Masen's aunts and uncles made every effort to cheer me up. They all paid me visits in my room whenever they saw the door open. As frustrating as all this was, and as crappy as I was feeling about what I'd done to my family, I did enjoy the chance to learn more about each of Edward's brothers and sisters. I even spent some time talking to Jasper, whom I'd never been able to think of as anything other than the Sullen Cullen.
"Jasper, can I ask you something?" I said one day while he sat with Alice on the end of my bed, playing Go-Fish with me (he was playing; Alice, of course, wasn't allowed to join in). "How come you still have an accent? I know Emmett's from Tennessee, but I hardly ever hear him sound like it."
"Well, Em dropped his accent pretty quick for a couple reasons, or so I hear tell," said Jasper. "For one thing, Ed tells me Em was in a big hurry not to sound too farmer-ish in front of Rose. Not that she wanted anything about him to change, but he was kinda insecure at first since she knew what was goin' on an' he didn't, and besides he wanted to impress her and he figured he could do that better if he didn't sound like a hick. But it prob'ly woulda faded anyway, since he was surrounded by Carlisle and Esme and Ed and Rose, and they all had more of a yankee thing goin' on. I was changed in Texas and surrounded by newborns who was all local kids, so I guess it stuck more with me. And then even after I hooked up with my folks up here I didn't want to lose it, on account o' it was my only emotional link back to bein' a human. I have some memories, but I don't feel 'em much. But the way a feller talks...well, that comes from down deep inside. To be sure, I have the ability to speak as they do," he said, suddenly switching to the most perfect Mid-Atlantic tones I'd ever heard. "But I'd ruther hang on to the way I talked when I was dirt-poor and full 'o blood," he finished, reverting back.
"When you were changed...is that when you met Zafrina?"
"Well, now, that came a bit later," he said, "after I left the States. I was a member of the Confederate army when I was alive, did I ever tell you that?" He showed no visible reaction to my involuntary shudder of revulsion. "I know," he said amicably. "Wrong side of history. But you know, funny thing about bein' on the wrong side of history, it sure seemed right at the time. I didn't know no better. I wasn't exactly the son of a plantation owner, and my folks never owned a slave. That part of it just wasn't personal to me. Like all the other boys I knew, I figgered it was a matter of states' rights."
"States' rights," I said tensely. "Sure."
"I know, I know," said Jasper with a good-natured sigh. "I won't pretend I was in the right, but I was no worse than the rest of 'em. Them boys from up North weren't too much better. Ain't like the North had all the virtue and the South had all the vice. And I've had plenty of time to see the error of my ways. You know, Eddy used to be a homophobic misogynist. You don't even want to know what Carlisle was like during the Inquisition. Part of being immortal is learning to change your views. A hundred years from now, you'll look back on your human self and cringe at the things you couldn't swaller."
I felt my revulsion evaporate. A hundred years from now. He was probably right. Anyway, he didn't seem like a douchey racist now.
"Point is," he went on, "the war was a bloodbath for more than just humans. Vampires are drawn to battlefields like flies to meat. Vampire covens fought each other for territory; some covens were more successful than others. A woman named Maria ran a small coven on the Texas-Mexico border, and she recognized my, uh, talents right away."
"Talents, huh? Dare I ask which talents in particular you are referring to?" I asked, picturing the sort of "talents" that would avail a Confederate in the Civil War. But Jasper wasn't talking about any of those.
"I was a natural leader. I started out as a drummer. You know, Bella," he went on with an unexpected hint of pride in his voice, "drummers were incredibly important figures in battle; my drumbeats kept time during marches; invigorated troops exhausted by hours of hard labor without a hot meal or a wink o' sleep; stirred up feelings of, er, patriotic generosity in the towns we passed through. But by far the most important job of a drummer was communicating commands from the officers to the troops. As soon as I was old enough to pass for old enough, I was promoted to lieutenant. I warn't too skilled as a strategist, but I was sure gifted at rousing the troops. By this time the war had dragged on for years, and nobody wanted to be there anymore; officers had to deal as much with deserters from their own side as enemies from the other. My company didn't see a single desertion during the year I served as lieutenant." There the pride was again, and more than a hint of it. I'd never heard so much enthusiasm in his voice.
