When Carlisle told her Albany needed lots of basic aid, he really meant basic.
The good thing was that she had at least some exposure to the construction process; she'd watched Esme build a shed in a few hours last spring. (And though she hadn't exactly helped, she'd paid moderate attention.)
The bad thing was that she had no idea how to read blueprints yet. She ended up having to follow around a pair of less-than-helpful construction workers for two days, attempting to assist in the rebuilding of Albany's main offices.
There were enough people on the project that she could simply watch for a few minutes and then work alongside everyone for the duration that she was there. And she had to admit that it felt nice not to be looked at like some powerful leader; she forgot how good it felt to simply be a part of the background…
Albany's containment center only retained minimal damage. Meaning that although their main offices were burnt to a crisp in a takeover attempt, the rest of the sprawling campus had been left unmarred.
But still, loss had touched them, too.
There was a brand new memorial garden at the heart of the campus to prove it.
Other than helping kickstart their construction efforts, Alice wasn't needed elsewhere. Still, when she left she took with her an arm-full of documents that would need to be delivered to Esme when she saw the woman next.
Esme had been splitting her time between New York City and Washington DC, perhaps the busiest out of all of them. Alice had only seen her a handful of times over the past several months, and she missed the woman terribly. If her visions gave her any indication, their paths wouldn't be crossing again any time soon.
Her and Jasper's futures though…
Alice found herself accidentally turning the almost three hour drive to Ithaca into a two hour one, eager to get the last leg of her journey out of the way so she could return home.
It was a little irresponsible, she had to admit. She'd only had her license for a few months—as long as she'd been on the road—so she knew that getting pulled over, even for something as mundane as speeding, would only hurt her already-changing reputation.
Visions helped in that regard; but unless the officer was a shifter, like Jacob Black, Alice would see them coming a mile away.
Again, she acknowledged that using her gift to break laws, as minor as they may be in her eyes, was probably a bad idea. But still.
The faster this went, the quicker she could go home.
It wasn't until she arrived at the tiny center late at night when she realized that she was going to be dealing with a little bit more than she bargained for.
She tried hard to keep her spirits up as she met and spoke with the Lieutenants and containers on duty; people seemed generally more okay with her presence there than they had been in Albany or Boston. Friendly, overall.
But even after a few hours her smiles started feeling heavier and her happiness faker.
Despite the helpfulness of her gift, the first thing she'd seen upon arrival in Ithaca was the main thing she'd be doing: entrance interviews with newborns. Standard procedure for the most part, but these people had been changed during what people were now calling 'Maria's War'.
And that wasn't the worst part.
After sunrise, after she'd been given a tour of the tiny campus (it hadn't lasted long) she'd sat with the Lieutenant on duty, a woman with a head of short-cut honey colored hair who stood over a full foot taller than her.
Their campus only had two buildings. The main offices, where nearly everything transpired on campus, and a tiny newborn center, a mile further into the woods.
Alice sat opposite of the woman in their small caf—the entire basement level—an empty cup resting between her palms. She hadn't been thirsty, but she was learning that a lot of their leadership enjoyed mulling over ideas while sipping something warm in the caf.
It was a strange concept to her. As a young vampire, Alice would have never assumed feeding could be a social thing. It had been only seen as a necessity to her at first. Something she did under the cover of darkness, breaking in and out of buildings to do her own brand of hunting. Of course, that was before Josie had found her and taken her in, and before she'd fully learned what a 'vampire' was.
She found the oddities of her newfound everyday life bizarre beyond what she ever could've dreamed. Just over a year ago she fed alone and quietly at night, stitching together fabrics during the day, and stealing time at the library when she could get away with it. It was simple. But now, when almost everything she did had some sort of over-complication behind it, she missed it.
"I know," the woman, named Kollie, spoke carefully, and Alice could already see how focused she was on trying to soften her words, "that nothing I say here is 'off the record' but," another pause, and hesitation, "we're not stupid. We know our odds of remaining open are slim—people are needed elsewhere and we don't have the population we did this time last year," she paused and took a sip. Red smudged her upper lip and she spent a couple of seconds wiping her mouth clean, pocketing a rust-colored handkerchief.
"How drastically are things going to be changing for us? Not just here. But in general. For vampires?"
And that was the million dollar question nowadays.
Alice picked her words very carefully; half of them were from herself, the other half were practiced. Rosalie hadn't had too much time to spend with her on media training—and Jasper had supplemented a little bit—but Alice was leaning now that it was just as efficient if those skills were applied in smaller settings, such as this.
