AN: An outtake from Peter's perspective.

This is the last thing planned for this fic. I won't say never, but never is pretty likely. Thanks for coming along for this ride, everyone.

The Kelly Criterion

The wide, open ground floor of the factory rests on the edge of a razor blade. Dust floats down from the metal rafters above in waves. In front of Peter stand three vampires, their attention focused on the tasty morsel he dumped at his feet. The Volturi may as well be on strings for how easy it is.

This plan has been simmering for days, now, but it wasn't until Peter was lucky enough to draw responsibility for finding a rendezvous point that he began to seriously consider it. It started with a wriggling notion: if he can control enough of the encounter, can he ensure the outcome he wants? It's risky, and a high wager, but without any brats involved who think their gifts make everyone around them invincible, Peter and Jasper can get this job done.

Peter's muscles are tense. Expectations are high, but he's run the odds—done nothing but for over five hours—and Jasper can almost always turn a longshot into a victory. Peter regrets not looping him in—but every second up until he pulled Bella out of the car and committed to this course of action was spent teetering side-to-side, unsure, and afraid. The freedom to chicken out was appealing; the flip side is now he has to trust Jasper to size everything up in a glance.

Any second… any second now… There. Unease floods the space, washing straight up to the tops of the windows. Nausea roils in Peter's gut. He feels sick, queasy—tired… he brushes it away. Jasper always does make the best entrances.

As one, the Volturi turn to assess this new threat. None of them are so much as looking at him. Jane, Aro, and Renata—all three focus entirely on Jasper. Their legs twitch, fingers curl into claws. Peter allows himself to fall into the same stance, ready, waiting… They're on a clock here, but the timing has to be perfect.

Jasper starts running his mouth as hard as he can; Peter knew he'd get it. He keeps one eye on Bella, and the other on Renata; he has to wait for the exact moment Renata goes after Jasper, or this will all be for nothing. Bella's face down, scratching at the dirty floor absentmindedly. She probably thinks she's flailing about, but she's too tired from blood loss and Jasper to pull it off. She's still got some time, but Peter doesn't want to cut it close.

Finally, Jasper hits the bulls-eye. Renata moves. Peter charges. None of them see it coming.

It's not until the proverbial dust has settled that Jasper rounds on him, but Peter has more important things to focus on. He ruthlessly quashes the bitter panic and accompanying guilt gnawing for attention; he needs to focus.

"You motherfucker." Jasper snarls. "That was too risky, even for us."

"Shut up and knock her out, Jasper." There's no reason to keep Bella conscious for this, she'll have an easier time asleep. Bella's breath stutters and Peter swears both their hearts stop for a split-second before he eases her onto her back. If Peter has to listen to her struggle for another inhale, he's going to lose it.

Jasper maintains the steady stream of dirty looks and furious emotional climate as he rips up flooring and knocks down support beams to kindle the fire he's building, but he pulls it together long enough to put Bella under. Her breathing evens back out. For now. The wound on her neck is something else, though. It's an angry, jagged tear; the worst of it sealed off by his venom, but vicious all the same. It looks more fragile than it did five minutes ago when tension slithered through the atmosphere and kept him focused on what lay ahead. Peter's faintly embarrassed of how sloppy a job he did, though it'll be easier to pass off this way.

Jasper finishes dealing with the remains of the Volturi and heads to the far wall to retrieve an old, rusted fire extinguisher. Peter is sure Jasper's just as surprised as he is that it still works. "What would you have done if it was busted?"

"Let it burn, I guess. No one is going to come out here without a reason." Jasper's halfway out the door with his phone to his ear. His other arm twitches, and Peter spies a new wound added to the collection. Sometimes, Peter thinks Jasper collects those bite marks of his on purpose. He's utterly incapable of a clean job at any rate.

Peter lifts Bella into his arms, cradling her neck, and follows Jasper out the broken front doors fluttering on their hinges. Perhaps he'd been a touch over-dramatic about the whole thing. "Van Buren County Hospital. Take Highway 1."

Jasper's already relaying the information over the phone to Carlisle. "She's going to need a transfusion." Jasper seethes, no doubt realizing that Peter selected a meeting point with hardly anything in every direction, except for a twenty-four-hour emergency room. He adds, "I don't think you want to know the details until she's stable. Someone needs to get out here to clean up, too. We don't have time for any more than the necessities."

