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.
Fic-Mas Day 12: The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon
... And we’re done. Last day. Is anyone as shocked as I am that I made a daily post without missing any? Twelve days absolutely flew by. I hope you all found something to read that you enjoyed, and I am genuinely sorry that I didn’t get enough time to yell ‘Surprise! New STL chapter!’
So, today I bring you something from my very earliest Twilight fic writing efforts. Tomorrow, there shall be a nice linked round-up of all the fics I posted because I am super sleepy.
(Okay, so this is actually samples from each of the 4 fics in the series - Magnolia, Hush Hush, Beautiful & Strange, and Wonderland. This was one of my first Twilight fics, and my attempt to writing Alice and Jasper in the place of Bella and Edward. I didn’t just want to name swap, I wanted to tell their version of the story - I know what happens in canon, let’s try something new.
So, Magnolia corresponds to Twilight in that Alice moves to Forks when her mother remarries, meets the Cullens, and gets involved with Jasper. Hush Hush is a mix of the end of Twilight and New Moon; The Beautiful and the Strange and Wonderland don’t really fit into Eclipse or Breaking Dawn at all; because Alice is a lot different to Bella, and because I haven’t written as much of either of them - just a few important scenes that I wanted to include.
This was started, like, 5 years ago, so it is a little wonky. I still love them, mostly because I managed to capture an Alice voice I liked. Like Hybrid and Memento Mori, Magnolia!Alice has a very distinctive voice. This is old enough that I’m quite nervous posting it, but I want to.
Also, you technically get four fics at once, because it’s Christmas Eve Eve and I feel like it.)
Magnolia
The vision was soupy. Moving through the forest leaves brushing across my face. It was dark, I could barely see a foot in front of me.
Flashes of rust-coloured snow.
And Jasper, crouched and looking like a stranger – feral and single-minded, his golden eyes blackened, the circles underneath his eyes angry, making him look inhuman.
And then he lunged, with impossible speed and agility. I wanted to scream.
The buck he was aiming for crumbled to the side with a great bellow, Jasper’s teeth sinking into its throat, his hands crushing its massive throat. Blood spilled past his throat, rivers of it that seemed to pulse as it spilt. The animal moaned one last time as it sunk into its death.
He finally rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The raw, gaping wound on the buck’s throat, its dull eyes. Jasper’s satisfied look, the blood smeared across his jaw.
I opened my eyes and screamed.
--
I never spoke of what I really saw the night of the crash. I woke up to a patchy vision with a southern accent calling out to me, “Hold on, darlin’.” I woke up, and looked to my left, to see the man that was my father, had been my father, was slumped in the seat beside me. He was staring blankly at me, his eyes wide.
His jugular had been completely severed by a piece of glass, cutting half-way through his neck. There was nothing but sinew, blood and death. His hand was thrown across the console as if he had been reaching for me in that moment.
I sat in the middle of that clearing for hours, feeling the cold seep into my clothes, just thinking about the blood. The blood of the animals from my vision, the blood of Michael Brandon, seeping into the seats of his car, into his teenage daughter’s skirt.
I could even taste it.
I didn’t really notice time passing, the air getting colder.
It wasn’t until an enormous russet wolf stepped into the clearing that I realised how late it was, how long I had been in the forest.
He was as large as my shoulder, all rippling muscle and golden eyes, staring at me and approaching slowly.
“Oh god,” I stammered, leaping to my feet and clutching my satchel.
--
Jasper appeared in the glade suddenly, and for a second, I saw my vision overlay reality, and I just wanted to scream.
“Thanks Seth,” Jasper nodded at the wolf as he approached me. “Alice, your mother called Esme. You went missing and everyone is worried.”
I dropped back to the boulder where I had taken up my vigil. It was too much. I just needed... I didn’t even know what I needed. I looked down, at my muddy sneakers, at the beetle making its way up the boulder.
“Alice, are you okay?” Jasper said urgently, moving towards me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked suddenly, meeting his dark-golden eyes.
“Tell you what?” Jasper looked confused.
“What you are,” I said simply.
Jasper physically recoiled at my words.
“The eyes, the never eating at lunch, why you never touch me…” I shook my head. “By themselves, those are just quirks. Understandable, from a foster kid. Together… I knew something was up, I should have listened to my visions.”
“We don’t feed on humans,” Jasper replied softly. “We only feed on wild animals. I would never hurt you, Alice.” A small smile ghosted across his face. “And you don’t smell good, anyway.” At my affronted look, he chuckled. “Your medications. They pollute the blood. I-I… I was grateful when I found out. That I could be around you without temptation. Well,” he amended, “without the temptation of your blood. You are very much a temptress in other ways, Alice.”
I let out a laugh-sob. “A vampire.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled in his Texan accent that always made my knees weak. He came closer,
By the time we headed back to the house, it was dark, and my cardigan wasn’t keeping out much of the cold. Jasper was keeping a very obvious distance between us, and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to stay away from me, or hold my hand.
“You told her!” Rosalie was yelling before we were even in the house, moving so from where she was pacing in the sitting room to standing in front of me with a murderous expression in less than a second. I flinched, backing up against Jasper, as he gently pulled me against his side.
No one should be able to move that fast.
“She had a vision, Rosalie,” Jasper sounded irritated, but the expression on his face was utterly foreign, a threat and a warning in a dark glare. “It was inevitable.”
“Not if you had left her alone!” Rosalie picked up a china ornament of some sort and threw it. I flinched as it smashed on the wall behind me and pressed closer to Jasper. I heard a strange rumbling and my eyes nearly bugged out; Jasper was growling. At Rosalie.
“Rosalie, enough,” Esme said sharply from behind us, and bestowed a smile on me. “Alice, sweetheart, come and have something to drink whilst everyone gets all the yelling over with.”
I adored the Cullen’s kitchen – all grey and white and brass. Beautiful hand-painted tiles over the apparently unused stove that told a story about a boy and a girl on a farm throughout the four seasons.
Esme pushed the kitchen door closed as I heard the raised voices.
“Sit. You gave everyone a scare, disappearing like that,” she said as she went to the fridge.
“I just needed somewhere to think,” I said, as I watched Esme move around the kitchen. “Why do you keep food if you don’t eat it?”
Esme looked up from where she was slicing a tomato. “We have friends who do eat, and grocery shopping makes us appear more normal. We donate a lot of the canned and packaged foods to charities out of state, though.”
I nodded and looked towards the kitchen door as there was more sudden yelling.
“Rosalie’s bark is much worse than her bite,” Esme said; she’d worked quickly – she was already setting in front of me a glass of lemonade and a sandwich. “She loves her family fiercely, and she wants to protect them from danger. But in Rosalie’s view, everyone outside of the family is a danger.”
I smiled my thanks at Esme and took a bite of the sandwich. After a moment, I looked back up.
“Why’s she freaking out? From what I’ve seen, I don’t have much of a defence against any of you.”
Esme came over and sat opposite me. “Does that scare you?”
“Rosalie scares me. What I saw Jasper do to that deer scares me. But I’m used to having no way to protect myself,” I said, taking another bite of my sandwich.
“Oh, Alice,” Esme sounded so sympathetic. “Sweetheart…”
“Jasper’s told you about me, I guess?” I asked softly.
“A little. I think maybe Emmett might have been his sounding board – Carlisle and I have parts of the story, and despite what you might think, Emmett is exceptionally good at both keeping a secret and blocking out Edward,” Esme replied. “We know that you have extensive memory loss and were hospitalised for your visions. Jasper went to Carlisle for information on that, to see if he could help you.”
I flushed and took a long drink to avoid replying. The sound of something heavy shattering made me choke on the lemonade and splash it down my front.
“Another opportunity to redecorate,” Esme reassured me. “They should calm down soon.”
I nodded. Before I could say anything else, the kitchen door burst open, to reveal Rosalie and Jasper tumbling into the room; the other Cullens following at a more human pace.
Esme stood up warily, and I wondered briefly if Rosalie was going to try and hurt me. But I’d see that decision, wouldn’t I?
She was staring at me with such rage and hate that I wanted to leave. Instead, I finished my sandwich, trying to calm myself down – though, they could all probably hear my heart pounding.
“You know you have to die, right?” Rosalie hissed at me.
I looked up. “That’s pretty inevitable for most people,” I replied evenly.
“You know about us,” she spat. Jasper let out a warning growl, standing behind my chair. I could hear the wood creaking under his grip.
“Enough, Rosalie,” Carlisle said, looking frustrated. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Alice.”
I nodded, without making eye-contact. That’s what Mom said when she sent me to the hospital. What the doctors said when they told me about the ECT. It’s just another well-meaning lie.
Rosalie was pacing in the kitchen, Jasper was glaring at her, and the rest of them were just watching me stare at the dregs of my lemonade until the vision flashed across my mind and I scowled at Rosalie.
“You aren’t subtle, are you?” I said. “Of all the choices, you went with that one?”
Rosalie hissed at me, as everyone focused back on me.
“What did you see?” Carlisle asked.
“Rosalie planning on choking the life out of me. I’ve seen people who’ve been strangled, it’s a nasty way to go. Plus, we live in Forks and I’m on a whole pharmacy worth of drugs and I have known mental issues. There are dozens of ways you could dispose of me that wouldn’t implicate an outside party and wouldn’t be horrible from my end.”
“Rosalie,” Esme said, her tone reminding me of Matron. “You are not going to harm Alice in any way. Understand?”
“I didn’t see that – in your head,” Edward said suddenly, taking a seat at the table. “It was...”
“They aren’t linear. Kind of like… riddles, with clues that only make sense to me,” I said, twisting a strange of hair around my finger. “And… it’s not just what I see. I could smell Rosalie’s perfume, feel the rain on my face.”
“Fascinating,” Edward breathed.
I smiled and reached for my lemonade. “I don’t always understand them myself,” I said. “It’s weird.”
That was always the one thing that bugged me about the accident. Had I known? I knew that I had always had some kind of foresight, from Mom and Cynthia. Had I just not managed to change that future? Had I not been able to work out what the vision meant until it was too late?
Hush Hush
Of all the things I’ve achieved in my life, this had to be the most satisfying.
By a long shot.
I mean, I had no memories from before I was thirteen, and I was a thoroughly average high school student, so there wasn’t a ton of competition for that title.
If there were two things in this world that I loved beyond explanation, it was my boyfriend and really fast cars.
Problem: I didn’t own a car, and said boyfriend was rather old-fashioned and restrained.
So my current situation was one of my greatest achievements: I had managed to sweet talk my Civil War-era boyfriend into the backseat of a shiny Maserati convertible.
Of course, the car was still parked in the Cullen’s ridiculously huge garage – I wasn’t entirely sure whose car it was, and I didn’t need Jasper taking the time to think our planned activities through and come up with a dozen reasons why we couldn’t do them in the time it took to take the car and drive it somewhere we wouldn’t be caught.
