Chapter 11: Suspend Disbelief

JPOV

Monday, October 10th, 2005

Catskills, NY

It was official Thanksgiving. Anya threw me a dirty look when I suggested it was Canadian Thanksgiving, telling me with that one look it's simply Thanksgiving and the holiday in November was American Thanksgiving. I held my tongue. In any event, it's Monday. We're both out on the dock lounging in what Anya calls Muskoka chairs – I swear this woman is intent on renaming everything, she even told me it's a chesterfield not a couch. I think she's just glad to have shed her alternate's persona of being the orphaned librarian from Detroit. And with me, these past few weeks, she can simply be Anya Simms, PhD student from McGill.

I need to revenons a nous moutons as Anya would say and get back to the story. It's a sunny day, we're both on the dock lounging. The lake stretched out in front of us, its surface as smooth as glass, reflecting the brilliant reds, golds, and oranges of the surrounding hills. The Catskills are a riot of colour and neither of us want to head back indoors.

Anya was leaning back in her chair beside me, legs tucked under her, a faint smile playing on her lips. She hadn't said much, but I could feel that familiar stir around her—the mischievous energy building, as if she was holding onto a secret. The kind of secret she was just itching to let loose. And one I think that has nothing to do with Eddie Boy's brooding tendencies.

I glanced over at her, enjoying the comfortable quiet between us before breaking it. "Alright, what's so funny?"

She shrugged, her smile deepening. "Nothing," she said, though the sparkle in her eyes gave her away, like it always did when she was hiding something.

I shifted in my seat, turning to face her more directly. "Come on, it's definitely not nothing. Your feelings are practically shouting at me." I smirked, knowing that would coax more out of her. But should I emote some compliance? Decisions, decisions.

She rolled her eyes, a soft laugh slipping through her lips. "I'm just enjoying the view," she said, gesturing toward the lake. The still water mirrored the fiery trees, making it seem like the whole world had doubled in colour and beauty.

I turned back toward the view, letting the quiet linger for a moment, but I could still feel her emotional cocktail filling with restless energy. My mind started working through the possibilities, and it hit me—maybe she wasn't just admiring the view. Maybe she wanted to be part of it, feel it.

I caught the spark of curiosity in her gaze and grinned. "You want to experience it up close, don't you?" I teased, my voice low.

Anya raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "And what exactly does that mean?"

Before she could respond, I sprang to my feet, scooping her up and flipping her onto my back in one swift motion. Her surprised gasp quickly turned into laughter.

"Jasper!" she half-shouted, half-laughed as I bolted down the dock. The sound of my footsteps echoed across the wooden planks before I leaped onto the trail leading into the woods, the leaves crunching beneath me as I sped forward. Her arms tightened around me, but I could feel her excitement building, matching my own.

We raced through the forest, dodging trees and weaving between branches that brushed past us. The wind whipped by, cool against my skin, but the exhilaration of running with her made everything feel electric. Anya's laughter rang through the quiet woods, blending with the rustling leaves above us.

Without breaking stride, I aimed for a towering tree up ahead. In one smooth motion, I began climbing, Anya's laughter still echoing as we shot upward, her joy fueling my every move.

"Jasper, what are you doing?" she asked, breathless, arms looped tightly around my shoulders as I pulled us higher.

"Isn't this what Heathcliff did with The Duck when he invited her to lunch back in March?" I teased. Because she sure as shit didn't eat lunch.

She laughed, face flushed with excitement and the memory. "Yes! In the trailer, he even said, 'Hold on tight, spider monkey.'"

I froze mid-climb, momentarily stunned. "He said that? Seriously?" What the hell Eddie Boy?!

"Yeah," she nodded, still giggling. "But I think that was Hollywood's idea. It wasn't in the book."

I shook my head, chuckling as I resumed climbing. "Is that why you were joking about spider monkeys that afternoon?" Now this makes more sense.

A deeper flush crept across her cheeks. "Maybe…"

I grinned. "So, all this time, you've been calling me a 'spider monkey'?"

"No," she shrugged, eyes sparkling. "That was The Duck's nickname."

I laughed, shaking my head as I pulled us onto a higher branch. "So, let me get this straight—my idiot brother called his singer 'his personal brand of heroin,' and a 'spider monkey,'? Couldn't he stick with just one metaphor?"

Anya nodded, biting back her grin. "Don't forget, he called her a lamb, too."

I groaned. "Okay, so which is it? Spider monkey, heroin, or lamb? Make up your mind, Eddie Boy."

She burst into laughter, her voice ringing through the trees. "Well, it is Heathcliff. No wonder he was so confused in the Spring."

