OPEN WIDE

"I can never tear myself open wide enough to people to reveal everything and so frighten them away."
—Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

—

DECEMBER 7TH 2039
8:11PM MST
NEDERLAND, COLORADO

When Jasper returned to the garage, Peter did not relinquish his control.

"I'm rusty," he'd remarked when Jasper gave the newborns at the end of the garage a pointed, angry look. Two men, who'd curiously glanced back toward Jasper as Peter jogged over to him, quickly averted their wandering eyes. Jasper had reached out with his ability, grasped their fear and anger pulsing inside their chests, and poked at it, increasing it ever-so-slightly as he encouraged their resentment.

Now, Jasper watched silently as he took a handful of minutes to split his focus between the fight training happening before him and the agonies of the rest of the household. There was a trilling noise that Jasper could not place as his attention shifted from room to room, eavesdropping as best as he could on his family.

Rosalie and Bella were speaking softly, but not about any of the information Jasper had given to them, which was surprising. Perhaps there was nothing to be said. He was a monster. He always had been and he always would be, and if they made it out of this alive he would only deserve it if they decided to fill in the blanks and avoid him for eternity.

Of course, they would make it out alive. Jasper knew that if anyone wasn't going to make it out of this alive, it would be him. He would have to be dead, lying in pieces atop a pyre, for him to allow any harm to come to them.

Instead, Rosalie and Bella sat together in the den discussing some doorway camera they'd managed to hack into from the Denali's main mountainside household. There wasn't anything to see visually, but they were still trying to find a way to access the audio; anything to find more clues as to what had really happened there.

They already knew what had happened, Jasper thought, before dismissing the idea.

It seemed he wasn't the only person who was doubting Alice's reliability.

He pulled his attention away from them at that thought, not wanting his current anger to direct itself toward them undeservingly. He was angry at himself. Angry at Maria. Angry at Esteban. He would not smother this anger, but he had to at least keep it contained within himself. It would be useful eventually, but not yet.

Edward was in the loft alongside Esme, who had ceased her humming but had yet to answer any of Edward's questions. Jasper assumed (and hoped) that she was replying in her mind, but he hadn't heard her talk since her breakdown in the kitchen the other day.

Maybe she had though. There was a chance Jasper just hadn't heard it. He'd been so focused on training these men that there was so much he'd missed around the household.

Ah, there it was. It seemed Edward was still listening into his thoughts. The tick of irritation that Jasper had felt earlier from Edward, after he'd failed to see Alice and the rest of the hunting party off, was still present.

The last time he and Edward had spoken had been an argument the day prior. Edward didn't think that fear was an effective training tool. Jasper would not take advice or alternative ideas on how to control the newborns, and told Edward as much. What he didn't say, and what ran through his head instead, was that he was not going to take tips from someone who didn't know what they were talking about.

Of course, Edward chose that moment to reply to his thoughts and not his words; a habit that usually triggered a majority of arguments between Edward and Rosalie. Jasper had stalked away shortly after—he'd only left the garage to change his shirt, which one of the men had torn while Jasper was demonstrating how to get out of a particular grab—and didn't even bother walking to his room to get a new one.

Emmett had excused himself from the garage, having overheard the argument, and returned a few minutes later with a new shirt for him. Jasper had pretended not to hear Emmett tell Edward to "stop picking fights."

Jasper hadn't heard Edward's reply.

He knew part of the reason that Edward wanted him to stop was because the entire south end of the house—the garage and then a small radius outside of it—had been enveloped in a sea of rage and frustration for the last day. Jasper had thought for half of a second about that fact before dismissing it. The loft was definitely out of range of the unease emanating out of him for the benefit of the newborns, so there wasn't much of a risk of Esme accidentally wandering too close while she flitted around the large upstairs space. Nothing was above the garage except for storage and then the roof.

If the atmosphere of hate that he expelled while in the garage kept his family from approaching and looking for him, then good. It was already bad enough that Emmett was having to deal with it every so often when he came to help out. Even worse that Peter, who had only been watching but now was participating in the training, was having Jasper's ability inflicted on him, too.