"Maria followed me for months before she approached me. She was excellent at military strategy, but vampires don't take too kindly to bein' ordered around. It was all Maria could do to keep a following of half a dozen vampires. Her ambitions greatly exceeded the firepower at her disposal. By turning me and convincing me we were mates, she acquired a significant advantage over other covens in the area. You see, most vampire armies are made up of newborns—that is, vampires in their first year after the change. Newborns are far and away the strongest creatures in our world, but they are almost impossible to control—they're slaves to instinct. But I could control the newborns with my power, and as long as Maria controlled me, she was unstoppable.
"She sounds like a stone bitch," I said. "I thought vampires only get one mate, and you're definitely—" I looked pointedly at Alice.
"All mine," she finished smugly.
"Maria lied," Jasper answered simply. "She used me. She ordered most in her army murdered as their newborn strength waned. I eventually came to realize that she didn't really love me, and indeed that I didn't love her—only loved the feeling of security she gave me. But my power—well, you know what my power is. I feel everything the people around me feel. I felt the fear and sorrow in my victims as I drained their life away. Black, white, city, country—what does it matter? Everyone feels the same muddle of emotions, when you get right down to brass tacks. Ain't no point hollerin' that one kind of person's worse than the other, that this breed's better than that; mebbe you could fool old human Jasper into thinkin' that, but you sure can't fool an empath. I know better now. And I...I couldn't go on doin' it. Followin' orders from the one woman who never felt anything good inside, feelin' all that pain and sufferin' ever' time I got desperate enough to feed… So I left. No doubt Maria would have hunted me for vengeance after my defection, but without me to keep them in line, her newborns turned on her. And that was the end of that. I headed south just to git away from everything, and Zafrina and her sisters sorter took me in. Kind folks, even if they ain't what I'd call perfect."
"So that was it?" I asked, dumbfounded. "You just—left? Gave up humans just like that?"
Jasper's eyes filled with regret. "I tried," he said, shame-facedly. "I usually made it about a dozen meals before I...got weak. I didn't mend proper till I met my girl here." A flicker of movement caught my eye: Jasper and Alice were holding hands under the blanket.
"What Jasper did was very unusual," said Alice proudly. "Carlisle isn't tempted by human blood, and since he created the others, they never really had a chance to develop a habit. But Jasper—he was indoctrinated from day one, and he still broke free."
I reminded myself that I had forgiven Edward for exactly this—and Alice was right, it was kind of incredible that Jasper had quit the lifestyle without help from anyone. I decided to wait until I was a newborn myself before judging him too harshly.
"What about you, Alice?" I asked. "When did you give up...um, people?" Edward had told me all about how Alice and Jasper had joined the family, but he'd said nothing about their dietary habits.
Alice's eyes twinkled. "It was easier for me, because of my power," she said. "Just imagine being turned and waking up in the middle of nowhere, all this pain in your throat and all these visions making you crazy inside. The visions were new. I'd had one or two when I was alive, but nothing like this. So clear, so vivid, so specific. Every time I started to get too close to people, I saw these horrible, traumatizing visions of myself doing just the most awful things. It scared me so much I couldn't move, no matter how thirsty I was. It didn't always work perfectly, but those early visions about what I might do, they really kept me out of trouble. They were awful and scary, but at least they never became reality. Of course, it helps that the visions have no smell component. I shudder to think of what might have happened."
"I hope I can be as strong as you guys," I said. "God, I hope I don't make any...mistakes."
"We'll help you, Miss Swan," said Jasper with an encouraging smile. I smiled back, cautiously at first, and then more warmly. "And if you have any Jacks, I'll take 'em off your hands," he added, grinning.
"Go fish," I said, feeling considerably cheered.
