Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the collective works of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga

Girl Detective

Louisa was disappointed to find that Jasper had already left by the time she awoke the next morning. That wasn't to say she was alone in her room, however. The reason for his absence became apparent when she realised that Dottie had snuck into her bed sometime during the night and had somehow managed to steal most of the blankets on the bed. Louisa brushed the hair out of her sister's serene face, fingers ghosting over the bruise on her temple that she had incurred during the previous day's events.

She disentangled herself from her sister and sat up, her vision blotchy. She reached over her sister for her phone, which usually rested on the bedside table, before remembering that her mobile was still at school. In its place was a glass of water, which she almost knocked over with her clumsy fumbling. Steadying the glass, she noticed that it had been placed on top of a folded up white handkerchief. Next to it was a pot of pain medicine, which she all but dove for, downing the maximum dosage when she realised how much her head hurt. The movement must have roused Dottie, who sat up, bleary-eyed and disgruntled with the rude awakening.

"Happy Birthday," Louisa murmured, wincing when her head gave a nasty throb.

Dottie hummed in appreciation before laying back down to rest her head in Louisa's lap, and when she didn't say anything else, Louisa assumed she had gone back to sleep. Louisa reached for the handkerchief Jasper had left behind, worrying the soft cotton fabric between the fingers of one hand whilst the other stroked Dottie's hair. She leaned her head against the headboard, trying to swallow back her nausea, and organise her thoughts. Chief Swan had requested her presence at the police station for a formal interview, and Louisa knew she didn't have much time to get her story straight. She could hardly say that she had used her psychic powers to find a mysterious cabin in the woods, after all.

As if sensing her thoughts, Dottie spoke, starting Louisa out of her reverie. "How did you do it?"

Louisa's hands stilled, body tensing at the question. She knew that Dottie knew Louisa had done something unnatural yesterday, so there was really no point in denying it. Lying straight to her sister's face would only serve to piss her off, but the truth was so preposterous, that Dottie might assume that she was lying anyway.

Oblivious to her sister's internal struggle, Dottie continued on. "It's like that time with Spencer. You had no way of knowing where he was, yet you found him minutes after I told you he was missing."

Louisa decided to ignore the last accusation. "And I couldn't have looked up the cabin before coming to get you?"

Dottie sat up and fixed her with a stern look. "I had the car keys in my bag, and I know you didn't steal a car. Even if you knew where the cabin was, you had no practical way of getting to me. So how did you do it?"

Louisa's chest constricted in panic, realising just how reckless she had been yesterday. How would she even explain her appearance at the cabin? She realised she couldn't even explain how she knew it existed when even the police had been surprised to hear about it. She cleared her throat, but each attempt to speak ended with choked half sounds that held little meaning outside of conveying that she knew she had been caught up in a lie

Dottie fixed her with a look that left Louisa feeling exposed. "You know about a lot of stuff that you shouldn't," Dottie accused when Louisa didn't respond. "And it's not just because you are nosy. It's way beyond that."

"You've put a lot of thought into this," Louisa finally managed to respond, her voice breathy. She put way more thought into her mysterious arrival at the cabin than Louisa would have thought she would have. And in one night too. Unless it wasn't all in one night, she realised. She pulled away from Dottie, drawing her knees up to her chest, and surveyed her sister with an expression that she hoped came off more calculating than panicked.

"Your sister is extraordinarily perceptive," Jasper's voice echoed in her ears.

No shit. Dottie must have known something was wrong for months but hadn't said anything. Yesterday had been one more piece of evidence, the final nail in the coffin of her suspicions.

"I bet the Cullen's know your secret," Dottie snapped. "Why can't I?"

"It's dangerous, Dottie." Louisa realised a second too late that she had walked straight into a trap and confirmed her sister's suspicions.

There was a beat of silence and Dottie seemed to surprise that Louisa had actually fallen for it. "So there is something."

