POWERLESS

"When dealing with myself I am powerless."

—Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

—

DECEMBER 7TH 2039
UNKNOWN
NEDERLAND, COLORADO

Jasper's world flickered to life as he followed Maria in through the back doors.

Whatever veil had been thrust over his eyes was pulled back and sound tumbled through his head like a freight train. The scent of venom was sharp in the air, as well as the faint smell of rot and something else disgustingly familiar.

His head turned and his brain tried to catch up with his surroundings. Kitchen. He was looking toward their kitchen. Before he could find whatever had attracted his attention, the boy from before—no, not boy, Edward—stood beside him, one hand already clenched tight around Jasper's upper arm.

"Get him out of here," Maria commanded. Jasper turned his attention back toward her but she was already walking away. "Actually, get her out of here. She can wait. The big one cannot."

The anger and despair rolling off of the boy—Edward, his mind repeated—was a curious sensation. Jasper tried to decipher all the sounds and smells around him as they flooded his senses with vicious abruptness. He'd missed something. No. No, he hadn't missed it. He'd been present for everything that had transpired over the last two hours, but there were wires crossed and unplugged in his brain. Jasper was aware of the fact that there was something wrong with him, but there was no time to dwell on what exactly it was because he was being dragged farther into the house.

"Peter, bring her into the library," Edward mumbled the words and Jasper wondered why they were speaking so quietly. Peter. That's right, Peter was there because something terrible had happened. No. That wasn't quite right. Something terrible was still happening.

"Should we… can we clean her up?" A timid voice, barely recognizable, asked softly. Edward was dragging Jasper toward the hole in the house where the front door used to be. The memory of what had happened to it—what he'd done to it—was hazy and far away but still accessible in his mind.

Maria's voice shouted from somewhere deep into the house, pulling his focus out of his head and back to his immediate surroundings. "Do not get water on those injuries!" A pause. "Get whatever scents off of her that you can."

"Where's Jasper?" Another quiet voice asked. Somewhere close by he could hear a terrible sound begin to rise up above the chaos; it was a noise that was familiar in nature but still somehow foreign to his ears. "Jasper?" The same voice called out for him again.

Edward pulled him down from the front step and Jasper planted his feet. "What?" he replied without a care about how strange it felt to speak. He didn't fully understand what was going on. There was a separation between his brain and his body that was making movement feel wrong. His limbs felt heavy and his tongue did not sit correctly in his mouth. The awful noise that was becoming a constant in the background was steadily growing louder. He knew the noise. He could not identify the source.

Maria snarled. It shocked him with its intensity. "Do not let him get anywhere near her!"

Recognition dawned on him. "Esme?" Jasper finally called out in reply, recognition snapping into place.

"Jasper!" Edward's grip tightened to the point of pain. The sleeve of Jasper's shirt tore under Edward's grip. Jasper turned back toward Edward—not the boy, his brother—and memory tumbled forward like a collapsing building.

"Your brother," Maria's eyes locked on his, her disbelief too strong for his liking, "and your wife."

"Alice." Jasper planted his feet again, and took one firm step backward. Then, louder. "Alice?"

Peter was suddenly there. "She's fine," he assured quickly, and Jasper's focus diverted away from Edward at Peter's rushed words. Jasper didn't believe him for a second. He fought the urge to bat Edward's hand away but before he could Peter placed a firm hand between Jasper's shoulder blades and slowly started pushing him forward. "Right now we need to help Emmett."

That was right. Emmett. The memory of whatever had happened was suddenly overridden by the stink of venom clinging to Peter. They were finally moving faster across the front of the house and toward the opening of the garage. Why hadn't they walked through the kitchen?

"Pete, you stink," Jasper stopped again, or at least tried to. He looked over his shoulder at Peter, sniffing again. Confusion clouded his awareness. The entire front of Peter's shirt was muddied and wet and his sleeves were covered with what looked like venom—was he hurt?—but he smelled like rot and Alice and a few other vampires and—

"Peter go change," Edward's words were calm, not communicating the sharp eruption of panic and frustration. "I've got him."

