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


Chapter 43: Night Moves

APOV

Late Saturday March 19/05, Forks, WA

My question to Alice about German shepherd bites caught her by surprise.

Have you ever seen a psychic pixie be gob smacked? It's definitely amusing, but at that moment, I was too tired to fully appreciate it. I stared at the white bandage around my wrist where James had desecrated my skin, too leery to remove it and face what laid underneath. I had an idea of what to expect, but since I wasn't a vampire and didn't have super healing skills, and Jasper had sucked all the venom out, what would it look like? Would it scab over like a regular wound? Or would it magically be sealed and faded like a normal scar?

Eventually, Alice carefully responded, "I'll ask Carlisle. It's not often that humans remain human after…" she caught herself just in time, knowing my preference for euphemisms, "German shepherds bite them."

"Figures," I muttered. "Your creator…" I paused, trying to collect my thoughts on why Meyer's world irritated me so much in this particular moment. "I get the whole 'suspend disbelief' thing, but seriously, they never bothered to explain practicalities. Like this."

I stared out the window into the woods and waited. I knew Jasper would want answers, and our terse exchange moments earlier—could that be considered our first fight?—whatever it was, it wasn't us. Tomorrow, I thought. I'll tell him something tomorrow.

When he came back to the car and settled in beside me, I turned to look at him, my eyes flicking up to his, trying to keep my panic and horror reined in. He didn't need to think that I saw him as a monster. His eyes were slowly returning to the golden hue I loved, but the ring of red was still ever-present.

Would it be rude of me to ask him to go hunt some more? To gorge himself to the point of sickness?

It was Alice who broke the silence. "Anya, everything good?"

"Hmm? Yes," I replied, though the words felt hollow. "I just want to get home."

I tentatively reached out my hand to Jasper's so that our fingers touched. I needed him to know that he was still wanted and loved, even if, in that moment, the knowledge that he had effectively sealed my fate to his when he stopped James' venom from spreading filled me with a deep, lingering sadness.

I saw a small spark in his eyes at my gesture, a fleeting warmth that made me wish I could give him more. But then I turned to look back out the window, concentrating on tamping down that sadness, horror, and panic. I had wallowed in self-pity long enough; it was time to face the music.

When we reached my street, the reality of it all hit me—I had been gone for three, maybe four days, and I honestly had no idea if I even had any food in the house for myself.

Merde.

"Alice," I asked hesitantly, "could I trouble you to get some groceries for me? Though I'm not sure where the nearest 24-hour grocery store is…"

Alice laughed lightly. "It's already taken care of, Anya. Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett left hours before we did, and I asked them to make sure you had food when you got home. I wouldn't be surprised if Esme even went all out for you."

Relief washed over me, mingled with a sense of gratitude I couldn't quite put into words. Esme's thoughtfulness, Alice's foresight, even Rosalie and Emmett pitching in—it was all so overwhelming. "Thank you," I said softly, glancing at Alice and then at Jasper. The words didn't seem enough, but they were all I had at the moment.

The closer we got to my house, the more I knew I needed to say something to Jasper. I could feel his curiosity, sorrow, and fear leaking out of him, not just through his emotions, but in the way he carried himself. I didn't need to be an empath to know that he was hurt.

And I couldn't really blame him for that.

I waited until Alice had pulled away, her taillights disappearing into the night, before I turned to Jasper as we stood on my front porch. Just then, it hit me that I didn't even have my keys with me. I had left all of my belongings in the garage of the Cullen home the night we fled from James. If I was being completely honest, I wasn't even sure I'd had them on me at the baseball game.

"Ahh, Tex, do you happen to know what happened to my house keys?" The absurdity of the question was too much, and I just started to giggle. I've just been attacked by a vampire, pulled from the brink, lost my ticket back to my reality and family, and I'm worried about my damn house keys?

Jasper stared at me, clearly taken aback by my sudden laughter, but then a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was a hesitant smile, as if he wasn't sure whether to join in or if this was some kind of emotional breakdown he should be concerned about. I mean, the odds were fifty-fifty as I wasn't even sure myself.