Louisa buried her face in her knees before nodding. "Please don't make me…" Louisa let out a shaky breath. "I can't… I don't…"

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Dottie rest a hand on her arm.

"You don't have to tell me everything," she conceded. "But the police… Lou, I'm not the only one who will want to know."

"It's not safe."

"Neither is tracking down a murderer or jumping off a cliff in the dead of winter, and you seemed to have no problem with that yesterday." It was a poor attempt at humour, but Louisa appreciated the attempt at lightening the mood all the same. She gave her sister a weak smile and the two sat in silence for a while, ruminating on the enormity of the situation. Louisa felt like she was walking along the edge of a cliff, and had no way of knowing which decision would lead her to safety or cause her to plummet into chaos. Dottie, though unaware of her sister's dilemma, seemed to understand just how serious the conversation had turned. She shifted to sit next to Louisa against the headboard, resting her head on Louisa's shoulder.

"Ever since Mum and Laurie died, you've been bottling things up and hiding how you feel, and I know you do it because you think you would be burdening Dad and me with your problems when we've got problems of our own. But one day, you're going to crack and break down under that pressure," she said, reaching to take Louisa's hand. Louisa's fingers tightened, clutching it as if it were a lifeline. "I am begging you, please, don't make me watch that happen. Let me help you. I want to help you. I'm not some little girl you need to protect."

A strained chuckle squeezed its way out of Louisa's throat. She realised with a start that she was crying when a warm tear rolled down her cheek. "You're my little sister. Of course, I'm going to protect you."

"Let me do the same for you," Dottie murmured, giving Louisa's hand a squeeze.

Why couldn't it have been herself that was kidnapped, instead of her sister? Or at least someone who knew about her psychometry, so they could help her provide an alibi? Then Dottie would be safe from the supernatural world and Jasper would be safe because more humans didn't know about the existence of the supernatural. If only there was some way she could tell Dottie without threating Jasper's or her sister's safety with this stupid secret… and then she realised, maybe she could. Her psychometry and the Cullen's vampirism were not mutually exclusive. Just because they knew her secret, didn't necessarily mean they had a secret of their own.

Her mind whirled, an idea springing to life. She could tell Dottie, not everything, mind, but enough to placate her need for information. In doing so, she could gain a useful ally, who just so happened to be the only living witness to what happened yesterday.

"You'll think I'm crazy," she breathed, her heart pounding with anticipation.

"Louisa, I was just kidnapped by my murderous chemistry teacher who had me convinced that our house, which he was breaking into, was haunted. I'm okay with crazy."

So Louisa told her, starting with her first 'case' at the tender age of seven, after waking up in hospital with no memories and desperately trying to find answers to things she used to know. How that hadn't worked, but she found that she had a knack for gathering information and using it to learn things about the people around her, because if she couldn't remember who she was, at least she could figure out who everyone around her was. How she found missing children by their holding their beloved toys, and outed crooked businessmen by touching the pen they used to sign contracts. How strong emotions like the ones Spencer felt when he was jumped by the baseball team got left behind, so to speak, ready to be read the moment she brushed her fingers across its surface. She told Dottie about Anna being murdered in the very room they were sitting in, and how she used that information to track down Mr Hewitt at the cabin.

"But you have no control over it," Dottie surmised, after listening to Louisa's long explanation. "And Jasper is trying to help?"

"Dr Cullen wants to test the limits of it," Louisa replied, which wasn't a lie. Louisa had undergone more brain scans at the Cullens' home than she had in hospital. "He can't publish it in a journal without losing his credibility, of course, but the scientific prospects thrill him. Jasper just wants to make sure it doesn't overwhelm me."

"Overwhelm," Dottie said slowly as if testing out the words. "As in cause headaches?"

"Or nosebleeds."

Dottie hummed her understanding, taking a moment to digest the new information. "So, you're kind of like Eleven in Stranger Things?"

Louisa rolled her eyes at the comparison. "I can't flip cars if that makes you feel any better."