A few days after my chat with Jasper and Alice, I sat in my room with the family. Alice was giving a little viola recital, which she'd programmed "for young ears". I was half-listening and half musing on names for the baby if he came out a she. I knew I liked Charlotte for a middle name. I was toying with the idea of cooking up a whole new name for my wholly unusual baby. Renesmee, maybe. Or something old-fashioned, Eliza-Marie or Edwina. Or even something symbolic and pretty, like Ruby or Lucinda. I felt totally at peace, safe, wrapped in the warmth of these people's love. Jasper suddenly stood up and looked at me intently. No, not at me—at my belly.
"Jas?" asked Alice, her playing faltering. "What is it?"
"I'll be blowed," he breathed. "If that tyke o' your'n ain't jist feelin' up a storm."
"Really?" I asked excitedly. Masen didn't have enough room even to nudge anymore; he barely ever moved these days, and whenever he did, it immediately wrung all the pee out of my bladder.
"Here," said Jasper. "You wanna see?" Suddenly everyone in the room started laughing delightedly, apparently all at the same thing. "Sorry, Bella," said Jasper apologetically. "I'm showin' 'em all what the baby's feelin', but you have that shield up good and tight."
"It's wonderful," sighed Rosalie. "Oh, Bella, I wish you could feel this. He's...he's so happy. He just adores you, honey."
"He does?" I said, cupping my hand over the mountain of my belly. "You like your mama? Well, just you wait till I get to hold you for real, Masen. Your aunts and uncles are gonna have to fight me off just to hold you for a second, you hear?"
Everyone laughed again, gently and happily.
"He loves hearin' your voice," said Jasper. "Makes him light up like a firefly."
That was when I felt it. Overlaid on my own emotional state, a flicker of something sweet and pure. Love and joy, but a kind of love and joy I couldn't remember ever feeling before, because this was the joy of someone who's never known unhappiness, never known it's possible to be sad. I felt an astonished gasp leave my lips, felt eyes on me, and the flicker vanished.
"What happened?" asked Alice. "Bell?"
I wasn't entirely sure what had happened. And I wasn't quite ready to share it with them. I wrapped my heart around that brief moment of feeling, and held on to it good and tight.
"I'm just so happy," I answered honestly.
Carlisle swore that due date couldn't be far away—a few days, a week at the most. I tried not to be terrified, and the Cullens did their best to keep my spirits up, but giving birth for the first time would have been scary enough even if it hadn't been to who-knew-what little hybrid creature. Under Papa Cullen's watchful eye, my room was filled with every medical implement he thought I might need. One morning, I woke to the sight and scent of hundreds of laelias, just like the ones on Isle Esme: they tumbled from vases and bowls and mugs, their radiant scarlet-and-gold centers shining vividly against their pale petals. There was even one tucked behind my ear. I took it down and parted my vast dressing gown and held it against the tight-stretched skin of my belly.
"You like?" asked Edward from the doorway, where he'd watched the whole thing through tender eyes.
"I love," I said.
"Jasper's taken to hovering around your room," laughed Edward, coming to the bed to give me a long, soft kiss. "He loves feeling what Masen feels. Rosalie won't stop knitting. Emmett and Esme are out back right now building the most ridiculous jungle gym I've ever seen in my life—oh, and did you know there's a whole category of books written just for grandparents? Because Carlisle has been reading them cover-to-cover. All of them."
"And I," said Alice from behind Edward, "made you this." She held out a neatly-folded square of fabric. When I shook out the folds, I saw that it was a perfect white christening gown, dripping with lace and embroidery and ribbons.
"Are you sure this is for a boy?" I asked facetiously.
"Oh, babies don't care," she laughed. "Besides, christening gowns always look like that. I mean, not this good, but they all look like froofy little dresses."
"Then I love it," I said, reaching up to hug her. "It's perfect."
It was in that moment—that shining, beautiful moment, reaching for my friend—that it happened. I reached too far and felt something give way deep inside, and then a warm rush of fluid soaked through the bedclothes. I felt a wave of strain pass over my whole midsection, followed by an agonizing twinge that went on and on for what felt like several minutes, although it can't have been more than a few seconds. And Masen began to struggle.
"Edward?" I cried, my voice rising in panic, my breath wheezy after the sharp pain. "Edward, what is that?"
