A/N Twilight is the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter 19: Swan Song

JPOV

Tues Jan 18/05

I ended up staying longer than I'd planned. Anya finished her dinner while we chatted about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine in her glass. It was easy to lose track of time with her—her emotional cocktail hitting in all the right places.

After dinner, she retreated to her office; I followed, more out of curiosity than anything else, and that's when I learned she wasn't just some small-town librarian. That in her world she was actually a PhD candidate at McGill, knee-deep in a dissertation on the role of everyday women in the French Resistance during World War II. The depth of her knowledge, the passion she had for her work—it all caught me off guard. I had been so focused on trying to understand her place in Forks that I hadn't fully appreciated the person she was.

So that is what she lied about on her resume, not a master cleaner, or spy or military intelligence operative, but a military historian?

I found myself enjoying her company even more than the impromptu rock shows she put on in her living room the first two weeks I was following her around. The way she lost herself in her research, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her work—it was infectious. Damn that emotional cocktail!

And during the times she drifted back into her work, and we settled into a comfortable silence, I found my mind drifting back to something that had been nagging at me since the first night I'd walked into her home. Her family. I'd seen the grief in her eyes that night, heard her plea to end it all.

But I hadn't brought it up. Like how do I ask a woman who thinks she's in a fictional world about her dead family? Is there a polite way to ask that?

Fuck it, I decided to take the risk.

"Anya," I began carefully, "I've been meaning to ask... about your family."

Her mood shifted abruptly, like a door slamming shut. The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a guardedness that hadn't been there before. She set down the papers she'd been holding and looked at me, her expression unreadable.

"Yeah," she said slowly, her voice measured. "It was a shocker to learn that American Anya—that's how I think of my alternate self in this world—has been orphaned since a teen." She paused, her gaze distant for a moment before she continued, more softly. "My world? Close-knit family, and I miss them. I'll promise to share more later, Scout's Honour."

Well, that would explain the sudden shift in her emotions on Saturday. It was one thing to believe you found yourself in a fictional world but to learn that your family was all dead. Shit. I could feel her honesty, mingled with grief. Not nearly the darker deadly toxin, but resigned grief.

I hated it. I wanted to know more, but if I'd learn anything from Anya was that she kept her word, if she said she'd share she would. So, I kept my annoyance to myself and instead, smiled and quietly told her, "Whenever you're ready."

She gave me a faint smile in return, the tension in the room easing slightly. "Thanks, Jasper."

Eventually tiredness overtook her, she tidied the papers from her desk, raising from her chair and merely said, "Don't let the door hit you on your way out, Tex." Before heading upstairs to her room.

Wow, for a second time in as many days, this human had left me alone in her home while she headed upstairs, complete trust in me to do just that, leave.

And I did. Heading back to home I couldn't help but think over everything that had happened over the last several days. How this woman I'd been buzzing off her emotions for over a week, how she had asked me to end her life after discovering her entire family had been dead for years, and then the next day shattered my world by sharing simple truths about each member of my family.

Fuck, I should be pissed at how this woman turned my life upside down, but the truth? I didn't give a damn. If anything, I found it... exhilarating.

But my thoughts drifted back to my dear brother Edward, or Heathcliff, as I was beginning to think of him. The irony wasn't lost on me—Anya had made more than a few jabs about his brooding, but it was hard to ignore how fitting the comparison was. Edward had been off-kilter all day, more so than usual, and I knew exactly why.

Bella Swan. His "singer."

He had shared what he could earlier, about how her scent hit him like nothing else, how it was both intoxicating and terrifying. That it wasn't just attraction; it was something deeper, something that shook him to his very essence.

I could feel the conflict in him, the way he was torn between his instincts and the other issue with being completely unable to read her mind. This was a deadly combination.

And then there was Anya, who had kept quiet, even when she clearly knew more than she was letting on. She was careful with her words, never revealing too much, always holding back just enough to keep me guessing.

But her silence spoke volumes. And the from the brief things she had said I had come to the following conclusion:

This was an unconventional love story between Heathcliff and a Duck – Edward and Bella.

And my creator wrote chapters about the brooding. Edward was going to be unbearable for the next who knew how long.

Which meant it would be painful: whether for Eddie boy or myself I wasn't sure just yet.

When I got home, fully expecting to be hit by Edward's confliction I was surprised that it was conspicuously absent.

Shit – the fucker had given into temptation and drained his singer. I raced into the house yelling for Alice to meet me in my room. To demand if she saw this coming.

I didn't have long to wait before she arrived, and that look on her face filled me with dread.

"What did you see?"

She walked over and sat at the edge of the bed, her expression thoughtful, but there was a hint of excitement there too. "Bella," she began, her voice soft. "She's going to be my friend, Jazz. And eventually, she'll be part of our family."