Silence followed her statement, which was broken by Dottie's snort of amusement. The sisters shared a sidelong glance with each other before dissolving into a fit of giggles. After months of stress and secrecy, telling her sister, even an abridged version of the truth felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had no way of knowing how the Cullens would take the news, but she hoped they would at least respect her decision to tell someone.

The moment ended by the sounds of their father moving about in his bedroom, no doubt getting ready for the morning. He was taking the day off work to take Louisa to the police station for her statement, a fact Louisa felt guilty about; it always seemed like he was missing work nowadays because of her.

Dottie seemed to be thinking around the same lines as her, the last bit of mirth vanishing from her face. "What are you going to tell the police?"

Louisa found herself shrugging. "I can hardly say I got there through the sewer system," she said with a sigh. "Any suggestions?"

Dottie shook her head and the two lapsed into a silence that only grew more uncomfortable the longer they realised how bad the situation was. That was how their father found them a short while later when he poked his head into the room to remind them that they were needed at the station soon.

"Are you going to tell Daddy?" Dottie asked, extracting herself from the bedsheets after Mr Collins had left.

"No," she said firmly. Louisa wished more than anything she could tell her dad about it. Having her sister in on the secret, even in such a limited capacity, was just as much a blessing for Louisa as it would be a burden Dottie, and certainly not something she wanted for him. Her dad would obsess over how to help her to the point he would sacrifice himself to ease her suffering, something he had proved time and time again, from countless doctor's visits to uprooting his entire career to move to a sleepy town because she had gained the attention of a murderer.

Dottie pursed her lips and her brow furrowed as she watched Louisa through narrowed eyes. She gave a slow nod before wandering out of the room. Louisa dragged herself out of bed and got ready for the day. No sooner had she finished dressing, there was a knock at her bedroom window. Rolling her eyes, she moved to unhook the latch before stepping to the side to allow Jasper to swing himself into the room. His eyes were lighter today, though still darker than their customary yellow, and Louisa wasn't sure if it was because of his emotional state or his need for blood.

Jasper reached out and cradled her face in his hands, stooping to place a kiss to on her forehead. Louisa wound her arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug. He rested his chin on the top of her head before letting out a heavy sigh, and they stood in silence for a brief moment, savouring each other's presence.

"Was it a mistake telling her?" Louisa asked, her voice muffled by his shirt.

She felt Jasper shake his head. "Alice said it would have been worse if you hadn't," he replied. "She's safe this way." He didn't elaborate on how Dottie's new knowledge was safer, and Louisa didn't ask.

She let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding and relaxed against Jasper's chest. "What do I do now?"

It was Alice who answered, in the form of a text (or as close as a vague, two worded message could be to an answer) to Jasper's mobile: the bike.

"Does that mean anything to you?" he asked, looking up from his phone.

"I may or may not have committed petty larceny in your absence," she replied. Downstairs, her father was calling for her to hurry up. "Will you be here when I get back?"

Jasper's head cocked to the side, eyebrows furrowing. "Where else would I be?"

A smile played at the corner of her lips before rising up onto her toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. He still looked bemused when she pulled away but gave her a curt nod before settling down in the window seat. Louisa spared him one last look before slipping out of her bedroom to join her family downstairs.

No Stone Left Unturned

"So to recap: you stole a classmate's bike?"

"I think so. It wasn't my bike."

"And you rode it ten kilometres in the snow?"

"Is that how far it was? It seemed a lot closer."

"Then rescued your sister?"

"Yes."

"And jumped off a cliff?"

"It seemed like a good decision at the time."

"And where is this bike now?"

"In the woods near the cabin, I'd imagine."

Sergeant Todd let out a heavy sigh and looked up from the statement she had written out. "Did I miss anything?"

"Did you see the part where I stole Lloyd's gun and shot out his tyres?" Louisa asked, casting a suspicious look at the paper in his hands. "Just in case the lab says I had gun powder residue on my hands. He was still very much alive when we left the cabin."