"Alice, get Carlisle," commanded Edward, rushing to hold me steady in his arms. "Shh, Bella, shh, darling, try to keep calm, my love—"
Carlisle came running into the room. He tried to shoo Edward out of the room, but he refused to go.
"Stay, Edward," I begged, panting as another wave of tension washed over me, tailed immediately by another sharp, stabbing pain. This wasn't right; I'd read about this, and I knew the contractions weren't supposed to come one right after the other until I'd been laboring for a while. Masen began struggling for real, thrashing around as much as he was able to in his limited space. I cried out in pain as my insides exploded into an inferno of white-hot agony. Brilliant light filled my eyes and a roaring filled my ears.
"He's in distress," I managed to grunt between wails of pain. "He's in distress! Carlisle—" And then it was back, and I couldn't utter another word. All my senses were taken over by pain: I couldn't hear, see, smell or taste anything. The lights in the room swung crazily, and through the searing fog of pain I felt a cold numbness at my lower back. The numbness slowly spread, blotting out all sensation, until the pain was just a memory.
"Spinal block," said Edward, smoothing my hair away from my sweaty forehead. "You won't be able to move anything below the waist, but we can get him out now." A few hot tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and dissolved in the tear-tracks that were already mapped over my cheeks.
Carlisle had told me he would need to perform a Caesarian section, because the placenta wouldn't give on its own. But how could he, with Masen thrashing around like that? I wanted desperately to calm my son, reassure him somehow, but there was nothing to do but wait for Carlisle to free him. They'd put a little curtain up between my eyes and my belly, but I slapped it away with one awkward flop of my arm. I needed to see.
My vision was all funny, washed-out and over-exposed, but I could pick out movement. Dimly I saw Carlisle lean over me, brandishing the diamond-tipped scalpel he'd designed specially to cut through the amniotic sac. There was so much blood; it didn't seem like I had that much to spare. Carlisle lifted a wriggling, purplish-red squirmle from the womb. He held my son up by his feet, slapped him once, sharply on the bottom, and then a loud squalling filled the room. All I could see of him was his slimy, adorable backside. His wails filled my ears and my heart.
"Give him here," I begged, "give him to me—" Carlisle grinned and handed the baby to Edward, who broke out in the most thrillingly bubbly laughter I'd ever heard from him. He cradled the baby, cuddling him against his white button-down, and wiped the afterbirth from his face and chest with a strip of white linen. Then he brought him to me.
"Sorry, Bella," he said, his voice pitched high with excitement and relief. "I know you were holding out for a boy…" He placed our child in my arms.
She was perfect.
I brought my right hand up to touch her flawless, silky-soft cheek, and saw that I was still clutching the laelia, vivid with its gold-and-scarlet center, its dainty pink petals. But it paled to insignificance beside the rapturous face of my daughter, who had given over crying and now stared at me with wide green eyes, her teeny triangular mouth suckling vaguely at nothing.
"Laelia," I whispered, my voice hardly louder than a breath. "I'm so happy to meet you."
"Laelia Charlotte Swan," murmured Edward, leaning over us both, curving his arm around my shoulders, reaching for his daughter's tiny flexing toes. "That's a fairytale name, Bella."
"Then it's perfect for her," I answered, my eyes still locked on hers. Was it my imagination or did her eyes widen just the tiniest bit when she heard my voice?
Edward and I sat there for a long time. Laelia didn't cry, didn't make any sound at all. She seemed fascinated by us.
"Her thoughts are...oh, Bella," said Edward, his eyes sliding closed, his cheek resting against the sweaty crown of my head. He hesitantly touched one finger to her satiny palm, and her fingers closed reflexively around it, eliciting a delighted laugh from her daddy. "I wish you could see this. She's seeing for the first time—her vision isn't sharp, all she can make out are colors and movement. She's trying to find your voice now. Talk to her again."
Happily, I complied. I began to tell my daughter about how scared I'd been these last months, how much I'd wanted her, how much my love for her made me vulnerable, made me strong. I told her what I wanted for her (everything) and what I wanted her to be (anything she liked). After a while, her translucent lilac-tinted eyelids slid closed, her mouth fell open and her breathing turned rapid and even. I saw for the first time that she had a mouth full of teeth, each one pearly-white and sharp. It was incongruous in so tiny a mouth, but I thought it added to her charm: she was a fighter already.