My stepsister, Ellie, had already proved that the Forks police had a no-tolerance policy for teenagers in the backseats of cars. My mom and Ellie’s dad had not been pleased when the cops delivered Ellie home.
I attributed some of the success to my outfit; I had picked it out with some kind of debauchery in mind. Honestly, I had only been hoping for a few scorching kisses in his study. I hadn’t expected this level of reaction. Apparently, the combination of a short skirt and thigh-high socks that left a slim band of bare skin had been a winner – my high-heeled mary janes had been chosen to give me a few extra inches of height. And I was in love with my new shirt – I had liked the bows on both shoulders; Jasper had evidently liked the low V-neck.
Either way, that had lead to our current situation – us pawing each other in the back seat of a very expensive car, me in his lap with my arms around his neck, him with one hand on my leg, stroking the skin left bare by my socks, and one cupping my cheek.
His gaze kept dipping to the small amount of cleavage I had managed to produce, thanks to a well-padded bra, which assured me that I would be basking in this particular success until I finally had to go home, or until one of the other Cullens’ caught us.
What happened next was completely my fault. No one else thinks so, mostly because they think I’m the adorably naïve human girl, who is ranked somewhere between ‘bunny’ and ‘kitten’ on the innocence scale. I had suitably shocked Emmett on several occasions with the filthiness of both my vocabulary and mind, but they still hadn’t caught on.
I had also had a long chat with Jasper about what was and wasn’t okay. He wasn’t comfortable touching me much, terrified he’d hurt me accidently or lose control. There had also been an awkward conversation about vampires and instincts that pretty much boiled down to the fact he really, really wanted to sleep with me, but I wouldn’t survive the experience.
I’d observed that he might have outgrown his teenage years before the wheel had been invented (I’d gotten a dirty look for that one), but I was fully entrenched in the teenage years, and despite what modern media continued to say, that hormones and sex-drives weren’t the sole property of boys, and I definitely wanted him to man-handle me. That most of my aspirations for the coming year involved his mouth and hands.
If he could have blushed, I’m sure he would have been luminous red. I know I was blushing, even as the words came out of my mouth.
I know Edward was probably wheezing with laughter somewhere in the house.
After a long and drawn-out negotiation, sex was off the table, at least until he was sure he could keep himself under control and not hurt or bite me accidentally. Anything else was up for debate as needed, though he retained the right to remove himself from the situation if it became too ‘tempting’.
Pretty sure that ‘massive drama queen’ is an added requirement of being a vampire.
The first two weeks, he would pull himself away from me after a few quick kisses, which was maddening at best. Rosalie had finally pulled me aside and given me her version of a pep-talk: we were both insane, I was going to get killed, but give him time to work out his boundaries. Patience, young grasshopper.
I had stood in the hall looking confused for several seconds, since the only things Rosalie normally said to me could qualify as ‘terrifying threats’ on a good day.
Then, the next time I visited, she bought a copy of Cosmo and read aloud from several of its articles. Emmett had been intrigued, and enthusiastically debated the merits of all the, uh, suggestions; Bella had been curious, Edward had been horrified, Esme had been amused and a touch embarrassed and Jasper had been frozen with mortification.
I had been about ten levels more mortified than Esme at first, thinking this was Rosalie’s version of punishing me for, well, being me and human – the list of my indiscretions was endless as far as Rose was considered - before I decided to simply own it, and debated with her about the magazine’s suggestions, and the flexibility of the human body.
Carlisle came home to Emmett wheezing with laughter, Edward sitting stiffly at the piano, Rosalie smirking behind her magazine, with Bella trying subtly to read over her shoulder, Esme trying her hardest not to giggle, and Jasper dragging me out of the house, telling everyone Rosalie and I were terrible influences on everyone. But I got felt up before he took me home, so I considered it a victory.
What I’m trying to say is that we had boundaries, we knew the boundaries and we respected those boundaries. Clothes stayed on, hands stayed on neutral flesh only, and we generally stayed away from any beds, couches or places that could be repurposed as such.
So when I pulled away, breathing hard, and said, “Wait,” I knew I was playing with fire. I had straightened up, and swung one of my legs over his, straddling his lap. I had put one of his hands on my hip, and the other at my waist. The whole time, he looked at me with dark eyes, looking amused, and then down my top again.
According to Emmett, Jasper hadn’t seen a naked woman since the literal 1800s, let alone boobs. I was really doing my civic duty – and it wasn’t like I had much to boast about in that area.
Knowing that it was absolutely in our no-go zone, I took my top off, and pressed myself back against him. He was looking at me, startled and wide-eyed. “Alice…” his voice was rough, his hands resting very carefully on my skirt-clad hips.
I giggled, kissing the side of his mouth. “You kept sneaking peeks. Figured you had earned a look.” And then I kissed him, hard, to silence him.
He was very tentative, putting his hands back at my waist, and groaning a little when he touched my bare skin. I must admit, I sighed a little as he slid his hands up my torso, and pressed closer. When his hand gently cupped my breast over my bra, I moaned into his mouth and rolled my hips against him, rather desperately. I could feel that as much as I might be behaving badly, he wanted it as much as I did. I even remember thinking, ‘God, how can you be this controlled?’
It happened in a split second, one of his arms snaking around my waist, the growl in his chest, how black his eyes were when I knew he’d been hunting only a few days ago.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not and have never been afraid of Jasper, or any of the Cullens. Well, I have been afraid of Rosalie, but that’s mostly her glowing personality, and not the fact she’s a vampire.
I wasn’t afraid then. I just suddenly knew that this wasn’t going to end with me putting my shirt back on and giggling stupidly as he took me home. That this was going to end with Jasper being deeply unhappy with himself.
He flipped me – in one moment, I was flat on my back, him on top of me, my knees on either side of his hips, his mouth on mine and both hands cupping my face. Then he moved one arm to wrap around my waist, and pain flooded my right side. I gasped, the pain turning my vision white for a second.
He was off me in a second, across the room, and I was still seeing stars – I knew he had picked up when my emotions turned from, uh, happy to ohgodfuckshitpain. It was a pain I was familiar with, even if my panicked, dazed mind was going, ‘broken spine. You earned that one, girlie.’ Apparently my conscience sounded like that one nurse from the hospital.
“Jas,” I hissed, trying to get my vision to clear. I blinked hard and he was gone. “Jasper.”
A second later, Jasper was back with Bella. A good choice. Bella wouldn’t judge or criticize us, she would just help.
Jasper looked panicked. I would have laughed at his expression, if I wasn’t lying in the back of what I assumed was Rosalie’s car, topless, with broken ribs. I was also trying to push back flashbacks from the car accident, which was making my vision swim.
“Alice, you need to tell me where it hurts,” Bella’s voice was soft, kind, as she hovered over me.
“Ribs. Right,” I managed. Bella nodded, and opened the door of the car.
“Can you sit up?” she asked.
“I can try,” I managed.
“Slowly, carefully and if it’s too much, you can stop, okay? We just need to get you out of the car,” Bella said and I was intensely grateful for her presence. Jasper hadn’t moved or said anything, just kept looking at me with the saddest eyes I had ever seen.
I took a deep breath, and attempted to pull myself into a sitting position, blackness creeping in the corners of my vision. I was shivering quite badly, and for a moment my vision swum and I felt myself sway. And then soft hands steadied me. Bella.
“It’s okay, you’re up. Halfway there,” she said. “Jasper, where’s her shirt?”
Jasper reached into the front seat, and silently handed it over. Bella gave him an indecipherable look and attempted to get the shirt back on me. I couldn’t get it on. I was in too much pain, and couldn’t lift my arm up.
“That’s okay,” Bella soothed. “You can borrow a shirt. I’ll go and find you one – Jasper, sit with her. Carlisle should be home soon, and we can get her fixed up.”
Jasper crouched in front of me, looking heartbroken. I offered him a weak smile, which he didn’t return. He could barely meet my gaze and I honestly hated myself at that moment.
Bella came back, clutching a flannel button down, and with Edward, Rose and Emmett in tow.
I would have preferred to be in another car accident.
“Having some wholesome fun out here, kids?” Emmett was grinning like a mad man.
“Shut up, Emmett,” Jasper said quietly, standing up.
Edward crouched in front of me. “Alice?” he said kindly.
“I think I’ve cracked some of my ribs,” I said quietly, as if I were a child telling someone a secret.
“No, tell the truth, Alice,” Rosalie spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. “You think Jasper broke your ribcage.”
“Don’t, Rose,” Emmett said to her. “Look at them, it’s like kicking a puppy.”
Rose growled under her breath.
Bella was very carefully helping me into the shirt that was at least two sizes too big, but buttoned up the front. Jasper was hovering, and all I really wanted was him to look at me, and talk to me.
“Let’s get you into the house,” Edward said, still holding my other hand. “Jasper, you’ll have to carry her.”
Jasper looked alarmed. “I-”
“If you say you can’t, I will punch you,” Rosalie said crossly. “You can, and you will.”
I smiled weakly. “The things I do to get your to put your hands on me,” I joked, and Emmett guffawed in the background. “I’m going to be fine. I’ve broken my ribs before.”
“See?” Rosalie turned away. “Carlisle will be home soon, and we can work out a cover story before we take her to hospital.”
Jasper met my gaze as he bent down, and I sent all my thoughts of love, trust and reassurance at him.
He kissed the top of my head gently and gathered me up.
Carlisle and Esme got home fifteen minutes later; I was on the couch with several ancient ice-packs pressed to my side, with Bella, Edward and Jasper hovering, Emmett making tasteless jokes from the chair, and Rosalie glaring at us and muttering about steam-cleaning the inside of her car.
“What happened?” were Carlisle’s first words, drowning out Esme’s gasp. He was beside me in a second.
“Would you believe me if I said I fell down the stairs?” I said.
“Perhaps, if you hadn’t started that sentence with the phrase ‘would you believe me’,” Carlisle said.
“I hurt her,” Jasper said abruptly.
“Two or three fractured ribs,” Edward said, “maybe broken, on the right side.”
“Ah,” Carlisle said. “Maybe I examine them, Alice?”
“Go nuts,” I said, as Carlisle lifted my shirt, and began moving the ice packs away.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Esme breathed as they glimpsed my side. I knew from experience that my side would be many fantastic shades of blue and purple, but for people whose skin was harder than concrete, who couldn’t bruise or bleed, I’m sure it looked horrific. The ice packs had eased some of the general pain, and some of the swelling.
I could feel Jasper’s mortification and shame bleeding out of him, and reached for his hand.
“Those are some very impressive bruises,” Carlisle said simply. “You’ve definitely done some kind of damage, but we’ll need to take an x-ray to be sure.”
