Author's Note: Hello everyone, Rose and Felicity here! We're happy to be able to continue posting this story and updating a bit more frequently from now on. Felicity has been working hard to write chapters but due to unexpected personal conflicts—we are working together to make sure she can keep herself and her readers happy! So for those of you who are new, we hope you enjoy reading this story!

Chapter One

~Jasper~

Summer, 1863

I could still hear it. The cries of my brothers as the grenades rang out around the fort, the savage yells as the Yankees charged in and surrounded us until there was barely room enough to breath, the smell of gunpowder, the suffocating smoke and deafening explosions, old and new blood filling the air, and the black smoke that covered the sky that had once been a clear blue where I could see the birds soaring free. Freer than any of us could ever be. And then...there was silence. As if a wave had decided to wash everything away.

I awoke startled by the pained groans around me, causing me to cover my ears with my hands only to wince from a flaring pain on my ribs. I closed them again as a bright light stung my eyes. I slowly open my eyes after a moment and see a white ceiling above me where I laid in a bed—it was not the black sky I had seen so many times whenever I awoke. So where was I?

I turned my head and recall where I was. The last thing I remembered was being back in Gettysburg, where we were fighting like dogs for three days straight against the Union. Then I remembered being shoved by a crazed soldier with his rifle and falling down into the trench we had charged out of and as I stood up I was struck by the bayonet of his musket. But then what happened? How was I not dead yet?

I attempted to sit up, ignoring the searing pain on my side, when a hand gently stopped me. I looked up quickly and see a woman; a nurse, with a ghost of a smile on her thin lips.

"You shouldn't rush to get back on the front lines just yet soldier. Best conserve that energy till then."

I grimace before I did as I was told and looked back up at the white, almost translucent ceiling.

"Trust me m'am I am not in any rush." I responded hoarsely as my throat felt sore and dry.

I looked from the corner of my eyes at the men laying in the beds beside me all writhing in pain from the injuries they had obtained—worse injuries than I had received and yet here we were. I closed my eyes as I caught a glimpse of a doctor covering a man in the far end of the room with a white sheet and a reverend holding a bible in his hand.

God . . . Was he even here anymore? After all the sins we've committed did he even care that so many have lost their lives?

I was brought out of my pondering when I hear what sounds like rustling of papers and I couldn't help open my eyes to look up at the woman who had sat down next to my bed. She looked through a box with tattered letters before pulling out a single envelope.

"Looks like you received one letter. It was sent a little while ago, it looks to be May. Would you like me to read it to you?"

I sighed and when I tried to reach for the letter I grimaced once more. Without waiting for me to ask for her help, the nurse opens the letter and gently takes out the single piece of paper and begins reading it.

"It says it's from Esme but I- I'm sorry I can't seem to make out where it was sent from. Should I continue?" I nod as I felt I was unable to speak, maybe out of fear, maybe out of my own indignation with the outcome of how things ended—everything I had done to get to where I am now. I close my eyes as the nurse began reading the letter to me.

"My dear sweet Jasper,

I hope you find yourself well and are reading this letter in a place that is far better than the previous. I miss you terribly—every time I look out the window I think about the hot summer day when they announced there would be a war and how you and those young hopeful men cheered so victoriously at the chance of serving your country. It still tears at my heart when I imagine what horrors you must be going through. Your cousins, are always going to the trading post—hoping that someday we will be able to hear from you soon. Most days they fear that we may never hear from you again and yet every time that thought crosses through my mind, my heart weeps. And yet, I hold hope that someday you will make your way back to us. Is that foolish of me?

Are you well? Are you eating enough? I can't help but wonder—you can't blame me do you? When your mother was alive she always told me to make sure not to let you get into any trouble and yet...it was there where you went without an ounce of ambivalence. Carlisle misses you deeply but he barely takes the time to think of the war when he's healing others. So much has changed since the war started but our only wish is for you to make it out of that place and home where you belong. I know the thought of your father dying last winter was horrible but I want you to know you will always have a place here with us. With all my love,

Your aunt, Esme."

As the nurse told me that there was no more left to read of the letter I closed my eyes as I felt them sting once more and once I heard her wish me well she set the letter down next to me and as her steps faded away on the marble floors, I let my hands wander to find the rough crumpled envelope on the bed and held it tightly to my chest before I gave up to the pain and exhaustion.

My mind slipped in and out of consciousness from the fever and the endless nightmares that kept waking me. I'm not sure how many days passed before I was able to keep my eyes open longer than a few minutes but once the fever faded I attempted to stand on my feet for the first time since the battle. I had been taken to a military hospital somewhere outside of Gettysburg, the nurse had told me and once I was well enough I would be headed back to meet with what was left of the battalion. The latter made my stomach roll.

I walked down the long hall of the hospital, in hopes to drown out the other soldiers who were in worse shape than I had been found in but it seems as if my mind wouldn't allow it. I had memorized and heard so much these past two years—I feared I would never forget all the bad that had been done.