"People are still in mourning," she spoke seriously, "Humans and vampires. And we're rebuilding, too. Not just our communities but our very own Containment Centers. Just yesterday I was helping rebuild Albany's main offices. And I mean that literally."
"Why is it taking so long?" The woman asked, and Alice could tell she was barely concealing exasperation already.
"Little to no manpower. We'll be announcing finalized casualty counts soon. The truth is there aren't a whole lot of us left."
The woman sat back, deciding against pushing further. "I still don't understand how. How did our losses end up so great?"
"People tried to help—untrained civilians."
"Even despite that, their numbers shouldn't have been able to rival ours. On paper or in reality."
Alice didn't nod, but she did agree. When you checked the facts and statistics, little made sense. But she thought back to the civilian death toll and brushed her questionable thoughts away. It would do her no good to think about 'why' when hundreds of thousands were dead.
Her people. That's what they'd become when she'd taken her oath.
Nowadays she felt more like the Queen of Death than a Protector of anything…
They finished up soon after and made their way upstairs. Alice looked over a few reports while she waited for the transport from the newborn center to arrive. It appeared the only reason Ithaca was special was because it currently housed war-turned newborns. There wasn't much else happening around there.
Even before the war, the center had been so new—weeks old, barely—and so their newborn center had yet to be utilized. Then, while the war had done it's part in reducing their population drastically, there was also a surge in illegal changing going on. Between the radicals trying to up their numbers or create Decoys—vampires changed just to incite more chaos and cause more death—and the newborns going on half-hearted feeding frenzies (and not draining their prey) the amount of entrance interviews going on across the country was high.
Alice frowned at one particular file and hated the visions she got then. One man in particular was going to be a bit difficult. Why, she couldn't quite pinpoint yet. But his willingness to talk to her depended entirely on how she handled the situation.
When she handed the files back to Kollie, she stuck that one on the bottom. Better save the hard one for last. That way she could speed through the first few with ease and haste.
Two hours later, in the middle of a different vampire's entrance interview, a man not much larger than herself eyed her up and down "It seems like it took you guys long enough to finally get this done."
Alice scribbled his previous reply onto the paper before clicking her pen. Lifting her eyes she stared at the bald man across the table. His eyes were still red, but not as vibrant as they'd been months ago.
"And, no offense, I'm confused as to why they sent a Protector to do this. Surely, you guys aren't responsible for all of these interviews all the time?"
She half shrugged. "Special circumstances call for a change in the way things are done."
"Meaning: a war that started from the inside means you can't trust your own people anymore."
Alice raised an eyebrow. It was something she had heard before; more often as of late. It wasn't incorrect, exactly, but of course she would never agree with the controversial statement. "No, it means we want to have more hands on when it comes to individuals like yourself."
"I attempted the change process years ago," he sat back and stretched. "Failed on the first step. I'm shocked you guys didn't take a look at someone like me and rip my head off before I became a liability or whatever."
She set the pen down, perfectly perpendicular to the paper she was writing on. The man's name was Leonard, and he'd been overly-casual with her the entire interview. "We recognize that individuals changed against their will are victims; we don't punish the innocent."
"What would you do if this became the new normal? If people got illegally changed under the guise of it being a freak accident or whatever? Then, boom. Suddenly that punk you turned down for being a fucking loon gets his immortality anyways."
"That's already illegal and already comes with consequences."
He made a thoughtful noise at that. "What do you do with them? Kill them?"
Alice picked her pen back up, eyes finding the next question on the paper. "What was the name of the individual, or individuals, who apprehended you?"
He ignored her question. "So what if I'd done what Ellen did—have you interviewed Ellen yet?—and told you guys I wasn't interested in all of this stuff. You'd kill me right? I know they still haven't figured out a cure for this shit." He gestured to himself and then, to her. "But I'm assuming if in fifty years, when my wife is dead, and I get tired of this crap, there's other options right?"
"Are you telling me now you don't want to go through with this?"
"Nah," he waved a hand toward her, grinning. "We'll keep on." But despite his nonchalance, Alice could tell: although immortality had been something he'd sought out a decade ago (according to his paperwork) it wasn't anything he wanted now. He was 31 and had gotten married only a year before the war.
His wife had miscarried shortly after his disappearance. He wouldn't be able to see her in person again for years. Not until after they carted him off to a new Center upstate for self-control training. According to the cadet who had gone over each of their files alongside her, the wife had faxed over divorce paper work last week.
Alice resumed the interview, and the man gave her all the answers she was looking for.
Despite how efficiently she could perform an entrance interview, as time passed they were getting increasingly difficult for her. It was hard not to walk out of a room and fight the overwhelming desire to keep tabs on their future. Sure, her only responsibility was to put these people's lives on paper so that files could be built and their future identities could be formed. But these people were so much more than another number added to their ever-changing statistics.
