Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Believe" as performed by The Bravery, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

A/N: First - THANK YOU to EVERY SINGLE ONE of my AWESOMELY EPIC READERS for waiting as long as you have for this chapter! I hope you've all stuck around with me, and if you have, YOU HAVE A SMALL PIECE OF MY HEART. :D There are no excuses for not posting, so I will only offer up real life drama in the hopes that you all will still love me.

Second - Clarabella75 - You rock my world! (No, really.) Guys, I seriously have the most awesome Beta-Mom Extraordinaire Ever. Thank you for keeping my commas in check, for bringing back my orphaned letters, and for just making complete sense of the sentences I fook up. Her WIP "Home" is awesome Vamp cannon and should be read ASAP! http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/6327011/17/

Third - Puppymama0909 - ILY, my awesome Ficwife. You make my ego much bigger than it has a right to be. :) Your stories are my inspiration for writing. Your Jasper makes me want to jizz my pants. This Jasper-filled chapter is dedicated to you love! Don't know who she is? You should! http:/www . fanfiction . net/u/1822692/Puppymama090

To Kd Masen, Mezz, Ali, Anisah Lovesstories, Rae Marie, and all of the other amazing ladies over at FFA, thank you for being my support and my laughter. I LOVE YOU ALL!

Chapter Ten:
Release

I am hiding from some beast
But the beast was always here
Watching without eyes
Because the beast is just my fear
That I am just nothing
Now it's just what I've become

So give me something to believe
Cause I am living just to breathe
And I need something more
To keep on breathing for
So give me something to believe.

"Believe" – The Bravery

xOxOx

"Bella!" Emmett bounced lightly on his throne. "Have you met –"

"Rosalie?"

She froze at the sound of my voice. The smile playing at the edge of her mouth peeled from her lips, surprise and anger forming a hard mask that was somehow both petrifying and beautiful.

Well, what did she expect? It was my apartment.

I, on the other hand, was beginning to think my life resembled an episode of Punk'd.

"Dayton's on ya feet, diamonds in ya piece, and I like the way ya ass move to the beat. You a freak, that's somethin' you can be, keep playin' wit me, then I gotta hit ya peeps."

The oddly constructed beat thumped against my heart, interrupting its natural rhythm. Emmett was, as usual, oblivious.

"See, I told you it was great, right?" he yelled, turning back to the blonde who was gingerly lifting the heavily casted leg from her lap. Her gaze immediately shifted to his, and she smiled.

My God, she smiled … sweetly.

I felt queasy … and somewhat terrified.

"Yeah, it is, but I think we should turn it down." One perfectly manicured nail pointed at me. "It looks like poor Bella," she sneered my name, "is about to have an aneurism."

Emmett glanced over his shoulder and pouted, totally missing the vitriol in her words.

I still couldn't move. I was having an out of body experience. Each of my limbs caught on fire, flames of shame burning through my bloodstream. I could have painted my body with Rosalie's Russian red lipstick and looked more natural.

I wished they would stop staring at me.

Shit. Where were those damn unicorns when you needed them?

I'd have preferred a fairy fucking a leprechaun in a green tutu to the way Rosalie was fixated, her glowing, sapphire eyes casually intent on my spontaneous combustion. At least then I could have called the nearest mental hospital myself. Right now, I was going insane with no one to stop me.

I must have finally burst into flames, because Rosalie stopped casting her judgment of eternal damnation and stood from the couch.

Abruptly, the noise ceased. My heart regained a natural rhythm.

Well, then.

If Rosalie's motion was all it took, I wished she would have stood up a long time ago. Her perfectly poised hands smoothed over grey, travel wrinkled cotton.

"Thank you for everything, Emmett. Good to know not every annoying airline passenger is a waste of time." Rosalie slipped a hand into Emmett's. "Let me know if I can do anything to help while you're visiting.

I was the inanimate observer, non-existent in the scope of her little game.

She was ignoring me.

She was daring me to run and tattle.