“What are you going to say when you take her in?” Rosalie spoke up. “Sorry, my pseudo-son got a little handsy and crushed this girl’s ribcage?”
“Rosalie!” Esme scolded.
“No, we need a cover story,” Carlisle said, looking down at me.
God, for people that have lived longer than the television had been invented, they really weren’t good at this.
“I fell down the stairs,” I said simply.
“Doing cartwheels or something,” Bella said slowly.
“And I landed funny,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be a fancy story. Just dumb teenager stuff.”
//
“A coven in Alaska are threatening our cousins in Denali,” Carlisle said gently. “The new coven is a group of eight, three of them newborns. They’ve already attacked once, and Eleazer wants us to visit, as a show of force.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“We’ll be leaving for a few weeks,” Jasper said to me.
“All of you?” I said, my eyes wide.
//
I was sitting on the back porch, watching the Cullens pack the cars, with a pout on my face. I’d blown off school to see them off – something I would no doubt pay for when I got home tonight.
Bella took a seat next to me. “We’re not going to be gone long,” she offered kindly.
“It’s going to be weeks,” I said miserably.
Rose looked at me, rolled her eyes and tossed me something shiny. I fumbled but managed to catch them – keys on a freaking expensive designer keychain. Keys to her BMW.
“I’ll be back for that, at least,” were her parting words.
I smiled. It was a huge gesture from her, but she wouldn’t want that acknowledged. She had an image to maintain, after all.
Jasper came out of the house, and pulled me into a hug. I sighed.
“We’ll be back,” he said, as he pressed a kiss to my head. “As soon as Eleazer is certain of their safety, we’ll be back.”
“Do you all have to go?” I said, slightly whiny. Some of us are still legitimate teenagers, after all.
“A show of numbers will help deter the nomads. I have the fighting experience, and a gift. Bella and Edward’s gifts, too, will be useful,” he tilted my head up.
“Not thrilled about the idea of gang warfare,” I scowled and he chuckled.
“Gang warfare?”
“I’m from California,” I said, but managed to mangle my accents and it came out like my old Mississippi drawl that made Jasper start snickering.
“We are going to be fine,” he reassured me. “Are you?”
I shrugged. “I’m a survivor,” I said.
“Hurry the hell up, Jasper!” Rosalie bellowed from one of the cars.
“She’s such a delicate flower,” I deadpanned, and Jasper was shaking from the effort of trying not to laugh.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too. Call me?” I sighed, pulling away. “Or email. I don’t want everyone listening in on me bitching about high school. Didn’t you say the sisters were from, like, twelfth-century Russia? Oh god, you’re going to be shut into some ridiculous ski lodge with beautiful blonde Russians in Alaska,” I moaned.
“I can assure you, the appeal of Tanya and her sisters fades once you hear their, ah, stories,” Jasper made a face. “I will be hanging around the Denali house, sending you dozens upon dozens of messages, waiting for the appropriate time to call and irritating Edward with my constant thoughts of you.”
Rose was now pressing the horn in an obnoxious pattern of sounds.
“Rosalie is going to spontaneously combust if you don’t leave now,” I said. “Kiss for the road?”
Jasper smiled and me, and pulled me back to him. “If the lady so wishes.”
//
“You take the pills, or you go to a hospital in Seattle, Alice,” Mom said flatly, holding out two pills and a glass of water. “I can have you there first thing tomorrow, if that’s what you choose. But those are your only options.”
//
The little white pills took only two days to drag me under.
It was like I was half-asleep all the time, and just going through the motions. My life revolved around how soon I could crawl back into my bed.
The nightmares didn’t really leave me, either – they simply turned soupy and surreal, and I no longer had the energy to scream. I would drag myself out of bed at the last minute, pull on whatever clothes came to hand, and pick at my toast in the car. At school, I drifted from class to class, until it was time to go home. Ellie was under strict orders to drive me to and from school for the time being, which made life easier. When I got home, I would simply shower and crawl into bed. Mom would usually wake me after dinner, with something to eat, before I went back to sleep.
My homework was ignored and my classwork was neglected badly. I pretty much quit dance classes, and had handed over Rose’s keys without resistance. The hard-won weight I had gained since I arrived in Forks slipped away. I had no interest in food or drawing or shopping.
Mom was happy, though. She didn’t seem to care that I was in danger of failing entirely, or that sleep was my focus. Weekends were the worst – I’d drag myself down for breakfast at noon, sleep until dinner and then go straight back to bed. Just showering and changing burnt away any dregs of energy I had left.
Mom had won the war, and I was medicated into oblivion. She didn’t care that I was still having nightmares, that I wanted to scream but couldn’t – she was sleeping through the night again.
Jasper was calling and messaging me regularly. It was exhausting to reply and pretend everything was fine. I wanted nothing more than for him to come home and be here, to beg him to come home to me. But I couldn’t do it. I knew he worried about me normally, being a totally ordinary, squishy little human, let alone with all my issues and problems. I didn’t want to validate all those fears by asking him to help me. I needed to be able to be without him. And he’d been gone for ages – they had to be getting ready to come home soon.
I remember rolling over and finding Cyn and Ellie in my room; Ellie sitting on my desk chair backwards, Cyn lying next to me on the bed. I’d be having a nice dream for once, of Jasper and I, back at the Cullen house. Late afternoon sunlight was spilling through the windows, as Cyn and Ellie watched me.
“What’s up?” I yawned, burying my face back into my pillow.
“Just came to see if you were okay,” Ellie said evenly.
“You were crying,” Cyn said in a small voice. “You were calling out for Jasper Hale, and we didn’t want Mom to hear.”
I opened one eye at nodded at the pillow in Cyn’s lap. “You were going to smother me?” I slurred.
“We told you that you were dreaming and you stopped calling out,” Ellie said. “You look like shit.”
“It’s like 4pm. Can you guys let me sleep?” I huffed, burying myself under my quilt.
“Mom and Craig are fighting,” Cyn said. “About you.”
I blinked and sat up, groggy and miserable. “What did I do now?”
“Dad wants you to rejoin the land of the living or go to the hospital in Seattle,” Ellie said, picking up a china rabbit from my desk and inspecting it. “He thinks that this sleeping all the time is creepy as hell. I agree, for the record.”
“Mom thinks you just need some time to get used to the medicine,” Cyn said, stretching out on my bed, so our hair blended on the pillow.
I noticed after that, Cyn and Ellie were suddenly more helpful. Ellie started doing my laundry for me, clean clothing appearing folded in my bedroom every so often. Cyn would bring me up a drink every now and then – sometimes I would wake up to find her reading or playing on her phone next to me.
“Jasper called,” she told me one afternoon, sliding off the bed.
“I’ll call him back after dinner,” I said, flopping.
“I told him you were sleeping,” she said, looking guilty.
“You answered my phone?” I said, annoyed.
“He rang like five times,” Cyn said. “He said you haven’t called him back. He was making sure you’re okay. Which you aren’t.” And with that, she flounced out of the room.
The Beautiful & The Strange
I hissed as I caught my finger, a small cut opening on my finger.
And then I looked up to realise Jasper had crossed the room instantly, his eyes darkening and focused on the bead of blood welling on my finger tip.
Other than the obvious ‘time of the month’, when I made myself scarce, and the incident with James at the ballet school, I was careful not to bleed around the Cullens. They all said there was really no human equivalent of bloodlust for humans (though that question had sparked a frankly disturbing debate about the psychology of psychopaths and serial killers), and I believed them. I couldn’t imagine any sensation or thing that would inspire any member of this family to commit a murder. I couldn’t think of a thing that would drive me to kill someone I loved, either. Whatever bloodlust felt like, it was far out of my realm of understanding.
And now I was standing in my boyfriend’s study with my hand mid-air, a cut on my finger, and Jasper’s focus one hundred percent on that innocent drop of blood.
I won’t lie and say I wasn’t nervous. But I was more nervous that I wasn’t nervous, if that makes sense. He was tempted; his darkening eyes told me that. And if he truly wanted it, I would be exsanguinated and cold on the floor in seconds. No one was going to debate how deadly or effective a killer Jas was.
Instead, biting my lip, I watched as he gently took my wrist, as if I were made of porcelain, and pull my hand towards him, as the blood ran down my finger.
“Don’t,” I said softly, almost hoping it wouldn’t break the spell. He looked up at me. “I don’t want this to make it harder for you.”
He chuckled darkly and met my gaze as his lips wrapped around my finger. My mouth dropped open in surprise… and, um, something else a moment later, as his tongue lapped at the cut.
There wasn’t enough blood from that tiny cut to change his eye colour or even offer any satisfaction. It would only exasperate the burn in his throat, the tiniest taste of what he had been trying so hard to resist for so long. But as much as I tried to focus on the horrible ramifications of what had just transpired, I was losing the battle with the awareness that his tongue on my finger seemed to be connected to all of my extremities with a live wire.
I was suddenly terribly aware of how loud my breathing was, and how warm I was, and how Jasper was looking at me like a tiger might look at a bunny rabbit.
He released my hand and I pulled it away – the blood already clotting – and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him towards me hard, as I stood on my tip-toes, tugging him down to my level. Momentum and Jasper trying not to crush me meant that we ended up pressed against the wall, my hands tangled in his hair, legs around his waist, and his hands supporting my thighs. It was only my regular need for oxygen that pulled us apart, only for him to pull me into another kiss.
And these were kisses. Not the kind that a high school boyfriend gave a high school girlfriend. These were nothing like what we’d had before, and I’d been very – very – happy with our previous efforts.
These were deep and passionate, and definitely the precursor to something big. I was intensely away of his hands on my thighs, and how warm I felt, and how I didn’t feel like I was close enough to him, even though his belt buckle was going to leave an indentation in my skin.
And, frankly, he couldn’t deny that I was having the same effect on him. I could feel him hard against me through his jeans, and for a dazed second, I wondered if it would really be such a bad idea, if we could just get to the couch… He could take whatever he wanted from me and I would be a willing participant. My hips rocked against him as if they had a mind of their own and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.
Jasper’s lips pulled away from mine, only to graze my cheek and jaw before taking up residence against my throat, licking and sucking, his teeth gently grazing the skin and I was vaguely aware that at any second, he could rip open that thin layer of skin and drain me dry – it was so much more important to focus on the fact that it felt like my whole body was throbbing in time with Jasper’s gentle sucking.
But before I could open my mouth and suggest that he just… help himself to whatever he wanted with my enthusiastic consent, there was a thump at the door and Edward stormed in, glaring at us.
Jasper pulled away only enough to twist around to growl slightly at the intruder, whilst I was suddenly aware of the position we’d been caught in.
“You need to stop now, Jasper,” Edward said in an even voice that was tinged slightly with irritation. “You’re influencing her, and you might hurt her.”
