Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight. This deviation of plot is my own.
A/N: A/U & OOC - rated M for dark themes.
Summary: The long journey back from hell often falls far short of heaven. Bella searches for a light to bring her out of darkness; Jasper resolves to keep tragedy at bay. A/U & OOC - Bella/Jasper
Worthy of Paradise
Prologue
The light is most appreciated by those who have experienced darkness. Jasper Whitlock knew all about darkness. He spent years there and nothing would ever erase or even dull his memories of that time.
In his first life he was a soldier. In his second he became something more. But what she believed defied both. Why she would imagine him a creature so very different from that which he was he could barely comprehend.
He left the battlefield but the warrior within would always remain; the scars he wore were carved into his psyche as surely as they were upon his skin. What had made him a man, a human man, had been destroyed by fire, and what traces of humanity the venom didn't rob him of were obliterated by the wars he waged for the sake of blood and territory.
When ultimately he did leave that realm he found that his long journey back from hell fell far short of heaven. After all, in the ebb and flow of an endless sea of sensations hope is but one more transient mood, and eternity is an endless secession of ordinary events repeated over and over again, only to be interspersed with all too brief of periods when it isn't.
From the first time he saw her he felt a sense of familiarity, indistinct to begin with, yet undeniable. For a moment he found himself transfixed by her doll-like appearance. Her features implied innocence, fragility even, though they belied the strength behind her gaze. She was beautiful, yes, though what stood foremost in his mind was her unique combination of awareness, understanding and perceptiveness. Truly, she was wise beyond her years. And then there was the tenor of her emotions. He couldn't help the thoughts that drifted between her and his former mistake well past their brief encounter.
Alone in his study hours later and unable to rid his thoughts of the brown eyed girl, he found himself in the furthest back corner of his closet. Moving aside stacks of journals, files, and records dating back to the mid-1950s, he eventually pulled out a shoebox-sized fireproof safe. Inside was minted currency from what was for a brief time the Confederate States of America, along with faded photographs which hinted at familial ties to a human bloodline. Finally, nestled at the bottom lay a small hand carved wooden box whose nondescript appearance was in contrast to the magnitude of its contents.
It was tiny in his hand as his fingers moved gently against its embossed sides and so very close to opening its lid. Minutes ticked by, and then a knock at the door brought him back to the present. Quickly all was as it had been before, with memories concealed underneath folders and papers. The close of the closet door and a key to lock things up - unnecessary as the lock was - and in the space of several seconds he was face to face with who dared to intrude upon his recollections. It was just as well, he thought, because he really could use a hunt.
E/N: Not much to begin with, but please share your thoughts with me. And thanks for reading :)