Chapter 7: First Visit

JPOV

Sat Oct 1, 2005 Catskills, NY

Emmett and Rosalie stood there in the main room, their eyes flicking from me to Anya as she retreated to her study.

They wanted an answer. This wasn't just a social call.

No, they came to check up on us. To ensure that Anya was still Anya. Human. That I hadn't given in to temptation and either drained her or turned her.

The thought alone made my jaw clench. I knew they meant well; that they were here out of concern, but it didn't make the sting any less sharp. Edward's twisted narrative still hung over us like a shadow, poisoning the way they looked at me.

"Jasper," Rosalie started, her voice smooth but edged with a hint of worry. "Is everything… okay?"

I forced myself to relax, to push down the frustration gnawing at me. "Everything's fine, Rosalie," I replied, keeping my tone even.

Emmett, less subtle as always, crossed his arms and gave me a hard look. "You sure, man?"

His eyes flicked up to mine and then back towards where Anya had retreated.

Right, even now, six months later, my eyes still had the faintest trace of red. From when I had—snacked on Anya to get all the venom out of her. To keep her here with me. She and I both knew that wasn't normal. And so did my family. Although the fact they waited until now to ask about it seemed odd. But given that I had recently nearly taken a bite out of Bella, maybe they thought I was slipping and what? Having a nightcap?

The thought was ludicrous.

I sat down on the couch and started to laugh. They truly think I had her tied up here, where I could have a little nibble when needed. The insanity of it all was too much, the tension snapping as I imagined the wild scenarios playing out in their heads.

But as my laughter died down, the reality of the situation settled back in. How do I explain this? Anya had been clear she didn't want Carlisle to know what had really happened when James bit her. But Edward knew—he and I had had a heart-to-heart after we all got back from Phoenix. And now Emmett and Rosalie were expecting answers.

Could I share? Would this change the narrative?

I continued to ponder this when Rosalie broke the silence, placing a hand gently on my knee. "Jasper?"

Her voice was soft, full of concern. It pulled me back to the present, away from the tangled thoughts and doubts clouding in my mind. I looked at her, seeing the genuine worry in her eyes, and then at Emmett, who was trying to mask his own unease with his usual bravado.

They weren't here to judge me. They were here because they cared.

But the truth was complicated, messy in ways they couldn't understand. I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me, the secrets that Anya and I had kept to ourselves. She had wanted to protect them from the truth, to keep Carlisle from dissecting every detail of what happened in Phoenix.

But now, as Rosalie's hand rested on my knee and Emmett's gaze bore into me, I wondered if it was time to let them in. To share the burden that Anya and I had been carrying alone.

"Gimme a second," I said, my voice firm but distant. With a whoosh, I was up and knocking softly at the study door.

"Took you long enough," was the response I got, and when I entered, there was Anya, dutifully at her corkboard, pinning up cue cards as she tried to tease apart an aspect of her dissertation. Her back was to me, and as she leaned up to pin a card, the hem of her tank rose ever so slightly, revealing the tattoo curling up and around her back.

Focus, Whitlock, I reminded myself.

"I suppose you know why they're really here?" I asked tentatively, trying to gauge her mood.

She turned around, the stack of cue cards in her hand waving like a fan as she debated her answer. "Well, various pursuits, away from Forks, Ithaca... I already caused ripples." She was talking more to herself, trying to decide what she could or couldn't share.

I waited patiently, knowing that only she could decide what was or wasn't safe to share.

Eventually, she muttered, "Oh, Fuck it! The ripple happened the moment the damn Germans saw me at the baseball game."

Even in her turmoil, she stubbornly insisted on sticking with her euphemisms.

Her head lifted, and she gave me a soft nod. "Just stick with the colourful language—dog bites, allergic reactions."

Okay, she was giving me permission to share with Emmett and Rosalie.

I walked over to her and kissed her lightly. "Thanks, Anya."

"Team Jasper to the end," she replied, her voice steady, before adding, almost as an afterthought, "I meant what I said about Carlisle—I'm not a bug to be pinned to a board and examined under a microscope."

"I know," I said softly, my hand lingering on her shoulder. "I'll make sure they know that too."

She smiled, a small but genuine smile before going back to pinning cue cards to the board.