Jasper glared at him, and then turned to face me. I smiled at him, suddenly shy, and Edward let out a huff of air.
“Are you alright, Alice?” he asked, offering me a smile that was more of a grimace as Jasper finally put me on the ground, and seemed to truly realise what had just transpired between us, jerking away from me abruptly with a look of shame flashing across his face.
“I…” he just stared at me in horror.
I looked up at him, and then over at Edward. “Thank you. I know that probably wasn’t much fun to have to hear,” and then thought at him, ‘Jas and I need to talk. That was unexpected and a little messed up and he hates himself right now. Doesn’t like to be human.’
The irritation left his face and he shook his head, turning to leave. “It’s a small price to pay to make sure you’re okay,” he said, closing the door behind us.
Jasper was pacing, and refusing to look me in the eye. I could see the tension in every line of his body.
“Are you okay?” I asked gently, padding over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, making him freeze on the spot, but he didn’t say anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I continued. “I would have said somet…”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Jasper said coldly. “I was influencing you. I wanted it, so I made you want it. I wanted your blood, and I wanted your body, and I was going to take it and make you think it you wanted it too.”
I huffed and pulled away to face him, entangling his fingers in mine. “I think you are being a drama queen,” I said sweetly, and he scowled at me, trying to pull away until I started to pout, and then he gave up. “You probably were projecting. But don’t think for a minute that you were forcing me or coercing me into something I don’t want, too. I have dedicated a lot of hours into picturing that scenario – ask Edward, he’s probably overheard more than he wanted to.
“And you, amazingly enough, are a vampire. You want blood. I cut myself. It was enough to trigger bloodlust and regular lust. Besides, when was the last time you even had sex?”
Jasper glared at me.
“I assume it was before the invention of the wheel?” I smirked and that cracked his façade.
“Don’t sass me, darlin’,” he murmured, pulling his hands from mine, to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I grinned, before I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry we can’t have sex,” I said to him with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry I’m stupid and human and breakable and I don’t want to be changed straight away. I wish I was like Bella and wanted to be changed as soon as possible, but I’m not. I just can’t.”
“Woah,” Jasper said, pulling me back, staring at me with surprise. “Alice, you don’t ever have to apologise for any of those things. You deserve to have any life you want, and you shouldn’t ever feel that living your human life is wrong in any way.
“Darlin, you do not owe me or anyone else your humanity. You do not have to sacrifice your life to keep me or anyone else in this family with you. I should be apologising to you for not being able to give you a normal, human life. For being this… monster who cannot distinguish between bloodlust and physical lust…”
I shook my head as he trailed off. “I want so many things, and I think they’re impossible,” I whispered, and he reached out to trace my cheek.
“And I thought that after all the things I’d done and seen,” he said in a rough voice, “that all those things that I never admitted I wanted were impossible. And then a tiny girl in pink bounded up to me at a wedding, with the biggest blue eyes, and asked me my name. Now? I don’t think anything is really impossible.”
I smiled at him. “Don’t hate yourself,” I repeated. “I love you, and I know you, and I know that you would never force me to do anything I was uncomfortable with. Know that I’m pretty sure all those thoughts and feelings I’ve been inspiring in you, you inspire in me, too.”
Wonderland
It was quite strange to be in a house with more than a dozen vampires. It was the most uncomfortable I had ever been in the Cullen household – even though the Cullens had very carefully kept me to another section of the house. I hadn’t laid eyes on any of these ‘friends’ yet, but I was intensely aware of them. It was a very strange feeling.
Esme had, of course, fixed me an enormous dinner (for someone who hadn’t eaten in eighty years, Esme was a flawless cook. She claimed she practiced feeding the wolves) before Jasper marched me upstairs to go to bed.
“We don’t sleep. You do,” he said at my complaints.
“I’m fine,” I said, spinning around and out of his grasp. “I’d like to meet your friends.”
“And you will,” Jasper lunged suddenly, caught me around the waist and scooped me up like a bride. “Tomorrow morning, over breakfast. After at least eight hours sleep.”
“Ugh, that’s so boring,” I complained, enjoying the feeling of being cradled against him, and thanked whoever gave me the visions that I hadn’t worn tights today – this was one of the rare occasions I had managed to get Jasper to put his hands on me.
Bella saw Jasper carrying me up the stairs and snorted with laughter.
“It will give us a chance to tell everyone about you,” Jasper said quietly. “Prepare them.”
“I’m pretty sure they would have smelt the human girl as soon as they hit the property line,” I said.
“Your visions, Alice.”
“Fine,” I huffed and then frowned in confusion as we walked past Jasper’s study. “Where am I staying?” I had slept on the couch in Jasper’s study a few times, and had expected to do so again. Knowing the sole purpose of beds in this household, I actually preferred a couch or chair.
There was a small doorway at the other end of the hall, underneath the stairs.
“Esme and I agreed that you needed some place to sleep, properly,” Jasper said, setting me on my feet and motioning to the door.
I pushed open the door and stared. It was a small room, with a huge window overlooking the forest. A bed sat in the middle of the room, made up with pretty blue floral bedding. Pretty sketches and watercolours of dancers and flowers were dotted around the room. A blue chair was in one corner, with a small writing desk and a narrow wardrobe.
“You didn’t buy all this for me,” I stammered.
“No,” Jasper smiled. “Old pieces we weren’t using. “Esme wanted you to be comfortable when you’re with us.”
I shook my head, smiling. “She already cooks for me and takes me shopping. She didn’t need to do this.”
“She wanted to. I wanted to,” Jasper reached out and cupped my cheek. “I want you to feel at home.”
“You’re here. How else would it feel?” I said softly, feeling my cheeks warm.
Twenty minutes later (ten of them filled with scorching kisses that I wish, wish, wish had gone further), I was in my pyjamas, tucked into my new bed.
I did end up sleeping deeply - though, I suspect, not without some emotional encouragement.
Man, I cannot believe we’re up to #10 (I’m kind of ready for Christmas - and summer - to be over, honestly).
To the fic!
(Another Alice AU! Human Alice AU! When human Alice is sent to a psychiatric hospital, she gets a vision of Jasper and heads off to find him, and then convince him to find the Cullens.)
//
The snow was up to his knees as he moved steadily through the forest. He kept his gaze straight ahead, though his stance looked awkward to anyone who might have seen him. He wasn’t moving at full speed, but faster than a human should have been capable of in such snow.
Eventually, he saw what he was looking for, finally.
The trees finally parted to reveal a large white house with a cheery red roof. The garden spilt right into the forest. Other than being a nice house, there was essentially nothing special about it.
He huffed, ducking through the last of the trees. They had made it. Hopefully in time.
“Almost there, darlin’,” he murmured.
As he crossed into the open land, five figures emerged from the house, suspicion radiating off them.
He keeps moving forward to them, picking up his pace slightly.
“I need help,” he said brusquely as he came closer, deciding to ignore the risk of their suspicion. If they chose to attack, it would be disastrous, but he didn’t have the time or power to take the cautious route. “Please.”
“How can we help you?” the eldest male asked politely, but cautiously. The stranger was scarred, and his clothing was a mismatched collection of not-quite worn, worn, and completely worn out. He stood oddly, his stance positively awkward, one that none of the residents could figure out.
The man heaved a sigh, and turned slightly. It took the family a moment to realize precisely what they were seeing.
His arms were looped around oddly, and the sneaker-clad foot was almost hidden by his arm. The eldest woman understood the quickest, gasping as they took the seen in. A girl was huddled against his back, her face waxy and pale, lips tinged blue, and layers upon layers of clothing wrapped around her. Her eyes were closed, and even from a distance, her breathing was a disjointed struggle. Her tiny arms were wrapped loosely around his neck.
She was human.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “Please, please help us.”
//
The flashlight flickered over my face and I tried to relax my face. I only had a tiny window of opportunity and if the nurses found out that I was awake, they’d medicate me and it would be all over. No second chances.
After a few moments, the flashlight moved away from my face, and after a moment – the nurse checking on my roommate, who was thankfully drugged to the gills – and left, the door closing quietly.
And then I could hear the chime – shift change.
I slipped out of my bed, quickly folding the bedding so it looked like maybe I had burrito-ed myself in the blanket. I crept over to the wardrobe and grabbed my backpack and shoes.
I took a deep breath and slipped out of the room. Definitely no going back now.
The hallway was empty – everyone would be at handover, debriefing on who was having a good night, who was having a bad night and who was just being a pain in the ass. Only Jeffery, the security guard, and the admin monkey would be around. It was after midnight.
I crept down the hallway, towards the stairwell. There was only one way out without a security pass – the unbolted window in the storeroom on the first level. I scurried down the stairs, stopping only to pull a hoodie on over my pajamas and jam my feet into my sneakers.
The first floor was totally empty – it was where all the doctor’s offices were. The storeroom was the only one that had a proper key-lock instead of a pass-scanner, since it was just printer paper, paper towels and stuff like that.
But I didn’t have a key. This was where things would get complicated. I knew that the lock and handle was old, but the door was quite heavy. The only thing I had was a metal nail file I had stolen from a nurse to pry the handle off enough to push the door open.
Shouldering my bag, I pulled the file out of my pocket and jammed it between the wood and the metal and threw all my weight against it.
“Come on, come on,” I whispered, trying it again. There was a groan and the handle was clearly coming away. I threw every thing I had and there was a loud clunk as the handle dropped away, and the file snapped, slashing the palms of my hands. I kicked the door and threw myself against it, it finally swinging open, and I tumbled through, falling over a box of Styrofoam cups.
“Is someone down here?” Oh god, Jeffery. Where Jeffery was, the creepy orderly wouldn’t be far behind. I dragged myself to my feet. The window was right there, and I scrambled up the bookcase, unlatching the window and shoving it open, the screen banging loudly. And I scrambled through, tumbling out and into the dumpster below. Eww.
“Who’s there?” Jeffery was in the storeroom now, and I was rapidly running out of time. In so many ways.
I clumsily clambered out of the dumpster, dazed and bruised and began to run. The staff car park had no fencing, but storm water drains that everyone called ‘the canals’. They would be mostly dry tonight, just mud and sludge. I scrambled down and pressed myself against the concrete for a moment. The sides were almost six feet tall, with a couple of old pipes as my only hand and foot holds. I had seen it, I knew I could do it, but dreaming it was very, very different to living it. I had maybe a minute before the safety lights were turned on.
Only one chance. I had to go now.
I hurled myself up, scrapping my hands raw and trying not to cry. I was gasping for air by the time I made it to the other side. The flood lights came on with an echo, and I could hear people calling. Damnit. Too slow, Alice.
I picked myself up and started to run towards the hiking trails. They wouldn’t catch me, not now.
I was finally free.
//
The Hill Park was abandoned after dark, thankfully.
