It was almost like a test of his control that he picked up surprisingly well.
It wasn't like Bella was absolutely innocent. She would often let her more lecherous victims kiss her, give them a taste of heaven before she sent them to hell. A sick part of him liked watching, so he could pretend it was him. He liked to imagine her sauntering up to him after her victim's body thumped to the floor, climbing into his lap and letting him taste the remnants of her meal on her lips.
But dreams were dreams, and reality was bitter cold disappointment. So when they came across a female nomad who projected lust like a lightning bolt when she saw him, he took the bait and took her against a tree.
They weren't in a settlement, they were just wandering around farmland, looking for large game and drawing crop circles. There weren't bathing facilities within easy reach so he just went straight back to his coven.
It was the first time he had ever seen her so soon afterwards, when his lady love's scent still clung to his skin. Her control was impeccable, the smooth smile on her face didn't even flicker. But he felt the flash of envy, rage, and possession before she had time to smother it. He should have been angry. She had chosen this, she chose to wait for her husband instead of being with him. They could be happy if she would let them. But instead he let himself grin with vindication. People could say a lot about their relationship, but no one could say she did not feel the same way for him as he did for her.
He broke into someone's house to bathe and changed his clothes, and when she stayed close to his side for the next few days he decided that for now, this would do.
1898. Bella.
When it was hard to find mass murderers and serial rapists, the trio occasionally lowered their standards.
They would happen upon a town and stay there for a few weeks. With their gentle manners and fine clothing they would be quickly accepted as potential members of society and invited to all manner of balls and plays. That was the idea.
Feeding on some poor folk who had turned to drink to deal with life and would never be missed just hit Bella the wrong way - so they went for an opposite tact. They would attend one of these fine gatherings they had been invited to, and find the worst person there. There was almost always one, although when they came across a group of people who were all genuinely decent they would go hungry.
Jasper would greet all the folk wanting to dance with his 'younger brother and sister' and taste their emotional palettes, then move on to the parents and relatives to find that one person with malice in their heart. Then whichever one of the three was more able to seduce that person would draw them out of the party for them all to share. It was enough to tide them over until they found someone more deserving of the terrible fate.
This was the situation they found themselves in when they stuck to smaller settlements for a while. They were a nice change from the bustle of large cities, but there weren't enough dark corners to find easy prey in.
So they bought some fine clothes and waited to be invited to whatever party was coming. They were such a handsome group that some rich mother who wanted a daughter married off threw one just for them. They could have just run to New York or somewhere similarly seedy, but there was something about the hunt and the challenge that made them stay exactly where they were.
It was almost enough to make Bella comfortable in silks, although not quite. Bustles were out, thank goodness, but she still had to avoid direct light so her scars didn't show through the declitage baring neckline of her gown.
Peter was dancing with a young lady who practically shoved their other admirers away and greeted Bella with a fierce scowl, a possible contender. Bella had just been escorted from the dance floor by a partner with particularly grabby hands, another possibility. Staring around the decorated hall, she couldn't help but think how much easier this would be when night clubs were invented. But she shucked that thought as quickly as it grew. She couldn't think of the future. To think of the future was to think of who she was failing.
Jasper had chosen someone already. He slipped an arm around her waist and quietly pointed out a man hanging around in the back of the room who felt surges of lust when he looked at people of the wrong age, if she knew what he meant. She grimaced and they went to greet the monster. She danced with him twice and eventually led him outside for fresh air.
They killed him in the rose garden, slashed through the bite marks and threw his body in the fountain. They were gone by dawn.
1899. Jasper.
Jasper couldn't kill on his own, not anymore. He needed one of his two favourite people with him, his angels - although he could never let slip to Peter that he thought of him like that. The light they gave carried him through the terror and pain of his victims. With Bella biting into the other side of the poor dying sod's neck, he could focus on her. She kept him afloat.
But that light inside her was flickering. Every life she took, every drop of blood that passed her lips dimmed her light. He could suddenly feel it one day, clear as anything. She hated herself. Truly hated herself.
They were in Chicago to ring in the new year, and while Peter revelled in the parties and found several other monsters to prey on, she stood on the sidelines and did nothing. She felt nothing too, there was a void where her light usually lived.
Jasper took a hold of her hand and relished in the gold that still blossomed through the black whenever she saw him. He murmured for her to follow him and lead her to the roof of the tallest building. Away from all the humans she seemed much brighter, but that darkness still lingered.
He kissed her hands. "What is it that's botherin' you?"
"I just…" She sighed. "I was standing in a crowd of people and realised that I was a predator. I'm not one of them anymore… I'm not human anymore…"
"And that's a bad thing?" He asked, but her face crumpled and her colours turned cold and empty. She turned away from him and leaned on the railing lining the roof to look out to the street below.
"I think about them all the time…" She eventually whispered. "My family in the future. They would be so disappointed in me."
"That can't be true. You said they told you they would understand."
"They would understand a slip!" She gasped. "They would understand a short phase of killing, but it's been five years and I don't know if I can stop! I can't feel my humanity anymore! They wouldn't love me anymore!"
"Hush!" He hastened his way towards her and took her in his arms. "Of course they would still love you, how could they not?" He pressed his lips to her silken hair. "You are still our Bella, no matter your diet."
She let out a sob against his chest, so he pulled away and stroked her hair back from her face. She tried to stare at the ground, but he lifted her chin to gaze into her ruby eyes.
"What can I do to make this better?" He asked.
She took a shuddering breath. "I think I want to feel human again."
He nodded and held her close to him. If being human was what she wanted then that was what they would do. He would take her back to Carlisle, return to the animal diet, even abandon Peter if that was what it took. The girl in his arms was his heart and soul, and there was nothing he would not do if she asked it of him.
She roused from his embrace only to watch the new century roll in and the next morning they ran home to her father.