How irritating it was, to be worsening his loved one's misery.

Again, Jasper heard a soft trilling sound that ceased after several seconds. He heard Edward's frustration and the sound of his voice mumbling something nearly-incoherent. Then, "I'm going to try a few more times." Then, the muted ringing started back up.

Jasper didn't know who Edward was calling. For a moment he focused solely on the medium-pitched tone on the other end of the line, and when he heard what must have been a voicemail message begin, he could only barely decipher the voice. Edward was still calling Tanya's phone.

Alice had confirmed earlier in the night that she was still receiving flashes of Kate, Garrett, and Carmen. She claimed she'd seen Eleazar's death and could not report a verdict on Tanya, but there was still a weak, wavering hope that flickered through the air whenever they thought of their allies up north. The hope was always overshadowed by fear, but it still existed and they all clung to it desperately.

Typically, he would have stoked the dying fires of everyone's hope. He might even kickstart something peaceful or soothing, taming the atmosphere throughout the house with a gentle nudge in the right direction.

But he didn't.

Jasper contemplated stepping away again and wondered if he'd be able to get away with a quick shower—anything to let him finally detangle his damn hair—without anyone interrupting him. Peter was doing well with the newborns; he had slipped into the old role just as easily as Jasper had with his. Perhaps they would never be rid of that part of themselves; the monster could be just as easily accessed as the man, it seemed.

He turned to make a departure, having made his mind up about taking a few minutes to himself upstairs, when a sharp burst of panic erupted from the loft. Jasper was running through the house before he could think twice only to almost collide headlong into Edward on the second flight of stairs.

"Come on, no time," Edward pushed past him swiftly, forcing Jasper to follow closely behind, not a clue as to what was happening. Instantly, worst-case scenarios entered his mind as they barreled down the rest of the stairs. Esme's arm was tight in Edward's grip as he pulled her after him, and her shock and fear was all on display.

Did you get a hold of them? What happened? Jasper found the mental barrage of questions coming one after the other, feeling desperate for an answer as they all gathered in the kitchen. Even Peter had emerged from the garage, and just beyond him Jasper could see a couple of the newborns peering into the house for the first time.

Before Jasper could snap at them, and command them to get back into the garage and wait, he heard it. Someone was yelling. No, not just someone, Carlisle.

Esme was the first in motion as the sound of distant shouting registered in their ears. Jasper followed after her into the backyard, not willing to let her get too far. After all, this could be it. There was a chance Esteban and his army was on the way, following Carlisle and Alice and Emmett and Maria back to the house, ready to ambush them.

"Pete!" Jasper barked his name, but before he could say anything else he could already hear Peter giving out orders, and he knew that this was it. It was time.

Esme kept moving forward, blindly pushing into the forest, the only destination in mind barreling toward them and still shouting—the words were finally discernible now "We have to go!" Carlisle's voice increased in volume with every passing millisecond, "Get everyone together, hurry!"—and when Jasper did not hear anyone else's voices carrying alongside Carlisle's, his focus splintered.

"Wait," Jasper finally reached out and grabbed Esme's arm, pulling her to a stop as gently as he could. Something was not right. Where was everyone else? Where was Maria?

Where was—

Esme smacked his hand away and the shock of that alone prevented him from reacting promptly enough. It was Edward who stepped in front of her, holding an arm out and begging her to wait a few more seconds.

"Bella and Rose are making sure Peter has the newborns ready, I—I promise we'll go in just a moment." Edward paused long enough to throw an arm over Esme's shoulders, stilling her fully, and turned his head back to the house. "Lighters! Someone grab a phone—two actually. Code the wall—no, switch the generator first then code it." Then, he turned toward where Carlisle was approaching, and yelled louder, "I know, I—we're getting everything. Hold on—"

Jasper could just barely hear Rosalie shouting back, "I got it, I got it!" over the sound of the newborns approaching.