I settled us on a branch, her with her back against the trunk, myself facing her. The wind rustling through the autumn leaves. "Sounds like someone needs to get his poetic license revoked."

Her laughter fading, I found myself studying her, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "Anya, what happened after we left Forks? What did Bella—?"

Her expression hardened, though I caught a flicker of sorrow in her eyes before she narrowed them. "You know better, Tex. I'm the passive reader, remember? Don't be a special kind of stupid."

The firmness in her voice silenced me, but that brief moment of vulnerability lingered in my mind. We sat there quietly, the wind carrying away whatever unspoken questions hung between us.

Something tells me Eddie Boy didn't give the family the full picture. I will file that away for later.

"Okay," I finally muttered, moving towards her, so that she was settled in my lap, her back still against the trunk legs wrapped over my hips. "But I still think Heathcliff's metaphors need some work."

Anya's smirk returned, though her eyes held a trace of that earlier sadness. "Hey, maybe they worked. Duck did fall for it, spider monkey and all. I have to admit," Anya said after a moment, her voice soft but full of amusement, "I can see why teen girls fawned over that chapter. It is exhilarating, rushing through the forest and climbing trees on the back of a vegetarian."

I chuckled and pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Guess that makes me a bit of a hypocrite."

She pulled back slightly to look at me, a playful glint in her eye. "Whatever for, Tex?"

Now it was my turn to feel a little guilty. "Well, I may have ripped Eddie Boy a new one for doing this exact thing with his singer in the Spring. No safety, no thought for what could happen. And yet…" I gestured around us—high up in the branches, no safety gear, just us, the wind, and the colours of the season.

Anya's smile softened, her eyes warm as she idly traced the bitemarks on my hands. "Tex, I trust you. I know you wouldn't let me get hurt." She flashed a teasing grin. "Besides, we're not dangling off a cliff above the Pacific or anything. We're, what, eighty feet up in the Appalachians? Not exactly life-threatening."

I chuckled, the tension easing as I glanced down at the carpet of autumn leaves below. "Eighty feet or not, I can't help but feel like a hypocrite."

"Well, you can stop worrying," she squeezed my hands, her tone light but reassuring. "I trust you. And if you're going to pull off stunts like this, might as well own it." And then she leant in and kissed me lightly.

I grinned, feeling a surge of affection for her. She was right—of course, she was. The way she leaned into life, into the moment, always left me in awe. And in this moment, high up in the trees, with the golden leaves swirling around us, it was easy to forget anything else existed. We sat there in the quiet that followed, wrapped up in each other and the view, the world far below us.

"Anya?" I asked, breaking the stillness.

"Yeah?" she responded, her voice soft.

"Did I ever tell you how my siblings found you on the side of the highway in January?"

She shook her head, raising her eyes to look at me with curiosity. "No, you never did. I mean, I didn't believe that Carlisle 'just happened to be driving behind me' anyway."

"No, he wasn't." I laughed, the memory still vivid in my mind. "It was actually Emmett's idea."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Big Guy? Emmett?" She looked intrigued now, snuggling in closer.

"Yup. Em was restless and wanted to go out to the highway, jump through the trees, and scare the drivers by leaping across the road. You know, for kicks."

She giggled. "Wait, wait—hold on. You guys can actually leap that far? I thought that was more of your creator's 'suspend disbelief' kind of thing."

I leaned in and kissed her, then checked to make sure she was securely seated on the branch. "Care to find out for yourself?"

Her eyes lit up with excitement, the playful energy sparking between us again. "Damn straight, I wanna, Tex!"

Grinning, I kissed her once more. "Alright then. Tell me which tree you want me to leap to."

She glanced around, considering her options, before pointing to a large maple about thirty feet away. "That one."

I nodded, mentally mapping the distance. The wind rustled the leaves around us, the air alive with the sounds of fall. I could feel Anya's anticipation building. Damn that emotional cocktail!

"Hang on tight," I teased before standing up on the branch, balancing easily.

With one swift movement, I sprang from our branch and soared through the air. The wind rushed past me as I flew toward the maple, the ground below a blur of reds, yellows, and oranges. In a split second, I reached out, catching hold of the thick branch Anya had pointed to, landing gracefully. I turned to face her, arms spread, a wide grin on my face.

"How's that for suspending disbelief?" I called back to her.

Anya's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in shock for a moment before breaking into laughter. "Sacrament Tex! That was insane! Do it again!"

I laughed, loving the thrill in her voice. "Your turn to pick another tree."

She pointed excitedly to an even farther one, a tall oak with branches swaying slightly in the breeze. "That one! Show me your best jump, Tex."