Edward continued to drag Jasper forward—the hum of the garage door opening sounded in the back of his awareness—and finally let go of him to duck beneath the slowly-opening door. Jasper had to bend low to slip beneath the door, following Edward closely. The fog of panic-fear-desperation-relief-pain was so thick that it took Jasper several seconds to understand what was happening.

By the time the garage door creaked shut behind him, Jasper had refocused beyond his sixth sense and onto the chaos in front of him.

This was where the horrible noise was emanating from.

Rosalie kneeled on the ground, her long hair spilling over her shoulder where it brushed against the silver-grey mass in front of her. Her hands shook as they hovered, desperate and afraid, above the body on the floor. She grasped at her neck as if looking for something to tear into, pulled roughly at her hair, and then returned to that same position, frozen over the broken body, too terrified to touch, but too aggrieved to sit motionlessly.

Jasper had never heard Rosalie cry before and here she was, openly wailing. Her terror hit him all at once, and it forced his feet, mid-step, to grind to a halt.

The rest of the world fell back around him in a single instant.

"One of you better get a hold of her." Maria was standing close by, tying her dark hair back. For a moment, Jasper was struck with confusion at Garrett's presence as he stood at Maria's side. All around them, the newborns hovered nervously with all of their eyes fixed on either Jasper or Maria as they waited for orders. "I won't have her getting in my way when I start."

"Fuck you!" Rosalie's sob was full of fury as she whipped her head toward Maria. Jasper finally got a good look at her then. Her features were contorted in a way that looked alien on her beautiful face. The tenor of rage would have been familiar—comforting, really—if it weren't for the bone-cold terror and pain screaming in the air.

Before Maria could reply, Carlisle was kneeling at Rosalie's side, his hands firm on her shoulders.

"We're going to help him," Carlisle spoke quietly. Rosalie stubbornly shook her head, another sob breaking loose as her shoulders shook.

While Carlisle slowly attempted to pull Rosalie backward, Edward walked across the garage, leaving Jasper alone on the far side of the room. Bella was leaning out of the door that lead to the mudroom; Edward met her there and they exchanged words too quietly for anyone to hear over Rosalie's continued crying. Jasper had just barely glimpsed the words "—she won't speak to—" on Bella's lips when the room was flooded with commands that made his neck itch.

"You!" Maria snapped her fingers toward one of the newborns then pointed toward Bella. "Follow her." Then, she looked up at the two that stood closest to Jasper. "You two, stand by his top half. You," she pointed to another, "and you," she gestured to a fourth, " by his legs."

"Edward." Rosalie battled against her own anguish—pain that would not ease any time soon—in order to speak calmly. Her voice still came out as a desperate wail. Edward was on her opposite side within the next second, his hand reached out toward her extended one, preventing her from touching the mass, no man—no, this was another one of his brothers—in front of them. "Tell me he's still there. Tell me he's in there."

Then, Jasper turned toward Emmett.

"Only Carlisle and Alice need to hunt," Emmett shrugged and leaned back into the garage. He was giving Jasper the most recent update on the events transpiring elsewhere in the house. "We'll be back in less than an hour, but I'm going for safety's sake, I guess."

Jasper looked away from Emmett just in time to see their weakest pin their fastest for the third time in less than two minutes. His scowl deepened. The seconds stretched between them in stony, relative silence.

"I was…" Emmett paused, his words slow and uncharacteristically hesitant. "I was going to ask if you wanted to come, too?"

Jasper didn't shake his head even though he wouldn't be able to accompany them. These newborns needed to train non-stop. The only break they would be getting would be when they could eventually feed. Jasper did not swallow back the venom that pooled in his mouth at that thought.

Instead, he turned fully toward Emmett and approached. He barely brushed by him and muttered a quick, "Keep an eye on them for a second." Then, Jasper went to go find Maria.

Emmett's face was mostly, and miraculously, in tact. His cheeks and temples were torn up a little, and his left eyebrow was hanging low over his eye, but nothing appeared to be missing. From what Jasper could see of Emmett's teeth, from where his mouth hung open, lopsided and unmoving, they looked all accounted for at this angle. His mandible had been recently torn from his skull on the right side, forcing his jaw to reattach itself at a crooked angle. It looked like the freshest injury; it was the first thing they would have to treat.