Peter hears Carlisle mention Edward and Alice, and Jasper shakes his head before waving an arm in the air from the driver's side of the car. Peter fishes the keys out of his pocket and tosses them over before loading Bella into the backseat and sliding in after her. He wants to get away from the stench of burnt flesh and the memory of Bella rambling incoherent nonsense about snow and liars.

It's the most awkward car ride Peter has ever had in his, admittedly, long life. Jasper is pumping out rage so hard and fast, Peter worries he might put Bella into cardiac arrest. "Get yourself under control."

Jasper gives him a nasty look in the mirror for that one. Peter busies himself with dressing Bella's wound with the first-aid kit he'd stashed in the car the day before. It had originally been a precaution, but that was before Peter started factoring Jasper's aptitude under pressure into his scheming. The extra sterile pads and tape arrived later, after he realized they had a rather efficient solution to their problem staring them in the face.

Jasper drives like the police don't have a chance in hell at catching him, even if they did give chase. In record time, Jasper's slamming on the brakes and wrecking the hell out of Peter's tires. The car is lined up perfectly with the side entrance to the emergency room. Peter wonders if this is the same thing they did back in Phoenix; if this is a routine the Cullens have found themselves unfortunately familiar with. He ignores the nurse armed with a wheelchair and thrilled to be trusted with it, navigates Bella out of the car himself, and carries her inside. There's no chance he'll let her out of his grasp until he's looking whoever Carlisle pulled a favor from in the eye.

A second nurse smiles at him with a soft and understanding nod inside the building. Accompanying her is a frazzled doctor so green Peter bets he still hasn't figured out how to do his laundry by himself. The kid has a pea-sized zit on the tip of his nose and is fidgeting so much Peter wrestles with the idea of using the bungee cables in his trunk to tie him up. Peter shifts his weight, ready to play keep away if he has to. Jasper comes to a halt next to him, shoulder to shoulder. "Carlisle is coming, right?"

Even though the question is meant for Jasper, the nurse answers. "Doctor Cullen gave very specific instructions. Don't worry, we're going to take care of your—"

"I'm her husband." Peter knew that would come in handy. He can prove it, too, for both Jan Brady and Bella Swan. It's a slightly different Bella Swan—different social and totally fake—but he'd prefer not to admit this particular safety net. Who knows what sort of crazy shit Bella would inflict on him as retribution for stealth marrying her. In Kansas, she'd already made her way from childish pranks to frat-boy level bullshit, and Peter's a little wary of raising those stakes when she's so enthusiastic about the game.

"Your wife is in good hands. We're going to take her back, and we'll let you know her status as soon as we can."

"You, specifically, will stay with her?" Peter has fewer objections to leaving Bella in their care if this is the case, and to his relief, the nurse nods. The wheelchair comes into view, and this time he lets them whisk Bella away. Two clipboards stuffed with papers appear in his hands, and suddenly it all comes crashing in. He sinks into a chair by the door and watches Jasper, arms over his chest, do the same across from him.

"Breathe, Peter," Jasper speaks quietly, without looking at him. "It's out of your hands now. Just breathe."

Peter feels like he's on the receiving end of a defibrillator. The air he gasps into his lungs tastes of disinfectant, but the next one comes easier, and so does the one after.

An hour passes, and Jasper gets a text, but it's another twenty minutes before he has mercy and admits the message was from Carlisle, and Bella is stable. Peter starts filling out the paperwork so he has something to occupy his hands. Carlisle would probably take care of it if Peter wanted to be difficult, but it seems pointless. The whole lot of them are going to be after his head, anyway.

The nurse from earlier—the friendly one who seemed like she knew what she was doing—retrieves him a little after eight in the morning. Carlisle stands back a few paces, lips pressed together and silently disapproving, but not wanting to out Peter as a liar rather than a devoted husband. Seems Peter gets to keep his embarrassing forgeries to himself for another day. He follows the pair of them through the wide, winding hallways; Jasper keeps pace a handful of steps back.

"She lost a lot of blood," Carlisle says. He softens up as he explains, that instinctual doctor's calm coming out to play. "Around thirty-five percent of the circulating volume. She needed a transfusion, and she's stable. We're hoping she'll wake up this morning or this afternoon. Overall, I feel optimistic. Once she wakes up, I think she'll be in the clear."