I winked, already preparing for the leap. The forest seemed to hold its breath as I launched myself into the air once more, feeling the rush of exhilaration as I soared, the distance closing in an instant. When I landed securely on the oak's thick branch, I looked back to see Anya now standing on her own branch, cheering. This was certainly better than doing it in the rain in the Pacific Northwest.

"I swear, you're showing off now!" she called, her grin as wide as mine.

"Maybe just a little," I admitted, my voice light with amusement. "Stay there—I'll come get you."

I jumped, landing gracefully on the branch of another red maple, closing the gap between us. I was about to reach for her when Anya called out, "Wait! I want to try something."

I paused, raising an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's that?"

"I wanna see how far I can jump. Catch me!"

Her words hung in the air, and my grin faded into something more serious. The playful spark in her eyes didn't waver, though.

"Anya..." I started, feeling a protective instinct kick in.

"Tex, I trust you," she interrupted, her eyes locking with mine. "You said it yourself—I won't get hurt, right?"

I hesitated, eyeing the distance between us. It wasn't thirty feet anymore, perhaps only ten feet but it was still more than she could safely manage. "It's a lot, even now."

She crossed her arms, defiant. "Well, then you better be ready to catch me."

I couldn't help but smile, shaking my head. "Alright," I said, shifting my stance, bracing myself. "I'll catch you."

Anya bent her knees, and for a moment, everything seemed to still. The wind stopped, the trees quieted, and then she jumped. She wasn't a vampire, but her form was sleek and graceful as she soared toward me.

I was there, arms out, ready. She landed against me with a soft thud, and I held her tight as her laughter bubbled up, clinging to me like she'd never doubted the outcome.

"See? I knew you wouldn't let me fall," she whispered, breathless and exhilarated.

I pulled her closer, the world around us fading into the background for a moment. "I'd never let you fall," I whispered back.

We stayed like that for a moment, the wind picking up again, the colours of the world around us swirling as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. It felt like we were suspended in time, high above the ground, lost in the magic of the moment.

Then Anya pulled back slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. "So… which tree next?"

About an hour later, we finally made our way back to the cabin. Anya was practically vibrating with adrenaline, her energy contagious. I hadn't really pegged her for an adrenaline junkie before, but I might have created a monster today. She bounced ahead of me into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the excitement of the late afternoon, and immediately set about making herself some tea. I leaned against the counter, watching her with a smile. The exhilaration still lit up her face, and it was hard not to get caught up in it.

Stirring her tea, she suddenly laughed lightly to herself. "You know, Tex, Heathcliff would lose his shit if he ever caught you thinking about this."

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Who's to say he doesn't know already? Alice might've seen it, and if she did, Heathcliff probably caught wind of it."

Anya's eyes widened slightly before her expression shifted into a wry smile. "Châlice St Cibore! I wish I had actually, you know, injured myself or something. I mean, he throws Bella into a glass table, and you toss me around trees like it's no big deal."

Her comment was playful, but it made me pause for a second. Was she serious? I couldn't tell. There was always that undercurrent with her—an edge of defiance, especially when it came to anything involving brother dearest. Maybe she wouldn't have minded a small injury. Something to really get under his skin, to remind him that I wasn't the reckless one.

I watched her now, wondering if there was a part of her that wanted to prove a point—not just to Edward, but to herself. That she could trust me, that she'd be fine, even after what happened with Bella. Or maybe, she just wanted to piss him off. It was sometimes hard to tell with Anya.

"Anya," I started, still leaning against the counter, "you wouldn't actually want to get hurt, right?"

She met my gaze, a challenge in her eyes. "What if I did?"

I hesitated, not sure where this was coming from. "Isn't that going beyond the role of the passive reader?" I asked, my voice cautious. Her comment was bold, but I felt this was more than the birthday party.

She shrugged, her expression sharp. "Probably. But Eddie Boy is an ass. And if me getting—oh, I don't know—bark rash or scraped knees from hitting the tree, just a bit of blood, like a paper cut's worth, and you take care of me afterward... it might, well, put the ass in his place."

I stared at her, taken aback. "You really hate that I'm blamed for it?" Or is it just about the birthday party?

Her eyes softened as she stepped closer. "Jasper, I love you, and I know you. You were completely blameless in what happened. I've always thought so." She reached out, resting her hand on my chest. "I just hate how your creator set the premise for the second book. Ugh." She paused, a flash of frustration crossing her face. "Perhaps I am moving beyond my role."

I watched her closely, noting the shift in her expression. It wasn't just frustration; it was something else, perhaps even darker. She was keeping something to herself, and I knew her well enough to recognize when she was trying to bury it.

Yes, Eddie Boy definitely kept something from us…now what the fuck was it?