I had woken up late afternoon, feeling much better rested. I was dirty, and covered in spiders-web, but I was still free.
Clambering out, I pulled a granola bar and my water from my bag, inhaling my meagre meal. Whatever happened, I’d need to find more food, soon. I may have been small, but I needed more than a few stolen snacks.
And then I went and perched on a swing, to wait.
He didn’t arrive til after midnight.
He was so much different in real life. Not better or bigger, just more. He towered above me, with deep crimson eyes and a mop of blonde hair. Angry black circles underscored both his eyes. His clothes were stained and shredded.
Major Jasper Whitlock – either my saviour or my murderer. My fate was in his hands – and I had put it there, quite willingly.
“You’ve kept me waiting,” I said, standing up to face him, pulling my hood down. He stared at me.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he said in a low voice. Right now, he was interested. Curious. And hungry. But I was still young – too young to be hunted, if he could possibly help it. He wasn’t going to stay.
“Do you want the long version?” I asked, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve. He jerked away from me, his eyes wide. “I have dreams of the future. And I needed to find you. This can go two ways – you can kill me, or you can let me come with you. If you turn me away, well, I’m dead anyway. Please.”
//
The two vampires looked startled. One was male with brown hair, not quite as tall as Jasper, and rather lean. The other was female and reminded me of a porcelain doll – strawberry blonde curls, round eyes, and a perfect cupid’s-bow mouth. They both wore old and impractical clothing and had bare feet.
And scarlet eyes.
“Who is this?” the woman asked, her eyes wide, darting between Jasper and I.
The male had the strangest look on his face, one I couldn’t decipher. One I didn’t want to decipher.
“This is Alice. Alice, this is Peter and Charlotte,” Jasper said simply.
“Hello,” I said shyly.
“Hello Alice,” Peter said, staring at me.
Jasper looked up at the sky. “We need to set up camp.”
“Of course,” Charlotte said faintly, shooting an alarmed look at the male.
Jasper kept his arm around me as we moved closer to the river, finding a moderate clearing.
We had camping down to a fine art. We didn’t carry to much with us – Jasper would gather wood and stone so I could build the fire; my bedding was just his parka as a mattress, and mine as a blanket; in the new few weeks, I’d have to find a sleeping bag, before it turned cold.
I used the river to wash, and fill my water bottles.
The vampire couple watched us curiously, and both visibly flinched when I got my campfire going.
By the time night fell, I was sitting in front of the fire, eating. It wasn’t much – an orange, a package of crackers, a can of tuna. Jasper already had plans to go into the next town to get more supplies in the next day or two. Jasper was sitting beside me, the couple sitting towards his right, their gazes darting to the fire every few seconds. I never really thought about how uncomfortable Jasper must be when I made a fire. He never said anything.
“So,” Peter said finally. “Where did you and Alice meet?”
“California,” Jasper said, watching as I began peeling my orange, throwing the peel into the fire. I was tired, I’d need to sleep soon.
“How old are you, Alice?” Charlotte asked me; she still wore an expression of curiosity on her face, like I was a puzzle should couldn’t figure out.
“Nearly fifteen,” I said, looking up at her. My hair was twisted up into a messy bun, and I was wearing an oversized sweater and sweatpants to sleep in; I looked homeless compared to her, and she look like she hadn’t bathed in the last year.
“And where are you headed?” Peter seemed uncomfortable as I crammed fruit into my mouth.
“North,” Jasper said with certainty. “Somewhere safe. Nevada was too dangerous.”
“As bad as New Orleans,” Peter agreed.
I reached out and grabbed my water bottle. “I’m going to get some sleep,” I said, looking down at Jasper, who smiled up at me.
“Sleep well, darlin’,” he murmured.
I walked over to my little bed, behind the fire, wrapping the coats around me, and falling asleep easily, to the sound of the fire crackling, and of the forest settling for the night.
“You turn a girl that young, and the Volturi will never stop watchin’ you!”
I was neither awake nor asleep, but aware of the agitated conversation behind me.
“I’m not gonna change her!”
“Then what the hell is goin’ on here? We don’t hear from you in a decade, and then we find you playin’ house with a little human girl in the middle of the forest!”
“Peter, calm yourself. Jasper, you understand that we’re confused. This isn’t what we expected to find.”
“She’s… she needed help, she was in danger. She’s… Alice has dreams of the future, and they told her to find me, to keep her safe from someone. And I… I don’t know what I was thinking, but now... she helps. Me. She makes everything… less difficult.” He sounded strained.
“Oh, Jasper,” Charlotte sighed. “What are you going to do? You can’t just walk the length and breadth of the country with her, she’s human. And you can’t change her until she’s older.”
“She… she had dreams about a coven, one who doesn’t hunt humans and would accept both of us amongst their ranks. That they would help us and keep us safe.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I just want to find somewhere she can live that is safe, and that place isn’t a coven.”
But before I could hear the end of the conversation, sleep swallowed me again.
Our penultimate post! Today, I bring you more of All These Broken Things. I posted the first two chapters before, which you can find right here.
Much love to you all.
(AU in which James kept Alice as a prisoner after she was changed, and she travelled with them against her will up until the fateful baseball game. I highly recommend reading the first two parts here. Possible trigger warning for implication of abuse.)
For the next day, she is treated like an unwanted package, dragged about upon someone else’s orders, with her solemn-faced jailers at her side. Isabella – they all call her Bella – has been admitted to a hospital under the disingenuous guise of falling downstairs and out a window. The dance studio has burnt to the ground, and James’ last bite on her shoulder is still hot agony, but the angle is wrong for her to remove the venom herself.
Lovely Rosalie sneers at her when she meets up with them to discuss their plan of action. It would be simpler if they divested themselves of her, of course: Carlisle and Edward could stay in Phoenix with Bella, the rest of the Cullens could drive back home to the little town named Forks. But they need to be together to ‘deal with her’ – no one seems to trust her to be alone with Esme or Rosalie - and so they wait. There is a musty, dingy motel room not far from the hospital, where she is ensconced for the duration. She notices that the Cullens seem to rotate, watching her, and wonders where the rest are.
Then Rosalie joins Emmett watching over her, and she understands – the rest of them are somewhere far, far nicer than this brown and yellow room where she can see dried blood and vomit in the webbing of the carpet; where they can relax, and talk, and be themselves.
But she does not begrudge them the small comforts they have offered - she gets to pour cold, albeit dirty, water over the new bite and that almost eases the pain. She spends hours, sitting in the grimy bathtub, collecting water in the palm of her hand and trickling it over her shoulder. They make her leave the door open, and they all clearly think she’s crazy, but she doesn’t explain.
She doesn’t see Carlisle, Esme, or Edward until the end of the week. Apparently, they are leaving. Bella’s parents have arrived, and as much as Edward wishes to stay at Bella’s side, they ‘need to deal with the nomad girl’. They have two cars – one for Esme and Rosalie to drive back in, one for her and the men to be drive back in.
As they prepare to leave the motel, she is rather sorry to leave the bathtub behind; the venom in her shoulder has almost faded, and she feels a fondness towards it. She wonders if she will be allowed to feed soon, she feels hollow and insubstantial – her last meal was long before they ever crossed paths with the Cullens.
And she wonders if they do try her and declare her guilty, if she could ask them to burn her under the stars.
Edward is staring at her in barely disguised horror as she is bundled into the car.
It is one thing to know how she was going to be travelling, but quite another to live it and she wants to scream. Strapped into the car, her first time ever, with the bulk of Emmett on one side and Jasper on the other, their legs pressing against hers, and it is less than ten minutes in, and she has her head between her knees because nothing good has ever – ever – come from being caged in like this.
She recalls rough hands and teeth with clarity that makes her forget where she is for a second, useless breath stolen from her lungs and those memory hands are burning into her skin again…
She knows that they are speaking to her, calling to her, but it all seems very far away and the bite on her shoulder feels so hot and…
Only the very back of her mind processes that the car is pulling off the road, tucked behind a billboard lest some kind busy-body try to help them. That they are getting out of the car, and she is being dragged from it by Emmett and the shredded remains of her preservation instinct kick in and she yowls like an angry cat, kicking away and falling into the dirt before she realises her terrible mistake.
There are four of them and one of her, and she is so tired of fighting. And when has it ever saved her? Better to wait and comply than protest. Acknowledge their rights, their power, and obey, whatever they want. There’s nothing she can think of that she hasn’t been forced to give up before.
“She’s terrified,” Edward supplies, finally, clearly confused by exactly what he sees in her head. “Of us. Of travelling in the car.”
She wants to crack open her memories for Edward to see, to face, and see if he would be particularly grateful to be bundled into the car, to be touched and grabbed so much.
Instead, Carlisle sighs and looks tired but resolute. “Jasper,” he says and it takes her a second to remember and realise, and suddenly she is so calm she feels sleepy, and has a hard time keeping her eyes open. Emmett is chuckling at her, and this time, she is placed in the front seat, the window open, cool air blowing on her face, her knees tucked up to her chest, and this … this is the closest she’s been to sleep since 1920.
//
The coven's house is huge; beyond anything she has ever seen.
She – they – had always lived rough, or maybe in tiny, rundown shacks. Money and clothing was stolen, usually from victims. The nicest thing she ever owned was her cardigan, taken from one of James’ bodies, with the bloodstain on the collar and the tear down the back.
This is Cinderella's palace, and she wonders if she should wash in the river before she crosses into it. But no one says anything about the layer of filth on her. They wouldn’t let her close the bathroom door at the motel to wash, and she resents them for that, in the face of their perfect home. The towering house, the precise flowerbeds… it is magic.
Inside is even lovelier - shiny wooden floors, silky rugs, so much light. There's a gleaming piano, and beautiful paintings, and so many books. Framed photographs adorn the walls. Bouquets of fresh flowers arranged in glass and crystal vases, throwing heady, sweet scents into the air. Nothing will ever be as beautiful or wonderful as this house in this moment.
They are wary around her - Esme stays within Carlisle’s grasp at all times, and Rosalie always addresses her from just behind Emmett – but she understands. James nearly killed the human girl that was so important, and she helped him. But they don't know what she had to survive. And they could have destroyed her. But they didn't, and she is so grateful. They have shown her both mercy and this beautiful home, and she’s already forgiven them for the car ride and Jasper soaking her in so much calm she could barely think.
Esme tries to be a gracious hostess, nervous but polite. She is given plush towels and clean clothing and escorted to an enormous bathroom – the bathtub here is big enough to house the entire family; no wonder they thought her enjoyment of the motel tub was ridiculous. There's hot water, soap and about a dozen different bottles and jars that all smell like heaven and she scrubs away at layers of dirt and blood, waiting for the water to run clear again. She wraps herself in one of the towels, the softest thing she has ever touched, and if they send her to her death, she will have died with visions of heaven in her eyes.