"She's dreaming," said Edward, still wrapped up in his daughter's grip. "She's dreaming about colors."
I was beginning to feel sleepy myself, but I wasn't ready to close my eyes on this scene—not yet. I leaned against Edward's collarbone and he immediately shifted to make a more comfortable curve for me to nestle into.
"We made it," I said. "I can't believe we both survived this."
"The spinal block will wear off in several hours," said Edward. "You may be in pain, but you'll be able to move again. You'll heal, Bella. Your body will heal. I never expected this to end so well."
"Maybe I'll make it to drinking age after all," I joked. Now that I had her in my arms, the idea of spending even one minute as a senseless newborn was unthinkable. Maybe I could even eke out a few more years with Charlie, although how I was going to explain Laelia to him I had no idea.
"I'm absolutely sure of it," said Edward. "I should never have doubted you. Mother Nature herself can't make you do a thing you don't want to do. Will you think I'm being condescending if I tell you I'm proud of you?"
"I'm proud of me too," I said. "And you. I know you were scared. But can we both agree right now that she was worth it?"
"Worth every second," agreed Edward, wiggling Laelia's hand gently. "She's got quite a grip. She's as strong as you, Bella, and born not an hour ago."
"And did you get a load of those teeth?" I asked, tracing my finger over her rosebud lips. She stirred at the touch, and her eyes fluttered open. She let out an uncertain whimper.
"She's hungry," said Edward, releasing her hand and rising from the bed. "I'll get her something." There was a mini-fridge in my room, and it was to this that Edward went. I cuddled Laelia closely to my chest. I would never get enough of looking into her eyes; to describe them as emeralds would be to fall far short of their true loveliness. Emeralds were too cold and lifeless for such a comparison: her eyes were almost fierce in their warmth, like the blazing tropical sun filtered through a single leaf. Did every new mother feel this vividly reborn? Did every new infant look this boldly, this intelligently at her world? In an agony of adoration I clutched her as close to me as I could, pressed her plump smooth cheeks to my breast, stroked the coppery down that covered her perfect head.
"She likes being held like that," said Edward, gazing at us. "It makes her feel as safe as she did—before."
"You're safe, sweetheart," I whispered. "You'll always be safe with me." She turned her face a fraction, nuzzled against my pulse.
I felt a sharp, unexpected twinge over my heart. I sucked in a breath; I'd forgotten she had teeth, or perhaps I simply hadn't expected her to know how to use them. Edward hurried over and lifted the bundle of our daughter carefully from my arms so he could feed her the bottle of blood that he'd prepared.
"Little goose," he murmured, rocking her gently while she sucked hungrily at the rubber nipple. "This is where the food comes out." I tried to smile at the picture—how could the world support such insupportable sweetness as this man holding this baby?—but I was distracted.
"Ow," I said, pressing one hand to the place she had bitten. It came away smeared with blood; her teeth must be sharper than I'd realized, for it hadn't hurt this much a second ago. "Oww," I said again, pressing and pressing my hand to that cut, trying to press some of that hot pain away. Edward looked up at me in concern.
"Carlisle?" he called in a voice a little louder than normal. "Could you come here?" He smiled reassuringly. "They wanted to give us some time alone, once you and the baby were stable…"
"Of course," I said, panting with the effort of not crying out. Now it was not just the cut that hurt; heat was spreading through my chest, tracing along my ribs. Not friendly, sunny heat, either, but tongues of flame. I raised the bloodied fingers to my face and tried to focus on them, but my vision was starting to go funny. My fingers shimmered before my eyes, a heat-haze of scarlet and silver. Dimly I heard Edward gasp, and then felt cold hands taking hold of mine.
"Bella?" said Carlisle. "Bella, what are you feeling?"
"It burns," I gasped, tearing away from his grasp and clutching the hole in my chest which was steadily filling up with lava. "Owww. Carlisle—ow—what's happening?"