I glanced at the tea she had just made and then back at her. "You want wine instead of tea?" I offered, my voice gentle.

She hesitated for a second, then gave a small smile. "Wine might be better, actually."

I crossed the kitchen to grab a bottle from the rack, a Sauvignon Blanc from California, pouring her a glass while she stood by the counter, swirling the spoon in her tea absently. I could feel the tension in the room, the unsaid thoughts between us. She took the glass when I handed it to her, sipping slowly and handed back her mug of tea.

"You don't have to keep it all to yourself, you know," I said softly, leaning against the counter beside her after I deposited the mug into the sink.

She sighed, her eyes fixed on the pale liquid in her glass. "It's just… sometimes, it's hard. Knowing what's going to happen. Seeing it unfold. Having to blend into the background, stuck in a story I don't particularly like." She looked up at me, her expression filled with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "I'm not supposed to meddle. But I can't help it when it's you. When you're blamed for things that were never your fault."

I studied her, taking in the weight of her words. "And if you could change it?" I asked carefully as I moved toward the counter, pulling out some bread and fixings. "If you could rewrite all of this?" I am NOT prepared to have her ruin any more of my vintage shirts, thank you very much.

Anya took another long swig of her wine, her eyes dark with frustration. "Tex, don't be a special kind of stupid," she muttered. "You know I had this debate with myself in the Spring, and you know what I came to?"

I paused, looking at her. "What?" Knife still held aloft.

"I am not a Greek god, Tex. I'm not here to meddle with the lives of the mortals."

I half-smiled as I spread mustard onto the bread. "Darlin', you know I'm not a mere mortal."

She waved her hand, exasperated. "Tex, it's an expression. But it remains the same. I'm not here to meddle. I'm the passive reader. And now we are in—hell, no—purgatory? Exile? Gah!" She took another gulp of wine, shaking her head as if the very idea made her itch.

I glanced over at her, feeling the weight of her inner turmoil. As I stacked some sliced ham and cheese onto the bread, I watched her, trying to gauge how much of this was frustration and how much of it was pain she hadn't voiced. Anya had always prided herself on staying out of the story, being the observer, but here she was, clearly torn between that role and the life she was building with me.

"So, you're saying you don't want to change anything?" I asked, carefully cutting the sandwich in half and sliding it onto a plate. "Even though it's messing with you this much?"

She set the wine glass down with a soft thud, her brow furrowing. "It's not that I don't want to change things. It's that I can't. Or… I shouldn't."

I placed the sandwich in front of her, hoping she'd eat something to balance out the wine. "Maybe it's not about changes for the worst. Maybe it's about making it better." I echoed my earlier thought, leaning on the counter beside her. "You're not just the passive reader anymore, Anya. You're part of this world, and you have a voice. You have a choice."

Anya shook her head, a sigh slipping out as she swirled the wine in her glass. "Tex, I don't. It's like that damn baseball game. I never should have been there. The plot went wildly off course, and it only got back on track when I blended into the background and did nothing." Her eyes met mine, a trace of resignation there, but softened by the hint of a smile. "At least this time, I've got you to myself as we engage in various pursuits."

I smirked. "Hmm, yes, well, we can cross tree climbing off that list."

She raised an eyebrow, amused, before taking a bite of the sandwich. "Oh, you've been making a list of our pursuits, have you?"

Thank God, she's eating, I thought, glancing at the wine bottle she kept eying. I kept that thought to myself and played along. "Well, since you mention it, we've taken up music, latte art, regular art…" I trailed my fingers gently along the henna tattoos on her arms.

"Getting shit-faced drunk?" she added with a wry grin, taking another large swallow of wine after her bite, before topping off the wine glass.

Maybe I should make her a second sandwich? Is she planning to get shit-faced drunk again tonight? I kept those thoughts to myself and instead laughed lightly while shaking my head. "Maybe not a pursuit to add to the official list, but I'll let it slide."

She laughed softly, her mood lifting, at least for the moment. "And we can add in dazzling Anya on every sunny day."

That made me laugh, the memory of our first morning here flashing through my mind. She'd been nearly delirious with desire when she saw my scars and bite marks glistening in the sunlight that flooded our bedroom. We hadn't left the room that entire day.

"Yeah, I remember," I said, grinning at the thought. "You couldn't take your eyes off me. Could barely keep your hands to yourself either."

She gave me a sly smile. "Can you blame me? You were like some kind of living masterpiece. Besides, those bite marks and scars tell a story I'll never get tired of."

I leaned in, brushing my thumb across her cheek. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special." Maybe I can distract her the old fashion way and she'll forget all about getting shit-faced drunk tonight…