Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the collective works of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga

Probably Just Carbon Monoxide

Louisa Collins had a very lovely scent, Jasper decided as he gathered the sleeping the girl into his arms. All humans smelled good, or course, but their scents usually awakened his homicidal side. Louisa, though smelled more like a bakery, instead of a cake; appealing, but not edible. It was a pleasant change from wanting to rip out his classmate's throats and drink them dry. Jasper had almost thought he was cured of his bloodlust during Spanish when he spoke to the odd girl, until Mrs Goff had walked by, and the familiar burn returned to his throat. It was incredibly easy to forget that the lithe blonde in his arms was actually human.

He also liked her emotions, tempestuous as they were, which were pure and alarmingly intense for a human. When Jasper had watched her argue with his adoptive sister, he could feel what she felt so strongly that it almost felt like they were his own, and he had sat, transfixed, by the beauty of them. He had regretted it immensely when he had to manipulate the girl's emotions, but he had to know what she knew: he had to keep his family safe, and no matter how fascinating Louisa Collins was, she could not become a liability.

Louisa Collins was clever by half, he would give her that. Humans were often too distracted by their beauty to focus on their accents. Jasper ran through their conversation before her declaration again, recalling how he had only said two words. How had she been able to decipher his accent from that? And why not assume that he was from a Spanish speaking country? Something did not add up about Louisa, but Jasper wasn't sure if he should investigate or stay as far as possible from her.

The question was, of course, if he could even stay away from her. The unappealing blood, her entertaining wit, the devilish smile she had given him in Spanish… something had changed today, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to fight it.

And Jasper had always had poor impulse control, as Rosalie was often quick to point out.

He glanced down at the blonde in his arms, whose emotions flowed out of her steadier than the Rio Grande after a good rain, even in sleep, and it was… well not beautiful, as she was in a whole lot of pain, but it was… refreshing (Jasper realised the irony of an empath not being able to identify his own emotions) if he had to choose a word. Her sister's emotions were nowhere near as potent and had it not been for the tantalizing blood pumping through the little Collins's veins, Jasper might even have forgotten that she was there.

Jasper carried Louisa to the front door and waited patiently for her sister to open the door and invite him in. She hurried along in front of him and showed him to Louisa's room, which was surprisingly small. There was another scent in her room, beside her own, that was human and quite masculine. It most likely belonged to her father, as he had noticed it when he had walked through the house. Unless Louisa had a boyfriend, of course.

Jasper forced down the growl that was building in his chest and laid the sleeping girl down on her bed before he could crush her. He wasn't entirely sure why he was disturbed by the thought of Louisa having a boyfriend, but upon further reflection, he realised that he definitely was. Which was ridiculous, seeing as he had no opinion on his classmate, other than her interesting emotions. Her mild scent was only a bonus.

He could hear Louisa's sister fretting next to him, Emmett talking to him from the car parked in the driveway, birds singing from the trees outside. But it was her breaths, her heartbeat, that he was interested in that moment. He stood and watched her sleep and let her emotions wash over him and her scent wrap around him. It was…

No. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Because Louisa Collins was human and fragile and a liability to his family's safety and her life was fleeting compared to his. Jasper gave his head a little shake and brushed by the littler Collins girl, who was just as human as her sister, and her blood much more compelling. He showed himself to the front door, ignoring the little one's thanks.

Dottie wasn't entirely sure what had happened, she just knew that she was relieved when Jasper finally left the house. Because, while that boy certainly was pretty, he was terrifying. It was the eyes, Dottie decided. They were just as dead looking as his siblings. She also wasn't sure if she liked how Jasper had watched her older sister with those eyes either.

She watched from her bedroom window as the Cullen brothers pulled out of her driveway and speed off down the street at a speed much faster than most people would consider to be safe on wet pavement. But then again, the Cullen's weren't like most people. There was something off about that family, and Dottie would need to keep a close eye on them. Not that she really knew what to do, of course, as Lou was more the detective in the family. She wasn't entirely sure what she could do if she did find out the Cullen's secret. She was just fifteen, after all, and this wasn't a Harry Potter book.

With a sigh, Dottie turned away from the window and considered what to do next. Lou was unconscious so there was little she would be able to do for her until she woke up. Homework didn't sound all that appealing, but she had finished decorating her room last week and dinner wouldn't have to be made for a few more hours at the very least. Netflix it was then.

Dottie grabbed her laptop from her desk and nestled herself on her bed under the fuzziest blanket she owned. It was rather cold in her room, now that she thought about it. She glanced back over to her window, wondering if she had opened it by accident, only to find it closed. Dottie selected Stranger Things before hopping out of bed to check the thermostat. The Wi-Fi was terrible in this new house, and Dottie knew that it would take a few minutes for the episode to load. She slipped her feet into her pink bunny slippers and trudged into the hallway. The thermostat read 68 degrees Fahrenheit, but it felt much colder, as if someone had left open the door on a windy day.

Jasper, she realised suddenly, had obviously forgotten to close the door. One more thing to not like about him. Dottie directed her steps down the stairs and through the kitchen, only to see that the door was shut.