"I think they're still in the garage at the house," he answered cautiously, but there was a hint of relief in it too—like he was glad to see some something of the old me.

"Calisse, that's just great," I chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "So much for getting inside."

"Although, it's also feasible that they could be anywhere between here and halfway up to Alaska. The family did use your belongings as breadcrumbs to stop the German from following us south," Jasper added, a slight grin tugging at his lips.

That made me laugh even more. Of course—my brilliant idea to strip off all of my belongings and change into Esme's clothes so that they could drive the tracker crazy. And it had worked. Until it didn't.

The thought sobered me quickly. "I suppose you don't have any cat burglar skills in your repertoire?" I asked lightly, trying to keep the mood from dipping too much.

Jasper's eyes twinkled with mischief as he obliged without a word. Before I knew it, he was inside the house, opening the front door for me. I stared at him, surprised, waiting for an explanation. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "I noticed that the window in your home office was never locked."

Ahh, right. I thanked him and made my way upstairs to the bathroom, desperate to shower off the smell of the hospital and James. From inside, I spoke softly, knowing Jasper would hear me even over the running water.

"Jasper— Tex – I know you're wanting some answers about my reaction to the, ah, dog bite. And why it took me so long to wake up, not to mention my silence. I need you to know that I do love you very much." I focused on my love for him, trying to project it as best as I could, ensuring he could feel it, even if my words weren't quite matching. "But it's hard to explain. And yes, you do deserve an explanation. I just need time to… process what happened, okay?"

The water cascaded over me, washing away the remnants of the past few days, but the silence that followed my words was heavy. I didn't hear a response from him, and I quickly rushed through my routine, suddenly eager to be near him again.

Drying off, I noticed that someone—Esme, maybe—had thoughtfully left my pajamas on the vanity. In my haste to shower, I hadn't even grabbed anything to wear. I smiled softly at the gesture, changing quickly into the familiar fabric. Brushed my teeth in a hurry.

Sacrament, I was tired.

I left the bathroom and headed to my bedroom, where I found Jasper standing near the window, his posture tense and thoughtful. "Jasper?" I called softly.

He turned to look at me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. I took a deep breath and said, "I'd like you to stay tonight. I just… I don't want to be alone."

Relief washed over me when he nodded, his silent promise that he would stay easing some of the tension coiled in my chest. But even as I said the words, I felt a flicker of doubt at the back of my mind. My gaze drifted to his eyes—those beautiful, golden eyes that I loved so much, but still rimmed with an unsettling redness.

The constant reminder of the choice he made for both of us.

I bit my lip, trying to swallow the words that were threatening to spill out. But I couldn't hold them back. I needed to know, for both our sakes. "Tex," I began cautiously, "are you… are you sure you're okay to be near me? I mean, after everything… do you need to hunt again?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I hated myself for asking, for doubting him, especially after he had already hunted a little over an hour ago. But the fear lingered, refusing to let go.

His expression softened, but I could see the flicker of hurt in his eyes, a pain that made my heart clench. I knew I'd wounded him, that my question had hit harder than I intended. He had done everything to protect me, to prove he was in control, and here I was, doubting him again.

"Anya, I'm okay," he said gently, his voice steady but laced with a softness that made my guilt deepen as he walked towards me. "I made sure of it before I got back in the car. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure I could control myself around you."

I searched his eyes, to reassure myself that he really was alright, that I hadn't just insulted him. But that lingering red still unnerved me. It didn't seem normal.

"You don't have to worry about me like that," he continued, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand in a comforting gesture. "I'm here because I want to be, and because I know I can be. I'd never put you in danger, Anya. You mean too much to me."

Oh, how wrong you are. Your actions have effectively left me in a world of supernatural dangers. I pushed that thought aside and nodded even if I was only half-convinced. The logical part of me knew he was telling the truth; knew he wouldn't stay if he didn't trust himself. The sleep-deprived scared side of me? He was a damn vampire who had recently fed on a human – me.