Bella's in about the shape Peter expected. She's propped up by an army of pillows, and her hair is brushed free of dirt and tangles—Carlisle's wife's doing, Peter is sure. The monitors confirm what Carlisle has been saying, she's doing alright. Once Peter has convinced himself that she's not about to die and has been relatively well cared for, he allows himself to acknowledge the elephant in the room that has both Jasper and Carlisle glaring daggers at him.

There's a large, white bandage covering purple and black bruises spread all over Bella's neck, collarbone, and shoulder. Peter hopes it's one of those things that looks worse than it is, but it doesn't seem likely. He can't deal with it right now, but at least it seems like no one else wants to, either. Still, the fluorescent lights do him no favors with how brutal the wound looks. That uneasy anxiety claws for his attention again.

It's easy to wait everyone out to get some privacy. The hospital staff clears out with Carlisle, other patients to worry about, and Jasper takes his leave not long after. Peter snaps the curtains closed despite how gloomy the weather is, and claims the chair across from the door. After a moment he kicks his feet up on the bed—some ridiculous show of marking his territory—and refuses to move an inch.

When Carlisle returns to check on Bella, they're immediately in a standoff. Carlisle watches him with a steady and analytical gaze, and Peter stares right back. Apparently, Jasper has filled Carlisle in on what happened. He notices when Bella wakes, but so does Carlisle, and Peter is not about to lose this battle of wills. She's still half-under and doped up to hell, anyway.

"Peter." Bella's voice is raspy and weak. "Peter, get your feet off the damn bed. Isn't it enough you ripped my throat out?"

Carlisle's growl, Peter supposes, is like Halley's comet. Once, maybe twice in a lifetime. Carlisle lets Peter keep his obnoxious attitude for another handful of minutes, and then, it's spirited away by the sound of Edward approaching. "I just came to let you know Alice and Edward are all right. And to check on Bella, of course."

It's with a different type of gaze that Peter watches Carlisle look over his patient and depart in favor of talking to his adopted son. Their conversation is nothing new; Carlisle fills Edward in on Bella's condition, and Edward relays his escapades with Alice in Volterra. Peter doesn't care enough to be bothered with eavesdropping.

There's too much space to think. It's frighteningly easy to posit all the ways things could go wrong now that Bella's laying in front of him, prone and helpless. He can't change her, can't let anyone else step in and do it, either. She said no; he'll have to help her fight it out as a human. Rationally, he knows that if she takes a turn and is actually dying, then not only do the previous rules no longer apply, but Carlisle will take care of business whether Peter likes it or not. Peter wouldn't interfere, would welcome that responsibility ripped from his hands, but thinking on it feels like betraying an agreement Peter has already played fast and loose with.

The possibilities fire back and forth, each pessimistic and ending in death. By the time Edward decides to make his appearance, Peter has worked himself into a frenzy running through every outcome he can think of and calculating how much he's willing to bet on each one.

Peter is ready for this fight; he's spoiling for it a bit. Any second now Edward is going to try to throw this in his face, and Peter will hurl it straight back. Edward has no clue what went down at that factory, or how this might have played out if Peter hadn't decided to raise the stakes to ensure a better outcome.

None of them had been thinking straight. They didn't see how much they had to adapt to the changing situation, and not one of them had taken Bella's refusal seriously. They all went into their respective battles blinded by the assumption that they had a plan b if the human became collateral damage. Peter can forgive Jasper and Alice for it, but Edward? Edward was there when Bella finally decided to stand up and fight.

The unbidden image of Bella scratching the dirt and whining about liars floats to the forefront of his thoughts, along with the wretched churning in his gut he's been trying like hell to ignore for the past fourteen hours. In a rare bout of sympathy, Peter realizes that Edward does understand exactly what it's like to kneel over Bella, passed out and anemic, and have to get her through it, alive.

"Do not compare what you did to what I had to do in Phoenix." Edward snarls. In one motion he kicks the door shut and snaps the blinds closed, and in the next second, he has his fingers twisted in the collar of Peter's shirt.

Peter's not paying enough attention; this new development is infuriating. He is done with all these fucking Cullens. His eyes narrow, but his voice stays deliberately calm and even. "If you don't want to be thrown out the window, I would suggest you shut the fuck up and sit down."