Well shit – I didn't expect that admission.

Unconventional love story. Right. Anya had said this was love story of obsession. A corpse and a vampire didn't seem like much of a love story so ok fucker hadn't drained her.

"Part of the family?" I echoed, my mind racing through the implications. Did Anya know about this?

Alice nodded; her gaze distant for a moment as if she were still sorting through the visions in her head. "Yes. It's not clear exactly how or when, but she's going to mean a lot to all of us, not just Edward."

I processed that in silence for a few moments, the weight of it settling over me. "And Anya?" I asked, curious to know if Alice had seen anything that might explain Anya's role in all this. "What does she have to do with it?"

Alice shook her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Anya's an enigma. She knows things, things she's not telling us. But she's not giving away the plot, as it were. It's like she's got her own version of my visions, limited to the story she knows. And she's respecting whatever... boundaries she's set for herself. And she continues to keep her decisions to the mundane, playing in my blind spots as she called it."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "You two have more in common than you think," I said. "You both know pieces of the future, even if hers is confined to the plot of a book."

Alice laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "It's true. She's like me in that way—trying to navigate the future without revealing too much. It's... fascinating."

There was a pause, and I could see the curiosity in Alice's eyes, the same curiosity I felt whenever I thought about Anya. "Do you think she knows more than she's letting on?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

I thought back to my evening with Anya, the way she had skillfully sidestepped certain topics, always careful, always guarded. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I replied, "Do ducks tread water?"

Alice's lips curled into a knowing smile, a soft laugh escaping her. "Oh, she is interesting!"

"Very," I agreed, leaning back on the bed. "She knows a hell of a lot more than she's saying, but she's not here to stir up trouble. She's just leaning into the madness of it all."

Plus, she's working away on her dissertation like a fiend, fully expecting to make it home. I don't know why that admission hit me with a pang of sadness, but I quickly reined it in.

Alice nodded thoughtfully. "She's got her reasons, I'm sure. But it's fascinating, isn't it? Watching her work through all of this, seeing how she fits—or doesn't fit—into our world."

"Yeah," I said, my thoughts drifting back to Anya's easy smile, her sharp wit. "Fascinating is one word for it."

Alice studied me for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she just figured something out. "You're drawn to her," she said, not as a question, but as a statement.

I met her gaze, not denying it. "She's... different. She doesn't see me as a monster, she sees me. And I like how that makes me feel more like myself."

Alice's smile softened. "Don't ignore that, Jazz. Whatever this is between you two, it's important."

"Important for a fictional book character?" I replied, raising an eyebrow, the irony not lost on me.

Alice's smile widened, but her tone remained serious. "Even fictional characters can be important, especially when they become real to us. Maybe it's because she knows so much, or maybe it's something else entirely. But there's a reason she's here, Jasper, and a reason you're drawn to her."

I let her words sink in, the weight of them settling over me. Alice always had a way of seeing things clearly, even when the rest of us couldn't. If she thought this connection was important, then it was worth paying attention to.

I thought for a moment, then softly said, "She did mention something... said she felt our creator gave me the short shrift. That I should've been the main character."

Alice's eyes widened slightly, surprised but also intrigued. "She said that?"

I nodded. "Yeah. She thinks I deserved more than just being in the background. It's strange, hearing it from someone who knows how the story is supposed to go."

Alice smiled. "Maybe she's right. Maybe that's why you're drawn to her—because she sees you for who you are, not just the role you were given."

I considered that, the idea settling into my mind. Anya saw me differently, not just as a supporting character in someone else's story, but as someone with his own path, his own importance.

"Maybe," I agreed quietly. "She sees more than most."

Alice's expression softened. "Then don't let that go, Jazz. Whatever this is, it's significant. It could change everything."

Her words hung in the air, and I knew she was right. This wasn't just about Anya being here—it was about what she saw in me, in all of us, and what that could mean for the future.

"Thanks, Alice," I said, grateful for her insight.

She gave me a final smile, before she flitted out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I laid back down, her words echoing in my mind. Anya's presence, her insights, the connection between us—it all felt like the start of something new, something that might just shift the course of the story we thought we knew so well.

Thurs Jan 20/05

A few days had passed, and once again, I found myself in Anya's home office in the evening. Damn, did it beat watching her from the trees out front or lurking in the shadows of her backyard. I mean, I probably didn't need to keep up the private eye routine, but something about this human just drew me in. Her life, her thoughts, her damn smile. It all had a pull on me I couldn't shake.

And yeah, that ever present emotional cocktail.

Anya never seemed to mind. In fact, if I was a betting man—and let's face it, I've had a century to perfect the skill—I'd say she looked forward to the company. She never locked her backdoor. When I walked through, she had the fire going, her hair catching the light as she bent over her desk, completely absorbed in whatever she was working on. But she glanced up when she noticed me looking at her, eyes flickering with that familiar mischievous glint.