Even now, as she waited for them to swap out newborns so that she could perform her final interview, Alice found herself having to refrain from looking into the man's—Leonard's, she corrected herself—future. Even without looking, she had a sinking suspicion he'd be looking into their 'alternative options' sooner than he was letting on.
It wasn't until she was about to step foot back into the room for her final interview when she hesitated. This was the man that she knew was going to be difficult. What she hadn't seen was the specifics. Which only meant that there was going to be a level of unpredictability during this interview that even she couldn't quite anticipate…
"They're ready for you," a square-faced cadet smiled at her before leaving the small office.
She moved quickly out of the room and across the hall. She had barely stepped inside the room when a series of visions struck her.
So, it appeared this man hadn't been expecting her.
He was immediately exasperated. "Shouldn't anybody else be doing this?"
Alice didn't let that comment stop her stride. She walked in briskly, neatly placing his file on the table between them before pulling back her chair and sitting herself into it. "I'm sorry you feel that way," she finally spoke as she looked up at him. He looked young. Thinking back to his paperwork she recalled that his name was Vic and he was eighteen.
He'd been changed when Maria's caravan had stormed through his small town in North Dakota. His two roommates that he'd been hiding out with had been killed—drained dry by radicals—but he'd been left, with just enough life left in him for the venom to spread…
"No. No I'm not doing this anymore." He shook his head firmly, and Alice couldn't help but notice how his hands were suddenly shaking.
Thinking back to his paperwork, she couldn't help but wonder why he was so frustrated at her appearance. Perhaps he thought what Leonard thought: that their presence in doing these interviews first-hand was part of some sort of attempted cover-up. Or some other less-likely conspiracy.
"I can assure you, whether I or one of my colleagues does this interview, the result will be the same."
But still, he shook his head stubbornly as she spoke. "I can't—won't, I won't do this."
"Do you mind if I ask why?"
And suddenly a flurry of visions overtook her—whatever this man was mulling over, he really really didn't want to say. The instant she got the vision, she was left stunned. Two seconds later, the man vocalized his reason.
"I don't want the mate of the guy who killed my friends interviewing me."
Alice couldn't bring any words forth except for a blurted out, "What?"
That hadn't been in his file.
Vic was distressed, then. Glancing around the room he shifted uncomfortably, a frown taking root on his face. "Shit," he muttered to himself before letting his head fall into his hands.
Get it together, she commanded mentally, staring blankly at this boy as he worked to keep himself calm.
"Your file says you don't remember what happened," she spoke evenly, eyes glancing toward the paperwork as her hands hurried to open the folder and confirm what she already knew.
"What are they going to do to me?" He asked miserably. "I didn't want to lie, but when they asked me before I couldn't—I didn't want to go through it again. I didn't want to have to relive it just for your people's benefit." He was dangerously close to crying, and equally close to having his irritation restored instead.
"Nothing," she assured him quickly, still reeling from the shock of the revelation. "So if he—" say it, she snapped inwardly, "if Mr. Whitlock is the one who killed your roommates…"
He nodded before she could finish talking. "He's the one that changed me. That's why—and no offense Ms. Brandon—but this is bullshit. And I'm not talking about the slap on the wrist he's getting. Undercover or not I—you don't know what I saw that night. You don't understand what it feels like to know you're about to die." Still teetering on the edge between fury and anguish, he put his head back in his hands.
She wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That she understood precisely what he was talking about, more than anyone would ever know.
"You're right," she lied. "I can't empathize. I can only extend my sympathies, and tell you how sorry I am that you had to go through that."
"But you're still going to do this interview? Even knowing that he's the one responsible for this?!" He was incredulous. "That's ridiculous. You're the most biased of all."
"How about this," she clicked her pen, knowing she was about to get nowhere fast. "We do the interview, you tell me all you're comfortable telling me, and then I let you review the paperwork before our meeting is done. Anything that you see that I wrote that you don't like, we'll change. Anything that you think I left out, we'll add." He eyed her suspiciously. "Bias-free."
"How do I know you won't completely hide the fact that he changed me? Or that you won't change things on these papers after you leave?"
She shrugged, "If you're so worried about it, follow up with Lieutenant Barns. Let her know, too. I know you weren't planning on telling anyone that; I'm sure if I hadn't walked through the door, it wouldn't be on your file at all."
He swallowed loudly. "I'd been planning on taking it to the grave."
Bold choice of words coming from a newly-immortal being.
