Day 3 <3 Today I bring you a larger section of the Jessamine/Alice fic I posted about previously; today was meant to be something else but I think it was a really unsatisfying post, so I’ll rework it/find another fic for tomorrow.
Today was spent putting my mother’s giant, elaborate Christmas tree up, so I have no other thoughts. Hope everyone is having a good day!
(Warning for internalised homophobia; ‘//’ signals a time jump, as there are large chunks still unwritten.)
When Alice wakes up, she isn’t Alice.
She just is.
Her eyes open, her lungs fill and she exists for the first time in her memory. Her heart is still in her chest, her eyes draw in every detail of the forest around her, of the grains of dirt in the mud smearing her legs, of the beetle crawling up her leg.
And then she sees the girl with the blonde hair, and that is when the world slowly pieces itself together. Mostly with a soft smile and a gaze that strips her down to the bone, and a soft, “Alice”.
That is when she is Alice. She wants nothing more than to be that Alice, an Alice that inspires that smile, that gaze.
There’s a lot that she still doesn’t understand, and her throat is burning, but she knows two things.
Her name is Alice.
And she loves that girl.
//
Alice has a tiny hotel room in a terrible neighbourhood. It smells of dust and mildew, and is barely large enough for the mismatched bed, wardrobe and desk. The wardrobe is open, and Jessamine sees three dresses hanging there – yellow gingham, red polka-dot and blue floral. They are so small and remind Jess of doll’s clothes, with the ruffled hems, the puffy sleeves, the tiny buttons. She is wearing a filthy tweed skirt and threadbare blouse that was once grey that she peeled off a past meal, and this girl… she has actual tissue paper stuffed into the toes of the shoes in the closet.
Alice is perched on the desk, beaming at her with barely disguised excitement. The emotions that she can feel coming off the tiny girl are ones of excitement, joy, awe and pure adoration. She is utterly charming, with her pink dress and blue coat, her tiny gloves and curled hair.
The clothing Alice has chosen her are… nice. Nicer than she deserves – a dark blue shirtwaist dress, stockings and flat shoes. A pair of tailored pants and a blouse, in dark blue and yellow. Even underwear, silky and brand new. It is more than she’s owned in seventy years. More than anyone has ever given her.
When she finally emerges from the bathroom, months of dirt and blood washed away, Alice’s eyes light up, at her in her new blouse and pants, her hair damp around her face.
“You are so beautiful,” Alice coos, and is at her side, practically vibrating, and Jess doesn’t know what to say.
The kiss is so unexpected – Alice on her tip-toes, leaning up to kiss Jessamine on her lips. It is a moment so sweet and so impossible, Jessamine freezes and isn’t sure what to do.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right.
//
Alice knew that they would be tentatively welcomed at the Cullens – Jess is apparently rather intimidating (she doesn’t see it herself) and her own gift is a dangerous one. But the Cullens are peaceful people, do not seek out battle when there is any other alternative. They will sooner pack their things and leave, than claim their territory through warfare.
But she also knows that it will be their relationship that will throw the Cullens. That they live the closest approximation of a human life that they can manage. Husbands and wives, daughters and sons, brothers and sisters. There are no grey lines, just right and wrong. She sees religious iconography in her visions of their house, and that worries her a little.
She also knows that this is what Jess needs, more than anything. A peaceful retirement, a place where she is loved for herself, and not what she can do.
//
Once they arrive, it takes a few days for the family to realise. Edward has a pinched look on his face the first time Jess’s thoughts turn away from defence back to her Alice, and she is glad she cannot read Edward’s thoughts, because they would not be flattering. Rosalie has a slightly quizzical expression on her face when she catches Jess dropping a kiss to Alice’s lips in the hallway, and Esme just becomes flustered, but in a sweet way that overcompensates in her desperation not to offend them.
Carlisle is no less gracious to them, though – later – Edward will tell Alice that he was torn. Over the half-remembered lessons of his youth at his father’s knee, at the human principles he clung to with all his life, the ones that have guided him, with moderate success, this far in his afterlife.
But of everything that he has seen in his centuries of life, is a pair of mated females really that extraordinary? The idea that the bond could form between two souls, despite time and gender and all of the other minutiae that had to align is not so impossible, or he would not have found and lost, and then found Esme again.