Emmett was shirtless, shoeless, and his belt held up tattered blue jeans that were entirely missing from the knee down. His legs had been spread apart, his knees bent outward and his feet pulled inward, as if he'd found himself stuck sitting in lotus position. At some point they'd torn the skin open and pressed open wound against open wound, holding it there until the flesh had panicked and begun to fuse the incorrect pieces of his body to itself.

No, not they. This torture was not a collective effort from an unknown enemy. Esteban. Father Esteban had done this.

That was the thought that forced Jasper's attention back onto Emmett's curled hands. Similar carvings had been inflicted upon his arms. The skin had been torn from wrist to shoulder and his injuries had been pressed upon one another. Only this time instead of fusing arm to arm, Esteban had pressed forearm to bicep, twisting the limbs inward so that Emmett's broken wrists were curved outward. Each limp palm faced away from his body, and his fingers rested just beneath each ear.

This fusion of limbs should have been impossible due to Emmett's musculature, but the broken twisted elbows on each arm were concave where the tendons had been sliced cleanly to make this sort of rearranging that much easier. Emmett's knees had received the same treatment.

Jasper finally dragged himself from the spot where he'd stood frozen and took three steps to the side. Now, he could clearly see them. Esteban's signature: the wounds of Christ.

Two of Emmett's fingertips were hammered firmly inside each wrist. That would be another early correction they'd have to make.

It shouldn't have been Emmett. That was the only thought in Jasper's head as his feet slowly dragged him forward, closer to his brother. It should never have been Emmett that faced this fate. It should have been Jasper.

"He's there. I promise you he's there. He can hear you." Edward's voice was soothing and firm. There was even a smile on his lips when he spoke next, his words intended only for Rosalie. "He wants me to apologize for not telling you sooner. Sorry, Em," and as Edward addressed Emmett directly, Jasper could see the tension deflate from the mass of twisted limbs before them.

Emmett's emotions were a tangled mess. The pain was too overwhelming—there was too much sharp anguish and distracted animal panic emanating from Emmett—to sort out much else. Jasper was grateful for Edward's gift in that moment, and irritable at his own ability's lack of usefulness.

"Jazz," Edward pulled his attention away from Rosalie and Emmett to meet Jasper's eyes. "Can you…" His words failed him for a moment but he looked back down at Emmett pointedly. Jasper only stared back, feeling idiotic. He didn't know what Edward was trying to convey. "Can you try to ease any of it?"

Jasper furrowed his brow as he looked down at Emmett. Emmett's one good eye was closed, and the bad one remained blind with the torn eyelid hanging low. Jasper knew what Edward was asking of him. He wanted Jasper to calm Emmett down. He wanted Jasper to try and ease the panic and fear of the room, to dial up the peace, to take away the anticipatory terror that was pulsing out of Emmett with a steady beat. Because of course Emmett knew what came next.

Jasper focused for a moment. Then, for another. Within two seconds of Edward's question, Jasper knew that he couldn't do it.

Come on, his mind was barreling towards fury at a speed that shocked even himself, fucking focus. Calm, peace, comfort. None of it was accessible to him. In fact, he couldn't even think about the sensation those feelings brought out in himself. There was no soft flickering across his skin as he dug for the tender emotions he could typically access with ease. In that moment, there was nothing but the freezing pressure that had built up inside of his chest.

In the back of his awareness he heard someone call out to him. "Jasper?"

One eighth of a second later he turned and took two long strides toward the closed garage door. The punch he threw obliterated the entire steel panel. The sound of the grinding and crunching was momentarily louder than every other noise in both the garage and the house as a whole.

People were stirring behind him but he ignored them. His lungs were full of air and the only thing he wanted to do in that moment was scream and scream and scream. In the back of his mind he knew that if he did that, more than frustration would erupt out of him. His gift would not—could not—obey his wishes. If he couldn't calm down it would cloak the entire household in cold fury, murderous rage, and a pitch dark apathy that he couldn't afford to inflict on anyone else.