"So, broody Heathcliff," she teased, "Any updates on the love story?"

I chuckled, plopping down on the couch and grabbing the first book within reach. "Well, since I don't have the playbook, I'd say it's safe to assume the love story is unfolding?"

Anya laughed, a sound I'd come to appreciate way more than I'd ever admit out loud, nodding her head. "Yeah, I'd say so."

I flipped through the pages without really seeing the words, the familiar rustle of paper under my fingers soothing in a way I couldn't explain. But then she paused, her laughter fading, and I looked up to see that playful light dimming in her eyes. She got up from her desk, moving over to the couch, her expression more serious now. I closed the book, turning it over in my hand. The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. Hell of a choice. Not the type of light reading you'd expect on someone's coffee table. But then again, Anya wasn't your typical anything.

"Is this for me?" I asked, holding up the book. "Or are you just trying to make a point about moral ambiguity?"

Anya glanced at the book, then back at me, a small smile playing on her lips. "Maybe a little of both. But that's not what I want to talk about."

Something shifted in the room, a subtle change in the air. Her voice softened as she sat on the couch. "How familiar are you with Canadian television from the '90s?" she asked.

Come again, Anya? My eyebrows shot up. Out of all the directions this conversation could've gone, that was the last thing I expected. "Not really. Doesn't sound like my usual programming," I said, shaking my head.

She nodded, a hint of amusement still lingering in her eyes, but there was something serious beneath it. "I promise it's relevant. To me, not to the love story that is."

I leaned forward slightly, all sarcasm melting away. "Alright. I'm listening."

She turned to face the fire, as if drawing strength from its warmth. "Well, when I was about, gosh, 12 or 13? Give or take, there was this show called The Odyssey. The lead character, Jay Ziegler, has an accident and finds himself in what he calls the Dreamworld. Now, the audience knows that Jay is actually in a coma in the hospital. He doesn't know this, but he navigates the Dreamworld, trying to get home."

I started to see where she was going with this. Pieces of our earlier conversations falling into place. She'd dropped hints at lunch with my family, saying something about reading a book, being on a train, thinking she was in an accident. I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes as I tried to follow her. My voice came out softer, less of an edge. "And you think that you're in your own version of the Dreamworld?"

Anya nodded; her gaze still fixed on the flames. "Yeah, pretty much. So, I just leaned into it. Figured eventually I'd wake up. Hence why I enjoyed messing with Edward so much. Sorry."

I snorted, unable to hold back the laugh. "Hell, I should be thanking you. Watching you rattle his cage was the highlight of my day." I sobered, looking at her more closely. "But you're serious about this? You really think you're in a coma, and this is all… what, a figment of your imagination?"

Her eyes met mine, steady and unwavering. "Maybe. Or maybe it's real, and the world I came from is the dream. Either way, I'm here now. And I figure, why not make the most of it?" I could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips, but it faded quickly as she continued, her voice more hesitant. "But… but then I wondered."

"About your family?" I asked gently.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. "And when I read that me—that is, American Anya—is orphaned, it was... merde… definitely not what I expected to read. I was in Hell, more than a Dreamworld. And I just wanted out."

She looked away, her gaze drifting to the fire as if searching for answers in the dancing flames. I could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

I didn't have a damn clue what to say, so I just sat there, letting the silence do the talking. She wasn't just playing around with some dream theory anymore. This was real for her—a reality she never asked for, a life that wasn't her own.

"And this is why you said what you said to me that night? About, ahh, ending you or numbing you?" I asked gently.

"Got it in one, Tex," she replied, her tone a mix of resignation and dark humour. "Yeah, I thought what the hell. If I just pull the plug, as it were, to the Dreamworld, then perhaps that would be what my body needed to, you know, wake up in Montreal."

She paused, her gaze distant, as if reliving the moment. "So, imagine my disappointment when I found myself on the floor here and you sitting in the chair watching me. Which, FYI—is really creepy and apparently runs in the family."

I couldn't help but wince at that, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah, we're known for our lurking," I admitted, pushing out some lightness. But her words hit hard, the stark reality of what she'd been willing to do, and the disorienting aftermath of waking up in the wrong world.

Shit, this woman truly wanted to end it all in the hopes she could go home. I still didn't regret not ending her life. Her baseline emotional cocktail was too addictive – that joy and contentment; it's a rare combination in humans.

She gave a half-hearted chuckle, but it was clear the situation still weighed heavily on her. "Seriously, though, it was like... a wake-up call, no pun intended. I realized then that this isn't just some coma-induced dream. It's real—at least for now."

I nodded, understanding now just how deep her despair had run. "I'm sorry, Anya. For all of it." I fucking hated how dark you went, and I never want to feel that again from you. I kept that thought to myself.