The clothing is at least two sizes too big for her, but soft and clean, smelling like flowers and fresh air. She folds the cuffs and sleeves over and over, but still looks like a little girl in borrowed pyjamas. She pulls a comb through her wet hair and stares at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are dull and black, and there’s a faint shadow of the cracks from James’ last beating but they will fade away when she feeds, she is positive.
They are all cautious of her, which is something new. No one has ever feared her; the only skill she ever had in a fight was her speed, and James fixed that. She is the smallest of all of them, she has nowhere to go and they just spared her life. She is indebted to them.
She creeps downstairs, to where they are all waiting. Carlisle looks stern, and she wonders if he’s going to beat her now. James always liked an audience. And they used to tell her they weren’t nearly as cruel as they should be. That any other coven would tear her apart in seconds, she was that pathetic, that stupid.
Instead, they talk to her. They explain to her their lifestyle – no humans, just animals. That she cannot feed on humans at all while she is with them; they want to assimilate with the human population.
She agrees – she fed on whatever James allowed her, and that varied, from children to rats, depending on his mood. Esme is quick to reassure her that the deer are quite palatable, and the idea of a deer is an indulgence she cannot comprehend. She doesn’t know if she could drain a full one.
They seem kind – Carlisle is solemn and asks her several questions about James, basic ones – yes, Victoria was James’ mate. Yes, she will be angry and yes, she will want retribution. Yes, Victoria and Laurent are likely to harm her if they discover she has lived, but they will have expected the Cullens to destroy her with James.
Her name is Alice.
No, she wasn’t travelling with them by choice.
She’s been with James since she woke, in 1920.
No, she has no recollection of her human life or the change. She woke up to James, this life, and that was that.
Hello lovelies. Today I bring you a chunk of one of my massive projects. A pet project, in fact. I have written and rewritten the first 7 chapters so many times, I could almost recite it by heart.
So, onwards!
(AU in which Alice is the daughter of a vampire-human hybrid, who was raised in an abusive home, and ends up in the care of her father and his husband in Forks. Hybrid biology is a little different - or rather, expanded - from canon. This was basically my attempt at expanding the Twilight universe beyond vampires and werewolves and examine the idea that humans are really the worst. At this point in the story, Alice has arrived in Forks, had a less than welcoming experience with the Cullen kids and met Dr Cullen in a professional capacity.)
You know when something huge happens to you, and you tick yourself off because somehow you managed to miss all the signs that it was going to happen? But when you think back, there were no real clues - everything that happened was completely innocent and ordinary. There was no way you could have known.
Thursday night turned into one of those. There was no way I could have ever seen it coming.
“Alice, honey, could you run to the gas station and grab some milk?” Simon called from the kitchen, surrounded by pots and pans. “We are completely out, and your father is highly unpleasant without his morning latte.”
Cynthia and I were watching TV; Cynthia was tapping away at her phone with a bowl of popcorn between her crossed legs, and I was flipping through my biology textbook boredly trying to summon the energy to do my homework, some sitcom playing on the television.
“Um, sure,” I said, tossing my book onto the couch and standing up. I’d do pretty much anything to avoid Biology.
“Great, there’s some money here. The gas station is four blocks down, then to your left. Don’t forget your phone,” Simon beamed at me, as he took an enormous knife to a fish that I suddenly felt sorry for, whilst gesturing at a small dish that held spare keys, change and a few folded bills.
Plucking a ten from the bowl, I grabbed my bag and my sneakers. I could kind of understand Simon asking me – Dad was in the shower, Cynthia was already in her pajamas, and I was almost eighteen; much safer than a fourteen-year-old walking the dark streets. Plus, I knew how to defend myself. And this was Forks – as far as Simon knew, a perfectly safe place to walk around after dark.
The walk was cold, seeping in through my hoodie, and I was grateful to spot the gas station, cutting through the alley between the buildings.
The gas station was brightly lit, and clean – it was really more of a mini-mart. I found the milk, and detoured down the candy aisle to snag myself some chocolate. The cashier was some college-aged guy, more interested in his car magazine than me, as he slid the change and my bag across the counter.
Sighing, I headed out, cutting back through the alley, stepping around the dumpster.
I didn’t see anyone.
I didn’t see him until it was too late.
Jasper Cullen; he was standing at the end of the alley, in an army green hunting jacket.
I paused next to the dumpster, my hand tightening around the handles of my bag.
He said nothing, but watched me with a strange and unpleasant look on his face. The back of my neck prickled as I continued walking down the alley. Why didn’t I turn around and walk back to the gas station? Why was he here?
Why would a vampire hang out in dark alleys if they were trying to blend in?
The little voice of logic in the back of my mind was rattling through all the reasons I should stop, but I didn’t. I just kept walking, my hoodie obscuring my face enough that I looked like I was looking at the ground when I was really keeping an eye on him. He was unmoving, his hair in his eyes, casually leaning against the brick retaining wall. He could have been any other bored, rebellious teenager.
My problem was my complete stubbornness. I can’t back down from a challenge. I don’t enjoy retreating and regrouping. A one-girl army against the world.
I just kept walking, not even planning on acknowledging him. I just wanted to get home, back to the warmth of my fathers’ house, the hum of the television. And I would be; in ten minutes, I’d be home, back on the couch with my candy. Simon wouldn’t be happy about me eating chocolate, let alone gas-station candy, before dinner but he wouldn’t stop me this time.
Distracting myself with my daydream of getting home, I didn’t even have time to flinch when Jasper finally moved.
His hand jerked out like a striking snake, clamping around my forearm, dragging me towards him.
I yelped, trying to jerk free, but his grip was like iron. His eyes were completely black, and he was pulling me along, despite my feet scrabbling against the concrete. I was too far away from the gas station now – perhaps I could have gotten the attention of witnesses before, when I was closer to the street, but now we were fully cloistered in the shadows of the alleyway.
He threw me against the brick wall, and pain flared up my back; I choked on my own gasp. The bag containing the milk and candy fell from my grip and the milk burst cold and wet over my sneakers, as I stared up at him, trying to re-orientate myself.
Jasper was staring at me with naked desperation, moving slowly closer to me – his eyes were dark and dull, boring into mine; his jaw set and nostrils flaring slightly. I met his gaze and waited, trying not to show fear. That was important. Fear provokes predators. It gives them power.
It wasn’t easy – I was afraid. Bone-chillingly terrified, to be honest. I kept reminding myself that this wouldn’t be the worst thing I’d lived through. If I survived, of course. And thinking of home, whilst trying not to vomit.
It’s easy for a place to become home, if you think about it. Warm, safe, and with somewhere to sleep and food to eat. That’s all anyone really wants when it comes down to it. But it had taken only a week for me to love that place, the family I’d never known.
He fisted one hand in my hair and twisted my neck harshly to the side. The bones screamed but didn’t break, and I could hear my breathing – shallow and panicked. The even rational voice in my head politely reminded me that I was lucky – lucky he hadn’t snapped my neck or spine, that an ordinary human would be dead
This, this had been my fear since I had seen them in the cafeteria, and now I was living it.
His teeth pierced my jugular roughly, and I gasped, my hands bracing futilely against his chest. It hurt, but it felt kind of good, too. His mouth felt hot on my throat, and it was only his hands holding me in place that kept me upright. I whimpered as my head swam and then suddenly he tore himself away - it hurt as my skin tore in his mouth, and I dropped to the ground dazed, blood spilling down my throat and shoulder, disgustingly warm.
He was choking and gasping, looking at me with horror before vanishing, and the world around me slowly darkened, until the cold and rough feeling of the pavement under me was all that I was aware of.
And slowly, even that left me.
I don't know how long I was unconscious but suddenly, I felt cold hands on me out of nowhere, only vaguely aware that an undetermined amount of time had passed.
"Mary-Alice? Mary Alice, I’m Esme Cullen," came a gentle voice, “You’ve been hurt, sweetheart.”
I blinked but everything was blurry and I was so tired. Was I sitting up? I didn’t know, and I couldn’t move. A soft, feeble whine of misery came out of my lips, but it didn’t feel like I’d made it. It felt like just breathing was taking up all my energy reserves.
“Holy shit, look at her eyes,” came a male voice.
“We need to get her to Carlisle.”
It felt like I was in a dream, as I was carefully picked up and carried. I could hear and smell the milk and blood dripping from me, feel the roughness of the towel against my torn neck. The coolness of vampire skin seeping through my clothing.
And then I was gone again.
--
A swirl of light, a massive space full of shadows.
My boots clicking on the floor as I walked in, dozens of mirror reflecting my movements.
The sound of my boots changing, and suddenly I was wading through blood. A gasp, and I looked up to see Cynthia in a nightgown, standing at the very edge of the pool of blood, looking scared; Dad and Simon clinging tightly to Cynthia as the blood kept closer to them.
Turning around to see Bella Swan, broken and staring, a mirror shattered all around her.
And the sound of every single mirror shattering into tiny, infinite pieces that sounded like rain as they fell…
--
“Mary-Alice?”
There was light.
It was kind of blue.
“Mary-Alice?”
And highly irritating.
“Mary-Alice?”
I blinked slowly as it shone directly into my eyes.
“Mary-Alice?” came a pleasant voice.
My vision was blurry, but slowly clearing as I looked around. Dr Cullen was crouched in front of me; I was lying on a couch, with a pillow under my head, and the contents of a first aid kit spread out over a coffee table. The rest of the Cullens were scattered around the room, all with grim expressions of varying degrees.
Nothing like regaining consciousness in a room full of people standing around and staring at you.
At least no one was getting handsy.
I ignored them as I slowly sat up, my head feeling like it was full of sand, but glaring when Dr Cullen moved to assist me. My hand reached up to the bite wound – only to find bandages covering my throat.
“Just a few stitches,” Dr Cullen said, with a pleasant smile. “You lost quite a bit of blood.”
“Mm, I always seem to be misplacing that,” I muttered, testing movement in both my arms and my neck. My back felt like one massive bruise, but I didn’t want to draw attention to that right now. Better than the broken ribs – or paralysis - anyone else would have ended up with. Still, it hurt and would take its sweet time to heal. My neck stung and pulled as I moved, but again, I was alive, and that was all that I ever really hoped for.
Surely I was running out of lives. One of these days, something had to put me down for good.
I looked up at Jasper, standing awkwardly in the corner and scowled. “You know Hale, normally you take a girl out to dinner or something first.” I mentally winced; my voice was slurring and croaky, not exactly the sign of ‘the unstoppable force’ I wanted to portray.
But I was clearly understood, as everyone froze, gaping at me, before Emmett began to laugh. And Rosalie seemed to be intent on murdering me with a glare.