And Emmett, the bona fide, barnyard-raised blockhead that he was, played right into her lithe hands.

"I'll be sure to do that," he winked. He fucking winked. Ugh, Christ … I would have to diffuse this fire fast.

Her back stiffened when she turned towards me. Two glamorous, glistening breasts, which, I swear to God, were so perfect they glowed like those fucking bioluminescent fish, spilled out of a cherry blouse. Angels would rightfully trade their wings for those boobs.

I decided I couldn't blame Emmett for staring. Hell, even I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

Until she spoke, that is.

"See ya, Hellen Keller."

In an instant she was gone, leaving behind a smug Emmett and the cloying scent of fresh roses.

Spring became my least favorite season.

Turning to the giant moron on my couch, I wanted to be happy he was here, but instead I found myself fighting to get through to his big, and little, brains that neither was going to be finding any happiness buried in angel breasts anytime soon.

My camera strap slipped effortlessly around the banister. Breathe in once, and –

"What the hell, Emmett McCarty?" My purse vaulted across the room, followed by Emmett's crutches.

"Oh, come on, Bells –" The purse missed. The crutches didn't. "Shit!"

I stomped away towards the kitchen.

"No, you come on … seriously Emmett? Can you not spend twenty minutes in the city without trying to get into the nearest blonde's pants? Especially the most eligible and unavailable blonde with the perkiest breasts in a tri-state area."

Emmett hobbled after me, yelling, "I was just trying to have some fun, and for your information, excelling at having a great rack is no reason to – wait, unavailable? Why the fuck is she off limits? Just because you've got some kind of epically hot 'Mean Girls: Battle for the Perfect Tits' going on here?"

I snatched bread from the cabinet and slammed the Goober jar down. For some reason, being angry made me hungry. I was starving.

"Oh please, after twenty two years, you think I don't recognize the classic McCarty moves? God knows your dad tried them on my mom every Christmas till I was twelve." A huge splat of peanut butter swirled jelly landed on the slice of Sara Lee. "And Ms. Flawless Cantaloupe Mounds is off limits because she's Southern royalty, engaged to one of her loyal courtiers, you idiot."

"I – oh."

Blessed silence followed. I leaned against the counter and munched on my PB&J. The view from our kitchen window really was stunning.

A few cabinet doors slammed around until I heard ice clinking in a glass, followed by liquid.

"So, really, she's engaged? 'Cause, she never mentioned it in the past few hours I was here. Actually, she didn't mention it since Dallas."

Bitch. I finished chewing.

"Yeah, Em," I swallowed, "she's engaged, no matter what she told you." The rest of the sandwich didn't feel edible. Rolling nausea replaced my desire for food.

She would lie, cheat, and make herself out to be a total bitch, and for what? A person she didn't seem to give a damn about?

I turned to watch Emmett throw back a few pills.

"What?" He shrugged at my raised brow. "They're pain pills. I'll probably be out soon, so you should come and join me while you can."

I followed him to his initially chosen hibernation area where he slid back into the indentation his body had begun to form in the couch. Alice would not be happy, but thoughts of the pixie's hissy fit didn't faze me right now.

"What do I do with you then?" I slid into the space Rosalie had vacated, tucking neatly behind Emmett's cast.

"I dunno," he shrugged and yawned. "Let me sleep, I guess."

"Here?" I pointed at the couch.

"Sure. Why not?" He snuggled in a bit. "This fucking thing is better than resting on angel boobs."

"Hey. Remember our talk? No touchy."

Emmett waved me off, and I knew it would take everything I had not to snicker at the look that would take residence on Alice's face when she walked in to find the hulk imprinting on her Italian leather.

"So," I shoved at the foot propped in my lap, "while you're still a part of the land of the semi-conscious, how are your mom and dad."

"Pretty good. Mom's ecstatic since Dad retired last month. I think they're going to St. Lucia for Christmas this year."

"Oh, I get it now. That's really why your bum ass is here – you needed a place to go for the holidays."