Carlisle exchanged a worried glance with Edward. Edward was shaking his head, his face blank of anything but horror.
"No," he said. "Nonononono. This wasn't supposed to happen. She made it, Carlisle, she was supposed to have more time—"
"What do you mean, more time?" I half-shrieked. "What wasn't supposed to happen?" As if I didn't know. I couldn't spend my daughter's first year of life as a helpless newborn, a slave to instinct and hunger. I couldn't miss her first smile, her first steps, her first words. I had allowed this as a fail-safe, but now that it came to it, I wanted nothing more than to remain human, Laelia's one human parent. I needed to stay myself for her.
"You should get Laelia out of here," said Carlisle.
"Wait—!" I gasped. "Don't take her—please, let her stay with me! I'll be good, I promise!" As if any promise I made could change this one unchangeable thing:
I was turning. Now.
1. Book!Jasper had a bit of a cold treatment. He was this sort of MacGuffin-for-all-occasions, a threat or a protector when threat or protection was needed. And his supercool skill was used for little things only, even though having the ability to manipulate emotions should have rendered him the Unquestioned Leader of the Free World. Then all he got at the end is a brief, emotionless, "Now I realized Jasper was the heart of the family." I think Jasper's character could have supported way more emotional weight and importance in the story! At the very least, I think he and Bella could have a few bonding moments without totally derailing the plot.
2. I think that, with proper care and planning, Bella could have survived the birth. For one thing, there was no reason for Carlisle to leave Bella's side during those last days of the pregnancy. No reason at all, no errands that simply had to be performed by him and couldn't possibly wait. Also, why was she still walking around that late in the pregnancy? What, she couldn't be on bedrest for the five days it took the baby to finish cooking? Come on, guys. Think.
3. Everyone in the story is just dead set on the notion that Nessie doesn't have/never had venom, but why? Are we sure that it was only Edward's syringe full of venom that caused Bella to turn? I mean, the first thing Nessie did was bite her mom right over the heart. Perhaps it is built into the hybrids' genetic and behavioral code that the first thing they do upon being born is bite whoever is nearest, thereby creating their own caretaker. Maybe all hybrid babies are loaded up with one dose of venom. Nahuel used his on Huilen; Nessie used hers on Bella. Nahuel's sisters had it too, but it faded after a few hours, unused. It makes sense and it fits into canon, so I'm going with it.
4. "Renesmee." Man. What a name. I have three problems with it: first, it bums me out that the poor kid is named after so many people. She doesn't have even a single component of her full name that is original to her. She's named after all her surviving grandparents. Like, pressure much? Second, I can't hear the name "Renesmee" without immediately thinking of the word "smegma." I don't know why. Third, it's way too long and awkward a name but how do you shorten something like that? "Nessie" is the only shortened form that makes sense, other than "Renee" and "Esme", and Bella pitches a fit every time someone uses "Nessie". Aaaagh. But I'm fine with Bella giving her kid kind of a goofy pretentious name, and I'm fine with her incorporating elements of homage ("Charlotte" is, of course, for both grandfathers, who have names derived from "Charles").
5. Bella's resistance to marriage lost some of its punch when it didn't even occur to her to keep her own surname for herself or her child. I mean, hey, she can do what she wants, but one minute she was was like, "No I never want to marry!" and the next it was, "I will marry in a flowing white gown and shoes I hate, at a fancy extravagant ceremony full of people I don't like or know even though I hate parties, and I will take your name and give up my family and move into your house and wear your ring and name my child after your ancestors, thy people shall be my people and thy gods shall be my gods." Again, those things are all perfectly fine if you actually want them, but she didn't even think about trying to find a compromise between Edward's desire for marriage and her desire for continued independence. It's as if Bella is under the impression that the shoes and flowers and sparkly ring and changing-of-the-name are what make a wedding, that by agreeing to marry she has also by default agreed to this horse-and-pony show that is guaranteed to make her feel terrible and displaced. And frankly that is bullshit. The important thing is that the papers get signed. Everything on top of that is just window dressing.