I made it out to the patio where there were tents stationed out on the vast field of the hospital and walked down the steps to sit down under the hot sun, I closed my eyes as I took Esme's letter out of my pocket. Reading it over and over again as if it were a golden ticket to send me home. If only.

. . . I hold hope that someday you will make your way back to us . . .

The words Esme wrote remained circling back in my head, repeating themselves. What if I could never go back by the time the war is over? How could I be so sure that the next time, I will survive? I had been shot and stabbed and somehow I had survived while other's hadn't. These were all questions I had no way of answering nor did I want answered.

"Beautiful day," I looked over my shoulder to my right where an injured man leaned against the large white pillar, picking at the bandaging around his hand and arm with his fingers. His head had also been injured I noticed a large bloodied gauze on the side of his head. Noticing that I hadn't said anything in response the man continued, "looks like they'll be shipping off soldiers to their units by Monday. Those who can still stand and shoot a Yankee without difficulty that is."

I felt my stomach roll at the man's words. Monday...That's in three days. I took my hand over to the side of my ribs and felt the bullet hole embedded in my skin through the bandage. I groaned inwardly as I realized the pain was bareable compared the when I first woke up in the hospital. I was able to walk for several minutes without feeling nauseous nor did I feel dizzy. That means in three days time I would be able to walk into a battlefield again.

"They say the war will be over in a month. Do you think so too?" I focused back on the man who hadn't moved from his spot or looked down at me. His face kept looking ahead to the clear sky as if he were searching for something.

Gathering my thoughts I finally found the words to speak.

"They've been sayin' that since the war started." I answered in a somber tone.

"Does it have to be over in a month for us though?" I furrowed my brows at what the man said.

"What do you mean by that?"

He finally looked down at me and I see the bandage that held the gauze to his head was also covering his right eye. He must be in a lot of pain . . . and yet he somehow managed to give me a smile.

"There ain't no sense in waiting for the government to tell us where or when we should give up our lives for a war that'll never end. Is there?" Without giving me a chance to reply the man pushed off of the pillar and walked back into the hallway, leaving me to process what his words meant. As I did . . . my hand clenched Esme's letter even tighter.

After thinking about my conversation with the injured soldier and continuously changing my mind, I went back to the bed I was placed in. The nights were by far the worst since the war started. I had yet another nightmare about the battles I had fought in the army and my brothers' who fell while I remained alone. The looks on the faces of the enemies I had to kill in order to ensure my survival. It all sent me into a panic attack and a persistent cold sweat that sent chills down my spine.

The days slowly yet quickly approached Monday and it was on Sunday night that I couldn't sleep at all since I knew I would have to be sent back to the unit, back to the war . . . and it was then that I had made my mind.

I watched the last of the nurses finished checking a patient and walking out into the dark room with the lantern in her hand, leaving us all alone. I felt my heart pounding in my chest like the beating of a drum right as each hit increasingly got heavier with every step the soldiers took. I felt all sorts of emotions stirring inside of me; guilt, hesitation, shame, and...longing. I longed to be free.

Taking the chance and listening to the voice that ate at my brain—I kicked the sheets off of me and slowly stood up, ignoring the pain in my torso as I pulled my worn out jacket over my shirt, my pants and boots along with the small pack I had. Making sure I still had the letter in my jacket pocket I moved silently through the ward, hoping that none of the injured soldiers who are seeing me make my escape wouldn't alert the nurses or the guards on duty. I made my way over to one of the windows that was slightly ajar and just before I jumped out—I saw the man who had spoken to me, sitting on his bed, fastening the laces on his black boots and dressed. He was smiling once again before saluting at me with one of his hands. I did everything I could to swallow the lump in my throat as I quickly walked off of the property and into the forest that would grant me my freedom. If I would survive my journey to that freedom however, only time could tell if it was merciful enough to give me peace one day again.

I walked all day and night, stopping only when I stumbled across a riverbank or to scrounge up something to eat simply to survive, sometimes barely enough to keep me going—sometimes nothing at all for days. I rarely slept after the last time I let my guard down and another deserter tried to steal what little was in my pack. Eventually after wrestling it out of his hands the man ran off—not wanting to lose his life for something as useless as a half empty bag.

I wanted to give up, venture into a town to let whoever knew I was a deserter to send the dogs on me...but I couldn't. Maybe I was a coward who was too afraid to do anything with his life now that he turned his back on his country. I don't know but all I knew was that if I gave up now—they would suffer. Esme and Carlisle...they would all suffer. I knew I needed to get to my family. If I explained everything that had happened they could understand why I left. Right? Esme was my mother's sister and ever since I was a child she and my uncle had always treated me like a son and although I felt guilt for returning as a disgrace—they could understand why I left. They had to. Being in this war has taught me how truly cruel this world could be and the worst part was that I contributed to that cruelty.

Days turned into weeks and eventually I lost count as to how long it's been since I left the hospital. Or even where I was. Was I still in Pennsylvania? Knowing would only make it all worse so I didn't bother looking for signs to tell me how much further I had to go.