Sergeant Todd leaned back in his seat, watching her through narrowed eyes. "Do you understand how close you came to dying yesterday, Miss Collins?"

"The gun made it a bit obvious."

Her father sighed at her flippant response and she shot him an apologetic smile. She knew it couldn't be easy to hear how close you came to losing the last your surviving family, and she knew that it wasn't something that was to be joked about. But then Louisa remembered the blind panic she felt, and her gut began to churn like it was full of writhing snakes, and it felt like her only option was to crack a tasteless joke or she would dissolve into tears. "But yes, many adults have impressed upon me the recklessness of my actions. Though, to be fair, I did call emergency services," she amended.

"Next time something like this happens," Sergeant Todd said, fixing her with an annoyed look. "You should stay on the line with them, instead of gallivanting off on a half-baked rescue attempt."

"There won't be a 'next time,'" Louisa said. Her father and Sergeant Todd shared dubious looks with each other, and she resisted the urge to slap the looks right off their face. "Besides the fact that he's dead, this is Forks. How many murderers do you think there are walking around?"

"Before we moved here, I thought it was zero," her father replied dryly. "You managed to find one alright."

"Well I'm not going looking for another one," she said, fighting the urge to snap at him. The truth of his statement stung more than she thought it would. Louisa wasn't sure why their comments made her so angry. Hell, not too long ago, she would have laughed. "Am I done?"

Sergeant Todd was watching her with an expression one might wear when considering a particularly difficult math problem, his fingers drumming a slow beat on top of her statement. "One more thing: how did you know about the diary?"

"I told you about it," she reminded him. "Ms Morales said that Anna kept one."

He shook his head and sat forward, resting his crossed arms on the table. "But you knew Anna mentioned him in it. How?"

"Seriously? That's an easy one," Louisa scoffed. At her father's rebuke, she rolled her eyes before focusing on the still pensive police officer. "Do you keep a diary, Sergeant?"

"I can't say that I do."

Louisa leaned back in her chair, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers, and watching Sergeant Todd while she considered her words. It was hard to describe in a logical way how she knew Anna's dependence on her diary: she just did. She could feel the panic Anna felt after the first kiss, the shame of her actions when she realised that Lloyd was married, the elation she experienced when the two stole hours together in the cabin. She knew Anna's burning desire to tell somebody, anybody, about the affair, how the air left her lungs when she saw Lloyd with his young sons, and how her heart felt like it was going to burst from happiness when he kissed her. Her fingers twitched in anticipation at the sight of her journal, knowing that she could finally, finally, let out her anguish, her joy, her fears.

Louisa didn't know when she had learned this information, but she felt these things as keenly as if they belonged to her. She saw Mr Hewitt leaning towards her, hovering over her, enclosing her between his body and the soft surface of the bed, trapping her against the hard bookshelves that he built for her. She knew how his mouth tasted against hers and the exact notes of cologne which sank into her pillows and lingered on her clothes. She was privy to all this information, somebody else's life as if it was a book she could crack open and peruse when it struck her fancy. It left her feeling dirty, invasive, voyeuristic.

She must have been silent for too long because her father placed a concerned hand on her arm. She flinched at the contact, but it succeeded in pulling her from her reverie.

"A diary is a place where you can explain your innermost thoughts being judged for them," she explained at last. "Anna was having an affair with her married teacher. She felt conflicted and she was afraid to tell anyone about it. Her journal was a safe place to do that." She fell silent again, pulling her hands into her lap, and staring blankly at the table in front of her. She vaguely heard her father ask the sergeant if there were any more questions for her. The moment Sergeant Todd gave the negative, Louisa was out of her seat and out the door before either man had the chance to stand.