“That answers our next question,” Dr Cullen sighed, gathering up the first aid kit. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I said grumpily, and trying to work out my next step, to get from couch to no-longer-in-the-Cullen-home.
I had learnt through previous experience that I didn’t have a chance of outrunning a vampire, or fighting one hand-to-hand, but I had a few tricks that would usually allow me to navigate myself to safety. Most of the time. With a bit of luck. And my bag always held an aerosol of deodorant and a cigarette lighter, in case of emergency. You can do a lot of damage with those things.
My head was spinning. I wished I was… basically anywhere but here.
Mrs Cullen suddenly appeared at my elbow, holding out a glass of water, with a strangely worried-hopeful expression on her face.
I took the water with a grimace that was meant to be a small smile of thanks.
What? They might have been bloodsuckers, but that didn’t mean I was going to be a complete asshole. After all, Mrs Cullen had come to rescue me, when she could have left me to bleed out in the alleyway and let a mugger or a wild animal take the blame. That was decent of her, and it couldn’t have been easy, with all that blood.
And I didn’t want to annoy them.
“You had a seizure of some kind, and when Esme and Emmett found you, your eyes and lips had turned blue,” Dr Cullen said. “I have a few questions.”
“Okay,” I said. I spied my bag next to the couch and reached for it, trying my hardest to keep a poker face at the pain that had taken up camp everywhere, rifling through for my phone.
Dad and Simon would be losing it. I had gone out to pick up milk.
“You know about us,” Rosalie said suddenly, her eyes flashing angrily.
“I do,” I said, finding the phone – which was flat. I still hadn’t quite gotten a hold of owning a cellphone, let alone remembering to check it and charge it.
“Start talking,” Rosalie snapped.
“Rose, calm down,” Esme said.
“She’s not human,” Edward said suddenly, his gaze flicking towards Jasper. “Her blood…”
Everyone looked at Jasper. He looked ashamed and tired, and I kind of wanted to hug him, even after his exsanguination attempt. It honestly wasn’t the worst thing that a vampire had tried to do to me. He looked like he needed a lifetime of hugs, actually. Maybe it was the blood loss, but I would have given him that hug if it meant I got to cop a feel; it would just a bonus for being a good Samaritan, really.
God, I was completely loopy. Had I hit my head?
“It wasn’t right,” Jasper said slowly. “It was wonderful at first, and terrible. Not thick enough, not warm enough either. At the end, it was like a bitter burn. Just… wrong. Contaminated.”
Everyone swung back to look at me, whilst I pointedly ignored them and jabbed the buttons on my cell phone experimentally. Nothing.
“What … what are you?” Dr Cullen asked me, his curiosity evident.
“I don’t like that question,” I said shortly. “And you get used to the flavour, I’ve heard.” Those stories, ugh. Mom like to use those as threats every time I had protested about anything – from another pointless ‘test’, to refusing to take a bath. It’s why she never, ever went anywhere near Nevada.
I grabbed my blood-stained hoodie off the end of the couch and struggled to pull it on.
“Jesus, what happened?” Emmett blurted out, and did they really have to stare like that?
I looked down, to see the neckline of my shirt had pulled to the side, to reveal the worst of my scars. It ran from the left side of my throat, across my upper chest and ended at my right clavicle. It was faint, invisible to the human eye, but vampire sight would see the webbing and tearing pattern.
“Boston when I was fifteen,” I said, zipping the hoodie up. “I spent my fifteenth birthday in hospital, handcuffed to the bed, so I couldn’t get away quick enough to heal it better.”
No one really knew how to respond to that.
“You’ve got quite a collection of scars,” Dr Cullen tried again. “And more than a few bite marks.”
“I should call my father, he’s probably worried,” I said flatly. “I went to get milk.”
“You cannot expect us to let you leave without telling us something. You know about us,” Rosalie snapped, stepping in front of me. “You should die for that.”
And I looked at them, really looked at them. In their nice clothes, with their nice house. A human girlfriend, and a human job. They had helped me, instead of leaving me to die. Whatever these people were, they weren’t like the vampires I had known.
“You all need to pretend you never met me,” I said finally, meeting her gaze without flinching. “Or you will die for that.”
Um. Wow. I wasn’t expecting such a response to Hybrid! So I guess I should get working on posting more of that fic officially? :D
I’m going away overnight, and I’m not taking my laptop, so I’m queuing up tomorrow’s post now - hopefully, it will work, but you might end up with Day 9 ridiculously early!
Here we go...
(The beginning of another ‘Alice isn’t human’ fic; I was aiming for some kind of witch or revenant with this fic. It actually evolved into something huge and then devolved into something that is kind of more along the lines of Shadow to Light in length and detail. It just worked better. This is also like the closest I will ever come to writing a sex scene, so... yeah. -- indicate scene change, // indicates that I haven’t finished the chapter/scene/there’s stuff missing.)
She arrives at Forks High suddenly, a tempest in a teacup.
The whispers find them in the carpark, of the ‘weird’ new girl. No one is racing to befriend her, not like with Bella. Jasper can’t decide if Bella is pleased that the attention has finally been diverted from her, or disappointed she is no longer being fawned over. Curiosity at her replacement overwhelm her other feelings.
None of his other siblings really care. Why should they? He only really takes note of the news because of the curiosity, judgement, disdain, superiority, and slight jealousy that roll off the population at large. Whomever the girl is, she probably won’t be wriggling away from potential friends, like Bella did.
He doesn’t think about her again that morning.
--
The whispers are like smoke, gathering and smothering the crowds. There are the younger girls, spitting cruelty; there are the boys egging each other on, to ask her out. Murmurs about her clothes, and hair, and make-up; about why she moved and who her family are. If she was smart or pretty or friendly.
But he doesn’t see her; just the same faces, the same complaints, the same stew of emotions. The new girl is like a pebble tossed on the surface of a still pond. The only relief is the knowledge is that eventually, the water will settle again.
--
She is like a supernova, simply appearing in the halls before lunch period, and his mouth goes dry. He doesn’t know what other people see when they look at her, but he is entranced. She is not the meek-looking pariah he expected, the nervous teenage girl navigating unfriendly seas.
She is a goddamn revelation.
She walks down the hallways like she owns them. Her mouth is lush and scarlet; obscenely shiny and enticing. She seems indecent, almost – the sickly white of her skin, the black of her hair and her clothing, and then the red of her lips.
The emotion streams off her so strongly, he can almost see them – black mist streaming behind her, undulating with her movements. She is terrible and glorious, and in over one hundred years, he’s never reacted to someone like this. He wants to be close enough to smell her hair, to see if it’s the sweet-sour scent of moss and rotting flowers that he imagines. He wants to peel the black cloth and lace from her body, and trace his path with his tongue. He wants to rip out her throat, and see if she tastes as rich and luscious as she looks.
She is a disaster.
He leans against the lockers, staring at her as she passes him. Her eyes are violet, and she meets his gaze evenly, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. But she doesn’t stop.
It’s a good thing that he doesn’t share his morning classes with Edward, because if he could hear Jasper’s thoughts right now, he’d kill him on the spot.
//
The forest behind the school is silent; just her breathing, and the slight wind. No birds or wildlife, none of the hum of the traffic or of the school.
They don’t undress more than necessary, her skirt slid to her hips, and he takes her roughly against a tree, flakes of bark falling into the dirt. She is hot and slick, and silent as he fucks her, his fingers digging into her hips, a growl rising in his chest. She is every bit his fantasy; the smell of damp flowers, the sweetness of her flesh, her willing supplication. His fingers tear through the lace of her tights as he grips her thighs, and the heels of her shoes must be bending, she’s digging them into the backs of his legs so hard.
//
He knows she isn’t a vampire, but he doesn’t really acknowledge it until the day he catches her sitting in the empty hallways of school during lunch period, wolfing down candy from the vending machine, her little tongue darting out to lick the wrapper. There is something almost disturbing about the way she eats, as if it is the last time she will see food and drink. There is a can of soda, and several wrappers scattered around her.
//
It is no different from their other encounters, except in little ways. She looks tired, more brittle. Her dress is short and black, but hangs from her body, the lace of the hem brushing a bare strip of thigh that he wants to lick. The circles under her eyes are coal-black, making her eyes seem abnormally large; her lips pale and almost blue. But he never questions the way she paints her face, the way she dresses herself.
She accepts his kiss with a sigh, her lips quirking into something that is almost a smile against his, as he slides her dress over her hips. He groans when he finds her bare underneath, nothing but the wool of her dress and the lace of her tights, and she is fucking delicious.
He is on her instantly, and her sighs and moans fill the silence. Is this how he is supposed to feel when he finds his mate? Her lips trace his throat, and he cannot imagine wanting someone more than this. He wants to possess her, wants her in every way she can give.
That realisation makes him feel like the bottom has dropped out of the world, and he snaps.
It is a moment of pure, exquisite instinct, and he sinks his teeth into her smooth, white throat. Her flesh parts without resistance, her blood rushing to the surface, as he drinks deeply. It rolls down his chin, down her neck, her blood is everywhere. It is the darkest red, and he is in ecstasy. Sex and blood, the two things he has abstained from for so long surrounds him, and he gorges himself.
And then he realises the terrible thing he has done.
The blood is everywhere, all over the leather of the car, splattered on the windows, seeping in her hair and her discarded clothes.
Her eyes are still open, staring at nothing, her skirt still hitched up around her hips. Her lips are slightly parted, as if she had something left to say.
The dark, bloody gash from his feeding taking up more than half of her slim throat, the chain of her necklace falling into the viscera of her ruined neck.
Panic isn’t an emotion he is used to, and this is rapidly spiralling away from panic to sheer, unbridled terror.
Carlisle. Carlisle can fix this.
The idea strikes him suddenly, and he oh-so-gently redresses her. No one will find the car, not tonight; this is very technically still Cullen property and a back route no one outside the family should access. He gathers her up carefully in his arms, cradling her close.
And he runs.
//
Carlisle can fix this. Carlisle can save her.
He never thought of himself as an optimist.
By the time the house comes into view, he has accepted it. Her body is cooling, her heart is still, her scent is more sour and rotten.
Nothing can fix this. He has slaughtered the first person or thing he can ever remember loving. Ripped into her skin and drained her dry.
He emerges from the forest, no longer running. He already knows what will happen. Carlisle will declare Alice dead, dead, perfectly fucking dead, and he will bury her with his own bare hands before he leaves. There’s chemicals in the garage that will encourage the flames to catch, and then the fire will pull the venom from his flesh and he will finally die, hopefully in extraordinary pain. He’d dream of being reunited with her, but if there is such a thing as an afterlife for vampires, it will not be wherever her sweet self has ended up.
Esme is the first one to see him, her lovely smile vanishing as she absorbs what she is seeing. Jasper wonders if Esme will plant flowers on Alice’s grave for him.