Leaving the study, closing the door quietly behind me, I felt a renewed sense of resolve. Anya had given me her trust, her permission to share the truth in a way that would protect both of us. Now the hard part, how the fuck do I share so they understood, without crossing the lines Anya had drawn.

When I returned to the main room, I found them still waiting, their concern etched into their expressions.

"Alright," I began, settling back onto the couch, but I couldn't sit still. I needed to be up and moving around as I gathered my thoughts, trying to remember all the euphemisms Anya always insisted on using to keep to her role as the passive reader. My siblings continued to sit there and observe, their eyes following me as I paced the room.

I started wryly, "You know, Anya would probably say you need some popcorn for this tale."

Emmett laughed at the remark and settled himself comfortably, pantomiming eating popcorn. Rosalie, ever the pragmatist, rolled her eyes but still played along, pretending to grab a handful.

"Jazz-man, we're ready. Knock us dead!"

"We already are," I deadpanned back to Emmett, drawing a chuckle from him. Then I took a deep unnecessary breath and started. "As you know, Anya isn't from here. She's from a world where we're all fictional characters in a book."

Emmett nodded, grinning. "Yep—the epic love story of Heathcliff – Edward, and Bella."

I shook my head, suppressing a smile. "Yes, and when she realized where she was, she leaned into it. Hence—"

Emmett, never one to miss an opportunity, started dramatically singing, "Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy, I've come home, I'm so cold, let me in through your window…"

"Precisely, Em," I said, cutting him off before he got too carried away. "She knew that our creator modeled Edward's temperament after Heathcliff."

Rosalie rolled her eyes at Emmett's theatrics, but even she couldn't hide the amusement on her face. "So, Anya's been comparing Edward to one of the most brooding characters in literature?"

"No," I countered, knowing how much Anya despised the endless brooding. "I'd say she's more annoyed that our creator wrote a modern adaptation of Heathcliff. But let's try and stay on track. Anya knows things about our world. Knows about treaties and unwritten rules."

When I saw Emmett about to say something, I sharply barked, "No!" to stop him, then I sat back on the couch, trying to calm the rush of emotions.

Fuck, this was hard. Taking another unnecessary deep breath, I continued, "She knows how the story—the playbook, if you would—is supposed to go. And at first, she had fun needling Edward. But then she and I... well, let's just say she's always preferred me—my character—over any of the others."

"Not even me?" Emmett asked, a mock pout on his face.

"Not even you," I confirmed, "although you do remind her of her younger brothers, which..." I paused, realizing how much she liked Emmett in that brotherly way. "Which means she's pretty fond of you, actually."

Emmett grinned at that, clearly pleased with the comparison, but I pressed on. "Again, I'm getting ahead of myself. She was okay with going along with the plot, but then the night of the baseball game..."

"When the no—"

"Germans, Emmett. They're Germans," I interrupted, correcting him before he could say the word that Anya had firmly replaced with her own term.

Emmett laughed, but he didn't argue. "Right, Germans. My bad."

I shook my head, trying to keep the conversation on track. "That night changed everything for her. It was one thing to needle Edward and spend time with me. But that night, she knew she had absolutely no business being there. She knew exactly how evil these Germans were. And with two humans instead of just Bella, she realized that our creator's plot was about to wildly deviate."

Rosalie's brow furrowed, her concern deepening. "That's why her behaviour shifted so suddenly?"

"Exactly," I said, nodding. "It's why she started channeling her boredom and calm. She didn't see them as – monsters – ready to kill herself and Bella, but as just German soldiers at a checkpoint. It was the only way she could cope, to keep the narrative from spiraling out of control."

"Oh, like her dissertation work," Emmett added casually. "About the French resistance workers."

I froze, my gaze snapping to Emmett. "How do you know that?"

Now it was Emmett's turn to look at me as if I were the one missing something. "Ahh, right," I muttered, piecing it together. Emmett had been to Anya's house a few times, probably seen her work spread out—papers, books, notes on the Resistance. He was more perceptive than I gave him credit for.

"She's been immersed in that research for years," I explained, trying to shake off the surprise. "So, when she was suddenly thrust into this very real life-or-death situation, she drew on what she knew—how to keep calm, how to blend in, how to survive."