And he watched them, to see the way they move in sync, the constant contact, the long looks that could be entire conversations, and the peace that surrounded them. To see the way Jess anchors Alice, contains the boundless energy and joy that is the slight girl; the way Alice brings Jess back to life, banishes the ghosts that haunt her gaze.
Carlisle knows that he cannot condemn that sort of soul-deep bond, cannot turn them away for their most genuine love because of old, narrow-minded teachings, because of social expectations that should have been discarded generations ago. Whatever brought them here, they did so for a reason and he will trust in a higher power, and Alice’s visions.
Emmett is the last to realise, in the middle of a hunt, and his mouth drops open, staring between the pair – standing apart from the rest of them, Alice tucked under Jess’s arm.
“They share a room,” Edward says slowly when Emmett splutters, still clutching his bear corpse. Alice can feel the tension in Jess’s body, waiting to protect and defend, should Emmett’s opinion threaten her.
Emmett contemplates them for a second, and Alice can almost see the wheels turning in his head, as he reevaluates their interactions with this new information.
“Oh well. Esme’s still got you to marry off, Eddie,” Emmett says cheerfully, and drags his bear corpse off to be buried and Alice tries not to laugh at Jess’s expression at Emmett’s response, at Edward’s scowl, at Esme’s bright smile at idea of Edward getting married.
//
After Italy, there was celebration, relief, hope. They were coming home to Forks, and everything would be okay once again. Even Edward thought that everything had been righted.
But then, he’d never seen Jess in full-flight. Alice had caught one of her fits of temper in a vision, before Peter went back for her, but had never witnessed the full scale of Jess’s wrath in person. Peter and Charlotte had both alluded to the temper that had made Jess such a legend in the south on occasion – it was rare that she was ever ‘out of control’; usually it was cold rage with a clear aim.
But when she lost her temper, well, neither Charlotte nor Peter had words for it, aside from a warning that it usually involved some property damage.
Perhaps the fact, according to Peter, was that even Maria backed down when Jess was in a ‘confrontational’ mood was the best indicator, to Alice, of how terrible Jess could be.
It was never planned ahead, and Jess was probably second only to Carlisle at keeping Edward out of her head.
The pacing was what caught Alice’s attention, and by then it was too late to stop Bella and Edward from coming into the house. And if her sight was any indication, the sooner the confrontation happened, the better off they’d be.
Edward realised the issue a moment too late, but there was no way to get Bella somewhere ‘safe’. And from the look on Rosalie’s face, it was clear Rose thought that Bella witnessing the result of the trauma of their eternal lives would probably be good for the girl.
“Jessamine,” Edward had said cautiously, and Alice wanted to bang her head against the wall. Only three people called Jess by her full name – Carlisle, as a mark of respect for her age; Alice, on occasions when she wanted to be taken seriously, and Charlotte, as a sign of deference for her former leader and creator. Peter called her Jessie, Maria had called her Major or Majorette, depending on her mood, and everyone else knew her simply as Jess.
For Edward to use her full name was a red flag to a bull, and Alice just knew Edward was going to be without some extremities by the end of this.
Jess hissed outright at Edward, and Bella was backed into the corner, eyes wide. Esme had ghosted over to the human girl, obviously to sooth and protect, and Alice just perched herself on the side table, waiting for the fireworks.
The argument was loud and unspeakably nasty, ending with Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett gaping in Jess’s direction, Jess putting her foot through Esme’s solid oak coffee table, Edward having his right arm snapped clean off at the shoulder, Rosalie enjoying herself immensely, and Jess storming off to cool down.
“I’m sorry about the table, Esme,” Alice hopped off the side table. “I’ve got another one ordered. It should arrive in a few days.”
Bella and Carlisle were already crouched beside Edward, reattaching the severed limb.
“You knew,” Edward said between gritted teeth. She shrugged.
“Did I know she was angry? I did. Did I know she would confront you? Yes. Did I let this happen? Only because if I had interfered, it would only delay the inevitable,” she said. ‘It would have been so much worse, Edward. So, so much worse.’
‘That’s the first time I’ve been scared of her,” Bella said, her eyes wide. Rosalie snorted at that comment.
