Though Esme was asleep, there was still work to be done, and when Emmett found her to-do list lying underneath her bedside copy of The Awakening, he made sure to start on it, wanting to have everything finished by the time she awoke.
The siding was hosed down, the kitchen tile re-grouted, and the leaky faucet in Edward and Bella's bathroom had only required a quick trip into town for the right parts. Rosalie had begrudgingly permitted him into her garage to fix the squeaky door, and he had kept his eyes averted from her denim-clad legs-for-days while he finished WD-40'ing the machinery. She hadn't said much, but their stoic politeness he had been used to since the other day. And so he ignored her, though he half wanted to scream at her, half wanted to grab and kiss her, and instead went to work on the front porch.
A simple powerdrill was all it took to fix the loose porch railing, and he had only just finished it when a dark four door car, simple and unimpressive, pulled up to the house and parked down the drive. Emmett stood up, doing his best, and succeeding, at looking tall and intimidating – an unnecessary thing, as Carlisle stepped out from the passenger seat of the rental.
"Carlisle!" Emmett barked, coming down the stairs quickly to stand by his father. "What are you doing back? Did you find the cure? Did they give it to you?"
Wearily, Carlisle fished inside his overnight bag, pulling out a scrap of paper with a complicated-looking list on it. "Here. This is what they were given. It's up to us to figure out the antidote."
Emmett took the list from his father, staring down at the configuration of venom, steroids, andaccelerants, his mind already coming up with solutions for each compound and wondering if they would work together. "So, they just gave this to you?"
Carlisle looked back to the car where Edward was removing the bags from the trunk and Bella was closing the door. Jasper –
Jasper was nowhere to be seen.
"They…traded…" Emmett's voice trailed off, unsure and sickened by the thought.
"You're back!" Rosalie appeared around the corner of the house, her jeans now streaked with oil and her face jubilant. All at once, Emmett felt the sudden urge to cradle her close to him, to make sure that she was there and safe and his. Even though she wasn't.
"Where's Jasper?"
Rosalie's question made everyone wince, but Emmett's pained look quickly turned into an angry glare.
"The Volturi have him," he muttered. "Those no-good assholes decided to keep him in exchange for –"
"No," Carlisle replied hoarsely, cutting him off. "He offered himself."
"He…he what?" Rosalie cried.
"You let him just…give himself up?" Emmett asked, whirling on his father, shock on his face.
"It's his honor, Emmett," Edward spoke up gravely. "He gave himself up to save Esme and Alice."
"And now we need you," Bella added.
Emmett suddenly realized all eyes were on him. Him and Rosalie. He stared back questioningly. "Me? Why?"
"You can find the antidote," Carlisle replied. "With your chemistry background and Rosalie's access to the university labs, you can work together to help cure them."
Together. Work together. It was the opportunity he had been craving, and he would be the hero. It was so tempting…but what if he couldn't do it? What if he only hurt them more? What if he hurt Rosalie more and she hated him forever? No, there were too many bad ways this could turn out. He couldn't.
"You have to," Edward said, breaking into his internal monologue. "Where else can we go? I'll help too. We all will. This is our only chance, Emmett."
He sighed….thought for a moment…and…
"We'll need some sort of identification," he said, surprising himself at how strong and assured his voice sounded. "Bella, can you manage that?"
In a weary voice, she replied, "I'm no Jasper, but I'll try."
His assignments were fast-paced and strong, Emmett taking the helm like he had been born to do it. If there was anyone who was going to save this family, it was going to be him.
And if it made him look good in Rosalie's eyes, that was just a bonus.
It sickened Jasper to stay in that room with her. The darkness of the décor, the nauseating promise of the sumptuous bed, and the horrible, barred-in feeling that came from having no openings other than a thick oaken door he was fairly sure was surreptitiously guarded whenever he was inside…all of it made him almost physically ill. Not to mention how Maria insisted on constantly touching him, running fingers over his skin, laying a hand on his shoulder, a palm on his thigh, as if to prove her ownership of him.
One hundred years.