"Hey, I've got the leg too!" The respective limb vaulted from the couch while Emmett waved it in front of me. I shoved the object in question out of my face again.

"Yeah, and two female nurses to take care of you and your bum leg, you hobbit."

"Excuse you. I have too much … hygiene … to be a hobbit," he yawned.

"What?"

"I think … the hair … ears. Yeah … tall … pretty … I'd definitely … be … elf."

"What the hell are you smoking?"

Emmett grinned.

"Good … shit." One last yawn. The foot landed back in my lap. "I'm here … for you … Bella."

His jaw slacked. Light from the sun tangled in deep black curls and played along his arms, reaching for me. He was Emmett again, as he had been. Always childish, always lame … always there.

Floods of comfort, warm and soft, filled my chest. He was my constant, my pillar. Through death, insomnia, terror, depression, he had never left my side. He was my home. I wasn't sure why I ever thought I could run away from this … from home. For the first time in weeks, I felt safe.

In the midst of uncertainty, anger, and hurt, safety was rather refreshing.

Refreshing and reminiscent.

I hadn't realized until now how familiar the feeling was. The shelter, the stability … it all wrapped around me like a giant security blanket every time I was around him. Trevor … or Edward … or Treward … or whoever he was.

My forehead throbbed.

He felt like Edward, he looked like Edward, he smelled like Edward, he sounded like Edward – fuck, he even tasted like Edward.

And everyone insisted – he wasn't Edward.

Em's foot slid into the crevices of the couch. My hands slid across my face and through my hair.

I was done being alone in this. The weight was crushing in on my shoulders, and I could feel the pain and confusion snaking up my neck, crackles of exhaustion at hiding, at wondering.

I needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn't delirious inside of a narcotic-induced coma.

When I stepped inside the trendy bar in downtown Atlanta, however, I began to rethink my decision. It was nearly five o'clock, and while the place was a restaurant as well as a bar, the dozens of vacant plush leather seats and barren interior left me with a sincere lack of hope for intense, soul searching conversation. I could almost see the tumbleweeds.

I remembered Alice mentioning this place several times as a favorite hangout of hers. Subconsciously, I had hoped to see her tiny self flitting about the tables, performing her favorite pastime – socialization. Now, I just felt stupid. Of course Alice wouldn't spend her Saturday afternoon in an empty bar.

I guess convincing myself of delusions had become my new pastime.

Instead of dwelling on that depressing notion, I slumped down into a bar seat, anxiously ripping the edge of a napkin and contemplating a handful of peanuts.

"Three in the afternoon is a little early to be startin' up, isn't it?"

My fingers stilled.

Of course this was Alice's favorite bar. This was the day job for her favorite bartender.

I glanced up into familiar blue eyes, immediately searching for a comeback. I must have been more disappointed than I realized, because all I managed was to ball the small square piece of paper in my hand and offer up a weak smile.

"You tell me," I sighed, wanting nothing more than to lay my forehead on the bar top, defeated.

Jasper whistled low. "Hey, Jake, I'm gonna take my fifteen now, you good?" The words disappeared over his shoulder.

"Sounds perfect," resonated back from the other end of the bar, where a group of three had become the only other patrons I could see. Jasper grinned at me and, throwing another napkin out by my hand, he tossed a tall glass into the air.

"Water or –"

"For God's sake man, liquor, please."

"Bella," he eyed the gaze I had turned on the complementary nuts, "what have you eaten today?"

"Fine." I scowled a bit. "But at least give me a Coke." He filled the glass. I gave him puppy dog eyes. "A little rum wouldn't kill you, right?"

My gaze must have been pathetic and repentant enough, because half a shot of Bacardi 151 made its way in front of me, swimming in the bubbles of a freshly tapped soda. I sighed, ready to take a long draw, but Jasper was beside me before my lips could reach sweet satisfaction. He laid a hand on my arm.

"My feet need to rest before I can finish up my shift. Why don't you join me?"

He walked away, leaving me to follow.

