A/n: I'm on a roll of Twilight fics! And now... who doesn't love Alice and Jasper? I might do Rosalie and Emmett next, if you beg me:P...
Her Eyes
The café door creaked open as Jasper stepped across the threshold, ducking his head to avoid hitting the beam that ran along the top. Tables covered chequered tablecloths dotted the hardwood floor. He walked across the room, brow furrowed, searching for something- he didn't know quite what. But something, or, he thought drily, perhaps someone, had led him here.
He surveyed the place, skimming the faces of inconsequential humans: families, single women, love-struck teenagers, a young husband and wife celebrating their new life together now that the war had ended.
A waitress smiled at him from behind the counter, where she served a tiny girl with soft, ebony hair that glimmered in the dim light of the café. When she noticed him looking at her, she bit her lip coyly and winked.
Jasper grimaced, catching a whiff of her tantalizing scent as she tossed her long curls across her shoulder. She leaned forward slightly, just enough that her figure curved invitingly against the counter. Stupid human, he thought. You don't really want my attention.
He ignored her, and the woman glared at him as he passed her. The girl with the black hair looked up at him, beaming. Her crimson eyes danced, and something in Jasper clicked into place, something that had always bothered him- belonging. Never had he felt so uncertain of himself than in Maria's army. Nevertheless, here, with this relative stranger, with her laughing, dancing eyes, he felt a sense of peace.
He had found what he was looking for. He sat beside her and sighed.
"You've kept me waiting," she said with mocking accusation. Jasper bit back a laugh; the thought of this slip of a vampire lecturing him was too amusing to consider.
"Sorry ma'am," he said, his Southern accent making his tone apologetic yet teasing at once. The waitress behind the counter sighed in longing. When Jasper shot her a glare, she tried to look innocent, bustling about doing nothing.
"Oh!" she squeaked, her silver, chiming voice sounding like rusty hinges- though the most beautiful rusty hinges he had ever heard. "A Southerner! Now that I was not expecting!"
She latched herself onto his arm, grinning smugly. "I've got meself a Southern man!" she said with glee. Her pale face glowed with serene joy. Jasper did not feel the need or the desire to make her calm down. If he had not had such a reserved nature, he would be howling at the moon, he was so happy. Moreover, there was something else, something beckoning him towards a redemptive path.
Hope.
Suddenly, Jasper grasped her hands- small, slender, and so warm- with his own, squeezing them tightly. He wanted to make sure she was real. She smiled at him, reaching out to brush her fingertips across his forehead. He sighed with bliss, leaning into the velvet stroke of her fingers.
The waitress was becoming annoyed. She idled, wringing her hands, as though unsure of what to say. Finally she said, in a high, nasal tone, "No public displays of affection, please. You're turning off our customers."
Jasper felt a growl simmering in his throat, and was about to bite her head off when the girl put a restraining hand on his arm. She grinned cheerfully at the waitress, who glowered in reply. "That's alright," she chirped. "We were just leaving."
With that, she grabbed Jasper's hand and led him out the door. Bells serenaded their exit, ringing along with her charming laugh. When they reached the street, the girl turned to him with a smile. "Hello," she said.
"Hello," he replied. "I'm Jasper."
She nodded. "I'm Alice. I knew you were coming."
"I knew you were here."
"No you didn't," she said, shaking her head to hide the grin that tugged at the corners of her small, full mouth. "You just followed your instinct."
"I followed my heart." As soon as the words left his mouth, Jasper felt stupid. They sounded so corny, but how could he describe the inner tranquility and contentment he felt with her beside him, as though part of him that had always been missing had suddenly been discovered?
She looked at him thoughtfully. Then she took his arm, undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his long sleeved shirt. People passing by glanced at them curiously, and Jasper fought the burning thirst that scratched his throat. Alice rolled the cuffs back, exposing his bare skin, littered with scars. She peered at them closely, and Jasper winced afresh at the memory of receiving those crescent moon wounds.
Then she kissed them, her lips gentle against the pain of remembering. Healing, almost. She kissed up his arm to the elbow, then looked up into his eyes. He was startled by how sincere- no, how grim- she seemed. Her eyes were sad and sympathetic, as though aching with the burdens they carried, with the burning with images branded into memory.
"Alice," he whispered, relishing the sweet eagerness of the word.
"Jasper," she said, cradling his name with a smile.
"Alice."
"Say it again. I love the accent."
Jasper threw his head back and laughed, startling nearby birds into restless flight. Wings fluttered to the ground, landing in Alice's hair. He brushed them off, trailing his fingers through her soft tendrils longer than necessary. Beneath his touch, Alice glowed with pleasure.