She sighed, relieved. Then, just as abruptly, she got up and headed back to her desk, the shift in her mood palpable.

"Tex, wanna know something?" she asked, her tone lightening as she looked back at me, a glint of mischief returning to her eyes.

I leaned forward, curious, sensing the change in her demeanor. "What's that?"

"Your creator did get one thing semi-right," she said, pausing for effect. "The Duck—" she shot me a quick glance, and I caught the code she used for Bella Swan—"sees you as blameless. As do I. You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one in the Dreamworld, not you."

I couldn't help but laugh. I took in her words, amused by her ability to turn the conversation on its head. "Blameless, huh?" I repeated, the idea of apologizing to Bella for anything swirling around in my head. She's not my singer. And I kinda like the human in front of me. Her emotions, not her blood. To Anya, "Can't imagine what I'd be apologizing to her for, but... alright."

Anya turned back to her desk, settling into her chair with a smirk. "Treaties and unwritten rules," she said, shaking her head. "Your creator loved those, and I plan to respect them, okay?"

"Fair enough," I replied, still smiling as I leaned back on the couch. Her playful tone was infectious, and I found myself more at ease than I'd been in days. The emotions are even better inside than outside on the tree. Plus, I wasn't getting soaked in freezing drizzle.

Anya returned to her work, humming along to the music playing softly in the background. The rhythm of the evening settled back into something comfortable.

But then, out of nowhere, she abruptly exclaimed, "Merde!"

The sudden shift caught my attention, and I looked over at her questioningly. Anya was sitting there, laughing to herself, clearly amused by whatever thought had just struck her.

"Remember when I said I expected you to keep me company for Broodfest 101?" she asked, her eyes still dancing with humour.

"Yeah?" I replied. Where's she going with this?

She grinned; her mischief fully restored. "Well, really lean into the struggling vegetarian act. Like, go overboard. Heathcliff won't want you anywhere near the Duck if you catch my drift."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, the idea of playing up the tortured vampire routine to get under Edward's skin both ridiculous and oddly appealing given the family was always reminding me I was the weakest link, being the newest vegetarian. "So, you're saying I should make him think I'm too unstable to be around Bella?"

"Exactly," she said, still laughing. "The more you look like you're about to lose it, the less he'll want you around her. It's the perfect way to keep him occupied—and away from me."

I shook my head, still grinning. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

She winked at me, leaning in just a little closer. "Oh, you have no idea, Tex. Let's just say... maybe I figured out why your creator only gave you a few pages. You were, ahh, off stage as it were."

Her words hung in the air, and I could feel the underlying meaning. She wasn't kidding when she said she was she thought I should be the lead. I cautiously allowed myself to open up and feel her emotions, joy, contentment, mischief and … oh attraction. Did she fantasize about me when reading these books? I found that very intriguing. See what I mean, the woman had layers.

I liked it. A lot.

She was still looking at me through lower lashes, daring me to respond. Challenge accepted. "Off stage, huh?" I replied, my voice softer, more thoughtful. "Maybe it's time I spent more time in the spotlight."

Anya smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "I'd say so. And I've got the perfect stage."

I could see the playful glint in her eyes as she leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying the way she was getting under my skin. "Tell me, Jasper," she teased, her tone flirtatious, "what's your diet's stance on waterfowl? Because, again, your creator was vague."

I couldn't help but chuckle, catching the double meaning behind her words. "Well," I drawled, "if we're talking about a struggling vegetarian desperate for some duck, I'd say it's best to steer clear. Wouldn't want to fall off the wagon, now would I?"

Sexy librarians were a totally different temptation.

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine, still challenging me. "Good answer, Tex. But I'd watch yourself. There's only so much temptation a struggling vegetarian can handle before he snaps."

I raised an eyebrow, matching her playful tone. "Temptation, huh? You trying to lead me astray?" Damn I hope she did.

Anya's smile widened, her voice dropping to a soft, teasing murmur. "Who, me? I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble. But I suppose if you're going to spend more time in the spotlight... well, you might need a little guidance. And I'm more than happy to help."

Damn woman! I felt her attraction begin to rise as we continued to talk. She might be speaking in code, but her invitation was very clear. Who am I to refuse a lady?

"Guidance, huh?" I said, leaning forward just slightly, my arms draped over the back of the couch. "Do you have anything specific in mind?"

"Maybe I do," she replied, her eyes locked on mine. "But first things first—how about we make sure you stay on the right side of that vegetarian line?"

You're really going to make me wait for this aren't you? I laughed, shaking my head at her persistence. "Alright, alright. I'll behave. For now."

"Good," she said, still grinning. "Because I'd hate to see you get into any more trouble than you're already in."