Esme was the first to come home. Bella had moved down to the living room after an hour of awkwardly trying to get comfortable in Jasper's library. It was less about the way she was hunched over in that armchair, and it wasn't even about the dull ache in her shoulder socket; she felt weirdly like she was trespassing in a private space. It didn't feel right to be in there without the appropriate company.
"Bella," Esme said to her, and Bella set her book down. It had been just over four hours since the family had dispersed. "Let's get you situated in your own room."
Bella wordlessly got to her feet and picked up her duffel bag. Esme guided her up the stairs and into a room at the very far corner of the house.
It had a plain, tan color scheme—simple and generic enough for a guest to blend themselves in. There was a queen bed in the center, and Bella could see an offshoot into a bathroom.
"Anything in here is yours," Esme said, as they walked around the bed. "I have some toiletries available in the bathroom, but let me know if you're missing anything."
Bella took a quick peek into the bathroom and felt quite overwhelmed when she caught sight of both a giant shower encased in frosted glass, and an egg-shaped tub right in the middle.
"It's too much, Esme," she found herself saying.
"Not at all."
Bella plopped down on the corner of the bed, straight onto the crisp white comforter. "Thank you."
But before she turned to leave, Bella wished she would stay. "Esme, is everything okay?"
Esme's face stayed the same. There wasn't even an inch of worry on her brow. "Everything's fine, Bella. We're taking care of it."
"Are you sure? Edward hasn't told me a word."
Esme's smile only widened, and Bella didn't find it comforting at all. "He's very protective of you. We all are. The details are just… details." She leaned down and pressed a firm hand against the back of hers. "Don't think too much about it, okay?"
"But—"
"You haven't eaten, have you? What would you like tonight?"
Bella found that she had no appetite. And when her phone buzzed in her pocket, seeing Charlie's name pop up only made her stomach churn with unease.
"No, I'm alright, thank you," Bella murmured, and gestured to her phone. "I should take this."
"Charlie's okay," Esme told her quickly. "We've made sure."
Bella nodded and watched her walk out with a calm, human pace. Immediately after she shut the door, Bella pressed her phone to her ear.
"Hey," she said, and she found herself glaring slightly at the closed door.
"Hi, kiddo." Charlie's voice came through her phone. "I saw your text. Who's Emma?"
Bella switched the phone to her other ear and fought back a sigh. "A girl from class."
"Huh," he said, and Bella could hear the sound of the fridge opening. "Well, let me know if you girls need anything."
Bella hated this entire situation. "How was fishing?"
"Good. Got more beers in us than fish in the cooler, but you know."
"Right," Bella said. "Business as usual."
"That's right." Charlie chuckled. "Just wanted to check in. You ladies have a good night, all right?"
"Yeah," she said. "Night, dad."
Bella tossed her phone on the bed, then arranged a change of clothes from her duffel bag. Entering the bathroom, she avoided looking too closely at how overdone it was. Stripping down, she stepped into the shower that was probably twice the size of her entire closet. The shower head was directly above her and the heavy water cascaded down in small streams when she turned the dial.
She shifted, so that the water didn't directly hit her bad shoulder. But the longer she stayed under the hot water, the more relaxing it felt for the water pressure to gently massage her joint.
Her mind wandered to Victoria. As she washed the shampoo suds from her hair, Bella thought about the woman's desires to hurt her. What had Bella done to warrant such aggressive behavior?
And was it only her? Was Laurent out to get her, too?
She found that the details were lost on her, but she supposed she should be grateful for the Cullens' protection. How could she have dealt with this herself, when she didn't even understand it in the first place?
Turning off the water, she reached for one of the three towels that were hung up on different hooks. She grabbed another one for her hair.
When she entered the bedroom again, she half expected Edward to be there, casually lounging on the bed. But as the sunlight began to dim through the blinds, she wished he was here.
She needed some words of comfort. Bella found it hard to just sit there, knowing that her boyfriend was out running for miles just to keep her safe.
But she also found that her irritation hadn't disappeared. Edward had launched himself into her room that morning, lied to her father, and practically dragged her out of her own home. None of it was appropriate. If he were human, she knew she couldn't excuse his behavior. But when it came to her safety in his world, she found it hard to argue—and it was mostly because she knew so little about it all.