"Don't hide it. You won't be reprimanded or punished for keeping that to yourself. People react differently to trauma," her phrasing made her feel very much like Edward with that statement, "you're a victim of a crime. We aren't going to retaliate toward you."
"And I'm supposed to trust you?" His voice was flat. "You know, when I realized who had smashed their way through the window that morning, I was confused. I know who you people are. I know what Whitlock looks like. Everyone does. It wasn't until I realized he'd already snapped Wilson and Rudy's necks that I thought we were in any danger." He leaned forward, deciding anger was the best emotion to lean into now. "Because I trusted you guys," he enunciated the word slowly. "For an undercover operation, he got pretty fucking into it."
This felt like a test. Like something that Rosalie or Edward had set up to ensure that she'd know how to keep her cool and hold her tongue. The story they'd crafted had been set in stone the moment the press release had hit newsstands last fall.
Alice had known there were likely people out there whom had been changed by Jasper. With the amount of human's she'd witnessed him drain in her mind, the odds had climbed with each and every one of his meals. But this was their first confirmation that his death count wasn't just that; he had a change count, too.
And she was going to have to be the one to tell him.
Suddenly, seeing him the following day left her feel a little less excited…
Channelling her best Rosalie impression, Alice inhaled. It was time to play politician. A role she was atrocious at, but a role she had to play regardless. "I'm not at liberty to discuss anything involving the actual mission that led up to the end of the war, but I can, again, extend my most genuine sympathies. You have my—"
"Just," he cut her off, waving his hand at her as if to physically quiet her, "stop. I don't want to hear it. I," he sighed, as if resigned to the fact that this interview was going to happen with her no matter what, "want to get this over with."
The interview wrapped up not long after that. All of his information, minus one startling realization, added up and he was cleared and ready for self-control training.
Later on she spoke to Kollie, asking her if anyone had known about the boy's changing circumstances. The woman seemed just as shocked.
"All we knew was that we were getting a group with newborns from all over the midwest and beyond," she'd stared at Alice, wide-eyed, "but other than it being linked to Maria herself, we didn't know it was Mr. Whitlock."
Alice had simply nodded with the confirmation of what she already knew deep down. But almost an hour later, right before she left, the woman had stopped her again.
"What are you going to do?" She asked. And Alice could tell this wasn't her Lieutenant asking her as a Protector. This was someone, concerned for her, asking about her relationship.
Alice forced a smile. "I'm going to go home for the first time in over a month, now. And spend sometime with my loved ones." Gathering her bag up onto her shoulder, she nodded toward the woman. "I recommend you do the same."
She elected to drive home in silence after that. It would've done her no good to have anything playing in the background. There was no tuning out those thoughts; no avoiding the strange (and sometimes scary) reality that she was facing.
Her only solace was in the fact that her work was done for now. Countless interviews, meetings, paperwork, and evaluations made her wish she could take more than just a simple break from it all. And with the sheer volume of mourning people she'd spent time with, she was struggling to separate their trauma from her own.
She couldn't wait to step out of her Protector role, even if for a few days.
It wasn't that she didn't want to help. She did. She had been helping. And of course she knew that things in no way were going back to normal yet. But as the weeks and months and seasons continued to pass Alice wondered if things would ever go back to normal.
Probably not. She had to be at least a little realistic here.
It wasn't as if anyone could go back to pretending things were the way they used to be before a presumed-dead international terrorist rose from the grave to initiate a continent-wide attack on every demographic under the sun.
Thinking back to some of the casualty reports, Alice felt her stomach turn.
And knowing that she still had plenty of days and weeks ahead of her of hard work—status reports and document transfers and overall Protector training—made her feel mentally exhausted.
But this was her job. She'd taken an oath. As chaotic as it was she'd willingly signed up for this. Sure, she hadn't quite volunteered, but none of them had. Except, maybe Carlisle.
Carlisle, who had hopped on a boat to cross the Atlantic just to be near a certain someone again…
Merging onto a different highway she finally allowed herself a small smile.
So, maybe he hadn't quite wanted the job as much as he'd wanted to be with the woman attached to the job, but still. Carlisle had been a great leader over the decades, no matter what anyone else had to say about it.
(And oh, people had definitely been saying things about it.)
Pressing her foot down on the pedal, she frowned when the car began to groan as she pushed it passed 85 miles per hour. Pulling her foot back slightly she bit back a frustrated huff; she needed to get herself a car, and stat.
Now that she was licensed and driving she completely understood Rosalie and Edward's fascination and odd love of expensive, luxury cars.
Her original rental—the one that had been stolen in Maryland—had been a sporty little blue number. Where this white thing groaned at the strain Alice was putting it under, that one had purred.