Dottie gave her a concerned look when she barrelled past her, but Louisa didn't bother stopping to talk. She wound her way through the now familiar halls of the Forks police station, her feet carrying in the direction of the front doors before she realised that she wanted to go there. Outside, despite the below freezing temperatures, a canopy was being set up, protecting a podium from the snow that had begun to fall. Reporters were loitering about, news vans jamming up the car park, ready to get the scoop on the sensational story of Forks' only murder in decades, being solved at long last. Anger burned in her veins at the sight of them and her stomach clenched. She shot them a glare, despite the fact that none of them were paying her any attention.

Louisa knew she was being irrational, but for the life of her, no matter how much she wracked her brains or browsed through books in her mental library, could she understand why. The revelation only served to make her angrier. She wished Jasper was with her. He would know what her damage was. He would be able to tell her why she wanted nothing more than to march through the front doors of the police station and start shouting insults into every voice recorder the reporters held, or smash every video camera in sight.

Something outside caught her attention, and a well-kept silver Volvo rolled into the car park. It captured the attention of the reporters too. For a brief moment, Louisa thought Alice had sent someone to rescue her. Then the driver stepped out of the car, sending the reporters into a frenzy. Cameras flashed. Ms Morales had arrived.

Two police officers rushed out to greet the woman, blocking the reporters from getting too close and crushing the poor woman. Her eyes were bloodshot and her tanned skin had taken on a sickly, milky pallor. She was ushered inside and Louisa flattened herself against the wall, partly so she wasn't run over in the tiny hallway, but mostly because she wished the wall could somehow swallow her up. Ms Morales was ushered to Chief Swan's cubicle, where she sat, shoulders hunched and shaking from the tears that wracked her body.

It was odd to think that the reason for Ms Morales' pain, the man responsible for her daughter's death, had been discovered after so long. Even if the man wouldn't be brought to justice, at least she had a name for the man who caused her so much pain. Not that it seemed to help her any. With the way she cried, it was like she had just learned that her daughter had been killed. Even Louisa's father, who had to bury his son not even a year ago, didn't seem to break down as Ms Morales did. And unlike Mr Collins, Ms Morales had had twelve years to process her daughter's death.

The scene reminded her of the therapist her father made her visit in the months following the car crash: Louisa had been sitting on the couch, asking the man when the pain would lessen. The grizzled old man hadn't been very helpful, and her father finally let her stop seeing him after months of complaining that he was a waste of money. The therapist would raise his eyebrows and pursed his lips, nodding sagely whenever she spoke, before going off on some non sequitur. Very rarely would he give her actual advice, and when he did, he would do it as if he were spouting of some deep piece of wisdom that he had thought of, instead of a quote he saw on a motivational poster.

"Time heals all wounds," he had said in a grandfatherly tone.

Louisa had known right away that his words were bullshit, and watching Ms Morales sob only reaffirmed her belief. She didn't miss Laurie or her mum any less than she did right after the accident, and in twelve years, she doubted she would feel any different. Time wasn't a factor for how long it took to grieve; there was no socially acceptable time frame one had to get over the death of a loved one. Each person had to work through it differently, and on their own time.

Still, she wondered if it were possible to mourn for the rest of your life. It didn't seem possible; you either moved passed your grief or it consumed you. Perhaps the ones who lived were the ones who were able to remind themselves that they were crying because they loved the one they missed. They found ways to fill the void in their heart, learned to smile when they stumbled across a reminder of their lost loved one. Perhaps the ones who lived in their grief, the ones who clung to it as if it were their new identity —the grieving mother, widower, child— weren't really living, but rather existing. Louisa turned her head, forcing herself to look away from the crying woman, and hoped with all her heart that Ms Morales would be able to move on.

Her eyes landed on Chief Swan, who had forgone his usual black jacket and was looking very official (and rather uncomfortable) in a neatly pressed uniform, his badge gleaming over his heart. Next to him was a man in a smart blue uniform, a blue bow tie tied neatly under his chin. The two men saw Louisa and made their way over, warm smiles on their faces.

When Chief Swan called out to her, his companion blinked in shock. "So this is the one you were talking about. The girl detective," he said, sticking his hand out and introducing himself as Chief Rodriguez. "A glimmering law enforcement career in your future, I am sure."