Did she have a fever? Dottie ran the back of her hand over her forehead. Perhaps whatever Louisa had was contagious? But no, she didn't feel sick, and she didn't appear to be running a temperature.

The sound of crying jolted Dottie out of her musings. Louisa had woken up.

Dottie sprang into action, filling up a glass of water at the kitchen sink and grabbing the bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet. She scurried towards her sister's bedroom and pushed open the door, only for the crying to stop the moment her hand touched the knob. Dottie paused, confused. Was Louisa pretending that she was fine? It really wasn't her sister's personality to suffer in silence: if Louisa was sick, she made sure that everyone knew it. Dottie frowned and pushed open the door.

Only to find that Louisa was still fast asleep.

Confused, Dottie edged towards her sister, placing the glass of water and bottle of medicine down on the bedside table. She was positive that she had heard Louisa crying just moments earlier. Was she crying in her sleep?

Even as Dottie watched her sister, the crying started again from somewhere behind her. Dottie jumped and glanced towards the open bedroom door, before giggling to herself. It was probably her computer. She hadn't paused the show and it had finished loading. Pleased that her mystery was solved, Dottie exited Louisa's room keeping the door cracked if her sister needed her before heading towards her own bedroom. The crying had stopped and she could hear whispering coming from her bedroom.

She was probably two feet from her door when it slammed shut. Right before her eyes.

Dottie's heart leapt to her throat and she blinked, trying to process what she had seen.

"Louisa!" Dottie screeched. She scrambled backwards, not taking her eyes off her bedroom door until she was in her older sister's room. She slammed Louisa's door shut and locked it before diving into the safety of her sister's bed.

Louisa, of course, was less than pleased to be awoken by a 120-pound body landing on her. She sat up, head swimming, and tried to focus on the blonde form of her sister.

"What's going on?" She slurred, shooting up into a sitting position. She was obviously in her room, but how did she get there? She remembered sitting in her car and then… Jasper the Babe? Regardless of the fact that she had probably gotten to take a ride in his very toned arms, Louisa wasn't sure how she felt about him seeing her so pathetic. Especially after she had chewed out his sister only a few hours before.

But all thoughts of Jasper had to put out of her head in order to deal with her distraught sister. Dottie was complaining about it being really cold in the house, which hardly seemed like a reason to wake her up. Something about doors closing too.

"You promised that this place wasn't haunted!" Her sister complained in a register that was more suitable for calling dogs than human speech.

"Of course it isn't, Dorothy," Louisa sighed, noticing the medicine that her sister must have laid out. She leaned forward and fumbled with the cap on the Tylenol bottle. "Ghosts don't exist."

"Doors don't slam shut on their own," Dottie snapped as if this were definite proof of a haunting.

Louisa rubbed her forehead. "A window in your room was probably—"

"Aren't you listening? I told you that my windows were closed!"

"Then there was a breeze that came from somewhere else. You're being ridiculous."

Dottie glared at her sister, which might have been intimidating, had she not been wrapped up tighter than a burrito in Louisa's duvet. "And what about the woman crying?"

"You were watching a show on your computer. I'm sure that was what you heard."

Dottie hopped off her sister's bed, huffing in annoyance. "That wasn't what I heard."

Louisa flopped back down on her bed and pulled a pillow over her head. "Then you're hallucinating. Check the carbon monoxide detector."

Dottie leaned forward and ripped the pillow off Louisa's head. "Why aren't you taking me seriously?"

"Because I've got a wicked awful headache and you just woke me up with a stupid theory that our house is haunted. Now, if you are done, get out of my room."

"I'm so telling Daddy," Dottie snapped, though she stormed out nonetheless, making sure to slam the door behind her.

"Be my guest," Louisa grumbled after her, far too exhausted to yell.

And tell their father she did, because, not even five minutes after the front door had opened, Mr Collins was walking into his eldest daughter's room, asking what Dottie had meant about living in a 'murder house'.

"Dottie's exaggerating," Louisa replied, her head still buried under her pillow.

"So there wasn't a woman who was murdered in the house?"

She sighed and sat up. Obviously, nobody was going to let her sleep. "No, that part is true. She's just acting like this was home base for a serial killer."

Mr Collin's eyebrows shut up to his hairline. "So, naturally, this house has a mystery for you to solve. How convenient."

"It would be if I were planning on solving it," she snapped.

Mr Collins didn't seem to be satisfied with this answer for some reason and grounded Louisa by taking away her cell phone for a week. This was an inconvenience (she did use her phone as an alarm, after all), but a week without it wasn't the end of the world. It was when she was handing the device over to her father, however, that Pyotr chose to text her and she ended up losing her phone for the rest of the month.

Dinner that night was an uncomfortable affair. Mr Collins tried to coax conversation out of his daughters by asking them about their days, but as Louisa's headache still had yet to abate, Dottie was traumatised by a supposed ghost, and both sisters were giving the other the silent treatment, the atmosphere was tense. After eating, Dottie scurried off to her room to finish homework and Louisa was forced to clean the kitchen as part of her punishment.