I crawled into bed and settled under the covers, feeling the exhaustion of the past days pressing down on me.

The logical side won out. Barely.

"I just need you close by," I whispered as he settled himself beside me. The moment I felt his arms wrap around me, I couldn't hold it back any longer. The tears I had been fighting off since I woke up in the hospital began to fall, soft and silent. He held me as I cried, his embrace firm yet gentle, as the emotions I'd kept at bay finally spilled over. I let myself feel it all—the loss of my family. The loss of my life back home—but also paradoxically, the love and safety that his presence brought.


JPOV

Late evening Sat. March 19/05 Forks, WA

Anya continued to confound me. The searching look she gave me when I returned to the car from my hunt stayed with me, her emotions a swirling cocktail of pain, sadness, and horror—so dark and far removed from her baseline joy and contentment. I could feel her trying to rein it all in, no doubt for my sake. The poor struggling vampire empath.

But when her fingers tentatively touched mine, I let go of my own self-pity and focused on that small, yet monumental, gesture. She was actively touching me for the first time in over a day. I would take it for all it was worth.

The brief, fragile connection between us was everything I needed in that moment, even if her emotions were still muddled. I could sense her reluctance to burden me, the way she was holding herself. It made me ache for her, knowing that she was trying so hard to shield me from her pain.

When she asked about the house keys, I felt a spike of panic in her hysterical laughter. This was it, I thought—Carlisle had suggested that her delay in waking up after James' bite might be due to shock, and now I was alone with her, a frail human, while Carlisle was still in Phoenix with Heathcliff and The Duck. Of course, that human would get concierge service. I mean, I couldn't really blame her—she did have extensive injuries—but in that moment, I needed Carlisle more than Eddie boy did.

Just as I was about to call him, Anya sobered, and with a slight smile, asked if I had any cat burglar skills. Oh, Thank God – I sensed her slowly coming back to me, making light of the situation.

I didn't hesitate to show her just how adept I was at slipping into places I wasn't supposed to be. Within moments, I was inside her house, opening the front door for her. The look of surprise on her face made me grin, but when she continued to stare at me, waiting for an explanation, I sheepishly admitted that I'd noticed the window in her home office was never locked.

I was a great private eye.

Her soft laugh made my chest tighten in a way that was both painful and comforting. She thanked me and headed upstairs, leaving me alone for a moment to collect my thoughts. I could still feel her emotions, still sense the turmoil she was trying so hard to keep under wraps.

I'm not sure who was more confused, her or me. Both of us fearful of hurting the other.

When she spoke to me from the bathroom, her voice was soft, almost tentative. She didn't have to raise it; I could hear every word, even over the sound of the running water. She acknowledged my need for answers, but I could feel her hesitation, her struggle to put into words what exactly happened to her in that dance studio.

Fucking Edward – this is all his fault inviting the humans to baseball. If he hadn't done that, Anya and I wouldn't be in this situation right now.

I need you to know that I do love you very much," she said, and I could feel her projecting that love toward me, doing her best to make sure I felt it. And I did. I had eventually followed her upstairs and found myself in her bedroom. Jacket off. Waiting. Not exactly how I envisioned my first invitation upstairs. Feeling her love being projected to me. But it was tinged with an undercurrent of sadness and uncertainty. She promised me an explanation, but not yet. She needed time to process what had happened, and I couldn't blame her for that. The bite, the venom, the trauma of everything she'd gone through—of course she needed time. And a part of me knew that she would keep her word. Much like that awful night in January when she asked me to kill her, she said she'd explain in the morning, this was no different.

Yet it felt worlds apart.

I didn't respond immediately, not because I didn't want to, but because I was struggling to find the right words myself. How could I tell her that it didn't matter how long it took, that I would wait for her, that I would be here for her, no matter what? The depth of my feelings for her was so immense. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

I didn't think I'd be stealing any bases that night.