“Oh my god,” Esme is there, gently cupping Alice’s cheek. “Oh Jasper.”
She escorts him inside, her eyes so sad. Rosalie is on the stairs, and her rage is extinguished after she glimpses whatever she sees on his face. Emmett swears and jumps up from the couch, reaching for Alice, but Jasper just clings to her tighter.
“I’ll fetch Carlisle,” Esme murmurs, but it is little more than a hum in his ears.
By the time Carlisle arrives, looking worried, he meets a scene he could not have predicted. Esme waits for him at the door, and her alarm is evident.
Emmett and Rose are in the sitting room with Jasper, who is perched on the couch with Alice. He cradles her tiny body, almost rocking it. Her eyes have been closed – Rosalie’s surprisingly compassionate gesture. He is still covered with her blood.
He has never seen Jasper so broken.
He has never seen Jasper look so young.
“Jasper,” Carlisle crouches in front of him, before he realises that he has no words of comfort, of resolution.
HOW are we half-way through this?! How are we so close to Christmas?! I’ve had a day of total garbage mental health, so I think this fic is fitting.
I won’t ramble - onwards!
(AU where Carlisle ends up taking work at a Mississippi Asylum in 1918.)
He’s coming, he’s coming.
She rocks back and forward, her arms wrapped around her knees. The nurses roll their eyes and try to engage her, but she ignores them entirely, her eyes glassy and unfocused.
They write on the chart that she’s being difficult, refusing food and water, refusing to acknowledge anyone.
Dr Cullen frowns when he reads her file; Mary-Alice is a gentle girl, an easy patient. He is reluctant to even sign off on the poor girl’s electrotherapy since Edward has already confirmed the truth – the diminutive creature is truly seeing visions of the future. There is nothing wrong with her. There was nothing wrong with her.
But there is little that can be done for her now.
The girl’s mind was destroyed by the so-called treatment and neglect before he arrived. He can smell the weakness in her blood and knows that she will die sooner rather than later.
It is a despicable waste, and yet there is nothing that can be done to fix it.
---
He comes in the night, prowling the hallways of the basement floor, his footsteps virtually silent against the concrete.
Asylums are a god-send to vampires. Humans do not care about the ones they have locked up within them, and few of their ailments linger once they are changed. They are always grateful to be freed and willing to repay the favour in Maria’s army.
And they are also a limitless supply of food. No one cares when or how they died, they are simply disposed of.
He’s only even in Mississippi because Maria wanted intelligence on the Louisiana coven. The battles over Louisiana have always been on the small scale, but far nastier than they should be. Maria has held Monterrey for the best part of a century; no coven has held New Orleans longer than a decade.
And now he needs to feed before he makes the journey back. Travelling through the south was always risky, he had to be strong.
The smell from the asylum drew him in. No cantante de la sangre, but he wanted it. Far sweeter than any of the slum girls in New Orleans, skinny peasants in Monterrey. It would be his, and he would savour every droplet.
--
He takes blood from her throat, her wrists, her snow-white thighs, and she is silent, aside from a shuddering breath, her thin fingers playing with his curls. He can hear her heartbeat, and it feels like a panicked butterfly – fragile and manic.
When he is sated, as much as he can be without destroying her, he watches her – her darting, glassy gaze. She is so neglected, she is more obscene than beautiful. Her cheeks dip inwards, her lips cracked and split, skin tight across bone. Bruises have blossomed along both her arms, her thighs, her torso. Some are pinpricks, from the drugs they pump through her (her blood has a bitterness to it, and he hates that for more than just his own palate); some are the result of rough handling of staff.
He brings her food, once or twice, food she picks at and barely tastes, her hunger eating away at her bones rather than recognise food.
Before he leaves, he lifts a tin cup of stale water to her lips and she manages a sip or too. He tucks her into bed like a child and uses his gift to lull her to sleep. And it is only his gift that tells him she understands him, adores him as he does her. Her feelings are light, are soft and sweet. Pure.
His are darker, sinister. He drinks in both her blood and her emotions, savours her body. And if that were all, perhaps he’d kill her or leave her be.
But this is the closest he’s had to love, and he wants to care for her, protect her.
He wants to change her, but Maria’s campaign is no world for this brittle girl, even in the form of a strong, new vampire.
Her sleep is shallow as he watches over her.
—
It is Edward who kills her, not realising what has passed between crazy Mary-Alice and the scarlet-eyed, disfigured vampire Carlisle has discovered visiting her.
They are both defending her from the other, and neither realises it and when Mary-Alice struggles to stand, to get between them both, her life ends. She is thrown against the wall, which she hits harder because of vampire strength and how small her cell her is.
The sound she makes is thin and feeble and lost to human ears in the sound of the crunch of her bones.
Jasper snarls at Edward and descends to Alice’s side, cradles her to himself, murmuring something that is lost to even Edward’s ears. And then Jasper’s teeth pierce the thin flesh of her throat, and Edward hisses.
By the time Carlisle arrives, Jasper has fled, with her broken body clutched in tow.
Hello everyone! Another unscheduled absence. I hope everyone is having a peaceful holiday season. In honour of Christmas - and I still hope to get one more chapter of Shadow to Light posted before 2020 - I presented ‘12 Days of Fic-Mas’: 12 extracts from current WIPs, abandon pieces, random ideas etc. Because, guys, I have SO much unposted fic, it’s ridiculous.
One will be posted every single day until Christmas. All of them will be about Alice, or Alice and Jasper. If you like it, let me know - whilst Shadow to Light, and Memento Vivere are top priorities, I like to know which projects to continue and which to shelve. These fics are unbeta-ed, and as-is. I haven’t decided whether I’ll publish this compilation on AO3 or FF.Net yet. And if another wants to join me in Fic-Mas, please do! I’ll do a round of post of my fics, and any other contributions after Christmas (tag it TwilightFicMas2019, and probably @goldeneyedgirl so I don’t miss it!)
So, Happy Christmas, and welcome to 12 Days of Fic-Mas ;)
Day 1. Folie A Deux
(In which Jasper is human, and Alice is not; I do love this trope and found a total lack of fics with this specific dynamic.)
He sees her out of the corner of his eye and when he turns, he can only stare.
She is exquisite, like a china doll, with alabaster skin and ruby lips, soft black hair brushing her cheeks in soft waves. She wears loose black pants and an oversized white t-shirt. She doesn't smile, just collects her books and shuts her locker.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” He blinks, turning to see Mike and Peter appearing at his side. “That’s Alice Cullen,” Mike continued. “She doesn’t date. Hell, she doesn’t talk to anyone. None of the Cullens do.”
“Why?” Jasper asked. Alice had sidled up to the red-haired boy. The boy quirked a smile at her, but neither of them said a word as they turned and walked down the hallway.
“Too good for us,” Mike said, an edge in his voice.
“Don’t be a dick,” Peter interrupted. “Alice, Edward and Emmett are all foster kids, they live with Dr and Mrs Cullen. Rosalie is Mrs Cullen’s niece. And Mike’s just sore Alice and Rosalie shot him down. It was kind of hilarious, actually.”
“She’s dating the dude she lives with. Her brother practically. It’s weird,” Mike grumbled.
Jasper’s eyebrows rose.
“Rosalie and Emmett are a thing,” Peter said, scowling at Mike. “And Edward’s dating a girl called Bella, she’s in my history class. Leave ‘em alone.” He turned back to Jasper. “Alice isn’t dating anyone we know of, but you won’t get within a foot of her without Edward appearing.”
Jasper looked back at Alice Cullen, slipping away with her red-headed brother. “Whatever.”
--
Something about the Cullens fascinates him. Especially Alice Cullen.
Even within her family, she stood out. The entire family are gorgeous, yes. Rosalie Hale belonged on a runway, in expensive designer clothing and towering heels. Her brothers, too, are the kind even Ava looks twice at. But the smallest girl, she lacks something. As if she is only half there. She wears neat clothing, but with a sense of carelessness, as if she isn’t really paying attention. She is insubstantial, yet magnetic.
She is quiet in class, sitting in the middle of the class. She doesn’t ever look like she’s paying attention, but never misses a question from sharp-eyed teachers, and her notes are perfect. She doesn’t talk to anyone, and the only person who approaches her is Edward – her lab partner in Chemistry turned out to be Bella, Edward’s girlfriend, and she seemed ill at ease with her beau’s sister.
At lunch, she sits at the end of the table, a soda open at her elbow, and a sketchbook open, her pencil floating over the page. Occasionally, she will lift the soda to her lips, but she doesn’t engage with her siblings, with Bella.
Jasper wonders what she’s thinking. He is entranced by her red lipstick, her enormous golden eyes, the way she moves – like a dancer. By her soft voice, her articulate responses to questions.
He sits with Peter and Mike, and are later joined by Peter’s girlfriend, Charlotte, as well as Ava, Jessica and Angela. Ava is still in a foul mood over having to add a few Junior classes to be able to graduate but seems to like Jessica and Angela.
“You’ve gotta stop staring, man, or Emmett Cullen is going to bury you in a shallow grave,” Peter said, snagging fries from Charlotte’s plate.
“Shut up,” Jasper said, flicking a piece of lettuce at him.
“Staring at who?” Ava said suddenly, whipping around to look around at the Cullen table.
“Alice Cullen,” Peter said with a grin. “The small one.”
“Is she a freshman?” Ava said, a twinkle of mischief in her eye.
“Just a very tiny Junior,” Jessica giggled.
“She’s in the foster system, Jess. We don’t know how bad her life was before the Cullens took her in,” Angela said, frowning. “She’s quiet, but nice. I have Art with her.”
“Baby brother has a crush,” Ava crowed, grinning. “She’s pretty, Jazzy.”
“Jazzy?” Peter jumped on that.
“I hate you,” Jasper said conversationally to Ava, before turning back to this lunch and trying not to think about the golden-eyed girl.
--
“Jasper Whitlock?”
He shuts his locker to see the giant Cullen – Emmett – standing there, looking fairly affable.
“Yeah?”
“Emmett Cullen. I’m here to tell you,” Emmett began, speaking very precisely, like the choice of his words was important, “that you should probably leave my sister alone. That it’s a really bad idea to pursue Alice.”
Jasper frowned, repeating the words in his head. “So, are you telling me you don’t want me to go near your sister?”
“No, I’m just here to tell you that you need to stay away from her,” Emmett said, looking frustrated.
“So… this is someone else’s advice,” Jasper leant against his locker.
“It is a general consensus that it would be a bad idea,” Emmett continued.
“Consensus? Okay, so I’m guessing your brother sent you,” Jasper said, irritated. “Was Alice polled on her opinion in this ‘consensus’? Because that’s pretty much the only person who gets an opinion.”
Emmett grinned. “I told them you were a good one. Good luck, man.”