With disappointment she let the car drift down to a comfortable seventy-five miles per hour. Alice supposed that being confined to office spaces and administrative buildings for days on end it would make anyone miss anything at all that took their mind off of work.
And while driving wasn't the most exhilarating thing in the world, when your vehicle was nice and fast it was the closest thing you could get to running through the forest.
With a quick decision—and with the confirmation of a foggy vision placed somewhere in her near future—Alice decided she would go car shopping the first opportunity she got.
Head halfway in and halfway out of the future, Alice robotically lead the car further and further south. Closer and closer to home. She'd promised Josie that she wouldn't seek out visions while driving—her mother, for all intents and purposes, had been adamant that she drive safely and correctly—but sometimes (oftentimes) visions simply came to her without her trying.
And well, perhaps she still had some bad habits to break.
But not watching Jasper's every move had been the first thing she'd had to do over the past few months.
And she'd gotten so good at keeping to herself that even though she was moving over seventy miles an hour down the interstate, she dared a quick glance toward his future. Flickering through vision after vision, Alice nearly let the car drift when she realized that not only was Jasper home and waiting for her, but Josie was there, too.
Letting out a delighted gasp, she nearly forgot which vehicle she was driving, and suddenly the engine was straining again. Letting up on the gas she reached for her phone.
He answered on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Why do people do that?" She mused, grinning. "Say 'hi' or 'hello' when they answer the phone. You already know it's me."
Jasper made an amused noise. Alice could hear his smile, and it warmed her. "Yes, but it's polite."
"It's unnecessary," she leaned back into the driver's seat, suddenly soothed by the sound of his voice. It was the first time they'd spoken in a few days. "A waste of time."
"A waste of precious seconds," he agreed, his words teasing. "My apologies. I know your time is valuable."
There was a muffled muttering on the other end, and Alice could hear the tell-tale sign of someone covering up the receiver. Immediately, she had to refrain from laughing. She knew it was Josie probably saying something, but it looked like Jasper was trying to keep her presence a secret for the time-being.
A pointless endeavor, but still very, very sweet.
"You on your way back?" He asked after a few seconds.
"About forty minutes away," she sighed happily. "Don't know how long I'll be home for, but at least a few days." She eyed the clock on the dashboard and frowned. "I'd be there faster if this car didn't threaten to break on me every time I tried to speed."
"You're not supposed to speed," he reminded her, amused. "You just got your license. You want to lose it that quickly?"
Alice scoffed. "Please. I'd have to get caught for that to happen."
"So, reckless driving is fine when we're not caught?"
"Don't make me drop down to the speed limit here."
He chuckled. "I'm kidding. Hurry up."
Alice laughed happily at that, basking in the joy she felt at finally talking to him again. She only knew that seeing him again, after these long, hard weeks, would feel absolutely blissful. "I'm moving as fast as I can," she paused, "outside of running, that is."
Jasper made a thoughtful noise. "How irresponsible would it be for me to tell you to just leave the car there and run home faster?"
"Very," she grinned, "and I think Carlisle would have an aneurism if I lost another car."
"Did they ever find that?"
"Baltimore police is still looking for it," she spoke matter-of-factly. "Don't think they'll find it, to be honest."
"Pity," he spoke in a tone that revealed how little he really cared. "Well, I'll be here when you get home."
Home.
The word coming from his mouth made her stomach do happy somersaults. Only Jasper could give her butterflies with one unsuspecting word.
"I'll see you soon," she sighed, happily. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
After she hung up the phone she stared dreamily at the road ahead of her. Never in a million years did she think her life would end up the way it had. Even a year ago, when she and Jasper were traveling from center to center, preparing containers for war, Alice had never dreamed one day she'd be exchanging wistful 'I love you's with the man she had been struggling to view as a friend, and not a threat.
It was funny how he'd been the center of her world in a completely different way throughout her life.
Being in love was by far the preferable option; sometimes it was hard to think about what it had been like to be so thoroughly terrified of him.
So everyday, despite the challenges she found herself coming across, she forced herself to be thankful for what she did have, even with her stress levels off the charts.
Because despite everything, at least she had a home—and people she loved—to come back to.
A/N: Happy Scorpio season! It's a good time to reflect, and to let go of things we've been holding onto.
I appreciate all the kind words from the first chapter. Very happy to be back and posting this story finally. It picks up quickly, so enjoy the peace while it lasts. (See you guys in Sag season.)
REVIEW REPLIES:
Guest: I'm happy you loved CotN and I truly hope you love this story, too. Thanks for reading!
ZileRacer: Happy to see you're tuning into Walk in the Dark, too! Hope you enjoy the madness! Thanks again!