But he couldn't control himself. Jasper could feel the eruption building inside of him and bent forward until his head landed hard against the steel panel above the one he'd launched across the front yard. For one second he was hyperaware of every single presence in the house.

Emmett's pain, Rosalie's terror, Edward's shock, and Carlisle's worry were closest. The newborns were a mixture of fear and anger and a specific brand of reactive adrenaline that had always been dangerous to trigger. Maria was irritated and Garrett was confused and Bella and Kate were fast approaching with a startled unease radiating from them. Further out was Peter's alarm, Esme's anxiety, Carmen's sorrow, and then a startling void.

No, not a void. Jasper knew this flavor of despondency. It was the same brand of fragile despair he'd sensed dozens of times prior in his almost two-hundred years. Something not so far removed from what he'd felt just days before; distantly familiar but wholly unrecognizable from it's source. An empty, unfocused despair, dulled by a gentle buzzing that interrupted the grief at regular intervals.

"Alice," his lips formed the word before his brain could catch up. Alice. What had happened to Alice? Emmett was… this. What had become of Alice?

The breath that had been building within his lungs stuttered out from him in a haggard, uneasy exhale. Jasper pulled his head back from the garage door and stumbled as his feet were forced to catch up with his intentions. Alice. He needed Alice.

Pieces of disjointed memory tried to patch themselves together while Jasper turned toward the door to the house. The smell of venom, the tenor of dread, the slight reeking stink of sex.

People were calling his name. Someone reached for his forearm and he smacked them away. No. He had to get to Alice. He had to find Alice. Where was Alice? What the fuck had happened to Alice?

Deep inside the house, fear erupted in a flash, and Jasper knew that's where she was.

Two quick whistles carried above all the other noise. The tone was familiar and their source was a comfort. Before he could lift a foot to climb the two steps that would bring him into the house, he stopped. The fiery determination that had taken over his body extinguished and his brain rerouted.

"Major," the same voice called, firm but quiet. An order he needed to answer.

Jasper yanked his arms out of the hands that gripped him; two sets of pale hands were wrapped around each elbow and ready to pull him back. He hissed at them absently, wishing they would get the fuck out of his way. If Maria hadn't called him to her side he would probably spend the extra few seconds it would take to render them both down to pieces.

"Garrett, Carlisle, back away now," a voice commanded softly, as if it didn't dare to rise up any louder. Recognition scratched at Jasper's awareness but instead he pushed passed the two men who stood in his way and dared them to try and stop him again.

Maria was unhappy. It was in her every atom; her expression, her stance, her aura. Jasper felt nervousness try and fight its way up but pushed it down fiercely. Whatever he'd done wrong he'd fix. If he couldn't then whatever punishment she wanted to dole out, he would take like a man. He would not flinch, he would not retaliate, he would nod and learn and then improve.

He stopped just beside her and waited. When she reached up toward his face Jasper did not flinch when she pried open his mouth, wrapped three fingers around his canine, and yanked it from his jaw. For a punishment it was fairly tame.

Perhaps she needed that tooth to teach him a proper lesson. She'd never done that to him before, so it would certainly be a new method. Usually when she needed a tooth from his mouth it was to carve up an enemy or to extract information from an unwilling captive. For her to use it on him would mean that he'd really fucked up somehow. She'd never once struck him outside of a fight; she typically chose to let the pain of failure and injuries sustained from their enemies teach him a lesson.

No matter the reasoning, he must have deserved it, so Jasper stood still.

Maria whistled up at him again. When Jasper's eyes found Maria's her expression was coolly shuttered over. Jasper could still feel the dread, annoyance, and disappointment, but she nodded her head in front of them both. Jasper followed her gaze and let his eyes land on the mangled mass.

She opened her mouth to say something and then, at the last moment, thought better of it.

"When this is done you're taking them hunting," Maria vaguely waved toward her newborns, "You aren't coming back until they're fed."

The promise of a hunt—of blood—made his mouth pool with more venom. He nodded, eager to display his loyalty. Anything to take the army on a hunt. He would do anything to ensure that whatever happened next would progress smoothly and without error. "What now?"