Rosalie nodded slowly. "So, she used her research to navigate that night. That explains why she suddenly changed her clothes and why Carlisle gave me three..." She paused, unsure of what euphemism Anya would use.

I couldn't help but laugh lightly. "The word is breadcrumbs," I said, amused by Rosalie's hesitation at why she had to handle three vials of Anya's blood.

Rosalie's eyes widened in realization. "Breadcrumbs. That makes sense now. I remember thinking it was odd at the time, but Carlisle told me to ahh sprinkle them about."

"She did," I confirmed. "Anya was using every bit of knowledge she had. Changing her clothes, leaving those 'breadcrumbs'—it was all part of her strategy to keep us safe, to confuse the German, to keep the story from taking a darker turn."

Emmett shook his head, clearly impressed. "Man, she really thought of everything, didn't she?"

Rosalie suddenly blurted out, "And then she got into a car with you after… providing Carlisle with breadcrumbs?!" Her eyes were wide with disbelief as the reality of that choice hit her. Ahh, right—her broken skin, the scent of her blood still fresh. Oh, how fucking delicious that smelled, my kinda kink.

"Yes, Rosalie," I said, nodding slowly. "It was a calculated risk. Anya knew what she was doing, and she had every faith that I would hold it together long enough before we could, well, air the car out, as it were."

Rosalie's expression softened slightly, but the concern lingered. "That must've been incredibly difficult for both of you."

"It was," I admitted, the memory of that tense ride flashing through my mind. "But Anya trusted me. And she channeled her boredom to ensure she blended into the background as it were."

Emmett, catching on, nodded. "As the passive reader."

"Exactly," I confirmed. "And that wasn't even the hard part."

"WHAT?" they both exclaimed together, clearly unable to fathom what could have been harder than that.

I paused, to gather myself and mentally prepare to explain the most difficult part of all. "She knew how the story was supposed to end. And she knew there was nothing she could do to change it. She had already caused too many ripples. She knew what Bella would do, leading to Edward arriving and then fighting the German to the death."

Rosalie's eyes widened in disbelief, her voice rising with emotion. "Jasper—she went into that dance studio. She was there!" she screamed at me, unable to comprehend how I could let that happen.

I held her gaze, feeling the weight of her anger and confusion, but also understanding where it came from. Fuck, how do I dumb this down?

I turned to Emmett; he would probably get this better. "Emmett, what do you do when you're reading a great thriller and the big fight scene is about to happen? When the hero kills the villain. Do you...?" I left the question hanging.

Emmett thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "Do I just toss the book aside, or do I keep reading to see how it ends?"

"Precisely," I said, relief washing over me. Yes, he is perceptive.

Rosalie's features softened, the anger in her eyes fading to understanding. "She really is the reader, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," I confirmed, a small smile tugging at my lips. "She couldn't just walk away from the story, not when she knew how it was supposed to end."

"But what about the German?" Rosalie concerningly pressed. "I doubt he attacked two humans in the studio in the book."

I sobered at her question, impressed by her perception. "No, you're right." I paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "When the German Shepherd bit her, it wasn't like in the book. It was more like... an allergic reaction."

"You mean she wasn't writhing on the floor in pain as the...?" Emmett trailed off, unsure of what word Anya used for venom. Now that I thought about it, Anya never outright used the word. Dog drool. That's what I had thought of that morning when we were talking about what her wound would look like. Again, what the fuck Whitlock, dog drool for venom?!

"Dog drool. Again, you're right, Emmett," I said, wincing at my poor choice of words. "When she was bitten, it was more like her ticket home. She had finished the story and was setting the book aside." As I spoke, I felt the weight of my decision pressing down on me, my fingers absently tracing the bite marks on my own skin. The memories of what happened in that dance studio came flooding back, and I found myself repeating Anya's words softly to myself.

"There was a flash when Edward went to charge, and James sidestepped him. I shouldn't have been able to see it, given I'm just a measly human, but maybe since I really didn't belong in this fictional world, the normal rules of physics didn't apply. I saw the look of pure hunger in James' eyes. I even saw his nostrils flare as he caught you in his peripheral. One moment in front of me, the next back to fighting with Edward. I looked down at my left wrist to see a beautiful, symmetrical set of teeth marks on my skin. Even their weapons are eerily decadent."