When she emerged from the bathroom, I could see the exhaustion etched into her features. She was tired, not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, in every way possible. Again, all Fucker's fault and his need to show off to The Duck!

She looked at me standing by her bedroom window, and I could see the vulnerability in her eyes. "Jasper?" she said softly, and I turned to face her fully, giving her my undivided attention.

"I'd like you to stay tonight," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I just don't want to be alone."

Okay, I am still wanted upstairs. I have not been relegated to the couch. This is good.

But then, I saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She bit her lip, clearly wrestling with something else. I could sense her uncertainty, the way she was trying to find the right words.

"Tex," she began cautiously, "are you… are you sure you're okay to be near me? I mean, after everything… do you need to hunt again?"

What the fuck Anya? The question stung; I won't lie. She'd asked me to hunt earlier, and I'd done it without hesitation, although I did ask her to join me, but still, I had hunted. Yet now, hearing her ask again, it fucking hurt. Did she still not fully trust me? Did she think I couldn't control myself around her? I lasted an entire car ride smelling her delicious blood and didn't give in. And fuck, I lasted an even longer car ride after I had tasted her delicious blood and didn't succumb to bloodlust. What gives? Where is this coming from?

I knew she wasn't trying to wound me, that she was genuinely concerned for both of us, but it still hurt to think that she might doubt my ability to keep her safe.

I kept my voice gentle, though, not wanting her to pick up on the hurt I was feeling as I walked towards her. "Anya, I'm okay. I made sure of it before I came back. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure I could control myself around you." I could never leave you.

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine, and I could see the worry in them, the need for reassurance. I softened my expression, trying to show her that I understood her concerns, even if they did sting a little. Fuck, who am I kidding? They cut deeper than anything anyone had ever said to me. I kept that thought to myself.

"You don't have to worry about me like that," I continued, brushing my thumb lightly over the back of her hand. "I'm here because I want to be, and because I know I can be. I'd never put you in danger, Anya. You mean too much to me." I'm finally upstairs, I'm not about to say no, even if sex is most definitely not on the menu.

She gave a small, almost hesitant nod, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. I could still feel a trace of unease in her, but it was tempered by the trust she was working so hard to hold on to.

When she finally settled into bed, I wrapped my arms around her, hoping my touch could convey what words couldn't. Snuggling into me, the walls Anya'd built around herself started to crumble, and the tears she'd been holding back finally fell. Along with overwhelming grief & sorrow.

Her quiet sobs tore through me, and my dead heart ached to take away all her pain, her fear, her grief, to make everything right again. I held her closer still, my chin resting in the crook of her neck, my body molded to the contours of hers. My arms wrapped under hers, our fingers entwined resting softly against her chest. I was home. She was my home.

But a nagging fear crept in—the worry that I had inadvertently changed the ending of my creator's story. Anya may not have interfered, but my actions sure as fuck weren't part of the script. My own eyes pooled with venomous tears that would never fall and still I held her closer and breathed in her familiar scent of lilacs and sunshine.


A/N #1: Title inspired by the song Night Moves by Bob Seger. Although now that I actually read the lyrics this chapter and Bob's 'night moves' are total opposite but still, I like the chapter title.

A/N #2: I don't ever recall Meyer's writing that Jasper cries; I do recall him spending a lot of time around Bella in Breaking Dawn because her newborn emotional temperament was so docile (or maybe it was the love she had for Edward, one or the other). Yet, I can imagine Jasper so confused, emotionally drained from Anya's coldness and distance during that awful car ride home, that when they're upstairs for the first time and, curled up with Anya in her bed, as she's finally letting go and crying, grieving, that he too would be crying those awful silent vampiric sobs, wondering how the hell things got so screwed up between them when really, he saved the woman he loved. Whether his feelings are being amplified by Anya or whether it's because of his own fear and grief, hard to say. But I love the image of a man not afraid to cry.

A/N #3 – Do we know when human blood leaves a vegetarian vampire's system? Is there a consensus on this?