Louisa took his offered hand and shook it with a wan smile. Rodriguez was a pleasant man, a family man with a loving wife and three kids. Two dogs, an old German Shepherd that had been retired as a police dog and a pit bull that he had rescued off the side of the road during a thunderstorm. A genuine and kind man. Despite this, his well-meaning word still irked her, and she had to fight the urge to snap at him too.

"In the flesh," she replied with a tight smile before turning to face Chief Swan. "Your tie is crooked," she said, stepping forward to fix it, giving him a stern look when he tried to swat her hands away. "We can't have it look like Fork's Chief of Police can't dress himself."

The man gave her a long-suffering sigh but allowed her to adjust the sloppily tied knot. She did have a point. He couldn't even remember the last time he wore a tie.

"Don't be nervous. You'll be brilliant," Louisa said, stepping back with a smile.

He grimaced in return. "You did all the work," he said. "You should be getting the credit. Not me."

Her stomach swooped at his words, and not in a good way. Six months ago, she would have grinned at his words, desperate to receive praise and recognition for her accomplishments. But what had happened last night, that didn't feel like an accomplishment. It just made her heart clench.

She needed to leave.

Louisa shook her head, hoping her smile didn't actually look like a grimace. "You remembered Anna when everyone else forgot her. You fought for her when everyone else wanted her gone." She took a step backwards, patting him on the arm. "It's your day, Chief Swan."

Before either man had the chance to respond, she slipped back into a crowd of policemen and vanished from their sight.

No Stone Left Unturned

Much to her relief, they didn't linger to watch the press conference take place. Mr Collins tilted his daughters' heads down and ushered them towards his car, ignoring the news reporters and television cameras that demanded a comment from them. The muscles in his jaw clenched as he tried to pull out of the car park, only loosening when Louisa suggested that he just run the reporters over. They made a brief stop at Forks High (Home of the Spartans!) to recover Louisa's mobile phone, which Mrs Cope handed over, conflicting looks of disgust and amazement pinching her face. No doubt she would be spreading the news of their visit to the teacher's lounge the moment they left.

The Collins family made it back to their home before lunch, her father wandering into the kitchen to make lunch for them. Dottie followed him, deciding to make use of her impromptu day off of school to make a batch of cookies. Neither commented when Louisa broke away and made her way up to her room. Just as he promised, Jasper was sitting in the window seat, in the same position he had been in when she left. The bedroom door closed behind her with a soft click, and for a moment they stared at each other in silence. Jasper tilted his head before extending a hand to her. Louisa crossed the room and took it, allowing him to sweep her up into his arms and settle the two of them in the window seat. He nestled her between his legs, her back pressing against his chest, and rested his chin on her shoulder, arms snaking around her waist.

"It's over," she said, at last, her words quiet. "It's all over."

"How do you feel?"

"Don't you already know?" she asked, the teasing in her voice marred by how exhausted she sounded.

"I want to know the reasoning behind it."

It took a while for Louisa to find the words, which was kind of ridiculous, seeing as she had been ruminating over them all morning. "They kept acting like I am off to solve the next best thing, without even asking me if that's what I wanted. And maybe that's what I used to want, but what if that's not who I am anymore?" She took a shuddering breath and pulled her legs up to her chest, burying her face in her knees. "My heart used to pound with anticipation at the prospect of a new case; now I only want to throw up. I know I have this gift and that I could help a lot of people with it. Like, what's the point of even having this power if I'm not going to use it to help people?"

"It's not your job to fix these things, Louisa," Jasper said evenly. "You're sixteen."

"But I used to want to."

"I used to want to kill people," Jasper pointed out. "I thought that I had to because I didn't know anything different."

"That isn't the same thing," she muttered.

"Isn't it?" he asked, his voice mild.

She realised she didn't have an answer to that.

"What do I do then? What is the point of having this gift if I don't use it to solve mysteries?"