After changing into a fresh pair of jeans and a blouse, she let herself fall onto the bed. The crystals on the small chandelier twinkled with the setting sun, and she thought she should get up and turn it on soon.
The bed felt soft beneath her, and the room was cool to a comfortable temperature. There was tasteful artwork scattered around the room. A vase with plain flowers—fake, but immaculate. Paintings of paint splatter, bowls of plastic acorns.
If anyone had told her this was what a vampire's lair looked like, she would think they were insane.
Feeling fidgety, she decided to make her way downstairs—perhaps take up Esme's offer for a snack. Jasper was in the living room as she descended the central staircase.
"Esme just left," he announced without even looking at her.
The house felt empty as she lingered by the kitchen. And even though they weren't the same, Bella decided to join Jasper in the living room, sitting on one of the armchairs facing the fake flames. Jasper remained on the sectional, focused on his phone.
Bella looked at him for a while, contemplating a way into the conversation. But then, she just decided to ask. "Will you please explain to me what's happening?"
It was a big question, and Bella felt tiny asking it. Ridiculous, even. She felt so useless and out of place for just not knowing.
Jasper simply regarded her.
"Esme won't tell me anything," Bella continued. "She just says to not worry. Is she right?"
"She is right," he said, returning his attention back to his phone. "There's not much you can do."
Bella tried again. "Why does Victoria want to hurt me?"
"She thinks that you're the reason James is dead."
"But I'm not."
"Indirectly, you are." Jasper looked at her then. "If it weren't for you, James wouldn't have launched a tracking spree, and the Cullens certainly wouldn't have felt the need to eliminate him."
Why did it have to be so violent? "James couldn't be talked down?"
"Carlisle wouldn't accept the threat, and he wouldn't have trusted his word. His ruthlessness has kept the coven strong. It's something to be admired."
In other news, vampires completely lacked the concept of diplomacy. "And Laurent? Are they tracking him, too?"
"No," Jasper said simply. "Laurent is dead."
Bella shifted on the cushion. "Dead?" More dead, Bella tacked on for herself.
"He's a nomad. He shouldn't have been lingering in the Cullen territory for too long."
"And that makes it okay? Just because he was trespassing?"
Jasper paused for a moment, and his eyebrows drew together. He watched her closely with an expression that most definitely said, you're way over your depth.
Bella looked away. "I just—I don't understand why he had to die."
Jasper leaned forward and placed his phone down onto the coffee table. "It was Carlisle's decision."
Bella couldn't imagine Carlisle ordering a fly to its execution, let alone a person. "I still don't understand."
"You don't have to."
I don't have to, but I want to.
The phone on the coffee table began to buzz. It was in Jasper's hand, and up to his ear in a second.
"Yes," he said into the speaker, and after a few moments, "No, defer it." Bella couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, so it wasn't easy to understand. "A protection issue." She watched him as he stared at the glass coffee table. "Sure."
He lowered his phone down and looked at her. He hadn't even said goodbye to whoever he was talking to. "I don't understand why you're here. Do you?"
Bella wasn't going to admit just how much his question caught her off guard. She hoped she didn't look startled. "For my safety—is what Edward said."
"And your father?"
"Esme said he was covered."
"He is," Jasper said, "but they're running distances twice as much as necessary to cover both your home and the Cullen territory. Do you think that's smart?"
No. That made no sense at all. "Either I should be at home, or Charlie should be here."
"Charlie?"
"My father."
Jasper was silent, and Bella saw that he was back on his phone.
"So why am I here?" She asked.
No response. And just when Bella assumed he would just ignore her, he said, "I don't know. Did you express any need to be here?"
"Need?" Bella fought very, very hard to not roll her eyes. "I was dragged here from a very blissful Sunday morning."
"You're irritated."
You don't even know half of it, she wanted to say, but knew that he, in fact, felt it all. "I suppose I am."
"You don't want to be here."
It wasn't the location that was the problem. It was the person who brought her there, and then left her all alone.
"You're… melancholy."
"That's a beautiful word," she said softly, her voice carrying the same melancholy he noted. She looked blankly at the carpet below, her brain trying to find something amiss—a stain, a missing square patch—anything. Her eyes then lifted to the picture of perfection that was her surroundings. Her irritation grew with the disbelief that there was nothing out of place.