Maria's sneer was solely for him. "Don't fucking touch anyone."

Jasper nodded again, pointedly ignoring the eyes of the other inhabitants of the room that watched him conspicuously. Maria turned her attention on the rest of the room now and Jasper half-focused on the words that floated through the air around him. He would not move. He would not touch anyone.

"I know his arms are pinned but you and you." A pause. "You need to push a knee onto each shoulder. He is going to buck like a wild animal."

A voice sobbed, angry. "His back—"

"Is the least of our worries! You two, press down on a knee. Plant yourself so that you're facing west. We're going to flatten him out so he doesn't bite my fucking hand off."

"He can hear you, you know."

"Good." Another pause. "If you bite my hand I bite you back."

A shrieking growl erupted and there was the sound of scrambling feet.

"Get her out of here if she can't control herself."

"Maria, please—"

"Rose, it's—"

"Don't threaten him!"

"Don't argue with the person who is about to fix him. Now hold him down and you! Don't get in the way. Which one of you is strongest? Kneel by his head and hold it down. No. No, palms against his forehead. You cannot be afraid to push down."

"I don't want to hurt him," the voice was uneasy.

"Be serious," Maria snapped. "We are going to do this fast. Once I set his jaw you are going to take my place here—don't you say a damn thing about hurting him. The longer this takes the more it will hurt. You will sit on his chest where I am sitting and you will not let him get up. Carlisle, you and Edward will have to rewrap the skin on his shins once I pry his legs apart. I don't know how bad the knees are but I can't just dig up into his leg. Either the tendon will reattach or it won't; I can't do anything except for piece him back together."

"What if—"

"No time! We will do the same thing with his arms once his legs are straightened out. After he's untied we can dig the bones out of his wrists and ankles and see if we can put his digits back together. The quicker we do this, the better."

The first sounds of flesh tearing were loud in the room as Maria used Jasper's tooth to dig into the body on the ground. Jasper did not want to be caught staring at Maria. He kept his eyes forward and only his periphery provided him with any hint as to what she was doing. He would not move. He would not touch anyone. After the metallic tearing sound there was a crack, a pop, and a low groan as the jaw was realigned.

"Hold your hand there," Jasper could just barely see her readjust one of the hands of the stocky newborn who pressed against the dark-haired body's forehead. Maria wrapped it around the underside of the chin. "Don't move until you hear the ligaments snap back. You'll know when it happens."

Jasper refocused on the wall when Maria moved herself around, turning to dig further into the tortured man beneath her. The hole in his gums where his left canine had been pulled slowly leaked venom into his mouth. Jasper focused on the slow trickle of the venom and the sharp sensation as it joined the venom that had gathered due to thirst. When the sound of more tearing skin and an accompanying wordless scream ripped through the garage, Jasper kept his posture firm and his eyes straight ahead. He would not move. He would not touch anyone.

He would prove himself. He would show Maria that he was worth keeping around. He would prove his loyalty, he would feed his army and himself, and maybe—just maybe—she'd reward him afterward…

Jasper ignored the growl that echoed low in the room even though he somehow knew it was directed toward him. Anyone who would try to stop him was a fool. But for now, he would not move, and he would not touch anyone.

Another scream erupted from the same source, the horrible sound of crying started back up, and Jasper comforted himself with the promise of blood.

A/N: I want to thank everyone for their kind comments on Ao3 and Tumblr. For those unaware, I'm on day two of recovery from a few procedures, and day one kicked my ass hard. Day two is looking up but something tells me it's another "chase oxy with Pedialyte between naps" kind of day. If you don't see a regular update this Monday then be on the lookout for two the following week.

Act 5 is the longest one. At times it will be exciting, at other times, excruciatingly sad. But if I ask for one thing from y'all, it's your trust. (Although I'm sure if you haven't read anything else from me, you have little-to-none.) Just trust that this story was written with y'all in mind. Anyways, love you. Feel free to stop by my Tumblr to chat with me there and see more content than you'll ever get here (or on Ao3, too). Thanks again.