One hundred years.
It was, all at once, his mantra and his horror. It killed him that he would be there for a century with her, but it would be worth it in the end. It was only one hundred years. Roughly 36,525 days. Humans were living that long nowadays, for heaven's sake. He could make it. For Alice, he could make it.
For Alice, he would suffer through the stares and hushed whispers of everyone around him. For her, he could stick to the diet he had taken to, even when the humans they ushered in to massacre were so incredibly tempting. For her, he would withstand Maria's seductions and stay faithful to his wife. Embarrassing as it would have been in any other situation, he was thankful his body had betrayed him and he hadn't been able to 'rise' to the occasion. Maria had gotten furious and had nearly torn his arm from his socket – for the second time in his lifetime – and had banished him from her sight for the time being.
He took the opportunity and ran, as far away as he could, getting lost in the castle until he found himself in a small, circular room. It was sparsely decorated; a long, pale pink divan took up much of the room, and a little, elegantly-carved writing desk was across from it, a chair pulled slightly out of the way as if the occupant had left in a hurry. Indeed, there was a half-finished letter sitting on top of the desk, as well as a dried-up pot of ink and an old feather quill. Everything was covered in dust inches thick, excepting a small stack of books on a table next to the divan. Jasper picked one up, flipping through it quickly. It was a small book of Italian poetry, simple pastoral odes to the countryside. The worn, battered, dog-eared pages showed that the book had once been much-loved by the person who had kept it, apparently a young girl who had inscribed her name in the front page in scarlet ink, Didyme.
Jasper shut the book and placed it on the table next to the others, crossing over to the far wall. There was one solitary opening to the outside world, a slim crossbow window through which he could just see the town far below. It was so very far away. Just like everything was for him. With a sigh, Jasper rested his head against the hard stone of the wall, wishing he could be absorbed into it, rather to remain there as in a dungeon than with Maria for one hundred years.
He was not alone. He realized it suddenly, which was strange and new. Usually he could feel people's emotions growing stronger as they approached, like a scent you could only pick up but grew more and more intoxicating as you grew closer. This time, the feelings of curious pity hit him suddenly, a wave of emotion he could not ignore. Jasper turned around, finding Marcus standing in the doorway, looking as dead and sullen as ever.
It was almost like looking in a mirror.
Marcus moved with the silent grace of a ghost, staying close to the perimeter of the room, his eyes scanning over the furniture there. He stopped just before the table, his hands easing over the stack of books and pausing over the one that Jasper had put down, as if he knew immediately that it was out of place. Anger suddenly flooded the man's system, a feeling so strong Jasper was shocked that it came from Marcus. He half expected the ancient to whirl around and kill him immediately, his ire was so great, but instead, the man turned slowly, his eyes seething as they met Jasper's gaze.
"I…I'm sorry," he apologized softly as he went into a half battle-stance, preparing himself just in case. "I only came to…to get away and…" His lame excuse faltered there, and he searched his mind for what to say to put everything to rights. Alice would know what to say. She always knew what to say, what to do. The bitter loneliness that seeped through him at that thought made him almost want to weep, and he had to look down at the floor for a moment, gathering himself. In the moment it took to gather his control once more, Marcus's fury had faded, and he was back to the near-soulless being he had always been.
"I'm sorry," Jasper apologized again, keeping close to the wall as he hurried towards the door. "I won't return."
It was a promise he would have no problem in keeping. He had no desire to see that kind of wrath reawaken in the man, for fear of what might come from an anger so long buried. Jasper returned to his wanderings, finding instead another tower, a larger one that held a fairly extensive library. He didn't need Alice's gift to know he would spend a great deal of time here. Without her, this would be his one comfort. This, and knowing that somewhere out there, she was happy and healthy and waiting for him.
He pulled the thickest book he could find from the wall – ah, Tolstoy, an old favorite – and settled into one of the leather armchairs to read. He pored over the book until the sun went down, signaling to him that he needed to leave. Maria would be waiting for him in their chambers, wanting him to accompany her to the meal. Even though he refused to partake, she still brought him, delighting in the strain in his muscles and the pain on his hungered face. He knew she hoped one day he would break, but the image of a small, laughing, dark-haired angel kept him strong. He could do this.