"And now, you're—"
"I know what I'm feeling, thank you," she cut him off sternly. She didn't want her emotions directly spelled back out to her, no matter how impressive it was.
"Is that the same tone you used against Edward this morning before he locked you in the tower?"
It took Bella a moment to filter through his question. "I'm not locked in here."
"I imagine there are consequences if you leave."
No, there weren't. She would be stupid to leave. She was human, and defenseless. "The only consequence would probably be a quick death."
"I doubt that," he murmured.
"The consequence part or the quick death part?"
He threw his phone back onto the coffee table. The clank of metal on glass echoed throughout the space. He crossed his arms and glanced at her. "Both."
Bella decided that Jasper was just irritating. Or maybe she was just really hungry. Getting up, she made her way to the open kitchen and began rummaging through the pantry. Her eyes widened when she opened the second pantry.
"Why is there so much food?" She whispered to herself as her eyes roamed the rows and rows of canned goods, baking ingredients, two whole shelves dedicated to pasta…
Grabbing one of the boxes of pasta, she read the expiration date. Glancing over the cans, she realized that they all expired in years. These all had to be brand new.
With the pasta in her hand, she closed pantry number two. And then she proceeded to drop the box of pasta, because Jasper was right there.
He picked up the box, shook it around, as if testing it for something, and then handed it back to her.
"The human is hungry," he stated.
"The human is scared shitless," she retorted back, brushing past him to the best of her ability. It wasn't necessarily easy to brush past concrete.
"Now what would Edward think about your language?"
Nothing. He wouldn't think a thing, because he wasn't here. Was Jasper teasing her? It was all bizarre. Her heart rate hadn't even calmed down, and she was getting dizzy from the lack of carbs.
Finding a pot from one of the bottom cabinets, she began filling it with water. Turning on the electric stove, she searched for salt. Her eyes roamed the fancy spice rank that was tucked away in a corner, but to her dismay, it lacked the most important ingredient of all.
Frowning, she began opening cabinets, and then—yes! She glanced up about three shelves above her and saw… boxes, and boxes of salt.
Who in the world would need this much sodium? She didn't contemplate it too much, because she realized that even on tiptoes she couldn't touch the bottom shelf. Either she could climb the counter, or—
"Jasper?" She turned around, but he wasn't there. She peeked over to the living room to find it empty. But when she turned back—
"Salt," he was saying, tossing one of the boxes in his hands, "why do you need this?"
Why did he just materialize into thin air? Bella didn't hide her annoyance as she tried to reach for it. But he held it back.
"Why is there so much of it?" He asked.
Bella eyed him with light exasperation. "I don't know. Esme's clearly preparing for the end of the world."
"So, this is unusual," he said, as if trying to understand. "What will you use it for?"
"Cooking, Jasper. I'm cooking."
Instead of handing it over, he placed it back on the shelf. "Please," he said. "Go ahead."
She took a deep breath. "Yes. And that—" she pointed at the open cabinet with the boxes of salt. "I need that."
"I've realized. Good luck."
But this time, he didn't disappear. He leaned against the counter beside the stove with the gradually steaming pot of water. He cocked his head to the side, as if to say, go ahead.
This was surely a game, but why were they playing?
She wouldn't complain—she was more than capable. Even though her shoulder ached with the pressure, she lifted herself onto the counter, put her butt down first, then turned to get on her knees. At that height, her fingertips could touch the box that Jasper had put back. With a little more wiggling, she got it to slide close enough to the edge, and given the downturn, she was able to grab it.
Flipping over, she let herself slide down until her feet hit the wooden floors. She didn't say one word to Jasper as she ripped open the top—perhaps a little too agitatedly—and sprinkled a light amount directly into the water that was almost boiling.
And once it was boiling, she added the long, stringy pasta. After setting a quick timer on her phone, she smiled lightly at Jasper. She could tease. "I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're here. Do you?"
"No, I don't," he said, and oddly, Bella sensed honesty in his tone. "I'm babysitting a human, and it's not part of my job description."
"Babysitting," she said flatly. "Really?"
"Edward's orders."
Bella rummaged through the drawers for a wooden spoon, which she then used to stir up the pasta. She fell quiet for a moment. "He's very worried."
"Incredibly," Jasper said, yet his tone was bored, and uninterested.