Bella will be just fine, Peter knows this, but he can't help the frenzy churning away in his belly. Edward's presence is nothing but a reminder that this sort of thing seems to keep happening to her, and it only serves to drive his anxiety forward. It doesn't help that she's clearly on the upswing, or that Carlisle is optimistic. He feels compelled toward an outrageous amount of fretting, and it's too distracting.

The memories smother him: Bella clutching his arm crossed over her chest to keep her still; that moment when she realized exactly what was about to happen and clenched her jaw so hard Peter swore he heard a tooth crack; and the awful, gut-wrenching panic that's slowly escaping the lock-down he imposed over it. No, it doesn't matter that she's going to be okay, because all Peter can think about is that he's not going to survive it if she dies. On the bright side, he's certainly ensured mutual destruction from an impressive number of sources. Too bad Jasper would never let it happen the easy way.

"It figures," Edward says, tightening his grip, "this is the one time your thoughts are clear and easy to read."

"I have more important things to worry about than keeping you out of my head," Peter replies from between clenched and bared teeth.

Whatever retort Edward has queued up is knocked to the side by Jasper, for once not making an entrance, but choosing to wait quietly until he's noticed. Edward loosens his fist and takes a long step back, never taking his eyes off Peter.

"Esme wants to talk to you," Jasper says, nodding toward Edward. His expression tightens. "And it's time for you and me to have a chat, Peter."

The thing about Jasper that most people don't realize is that he's more emotional than he'd have them believe—he's just adept at hiding it. Right now he's pulled taut, unwilling to give anything away, but Peter sees the little cracks in his demeanor. If Peter didn't know him so well, he'd think Jasper hadn't decided how pissed off to be, yet, but Peter knows better than anyone else just how much indignation is simmering in his old friend on behalf of his… well, Peter's not sure what she is to either of them, anymore.

"Let's get this over with," Peter grumbles. There's no avoiding it, better to get it out of the way now, when Bella is more likely to stay asleep.

They move a fair ways from the hospital. Five miles further than they need to go, they turn to face each other under the dreary winter sun blotted away by the clouds. The sun is starting to come out again, but the forecast is largely overcast with a little snow when the temperature drops low enough. Peter didn't plan on an extended stay in Iowa, but he accounted for the possibility; they'll have decent freedom of movement, here. Better than Kansas, at any rate, but that's a low bar.

Peter knows where the conversation is going. He doesn't want to waste the time getting there, so he starts at the end. "I'll make it up to her."

"You owe her a liter and a half of blood." Jasper's fingers curl into fists. Now that they're free of witnesses, Jasper's body language has intensified. He looks ready to snap at the slightest provocation. "How can you even begin to make that right?"

"She understands." Peter spits the words out, frustrated that Jasper is still stuck on his anger and can't see what's in front of him. "You think I've done some horrible thing to her, and yeah, it wasn't the greatest, but she knows that sometimes we have to do terrible things to save the people we love."

He waits for a beat, to see if the confession does the job. It's a cheap trick, but the sentiment is genuine; it's worth a try.

Jasper scoffs. "Please. You're not getting out of this with such a pathetic attempt at manipulation. I already know you love her, dumbass. Too bad you're too chicken-shit to even tell her that much."

They're at a standoff again.

"I'll tell her," Peter says. Jasper continues to stare, unimpressed. "I'll apologize, too."

"And then you will cater to her every single fucking whim until she has replaced every last blood cell you devoured." Jasper's advancing again, intent on some sort of bodily harm to punctuate his demand.

Peter rolls his eyes and shoves Jasper back a step. Jasper must not be set on violence yet, because he lets him instead of lashing back. "Only if you want her to run me over with the car. Jesus, Jasper, she doesn't want to be coddled and spoiled. She just wants to be treated with respect."

"Do you somehow think it was respectful to suck half her circulating blood volume out of her without even asking first?"

"No, the respectful part was making sure she lived through it." It takes a moment, but Peter wrestles his fury under control. Jasper may have formed a friendly relationship with Bella, but he doesn't get her, not the way Peter does. He didn't watch her tread water for almost six months until her arms and legs were too exhausted to stay afloat—and he didn't have to stand back and let her flail about, hopeless and helpless, screaming that she didn't need a life jacket. All Jasper saw was the eleventh hour, when Bella finally accepted that she didn't want to drown.