War and Peace was returned to the shelf, and Jasper made his way through the castle, finding it easy to make his way through now that he had mapped out the halls with his footsteps. Getting lost would happen no longer. He counted it as his first accomplishment during his hundred-year torture, and nearly smiled as he turned down the hall to where his and Maria's room was. He had nearly reached the room when the door opened slowly, and he automatically tensed himself as if readying for a fight. But it wasn't Maria who came into the hall. Instead, Marcus stepped outside, his face as still and calm and numb as ever. He reached out one long, shriveled fist, holding it with his fingers down. Jasper held out his palm to accept the man's offering – a small silver lighter. Without a word, Marcus stepped aside and continued down the hall, letting Jasper enter the room on his own. Entirely on his own, save for the small pile of charred grey ashes still smoldering in the center.
"Maybe…something like an antivenom?"
Emmett nodded at Edward's suggestion and added it to the whiteboard. They had strung together enough of a story to get laboratory access from the university, and Emmett, Edward, and Rosalie were currently in the building after hours – much after hours – pondering what it would take to find the cure for the AMC Labs compound they had already recreated and left boiling away in a beaker.
"I still think we need to find something to counter each composition," Rosalie spoke up. "An antivenom might work, but will it stop a steroid? Maybe we need a suppressant in addition."
"Good idea. But we can't have anything that cancels something out," Emmett added, scribbling furiously on the whiteboard. "What we need is…" His words stopped yet his mouth kept moving, speaking silently to himself as he moved to a clean board, drawing whatever came into his head and praying it would be the right thing.
"Maybe –"
"Just wait," Emmett cut his brother off, continuing to scribble, equating and figuring and finalizing until…
"There." Emmett stood back, staring at the board with a self-satisfied look. All the compounds within the formula were counterbalanced, everything equal and settled and cured. This would work. It had to.
"Emmett," Edward said as he came to stand next to his brother. "This is it. You're a genius."
He grinned. "Took you long enough to realize," he couldn't resist quipping.
"So all we have to do is gather the components, right?" Rosalie asked.
"And add them in properly, yes," Emmett replied.
"I'll go see what the labs have that they might not miss," Edward offered.
"And I'll call Carlisle," Rosalie said. "Maybe he can use his contacts at the hospital to get what we need."
Emmett nodded at them both and began pulling out beakers, test tubes, droppers, setting them all up in the configuration he knew he would need. Only the slightest bit of fear ran through him, doubt that no matter how perfect the solution seemed he might mess things up worse. To have Alice conscious right now, just to see if it would work out…but this was how normal people, humans, even ungifted vampires had to work. He could do it too. They had survived without Alice before, and he could survive without her now, if it would lead to having her and Esme back.
Rosalie hung up and slid her phone back into her pocket. "Carlisle says he can call Dr. Weber and get us whatever isn't here, but someone will have to go get it from the hospital."
"Edward will have to go," Emmett said as he moved a test tube rack into place.
"Are you sure? I mean, I could –"
"I need you here in case someone gets too suspicious. You're the only one with a real ID."
She smiled a little. "Alright. What can I do?"
"Grab that second burner, would you?" Emmett nodded to where it stood on the counter.
"Here, I brought what I could find," Edward said, coming in with his arms full as Rosalie brought the burner over. "Desoxycorticosterone, benzodiazepine, and oxacarbazepine."
"Good, the benzodiazepine will take the longest to prepare," Emmet replied, taking the bottle from him and holding it up, peering at the label.
"Where are we going to get the rest?" Edward asked.
Rosalie was on top of her game, scrawling out a little list for him and handing it over. "Carlisle's already called these in to Dr. Weber at the hospital. You need to go pick them up and bring them here."
"I'll be right back." He moved so fast he barely had time to grab his coat before he was gone. Rosalie turned to face Emmett, all business and ready to be put to work.
