In the story so far:
We've met a Seattle University student, Edward, who wants to date a beautiful boheme named Bella. To his own bewilderment, he also fancies her flatmate, the fantastic-looking-when-wet Jasper. (We have yet to learn about Jasper's occupation!)
We've met a retired, unfortunate historian, Carlisle, who desperately needs to get ahold of the "C" folders from the MOHAI archive. We've learned that Aristotle Volturi and his niece Jane run the museum and plan the destruction of said archive.
We've met Emmett, a security guy at the museum, who works for Carlisle's cause. He gets caught trying to steal those "C" folders, tortured to make confessions, and later wounded during his escape.
By the end of chapter 5 Carlisle's in the hospital with a stroke; Jasper has planted a succession of kisses along Edward's neckline to halt his breakdown; a battered Emmett is approaching Carlisle's empty apartment.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. The original characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
A/N Lou and Sally, thank you.
Chapter 6.
"Let's get drunk!" Bella's enthusiastic voice was a bit too loud for a hospital lobby. A few heads turned to scowl at her wordlessly with their troubled, wrinkled foreheads.
"We need to go home, Bella," Jasper replied. His voice was quiet and humming, a noticeable drawl giving away his exhaustion.
"Okay, let's go home then get drunk!"
Shaking his head at Bella's still too-enthusiastic voice, and, mostly, at her too-enthusiastic attitude toward alcohol, Jasper turned to face Edward for the first time in the last hour. "Edward, do you want to come with us?"
Instead of answering, Edward grabbed Bella's hand and headed for the exit, pulling her in an indelicate manner. Bella stumbled and limped until her pace fell in line with Edward's. Once outside, they both waved hands to hail a cab. Jasper followed close behind, hands in his pockets, his head slightly tilted to the side while he took in the view of the perfect couple before him.
"Sweet," he said. "Go drink yourself into oblivion, Bella. I'll clean up after each of your prayers to the porcelain god. As usual. Maybe your new friend will hold your hair up?"
"I will hold whatever she wants me to hold," Edward finally spoke. "Just watch me."
Jasper smirked and gave no further retort. A cab stopped by them, and he hurried to take the passenger seat.
Emmett had visited Carlisle's place only once. Good thing his memory was excellent, and he found the building easily. Climbing to the second floor in hopes it would be his last effort, he mentally practiced a little speech to excuse himself for not being able to retrieve the files. He was very proud, though, because he hadn't given up Carlisle's name and knew he would be forgiven.
He knocked on the door and waited. Then he knocked again and waited some more. Suspicion and fear crawled under the remains of his shirt, his skin bursting in goosebumps after a small shiver. What if they'd got Carlisle?
Emmett had no phone, no money, no ID, nothing. They'd taken everything from his pockets. They were probably waiting for him at his place.
He had nowhere else to go. He was defeated.
When they entered the building, Edward held Bella's hand again. No one was rushing up the stairs. Jasper dragged his feet after the couple. He just wanted to take a shower, freshen up, then reassess his tactics about Edward.
The guy was in denial. He totally refused to acknowledge his body's reaction to Jasper's touch. But Jasper had seen and had felt. If not homosexual, Edward was at least bi.
"No, not again!" Edward's exclamation startled Jasper, then Bella screamed, "My God, he's bleeding!" and Jasper had to push the two of them aside to take a better look at the landing on Carlisle's floor. He inspected what would be the second unmoving body for Edward to encounter in the day. This one was obviously breathing, and tearful eyes looked straight into Jasper's.
"Looking for Carlisle," the injured man murmured and banged his head against the doorframe, "but he's not home. I have no idea where he is. He's not home." The man took a shaky breath and banged his head again.
"We happen to know where Carlisle is," Jasper started. "I need to know who you are to him."
"Is he all right?" Emmett exclaimed.
"Who are you?" Jasper repeated. "What do you want from Carlisle?"
"Name's Emmett. We used to work together."
"Oh." Jasper recalled the name immediately. "So he talked to you on the phone yesterday?"
Emmett nodded. He didn't know which conversation Jasper had in mind, though. Probably the one in the early afternoon when Carlisle had mentioned having company. Yeah, that would be it. They didn't know about his mission, for sure. He decided to keep his mouth shut about the museum incident.
"Look, we don't have the key for Carlisle's apartment but you could come with us upstairs. First things first, your wound needs to be taken care of. You've done a good job stopping the bleeding."
What does he know about wounds, Edward asked himself, awe-stricken, just like in the morning when Jasper had known exactly what to do about a stroke.
Emmett devoured Bella's pancakes. Edward observed the disappearance of bite after bite into Emmett's mouth—like a video in loop mode—and admitted to himself he wasn't the one who needed the breakfast right now. If a man could ingest such a huge amount of food and be eager for more, he must have been famished. Edward's shoulders sagged. He emptied his second glass of bourbon, on the rocks, and asked for another. "Add more ice, Bella," he said, "and that's my last one. I don't want to be wasted before noon." He hadn't imagined his date like this. Not at all.
Jasper was out of sight. No one saw him retrieve his cell phone from his pocket while he left the kitchen.
"Hello, Sir," Jasper spoke into the handset, closing the door of his room from the inside and leaning against it, just in case. "I think I've got your intruder with me."
"So, why don't you tell us how you got that wound?" Jasper asked. Emmett had finished his meal and now rested on the kitchen sofa.
"I'm not sure, Jasper," Emmett lied. "Maybe a crossfire between gangs. I didn't see where the shot came from."
"And why didn't you go to the police?"
"Dunno. What's the point? Do they ever catch the villains?" Emmett shook his head and yawned. "Look, I'm tired. Can I just have some sleep until we have news from the hospital?"
Emmett was indeed desperate for some sleep; that suited Jasper's instructions perfectly.
Bella knew she was about to throw up. She had asked Edward to join her in her room, but the walls spun, and spun; nausea climbed up her throat and scratched at her insides as if she had swallowed a sand storm. Finally, she admitted her defeat, her blurry mind registering that her effort to impress the man had gone in vain.
"Now, Edward, I'm afraid it's your turn to witness my lack of performance," she blurted and fell into bed where she started snoring almost immediately.
Edward didn't feel that bad. He wasn't sleepy, he just needed some time alone. An hour or two to let the alcohol dissipate. He headed for the kitchen in hopes of finding something to eat; maybe his new friends had some food, other than the pancakes. His steps faltered a little bit, and he was just slightly dizzy. Something about the walls in the hallway created the illusion of dark, splashing, stormy ocean waves at the edge of his peripheral vision. He staggered once, then straightened his posture and entered the kitchen to bump right into Jasper's chest.
"Oh, there you are," Jasper announced and crashed his lips against Edward's.