Well … I had wanted someone to talk to. But the object of my confusion's future brother-in-law? Yeah, that was a stretch even for me.

Of course, Jasper usually seemed to be the only sane one.

And he had given me liquor.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself from the barstool and, grabbing the glass bowl of nuts as an afterthought, I slid into the seat across from him. Then I popped a few nuts into my mouth, effectively killing any chance of being required to start this conversation.

"Well, Bella," Jasper fixed me with a look, "since you don't seem to be very forthcoming, and I'm not one to mess around with small talk, which one of my deceptively despicable family members has you determined to either become a shitty alcoholic or commit suicide by alcohol poisoning?"

I almost spit out my nuts.

"What?" I squeaked.

Jasper didn't even have the decency to pretend to believe in my squeak of evasion. I withered imperceptibly under his raised eyebrow, and immediately the sarcasm vomit scalded my tongue.

"Oh, fine, what, you're some kind of psychic now?" He wasn't even phased.

"More of a mood reader." The corner of his mouth quirked up. He leaned towards me. "And I get the feeling you need someone to talk to, Bella. Why not try me?"

Really?

I absently twisted the straw in my soda and dug my teeth into my cheek. I couldn't deny his intuition; I had come here searching for some poor soul to help bear my disillusionment, but I had expected the ill-fated individual to be my roommate, not her boyfriend of two months.

It didn't help that he also happened to be brother to the woman who desired my death by spontaneous combustion and best friend of the person who held the key to the conundrums which floated around me like ghosts in a mist of uncertainty. Could I trust him?

His bright blue eyes were inquisitive and warm, searching and … caring?

This was different.

There had never been anyone I could trust; never anyone I cared to trust. No one who cared enough about me so I could even attempt to work on my trust. Not since Edward, at least.

It was a Mexican standoff.

Either he was the antithesis of his sister, or he was merely a pawn in her plot to see Bella go down in flames.

Before I could decide, the words were spilling from my lips, eager to trail over into someone else's air and be reassured, once and for all, how cracked I truly was.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, with that kind of opening, it was probably the reaction I should have counted on.

Okay, rein it in, Bella. Let's try this again.

"No, that's not – I mean, have you ever felt something … something that can't be possible, but everything within you knows that it is, and you can't tell anyone else, because … well … no one else would understand?"

"I think we all have, in one way or another," Jasper nodded a bit. The heat of his gaze swept across me, inquisitive and scalding. "Everyone has skeletons in their closet."

I snorted under my breath.

"Yeah, but at least their skeletons stay dead."

"I'm sorry?"

I dropped my eyes and pulled my drink to me. What had happened to self-control? Apparently I left it with lucidity.

Liquid slipped past my lips a few moments longer as I weighed my next words. Jasper waited patiently, a light smirk filtering through his compassionate gaze.

I sighed.

Fuck it. Hidden secrets, hollow words that only hinted at meaning … they were why I was here in the first place, weren't they?

Pretty padded walls, here I come.

"I know I'm not the only one who has to cope with a secret, Jasper, but … what if you're not even sure you understand what you can't tell? And you think someone else might have the answers, but truly, they're probably just going to prove how much of a nut job you really are. Because it's all so confusing, and sometimes you're certain you aren't a lunatic, but then something else happens to snap you back to reality and there's always her, always in the way, and—" I paled, mouth hanging open as I halted mid-sentence.

Jasper's eyebrow rose in surprise. I realized my faux pas.

Shit.

"Shit. Jasper, I–I –"

A warm finger pressed lightly against my stuttering lips. My mouth closed and he pulled it away, unable to hide the smirk.

"You know, Bella, you don't always have to hide everything. There are some people who want to trust you," he smiled again, "and who want you to trust them."

I sank back into the plush leather, suddenly spent.

"Honestly, Jasper? Trust?" I sighed. "That part of me was broken a long time ago."

"Then stop being so scared shitless."

"Excuse me?" It was time for my eyebrow to rise. "I'm not scared shitless. Fuck, I'm here, confessing, sharing secrets, right?"