"Set up that burner," Emmett said as he fastened a beaker to a metal holder. "I figure it's better to work in two small batches rather than potentially ruining one big one and having to start all over."
She nodded and followed his instructions, setting her station up the same as his – only pausing to slip a long white lab coat over her clothes.
"Rose, it isn't like any chemical can actually hurt us," he said, needling her with a slight lift to his lips.
"Yes, but I'm not going to let some stupid acid spill ruin my Michael Kors," she replied somewhat haughtily, but with a teasing smile as well that he couldn't help but grin at. They had the cure, they were on their way to bringing Esme and Alice back to normal, and Rosalie was joking with him. The world was looking slightly sunny again.
Emmett measured out the benzodiazepinecarefully, depositing it in the beaker before passing the bottle on to Rosalie. She followed suit, squinting to make sure she got it exactly right as Emmett attached his thermometer to the side of the beaker.
"This setup is positively ancient," he complained, checking the pipeline for any leaks before turning on the flame.
"They're thinking of using Carlisle's donation to fund a new wing," she said brightly as she moved the beaker directly over the flame. "What next?"
"We wait. Hopefully Edward will be back by the time the water boils out."
Emmett hopped onto one of the desks, swinging his long feet back and forth lazily, nervously, staring at the benzodiazepine that had yet to reach the right temperature and wondering if they had truly gotten it right.
A slim hand came to rest on his knee, calming him, bringing his body to rest.
"It's going to be fine," Rosalie said gently, her words easing him more than anything could…yet upsetting him all the same.
"Is it, Rosie?" he asked, his voice a trifle bitter. "With Esme and Alice, maybe, but Jasper's gone. And how are things ever going to be 'fine' with us divorced and living in the same household?"
She shrank back a little at that, but put on a carefree, haughty, hurtful face. "We just have to is all. Everyone has to get used to that fact."
"No, Rosalie. No, they don't. Maybe for once, for once, you could just suck it up and admit you were wrong."
"I…!"
"Yes, you. You were wrong about this whole divorce thing. You were just being your stubborn self, behaving like a selfish little girl who didn't get her way, and you jumped to the wrong conclusion."
"Excuse me, but you had a pretty big part in that conclusion."
"I'm not saying I didn't, but I'm not the one who filed the papers."
She glared at him, her stare nearly enough to bring the beaker to a boil. "But you signed them, didn't you? I kept the tiniest little bit of hope in me, thinking maybe you wouldn't sign, maybe you'd forgive me for being a colossal bitch –"
"So you admit it!"
"I admit I did some shitty things. But you did too."
"Sure I did, but they were all to get you back!"
They were silent for a few moments, Rosalie watching Emmett while he stared at the floor, his shoulders moving with the unnecessary but calming breaths he was forcing himself to take.
"You wanted me back?" she asked softly.
He shrugged his shoulders, still staring at the floor. "For a time…yeah."
"And…do you still? Want me back, I mean?"
He swallowed, and she watched his Adam's apple jog up and down as he did. "I…I dunno. I don't even know if it would work out, Rose."
A small pair of feet in simple but no doubt expensive black flats came into his view as he stared at the linoleum. She was so close to him, so very close that he could reach out for her hand without too much movement. Pulling her body flush against his would be the work of a millisecond. And yet he couldn't. It was she who had started this whole mess. And she would be the one to end it.
"We…could make it work out," she suggested softly, her words hitting his ear so gently, nearly making him lose his cool.
"We could?" he repeated. He had tried to make it work out, had tried before the divorce, had tried after in so many ways. It wasn't a 'we' thing anymore.
"I could," she corrected. "I…I'm sorry. I'll fix things. We'll try again…please?"
He looked up. She was incredibly close to him, her eyes inches away from his, her stare full of regret and sorrow and hope. In that moment, he held her heart, her very life in his hands, just as she had once held his in that forest so long ago. His eyes had been darker then, a ruddy hazel, but hers had always been the sweet golden they were now. Golden and trusting and loving. Eyes he had stared at for over seventy five years. That he couldn't bear to never see again.