The fear that was bursting forth out of Edward sank into Jasper so easily that he wasn't sure how much of the emotion belonged to Edward and how much was forming organically within him. This fear was sharp and overpowering, with panic pushing it into a scrambling sort of action. Only something terrible would render Edward to a fumbling, rambling mess like this.

"Edward," he didn't decide to start speaking, but somehow his mouth began to form words. "Where is everyone else?" By that point they could all hear Carlisle close by, and only Carlisle.

Edward did not look at him nor did he say anything. Instead he stared toward where Carlisle was fast approaching, mouth agape in open horror. Whatever Edward was gathering from Carlisle's head was enough to sink his already terrified mood even lower.

"What happened, Edward?" But Edward did not reply, because a second later, Carlisle was closing in on them.

"She was right," Carlisle started speaking before he was even in sight, "Volturi. We have to go now. There's no time." In an instant Carlisle was before them, more disheveled and panicked than Jasper had ever seen him in the century he'd known him. Carlisle wrapped Esme up tight in his arms as his feet skidded to a stop and by this point, everyone else was fast approaching, the hum of the steel doors in the distance the loudest sign that Bella, Rosalie, Peter, and the newborns were nearly there.

"Where's Emmett?" Rosalie's voice came from behind them, and the panic that Jasper could feel from her was another nail driven into his hollow sternum. Jasper ignored the sensation as he stared at Carlisle, who pulled back from Esme only to grab her by the hand and usher her backward, placing her in position.

Carlisle was covered in mud, his shirt wet from melted snow and his hair a complete mess of dead grass and streaks of earth. He did not respond to Rosalie so she repeated her question again, more hysterically this time. Carlisle finally disentangled his hand from Esme's to step forward into the formation that was slowly forming around them, and lifted his eyes only to meet Jasper's blank stare.

Carlisle did not speak to Jasper. He did not reply to Rosalie. Instead, his words were for Bella, "Alec is with them. I don't know who else," he finally turned back to watch where Bella stood by herself between three newborns. Emmett was not there at her side to keep an eye on her. Esme also stood in the middle, no Maria and no Alice to stand between.

Already, their carefully planned strategy was in pieces.

And Jasper still didn't know what had happened. He needed—he needed to know where—where—

"Pete," he spoke clearly above Rosalie's rising hysteria, "fill in for Emmett," he did not recognize the words as his own even as he spoke them. "Rose, step back with Esme. You," he snapped his fingers, and when the four newborns at the front with him—despite his unmoving feet, everyone had fallen into formation around him—looked his way, he pointed to the shortest man, "in the middle with them. If anything comes through you shift to defense. Don't let a single thing touch them." With this shifting of their formation, suddenly he felt calm, as if a gentle ripple of cool water had washed over him, soothing him into a state of detached tranquility.

This, he could do. He could rearrange this army of his and lead them forward. There was an enemy out there and Jasper knew what to do. Volturi or warlord. Aro or Esteban. The person who commanded the forces that decided this was the way Jasper would pay for his crimes did not matter. Nothing Jasper had ever done in his life mattered right now, except for what Jasper knew how to do.

Jasper knew, better than he knew how to do anything, how to kill.

He did not say anything as he turned and started moving. He did not spare a glance for his family or a soothing word for Rosalie, whose panic was spurring a terrified anger inside of her. Jasper only gathered all the calm focus that he felt inside of him, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, throwing the single-minded concentration above them all like a blanket. In it, fear, anger, sadness, confusion all writhed, squirming throughout everyone, fully contained.

Jasper did not let a single emotion escape the atmosphere he now forced upon the patchwork army behind him. Instead he fine-tuned it, directed it forward, forced all of the ugly emotions into the background of everyone's mind, and let that be the fuel that pushed them forward.

The promise of death at his own hands lay before him, an open doorway tempting him with the chance to let loose, to exercise a muscle that had long gone unstretched, to do what he was made to do.

Jasper stepped through that doorway, and did not look back.