"I don't know if you'd ever be truly happy if you couldn't stick your nose into somebody else's business," he said, a teasing lit colouring his voice. "But there are a lot of mysteries in this world that don't involve murder." Louisa must have been emoting a fair bit of disbelief because Jasper continued on. "For instance, Emmett is convinced that Big Foot exists and would be delighted if you assisted in gathering evidence."

Louisa reached up to playfully tug a lock of Jasper's hair. He snickered and dodged her hands, nipping at the tips of her fingers. "If that doesn't tickle your fancy, then there are these giant spheres in Costa Rica that scientists have no clue where they came from or what their purpose was for. That might keep you busy."

Louisa couldn't help but laugh at his words. Shaking her head, she sank back against him, hugging his arms tighter around her body. They sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the bangs emanating from the kitchen as Dottie and her father cooked lunch. Someone had turned on show tunes, and the two were singing a duet from The King and I. A grin spread across her face when she heard her father's warm tenor begin to serenade Dottie with I Have Dreamed.

"Your father can sing?"

Dottie's bright soprano voice joined in, and Louisa could almost imagine the two of them waltzing around the kitchen. It reminded her of the hours they would spend around the upright piano in their apartment in Tacoma, her father playing melody after melody until he found a song that they didn't know and he could teach them. The piano still sat tucked away in a corner of their new lounge, no doubt out of tune, the fallboard gathering dust.

"He hasn't since Mum and Laurie died," she realised. His voice was just how she remembered it if only a bit shaky from disuse. She hadn't realised how much she had missed hearing it.

"What I do now?"

"You move on," Jasper said, his thumbs rubbing along her ribs. Louisa got the impression he wasn't just talking about her existential crisis.

Louisa turned her head to look out of the window, watching the snow fall. The tracks she had made the previous day were all but obscured, wiping away any evidence of her trek down to the creek. "What if I don't want to be Louisa Collins: Girl Detective? How do I stop doing something that I've based my identity around? Who am I if I don't have it?"

Jasper took a while to respond, bending his head to rub his nose along the back of her neck before burying his face in her long hair. "You're Louisa Collins: the girl who loves her sister so much, she's willing to run straight into danger to save her," he said, his breath cool against her skin. "You're Louisa Collins: the girl who is so nosy, she has to learn what secrets the weird boy in her Spanish class keeps, and when she learns, loves him anyway. You're Louisa Collins: the girl who befriended the most disagreeable vampire she could find because she thought that she needed a friend." He pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, inhaling deeply.

"You are so much more than Louisa Collins: girl detective," he murmured. "But if that doesn't convince you… well, if you'd let me, I'll help you find out who you'll be."

Louisa shifted to look up at him, his words striking a familiar chord. It took her back to a dark car as it hurtled down Route 101, flying past moss covered trees and over rain-swollen rivers, her heart pounding as it recognised, even then, that she was about to make a decision that would change the trajectory of her entire life. She could feel the warm air spitting out of the vents, Jasper's cinnamon and apple scent filling her nose. Her words echoed in her ears, telling him she was planned to stick around— the unspoken promise to be there and support him, to love him and care for him, to be whatever he needed most when he needed her most. Louisa had made many questionable choices in her sixteen years, and she hadn't been able to comprehend the gravity of her statement when she made her choice.

But choosing Jasper would never be one of them.

She reached a hand up to cup the side of his face. "I love you," she whispered.

Jasper's dark brown eyes lit up, rich and warm, like light filtering through a bottle of whisky, little wrinkles appearing at the corners. He didn't respond, not in the traditional sense. But then again, they weren't very traditional. He simply closed the distance between them and Louisa could feel his grin as he kissed her, literally feel his love for her that words would never be able to express wrapping around her and filling her heart so much she thought it might explode. He didn't have to say anything, because she could feel how much he loved her, and for them, that was more than enough.

"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't agree. The wounds remain. Time— the mind, protecting its sanity— covers them with some scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone." —Rose Kennedy

End of Part 1