"Promise things will be better this time around?" he asked slowly.
Those lovely eyes of her lightened then, crinkling at the edges as her mouth drew up in a grin. "Better. So much better. You won't even recognize me. Low maintenance is now my middle name."
He let out a barking laugh. "Yeah, right. Whatever you say, Rosie."
It would've been so easy to lose herself in the happiness that came with Emmett's resolution to try again, but there was work to be done. Rosalie kept a careful eye on the beakers, only glancing at Emmett from the corner of her eye every so often, just to make sure he was still there, that this wasn't all a dream. This had to be the cure. Esme and Alice would be well. And she and Emmett would be together again. It was the stuff of dreams and yet it was real.
Edward knew something was up the moment he came in – how could he not? – but he said nothing, only let a small smile creep onto his face as he shook his head. Dr. Weber had given them everything they had not found in the university stores, and the liquid benzodiazepinehad begun boiling out soon after Edward had arrived, just in time to add the oxacarbazepine and reduce the heat.
Rosalie watched Emmett work and mimicked his movements, making sure to be just as meticulous as he was in his measuring and pouring. The two antidotes had to be identical for both Esme and Alice to be cured and not harmed. Though she had little doubt now that this would not work; Emmett worked with the precision of the best scientist, Edward monitored, detailing exact ingredients, and she followed with the best care she could possibly give. Together, they would save them.
And together, some five hours later, just an hour before the school reopened and they had to disappear, they were finished. The concoction they had created was a red, transparent liquid that Emmett bottled up carefully and packed along with the syringes Edward had nipped from the hospital.
"Do you think we'll have to inject it?" Rosalie asked as they locked the lab up behind them and made their way out of the building.
Emmett shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not the one with the medical degree," he replied. "But I don't know if they'll be able to swallow in their state. Injection would be the next best thing, wouldn't it, Ed? But how can we get a needle in their skin?"
Edward sighed. "We'll see what Carlisle says when we get home."
He called the house as they drove back, speaking in as calm a voice as he could manage while he explained that they had created the antidote – or what they hoped would be it. A few minutes after they called, Rosalie pulled the car into the front drive, parking it as Carlisle and Bella came down the porch steps, looking anxious.
"Well?" Carlisle asked, his tone showing how much he was trying to hold back his hope.
Emmett pulled the two small bottles from his bag, holding them up so the red liquid caught the early morning light.
"You did it, Emmett," Bella said as her face broke out into a smile.
"We did it," Emmett corrected, looking over at his brother as his hand found his wife's, a motion both Carlisle and Bella noticed but left unspoken of. It was simply another step closer to having their old life back. Rosalie and Emmett were together again, Esme and Alice would be back…and in time, Jasper would too. They had survived as a broken family before. They could miss one more piece again, with the promise of its return looming before them.
"Come," Carlisle said with a voice showing how both excited and petrified he was. "Esme first."
As a family, they stepped inside the house, went up the stairs, and paused in Esme and Carlisle's room, surrounding the bed where Esme lay, a sleeping princess with her faithful retinue encircled around her. She had not moved nor been moved since Carlisle had placed her on the bed two weeks ago.
"How will we do this?" Bella asked.
"Dr. Weber gave you a syringe, yes?" Carlisle asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly stroking Esme's frozen cheek.
Emmett placed one of the bottles of the antidote and a packaged, sterilized syringe on the bedside table at Carlisle's elbow.
"Thank you," he murmured, reaching for them without taking his eyes away from his wife. He plunged the syringe in past the rubber stopper, filling it up with every drop there was. Everyone watched with bated breath as he pulled the needle from the upright syringe, keeping the liquid within, holding it in his shaking hand as he opened Esme's mouth. He nearly spilled the solution as he moved it closer, and Emmett put a hand on his father's shoulder.
"Here, let me." He took the syringe from Carlisle's fingertips as Bella helped the man to his feet, holding tight to his arm while Emmett took his place on the bed.