Bella continued stirring, then glanced over at the pantry. "I think I saw pasta sauce in pantry one. Could you grab it?"
Jasper didn't protest. He walked over to the very first pantry and opened the door. He stood there for a moment before grabbing a glass jar. He set it on the counter beside her. "There are at least fifteen more of these in there."
"Yeah, not normal." She grabbed it and eyed the lid, then thought back to the many times Edward would linger in her kitchen as she had made pasta dinners for her and Charlie. He would chop the herbs, shred the cheese, and always open the jars.
But, Edward wasn't here, so she located a can opener that seemed to be brand new and then proceeded to pound the metal cap on the tomato sauce. Once she saw enough dents, she was able to pop it open. It wasn't a conventional method, but it worked.
After straining the pasta, tossing with olive oil, and adding the red sauce, she finally set a decently sized plate of dinner onto the obnoxiously long dinner table.
But this time, there was no themed decor, no candles for ambiance, or ribbon running down the middle. It was just her, and her pasta.
Jasper lingered by the kitchen, gazing distantly at where she was seated. Eventually, after a few bites of her food, Bella saw him appear at the opposite end of the dinner table, which was hilariously far away.
"So," she said, between careful mouthfuls of pasta. Her voice seemed to echo in the vast, open space. "I thought we weren't supposed to communicate."
He leaned his elbows on the table and regarded her.
"We're not the same," she emphasized, instantly feeling the goodness of the carbs in her body. It was satisfying enough that she decided to give him some credit. "And you're right. We're not the same. Obviously."
"Obviously?"
She extended a hand out towards him. "Vampire." She gestured to herself. "Human. That was your point, right?"
"Are you going to state the obvious, or do you have more to say?"
Bella wasn't sure if he had intended to be rude. But she didn't waver. "My counter is that we're not too different."
Jasper gestured for her to continue.
"A human's basic needs. Food, water, clothing, sleep, and shelter," she said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Food and water—for you, that's blood. Clothing, for obvious reasons. Sleep—that's a no, but you probably do need rest at some point, right? And, shelter." She gestured around at the grand dining area. "We have significant overlaps, I would say."
Jasper looked around the room when Bella mentioned shelter. His eyes darted back to her, narrowed, but interested. "Blood. Nothing else."
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing else."
"But—" Bella cut herself off, not really following at all. "How?"
"Clothing," he began. "Decency was hardly a priority thousands of years ago. Scraps of cloth have always functioned as a means for warmth. Temperature control. Am I wrong?"
"No," Bella agreed. "But decency—"
"—is not a necessity. You mentioned sleep," he continued quickly. "It's not possible, though many wish for it."
"Not possible? You don't rest?"
"No."
Bella slumped back slightly in her chair.
"And shelter. It's mainly for warmth—which I think we've established is not necessary, but nice."
Nice? "Shelter isn't just for warmth," Bella argued.
He thought for a moment, and then quickly amended, "You're right. Warmth and protection." He glanced at the wall beside them. "This thin layer of concrete will not stand between you and a vampire. So, it remains—shelter is irrelevant." Intertwining his fingers before him, he stared at her. "It all comes down to blood."
"Just blood," Bella repeated, her lips slightly parted. It almost seemed too good to be true—to only have one variable to keep track of for your survival. "That's it?"
"Yes."
"Blood. That's all you need to be otherworldly, brilliant, and flawless? Being human is sounding a lot like a scam."
He seemed to be hung up on her choice of words. "Otherworldly?"
"Are you not?"
"You glorify us," he said, leaning just a little bit forward, putting his weight on the table. "Why?"
"Why?" Bella said, as if he were absolutely ridiculous for asking. "You're the epitome of perfection."
Then, light amusement glinted in his very red, very bloody eyes. "You misjudge."
"I do?"
"Yes. You can't judge the rest of us with what you know."
Bella's eyebrows came together in confusion. "The rest of you?"
"Those of us that are not the Cullens."
Now Bella didn't understand, which failed to surprise her anymore. She pointed her fork at him. "I'm sorry, aren't you a Cullen?"
He didn't even skirt around his answer. "No."
And then the chair at the very end of the table was empty.
A/N: An interesting and light information dump for Bella.
Q: Jasper doesn't seem to identify as a Cullen, which becomes plainly obvious towards the end. What are his reasons?