"Can I tell you something, and will you promise not to think I'm crazy and laugh?" she whispered conspiratorially, though her words weighed heavily with a dark seriousness, a secret she could tell only him.
"Yes," he replied sincerely. "I don't laugh very much." In fact, with her was the first time he had laughed since… he couldn't remember when.
"I can see the future," she said. Jasper's eyebrows shot for the sky, but other than that, he betrayed hardly any shock. To be honest, he could not admit that he was surprised. This strange little pixie- this odd little monster- had a sort of ethereal quality to her, like the faeries in the books he had once read. Although a faded memory, like a shadow across the sand, it had brightened with the strength of a rising sun with its personification in Alice.
"That doesn't surprise me," he said at last. "I can control people's emotions," he said lazily, scratching his head and yawning, as though unimpressed. He gauged her reaction through slit eyelids.
"You're bragging," she said, reaching on tiptoes to get into his face. How small she was, how infinitely precious!
"I was not," he protested, surprised at the ease with which they sparred, like the ebb and flow of the ocean. "I was simply stating the truth."
"Then tell me this, Jasper. Where do you come from? What is your full name?"
He sobered. "My name is Jasper Whitlock," he said gravely. "And I am from Texas," he drawled, suddenly feeling impish. He caught hold of her around her petite waist, drawing her towards him. "And you, ma'am?" he asked, whirling her around and dipping her in one fluid motion. "Where do you come from?"
She smiled mischievously, but her eyes frowned at him. He backed off, letting her go. He felt as though he had inhibited on her privacy. "No, no!" she cried. "Don't let go! It's just… I don't remember."
"Oh. I'm sorry." He stared down at the ground, a lock of honey blonde hair falling into his eyes. He sat down on a nearby park bench, Alice trailing behind him. Why did he have to mess everything up?
"Don't be." Her hand tucked under his chin, raising it so his eyes were level with hers as she climbed into his lap. "It's not your fault." Cuddling against him, she smiled at his surprise. Hesitantly, his arms eased back around her, holding her against his chest. She fit snugly, like the last piece of a puzzle.
Jasper was in heaven.
"I love you," he said, and meant it. He felt Alice fiddle with the buttons on his sleeves, the occasions of direct contact with his skin causing shivers of delight to course through his body.
"I love you too," she answered simply. She shifted slightly in his arms, so she faced him. He stared at her, drinking in her perfect skin, glittering eyes, sunny smile. Her fingers danced impatiently across his shoulders, tickling his neck, then the top of his head as they journeyed his torso. Finally, they paused, drumming on his chest lightly.
"What?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Are you going to kiss me, Jasper, or ogle at me? I'm too used to being ogled at, as I'm sure you are as well. But when was the last time you were kissed? Truly kissed?"
"Never," he breathed, and drew her closer. Their lips met, and fireworks erupted in his head.
That kiss was the most mind-blowing experience of Jasper's violent, lonely life. If he had not realized his commitment to Alice before, the knowledge that he would follow her wherever she went, by the time their lips parted, he was quite certain. His entire body fizzled with the yearning to feel her again.
More, he wanted more. However, she stopped him, laughing softly. "Another time," she said.
"Why not now?" he questioned, trying not to pout. Alice choked back a giggle. Her eyes gleamed with another secret, drawing Jasper in. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.
Alice grinned. "We have someplace to go," she told him, taking his hands and leaping gracefully to the ground like a gazelle.
"Where?" he asked, though he wasn't too concerned with the answer. As long as he was with Alice, Jasper would go anywhere.
Alice's brow furrowed in concentration as she closed her eyes, trying to recall the vision. "I don't know," she murmured. "All I saw was a group of vampires with… amber eyes?" she opened her eyes to peer at him questioningly. He shrugged. "Anyways, there was a tall blonde male, with his arm around a soft, slightly rounder caramel-haired woman, with a tall blonde girl and burly man, and a very tall, brooding bronze-haired boy."
"What does that mean?"
Alice smiled. "We have to find them." She glanced up at him, and he suddenly realized how very thick and long her lashes were. She fluttered them innocently. "Will you come with me, Jasper?"
"Yes," he said immediately. "You didn't have to ask."
They began to walk, their steps echoing off the pavement. They walked with fingers intertwined, and they did not rush. Alice jounced with vivaciousness, but she didn't spring ahead of him. She kept pace with Jasper's lazy stroll, because they both knew they had lots of time. They had eternity.