Both of my siblings understood the implication of that. No human should have been able to see all of that if it happened at vampire speed.

Rosalie was the first to respond, her voice soft but filled with understanding. "Because she's not from this world, she had an allergic reaction, and you…"

"Yeah, Rose," I admitted, my voice heavy with the truth I had been carrying. "I refused to let her go and decided to stop the process, effectively trapping her here."

Her gaze softened as she realized the depth of my choice. Emmett, always more direct, cut straight to the point. "Hence the red in the eyes, bro?"

"Exactly," I confirmed, my voice steady despite the emotions churning within me. "I had to drain the dog drool, every drop, to keep her from going home. To keep her here in this—" I threw my hands around, gesturing to the world around us—"this fictional world. And because she was never meant to be here, my little snack has left its mark on me. Much like my teeth on her skin."

"Ahh," Emmett leered suggestively, his grin widening. "That's what she meant by you being upset about a German Shepherd peeing on your favourite tree."

I rolled my eyes at his remark, though I couldn't help but smirk a little. Leave it to Emmett to turn a serious conversation into something suggestive. Even if it was Anya who had said it first.

Rosalie, however, wasn't swayed by Emmett's teasing. "That still doesn't explain her obsession with marking her body with your bite marks, Jazz," she pointed out, her brow furrowed with curiosity. "Why would she want to keep those reminders?"

I nodded, understanding her confusion. "You're right, Rose. It is strange, especially since she shouldn't be able to see all of them. But... well, as I said, she has always preferred my character to any other." I laughed lightly, trying to make sense of it myself. "She's dazzled by them."

Neither of my siblings seemed to grasp where I was going with this. Hell, even I had trouble fully understanding it. "The best I can tell is that the reason she's never shown any fear around us—vegetarians—is because she knew what to expect. How our creator described us. But because she's always been attracted to me—to the fictional me—once she was trapped here..."

Emmett, ever the practical one, jumped in. "Your version of the vegetarian dazzle is different?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "And when I saved her, we became connected in a way I can't entirely explain. The bite marks, the tattoos—they're part of that connection. It's almost like a grounding mechanism for her. Honestly, I don't fully understand it, and I don't think she does either, but it's... therapeutic for us, in a way."

Emmett couldn't resist teasing. "Well, that's one way to describe it."

I couldn't help but smile at his remark, but there was a seriousness beneath it all. "It's more than just fascination or attraction. It's like she's claiming her place in this world—using those marks as a way to say she belongs here, with me. And in a strange way, it's comforting for both of us."

Rosalie's expression shifted suddenly, as if a new thought had just occurred to her. "Did she know about the birthday party, Jasper?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern.

Ahh, shit. How do I explain this part?

The look on my face must have given me away, because I saw the realization dawn on both of them.

"She did know," Emmett said, his voice low.

Rosalie's eyes narrowed, her concern turning to something closer to anger. "Why didn't she stop it, Jazz? Why didn't you?"

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their questions pressing down on me. This was the part I'd been dreading, the part that was hardest to explain. "Because she knew she couldn't," I finally said, my voice heavy with the truth. "She knew how the story was supposed to go, how it had to go. She understood that if she tried to stop it, the consequences could be... unpredictable."

Emmett's brow furrowed, still not fully understanding. "But she knew what was going to happen. She knew you'd..."

"Almost lose control," I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, she knew. And she chose to let it play out."

Rosalie's anger softened into something more like disbelief. "But why, Jasper? Why would she let something like that happen when she could have done something to change it?"

"Because she knew that changing it could lead to something worse," I explained, struggling to put Anya's reasoning into words. "She wasn't just a passive observer, but she also knew that some events—certain key moments—were fixed. If she altered them, it could unravel everything. And she didn't know what the outcome would be."

Rosalie's eyes were wide with understanding but also with the weight of what that meant. "So, she let you go through that... knowing what it would cost you?"

I nodded, the memory of that night still raw. "She hated it, Rose. But she believed it was the only way to keep the story from going off the rails, to keep things from spiraling into something none of us could control."

Before I could continue, a sharp scream pierced the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of a coffee cup shattering against the window near us.

All three of us snapped to attention, the tension in the room skyrocketing. In a split second, I was on my feet, looking towards the study door.

Anya.