Eight Shades of Cabin Fever

Jasper:

My life is spiralling downwards.

Stupid Edward music, I think to myself, as some random loser talk-sings about not getting tickets to The Blood Red Romance and Suffocate Me Dry concert on a C.D coming from Edward's room.

But I know Edward only listens to it to irritate Emmett, and to make a pale imitation of a joke at his own expense. Ever since the word 'emo' came into use, Emmett has latched onto it with animalistic intent and actively seeks occasions to label Edward with it, who has stopped protesting at this stage. Emmett still ignores Esme when she berates him over picking on Edward. He says nothing, but grins and waltzes with her, humming loudly over her objections, until she collapses into laughter, like everyone Emmett comes into contact with. He will never understand Edward, because depression in a foreign, vaguely understood concept to him. He is child-like in many, many ways, and his sunny nature will never have to deal with such a conflict of his heart. He will never understand why Edward plays the dark music that corresponds to the tempest in his mind.

Alice is playing it in his room. She misses him.

She misses him a lot. They're close … 'Freaks 'R' Us,' Alice laughs once, her teeth flashing with her eyes when she smiles, light-hearted and free. But there is darkness behind her words. I can hardly understand; their abilities are far beyond mine, not intrusive, and not so clear. But I can tell, from the sadness that surrounds both of them at times, that their "gifts" are more burden than anything else, and that there is not a lot they wouldn't trade, honestly, to be a "normal" vampire, for once, despite the contradiction that is in itself.

They would never admit so, but I can sense their lies. I keep silent. For them.

Rosalie is painting her nails again. Black, this time.

'In honour of the fan-girls,' she smiles significantly, when I question her. I regard her statement with a mixture of amusement and sadness.

oOo

When the ships got closer, I saw figures bursting from the cabins, to wave. I recognise some of them, in a bleary, hazy way, but they all know me. Across the swash of the ocean, I can still hear them clearly.

'Commodore Jasper! EM! ROSY!! JASPER SPARROW!! JAAAAAAZ!! EEEEMMMM!!'

The shouts disintegrate into cheers, as Rosalie's sure smile fades.

'Jazz,' she says, resting a hand on my shoulder, in comradeship that has only sprung up tonight.

'I know you'll hate me for this, but we have to be responsible about this,' she says, talking over Emmett who has all but been reduced to mush at the mention of 'responsibility'.

'If we dock in Port Angeles with a fleet of five huge boats –'

'Ships.'

'–ships, I think questions might be raised. And Carlisle might just figure out that our little "health trip" was more than that. And it might just raise uncomfortable questions all around. And I am not moving again. No way. So we have to get rid of these boats.'

No …

I cast wildly out for a solution. I know Rosalie is right. She is logical, and meticulous, and Emmett's polar opposite. She speaks sense, and I urge myself to listen.

The fan-girls wave wildly on all decks, and their cheers were like music, somehow.

We love you, Cap'n Jazz!

It was nice to hear; nice to feel their utter sincerity rolling off them in waves. It's nice to feel appreciated, but nicer, nicer by far to feel worthy of that appreciation. I think of Alice, and silently, I thank her. For not giving up on me. For constantly being in my thoughts. For being the heart I thought I had lost.

I smile, and nod at Rose. She's right. But I can still be a commodore one last time.

When I have swum to the other boats, Rosalie and Emmett cutting through the water behind me, the fan-girls scream their utter loyalty. None question our speed; and I somehow do not doubt that these twenty or so young females (Rosalie's fan-boys all got scared off by Emmett) know well enough that we are not mortals like them.

They don't care.

Starla stands to the fore, grinning at me. She doesn't know that I have Alice, and what she wishes can never come true. She doesn't know that my heart has never been anywhere but within Alice's. She doesn't realise that without Alice, there is nothing that I can fully enjoy.

But I can still make her happy. She's a nice girl.

She is undisputedly their leader, and I address her, when I address them all.

'Ladies,' I say, and watch with slight amusement as some wilt slightly at my words, 'it has been an honour to journey this far with you. Through the thick and thin of well on two days.'

I realise that most of them are beyond drunkenness, in the kind of hyper-aware intoxication, a step or so from insanity.

'But we have to go.'

Though they are many, their faces fall as one.

'But, Commodore Jazz–' Starla begins, before I hook the hat off my head and place it neatly on her bedraggled hair-style.

'That is your place now,' I say, and smile at them.

'Will I ever see you again?' she asks, wistfully, patting her hat with a black nail-polished hand, and I can't be certain.

'You might find us, if you like,' Emmett answers for me, though it's obvious to anyone but a fool that the girl has eyes for no-one else, 'around that karaoke bar, I shouldn't wonder,' he grins meaningfully.

I realise that all of our faithful fan-girls from Port Angeles have all dispersed in the intervening days, and everyone here but Starla are all the fan-girls we picked up at the Irish boy concert. Hence the strange accents, I suppose.

But Starla understands, and smiles.

'I know we'll be back … sometime,' I tell her, and I know she understands. She's a nice girl. I mean it, too. Alice would love these ships. We could sit in the crow's nest, where she can almost remember what the sun feels like, and I can tell her the story, properly, of what happened to me when I briefly went insane. She'll understand, at last, and at last, I'll be able to fully enjoy my return to life.

With Alice.

Because I really do love her.

oOo

We got home in record time … in time, in fact, thanks to a large time-difference, and some psychopathically fast running, to lunch in the cafeteria of Forks High. Long live the Spartans, and all that. Woot …

Emmett's chafing for freedom already. I can see it. Rosalie looks disapproving, and I can feel her doubt that accompanying us was a good idea after all. A brief spurt of insanity, she feels. Once. Once only.

Alice doesn't understand, but sees the change in me. It's subtle, especially around all these people, sweet-smelling in the rain … but I am better. She is glad.

Emmett grins at me meaningfully, and I smile back.

He wants to go again. Bigger. Better. Get the Cullen clan all on board, for the biggest blow-out vampire bash ever.

But he'll have to wait. Our karaoke bar is probably sailing somewhere on the Caribbean coast right now, and it'll be a while before we can claim it again …

But Edward's seat is still empty.

One member of the Cullen clan that may never be returning …

xXx

Signing in as : Wraithlike

Well, hello there! Yes, it's been a while. Yes, it's rushed. And yes, before you ask me, thank the lord Jesus Christ, it's Carley's chapter next.

But I have an excuse. Mocks. That's it. All I need to say. And about four other fan fictions in the pipeworks. Oh, and I'm a struggling Irish actress, too ... need to find my goldin ticket to choco factory still ...

So. Hope you laaaike, my loves, and this meets everyone's standard. I think we might almost have !plot! now, so, STAY TUNED!! AND REVIEW!! Thanks to all the lovely reviewers, you guys are the best. Hugs to all.

Agus aris, an nota beag lena mham 'Carley'.

He he he. Ah, yes, the mightly Wig-Wood. By far the most violent of the Three Great Hairpiece Woods. Nd ur prity gud wit da txt tlk. If slightly incomprehendible. . . THANKS CARLEY'S MAMMY! And if your daughter attempts to write more than one chapter, kindly boot her up the behind for me ... ta ... xxx

Agus to Carley's random aunt in America, who also, apparently reads this ... I say naught but 'hello!' and God help you, reading this ... he he he!

WRAITHLIKE OUT!