"Break anything, Louisa Jane, and you won't be seeing your phone until Christmas," her father said after Louisa put away a plate with more force than necessary. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been sneaking around."

"I wasn't sneaking anywhere! I made that promise after we bought the house and I haven't gone back on it."

"You could have told me at any time about the history of this house, yet you chose not to," Mr Collins said in a voice that he often used with his most difficult clients. "But I am referring to the Yakovlev boy. I told you to stay away from him, Louisa."

"And I have. I haven't seen him in nearly two months."

Mr Collins's gaze was even as he watched his oldest child over the top of his glasses. "Do not play this game with me, Louisa. You will lose."

"I've already lost my only friend, what more can you take from me?" Louisa snapped, throwing the rest of the cutlery into a drawer and slamming it shut.

Mr Collins' face remained a smooth mask. "Would you like to try that again?" When Louisa scowled at him, Mr Collins sighed and pushed the chair next to him out from the table. "Please spare me the dramatics, Louisa, I've had a long day. Now come sit down."

Louisa considered storming out of the kitchen but she knew things would only end up worse for her. Reluctantly, Louisa stalked over and threw herself into the chair next to her father, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

"There is a reason I don't want you talking to him, Lulu," Mr Collins began, reaching up a hand to grab hold of his daughter's chin and forcing her to look at him. "And it's not because I want to make you miserable." Louisa mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'you could have fooled me,' under her breath, and Mr Collins had to bite back a smile. Louisa might look a great deal like him, but that stubbornness was all Clara. "He's not good for you, darling."

"Seattle wasn't his fault," Louisa snapped, her grey eyes finally meeting his own. "You keep blaming him for something that was my idea and—"

"He didn't stop you," Mr Collins replied steadily, though his heart was constricting painfully at the sight of tears welling in his daughter's eyes. "He enables your reckless behaviour, Louisa. Both of you could have died that day."

"Don't you think I know that?" Louisa wailed, pulling away from father and burying her face in her arms on the table. When her shoulders started to shake with quiet sobs, Mr Collins pulled her to him and stroked her hair, letting her tears soak into his dress shirt.

When she had composed herself enough, Mr Collins pulled away so that he could look her in the eye. "The biggest reasons I want to separate you though is because the prosecution will almost definitely call him as a witness for the trial, and you can't be discussing the trial with him."

"We never talk about what happened though," Louisa explained. Because, honestly, who wanted to talk about it? "And what does this even have to do with me?"

This was the moment Mr Collins had been dreading since he had arrived home. He had fully intended to show tell her when he had walked in, but he had been pounced on by Dottie and then Louisa had been her charming self, and it got pushed to the wayside in order to prepare dinner. He took his daughter's shaking hands in his own and angled his body so he was facing her completely.

"I got a call from one of the prosecutors today, sweetheart."

Louisa stared at him blankly. "What—"

"They think they have a strong enough case to take Lambe to trial," Mr Collins explained quietly. "And the prosecution is considering calling you to testify."

Louisa dropped the letter on the kitchen table as if it had burned her. "But I'm only sixteen! I thought minors couldn't be called?"

He gave her tight smile. "Anyone can be called to testify, regardless of age," he explained. "If they go to trial, they will most likely issue something call a subpoena, which will require you to attend the trial and tell them what you saw." He wanted to say more, to try to give her as much information as he could so that she wouldn't be afraid, but stopped when he noticed her bottom lip began to tremble. He reached out and pulled his daughter against his chest once more. "You're not alone, darling. I'll be there with you the whole time."

"Not when I get on the witness stand," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"No, you will have to do that by yourself," he acquiesced.

"I'll have to see him again, won't I?"

"I wish there was something different I could tell you, darling." God did he wish he could take away her pain. If it were up to him, he would take the girls and go to Australia and never have to deal with any of these things again. If only life were that simple.

Later that night, after her father had gone to bed, Louisa sat at her desk in front of her bedroom window, her eyes unfocused. She tried not to focus on the smell of smoke, on the redness of the blood, on the taste of tears, because they weren't important. She needed to focus on the facts, not the feelings. She remembered how she was tied up back-to-back with Petya, not how the ropes dug into her skin. She remembered how the gasoline was poured around them, not the coldness of the gasoline seeping through her shorts. She remembered the exact words Lambe said to her, pushing aside the terror that still welled up in her when she recalled his smile.

Only the facts were going to put that bastard in prison. And she wasn't about to stop that from happening.


"There are an infinite number of universes existing side by side and through which our consciousnesses constantly pass. In these universes, all possibilities exist. You are alive in some, long dead in others, and never existed in still others. Many of our "ghosts" could indeed be visions of people going about their business in a parallel universe or another time – or both." — Paul F. Eno


A/N: Hey there! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Just in case that you had forgotten that Louisa and Dottie are teenaged sisters, this chapter should have reminded you. Leave a comment and let me know what you think! -CheckAlexa