I continued traveling through the state to reach Washington. I was sure I wouldn't make it as the season only got warmer and the heat made it difficult to walk in the day. I knew I had lost weight and my hair as well as my beard had grown a considerable amount but I found little time to worry about my appearance at this point. Luckily one morning, I ran into a an old man and his wife struggling to push their cart out of a patch of mud on the road and after reluctantly helping them, the old man offered to take me as far as his hometown in Montana. I rode in the back of their wagon and before I bid farewell to the elderly couple the woman gave me a small sack with fruits and a few slices of bread as a thank you for helping them. I made sure to eat it scarcely as I went on my way once more.

Not long after, I caught a glimpse of a group of deserters who had been captured and chained up by the Home Guard and I used the corn field as cover before a disheveled young man looked my way. I managed to remain unseen for God knows why and walked quickly in the opposite direction until I couldn't hear the guards amused taunts or the clicking of the hoofs on the horses they rode. As soon as I knew I was far away enough I sank down on my knees and clutched at my stomach until the nausea went away and my heart settled.

Coward . . .

I finally felt a small shred of hope as I made it into a town in Washington. Once I wasn't sure which road to take to lead me into the place called Forks, I asked a local farmer and he told me it was a one day's worth of travel walking. I could do one more day, I told myself.

My heart clenched in my chest as I wandered through the town that was surrounded by evergreen nature and was cooler than Montana had been, I remembered which road led to Esme and Carlisle's house. They lived on the countryside now from what she had written in her letters in the past.

I walked down the vacant road which led to their home and as I past by a white wooden house with two floors and a wide land for the farm surrounding it. I took notice of a man plowing the bottom field and soon his gaze had met mine. My first reaction when he turned to wave at me from afar was to keep my head down however, just as I decided to walk away from the house—I heard a faint melody being played from inside the house. I turned my head to look over my shoulder as the melancholic song continued. A piano?

I stopped in my tracks as I listened to the first form of music for the first time in months. I couldn't remember the last time I had heard the soothing tune of a piano or a quick whistle of a violin—not since Jenks used to wander around the camp grounds playing his worn out fiddle to the wounded on their death beds.

I looked towards the house as the melody continued fluidly and beautiful and I wished nothing more than to have whoever was playing the instrument to continue until I was fast asleep, without any nightmares to attack me. It was only when I heard the melody beginning to slow that I realized I needed to keep moving before the farmer or anyone suspected me. I shook off the feeling of longing even as the song being played followed behind me and hoped it would give me a sliver of courage as I walked down the road to the house that was a few steps away from the house I had passed. I stopped when I reached the fence that was made out of stacked tree limbs before I looking up at the home I had visited as a child.

I took my hat off and clutched the hat in my hands before running my fingers through my thick hair to fix the shoulder length mess I had. I breathed out as I took a step forward and walked up the wooden steps of the porch and knocked on the maple brown door. Feeling my heart in my throat I turned my back as I looked around nervously at the land my uncle had bought years ago, choosing to focus on the green trees and grass as well as the trees with the leaves that were slowly changing colors now as autumn was approaching.

Stop stalling!

I held my breath as I heard the front door creak open and the voice that I had been longing to hear for so long spoke.

"Yes? How may I help you?" I closed my eyes as tears threatened to fill them and even when I turn around I still hesitate to open them. I heard a gasp and that was when I opened my eyes to see my aunt's beautiful face already invaded by tears that rolled down her cheeks. She looked as if she had seen a ghost as she held onto the door frame with her hand, her caramel brown hair was longer than the last I had see as it was loose past her shoulders in the braid she had and her tired green eyes were illuminated by her emotions.

"A-aunt . . ." I only managed to say a minuscule of what I thought, my voice betraying me as it faltered and my emotions threatened to erupt. All while one thought kept repeating itself. Please let me come home. Please.

And as if everything else in the world had disappeared—I was pulled into a suffocating yet loving embrace as Esme sobbed into my shoulder.

"Oh my sweet boy!" Her grip around me was almost painful as she held me close to her but it was a pain I welcomed as relief and exhaustion invaded me finally in one swift blow.

I felt tears streaming down my cheeks finally after keeping them trapped within me for so long and finally sobs wracked my body as I raised my arms up and held my aunt like a child who had to be comforted by his mother after a bad dream. And suddenly it was as if everything in this cruel world had simply been erased by the love I had never known I would miss. After a few moments I heard my cousins run out, crying and happy to see me as they hounded us in their own embrace and Carlisle standing behind them by the door, smiling at me with saddened eyes that probably fought to keep his own emotions at bay. And I knew . . . I was home and accepted for the broken mess that I was. How? I don't know if I would ever understand but I wanted to try—for my family.

And after a moment Esme and the others insisted frantically for me to come into the house. All the while the melody I heard moments ago had surrounded me once again—sending me wave after wave of hope and warmth I had long thought wouldn't belong to me anymore.

Author's Note: Please leave a review :) we really love this story and it's one of (Felicity's and mine) favorite stories to write so far. It holds a deep meaning in Felicity's heart and I hope all of you who read it will enjoy it as well!