For the second time, Peter is struck with the sympathetic realization that this must have been how Jasper felt watching him wither away for the past forty years. He throws the notion to the side; he doesn't want to think about what his life had been like, not ever again.

"She has a life now. She can do whatever she wants. No one and nothing is breathing down her neck, making everything feel completely pointless. The only thing keeping her going was that she promised her father she'd come home. Don't you get it? There was no safety net if things went wrong."

"I think I still have to hit you," Jasper says after digesting that tidbit. "Emmett's going to want a piece, too. And Carlisle, amazingly enough—how the hell did you manage to piss him off so much? Not to mention Alice. So, let's just go line everybody up so they can take their shot at the giant asshole who thought 'Hey, you know what's a great idea? Let's half-kill our favorite human.'"

"Stop rounding up! Thirty-five percent, you heard it as well as I did. You make it sound so much more demented than it really was."

Jasper's fist promptly introduces itself to Peter's face. Peter sees stars for the first time in decades. "If anything, I'm toning it down."

"Fuck, man, that actually hurt!"

"Good."

"Do you feel better now?"

"A little," Jasper admits. He shakes out his hand even though there's no point to it. Peter always figured Jasper must have gotten into at least as many fights as a human as he does now. "Please tell me she at least saw it coming."

Peter thinks she did. He wasn't all that composed on the trip, or upon arrival. Then again, Bella had obviously been struggling to ignore every warning sign. "She didn't want to see it, but she knew something was in the works and it'd be rough. She got in the car and said she trusted me. I had to let that be enough, or I don't think I could have followed through."

"So, I can pretend that when she told me it was okay, she knew what she was talking about?" Jasper asks, and it becomes apparent he's experiencing some regrets.

"You're wishing you'd insisted she went with you?"

"She wanted to stay in the car." It's all Jasper will say on the matter, but Peter doesn't need clarification; he saw it, too. He saw how Bella opened the door because she wanted to listen to their conversation but wouldn't so much as take her seat belt off. Even if Jasper had insisted, one of them would have had to drag her out of there.

Finally, Jasper backs down. "Let's be clear: if she asks me to hurt you, I will say yes."

This is something Peter can get on board with. "Deal."

"No limit, Peter. She doesn't have to ask today, or next year, or in a decade. If she ever asks me to fuck you up, I will do so."

That's less agreeable, but Peter figures he should take what he can get. "Fine. We done here?"

Jasper glances up at the sky and rolls his shoulders. He's loosening up, now that they're both sure this conversation won't come to any more blows. "Not quite yet. I promised Edward an hour."

If it were anyone other than Jasper, the betrayal would be white-hot and all-consuming, but like Peter was willing to go all-in on Jasper understanding his show for the Volturi, Jasper knows Peter can see he owes this to Edward. It won't make a lick of difference, anyway. Nothing Edward says or does will change that Bella has already determined her path forward. The only thing that has a hope of making a difference is how she feels about Peter's ruthless gambit in that dusty parking lot. Peter's betting she forgives him, but this wager is much lower than the rest. If she doesn't, well, it's not like Peter's never had to try to live around something like this before. The important parts all worked out, that's what matters. Bella might not even wake up before Edward's hour is up, anyway.

"I get it. That's fair."

Jasper flashes a grin and says, "Sorry," in that smart-ass way of his where he's only saying it to draw attention to how much he doesn't mean it. Jasper's grin morphs into something delighted. "Oh, and just so you know, Charlie Swan? That man is going to shoot you."

"Good thing I can run fast." Peter lets loose a shit-eating grin of his own. He'd love to meet the man.

Jasper chuckles and takes a few steps backward before turning and leading the way back. The pace is slow and leisurely—Edward still has fifteen minutes. "I don't think running will save you. There just ain't no getting away with cradle-robbing the chief of police. You think Bella is stubborn? She got it from him."

The hospital is in view when Jasper comes to an abrupt halt and quietly admits, "I don't agree with your methods, and you should have given me better than the pitiful warning you did—but thank you for having my back, and for having Bella's, too. Thanks for making sure she had a say over her destiny."

"Any time and every time." Peter doesn't break stride, he keeps walking straight past where Jasper has stopped. There is no outward indication of the weight of the sentiment, but Jasper remembers this promise between them just as well as Peter does. The question doesn't matter; the answer is always 'yes.'