"Not quite, Bella," he chuckled. Bastard. "We've been talking for," he glanced at a gold band, "nearly ten minutes, and you haven't told me a damn thing. You haven't told anyone a damn thing in weeks. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder when the last time you told anyone a damn thing actually was."

Well … damn.

I got the distinct feeling he was calling me out.

And for some reason, it wasn't anger at his accusation bubbling up inside of me; it was curiosity.

The more I considered his words, the more I wondered … was he right? My father had left me, Edward had broken me, and my mother had abandoned me. Each had flung me out into the sea, savage and alone, one unwilling to hold my hand and the others unable to wipe my tears.

Even Emmett … but no, that was a lie. Emmett hadn't abandoned me. Emmett had never known.

So I had built my wall, framed in sarcasm, pain, and distrust, to keep out the water, to hold back the spray of the limitless ocean which threatened to swallow me whole.

I was hiding. It was so obvious; I was nearly swept under, my breathing shallow, a sucker punch to the gut. And I was facing it again – my ocean, a deep chasm, a vast stretch of hollow desolation, rimmed in tears and fear.

It was time to jump in – feet first. And me? Well …

"I … I'm terrified."

Barely a whisper, a breath of air across parched lips, and yet he knew.

Large, warm fingers wrapped affectionately around mine, encasing them entirely.

"It's okay. But I think it's about time for you to take a chance –"

"No." Mentally, I reeled at the idea. I had dipped my toes in once, considering, trying to trust, and I had only been torn apart – by his kiss. "I've tried to be brave, Jasper, and I just end up broken. I can't stop being scared."

"You don't have to stop being scared, Bella. Fear, and being able to live despite it all … well, it's what makes life worth living. And being brave? Being brave is just knowing you are scared, and not letting it hold you back." Pulling back, Jasper tugged a hand through his hair and looked away. "It's just, usually, the things we're most afraid of are the ones that take faith … in ourselves."

His eyes were unfocused and uncertain, almost as though he was no longer talking to me alone. I studied him, the diminutive clinch of his jaw, the agitation glimmering through striking blue eyes. I knew.

The struggle was not mine alone.

"Okay … fortune cookie much?" I gave a weak laugh, the sound cutting through the silence. Shades of gratitude wiped across Jasper's face. I let out the small breath I had been holding.

"Nah. Got that one off of a kid's show," he grinned, then stood. "Now, I need my nicotine fix in the last five minutes left to me." A pack of cigarettes slapped once against his thigh. "We should do this again, Bella. I like you."

"Um, thanks … I think."

I stood, walked my glass back over to the bar, and was halfway to the door when his voice stopped me in my tracks again.

"Hey, Bella?"

I didn't turn.

"Trust yourself. Sometimes you're more right than you think you are."

The faint click of his boot heels carried him out the back door of the bar.

I was relieved he wasn't able to watch me vanish from the bar as swiftly as my feet would carry me.

I slid into my car and raced from the parking lot as hastily as I had driving Eleanor. Well … almost as hastily. My poor little Toyota couldn't keep up with the muscle car's speeds.

My heart, on the other hand, was surpassing Eleanor as it threatened to pound right out of my chest.

Sometimes you're more right than you think you are.

My hand slipped against the steering wheel, slick with sweat. What – no. No, I couldn't even bring myself to think about it right now. Could I?

Now that Emmett was here, I had more proof. I had someone else who might believe me, who would at least either see what I saw or tell me I truly was unbalanced.

Honestly, I didn't have much choice on the bravery front there.

Emmett meeting Trevor was unavoidable.

And with that realization, my spontaneous combustion became more inevitable.

I slid into the driveway and threw open the door, eager to get inside, when a slap of glacial October air burst against my skin, slowing my walk. I pushed my way through the air towards the door, my heart slowing and head clearing while I carefully pushed it open.

I was met with emptiness. A deep, inky darkness had settled over the living room where a slumbering Emmett lay snoring, buried sideways into the leather.

My heart cracked a little.

Who was I to think I could keep this from Emmett? Or even more so, to think I could present it to him with no conclusive evidence?

They had grown up boys, best friends, linked to each other in a way I never could be to either. Edward had been an integral part of Emmett's life, connected in so many ways beyond just him and me alone.

As much as he belonged to me, he belonged to Emmett.

I had been so selfish.

This fight, this mystery … it wasn't just for me. It was for Emmett, too.

Emmett, who had lost a brother, torn from his life just as painfully as he had been from mine; yet, he had never once criticized or accused or done anything for me beyond holding, cradling, and comforting.

Uncovering the truth would be for me, for Emmett, and most importantly … well, most importantly, it would be for Edward.

Before I could think any further, my feet carried me up the stairs and into my room. My hands wrapped around the long, thin, black wooden box. It smooth surface slid along my palms. A shiver of anticipation raced down my spine. The setting sun filtered in through my translucent curtains, red and quivering with the same apprehension racing through my bones.

I sat in a puddle of light and placed the box in front of me, my fingers ghosting over the lock, tracing the combination.

I remembered it, there was no doubt. Now, I simply had to find the courage.

Being brave is just knowing you are scared, and not letting it hold you back.

Edward.

Quickly, I twirled the lock, the metal gliding smoothly over hidden numbers. And then, the cold metal was in my hand, free and unbound, broken and waiting for me to open it and find what lay inside.

I lifted the lid before I lost my nerve, and tears stung my eyes before I could touch the first photograph.

My memories.

Years and years of pictures, young and somewhat older, through winter and spring and summer and fall, I had buried my memoirs with him, inside of this box. A dried wildflower, perfectly crumbled, caught my eye. I couldn't lay a hand on it. My chest ached, my heart pounded against its bonds, struggling to break through the barriers.

But what lay on top …

My fingers slid against the cool, slick surface. I couldn't not touch it, knowing I hadn't placed it here, in this box, with the rest. This was Emmett's addition. It had to be, because I had never seen the image before, although I recognized the memory without hesitation.

It was September, a perfect fall, mere weeks before the beginning of the end, the first death to rock my fourteen-year-old world. Emmett had been on Fall Break, home from university, and the three of us had been raking leaves in Edward's front yard. However, things had gone from 'raking leaves' to 'toss Bella into the leaf pile' before I even had a chance to defend myself.

I'm not sure who had taken the picture, but the moment was perfection. Vibrant leaves, red and orange and yellow, floated in the air, swirling around our three forms. Emmett had hold of my calves, and Edward had me captured underneath the arms, while my pink and brown marshmallow coat flew out behind me, my arms flailing in struggle, laughter resonating around me despite my supposed disapproval.

One large, salted blot splattered against the photograph, and I hurried to swipe it away on my pant leg. I had saved the picture, but for me, the damage had been done.

Hot, sweet liquid slipped down my cheeks, cascading in silent tribute to the childhood, the dreams, and the lives swept from out of our grasp. It was immortalized here, a way to remember what we had lost, and maybe even someday to find it again. A memorial to the past we shared.

To the joy, the freedom, the absolute love of life that shone from the wide smiles, the line-free faces and perfect companionship most don't find – well, ever.

Slowly, the tears ceased. The sun had set long ago, leaving my puddle of light draped in a thin shawl of darkness. Chilly night air crept in through the cracks in the insulation.

I sniffled and breathed in through my mouth, the cool air thickening against my tongue. Slipping the picture back into the box, I tossed the lock onto my desk and stood, steadily shoving it back onto its rightful shelf.

I would solve this mystery, no matter what it took. I was still afraid of the ocean spread before me, the memories threatening to overwhelm my senses and leave me breathless. I wasn't ready to be breathless, to be lost in a sea of anger and hurt, so instead, I would have to let my boys, my lifelines, save me. I would do this for Emmett. I would do this for Edward.

But most importantly, I would do this for me.

And as soon as I had my evidence?

Esme Cullen would be receiving a visitor.

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