Author's Note: Don't own Twilight, as much as I wish I could make millions off of badly written fanfiction.
A thick blanket of fog rested over the sleeping city of Philadelphia. The dark streets were empty save for the occasional cat chasing a rodent. The street lamps, arranged in neat rows, remained dark and unlit. Buildings attempted to extinguish any sign of light, keeping the city as dark as possible.
Jasper preferred it this way. With darkness, it made him blend in easier. He could walk the streets quietly and swiftly without anyone knowing he was there. While the fog allowed him to move as quickly as he desired without being seen, Jasper spent much time walking at a human pace. His boots hardly made a sound as he walked along the brick sidewalk; he had to remember to make them clunk noisily when he was around human he wasn't intending to prey upon. Small little gestures such as that made him easier to forget.
The black fedora perched atop his head was pulled low, helping to hide both his thick curls and blood red eyes. A tattered black trench coat hung off of his slim frame. He supposed he looked like quite the mobster, a thought which always brought a small chuckle to his lips. Mobsters specialized in killing people and hiding the evidence.
Maybe he was one after all.
The smell of blood pierced his nostrils, causing his eyes to close tightly as he took in the scent. Two men were several blocks ahead of him. He soon picked up on the sound of their hurried footprints. His mouth salivated with venom. Less people were prone to roam the streets at night, especially in this darkness. Only those that had to be on the street were, making his choice of prey much simpler.
He found it strange that thirty years earlier he never would have spared a thought about his victims. Having lived with Maria for so many years in the South, he had grown accustomed to killing without hesitation. Survival of the fittest; predator eats prey, and so on.
Yet Charlotte and Peter had changed that. They had changed him.
He and Peter had fought beside one another in the War. Maria seemed to be impressed with Peter's potential; he was one of the few newborns that Jasper had not been ordered to kill. The two fought and killed together. A trained soldier, Jasper had always been cautious about forming friendships with any of the newborns. Yet Peter somehow made his way into his heart as a trusted friend. It was he who first put the seed of doubt in Jasper's mind that perhaps there were other ways to live.
Then Charlotte came.
Charlotte was a newborn; one of the many disposable soldiers in Maria's vampire army. Yet her usefulness had worn off and Maria had ordered her demise. Jasper had been ready to carry out the order, yet Peter could not. He had grown close to her and begged Jasper to let her live. He even threatened to fight Jasper if he would not back down.
At the time, Jasper could not fathom what would make Peter not obey. They were both soldiers given a task to carry out. But Peter left with Charlotte, and Jasper stood by and did not stop them. There was a fire behind Peter's eyes that had puzzled him.
Years later, when they returned to get him, he finally understood. Love. How it came about so quickly still baffled him, yet there was no denying the connection between the two. Love had brought them together and taken them far away from the hellish South, finding peace in the North where vampires didn't have to kill one another to survive. Love had quite literally made them find peace.
Jasper had lived with them for several years. He became anxious every time they crossed paths with another vampire; his instincts for survival would kick in upon catching the scent. Yet he could sense that the others did not want a fight; if anything, they were only anxious because he was.
His gift was also what made him leave his two friends. While he had used it to control anger and fear, he never had to experience the feeling of love and how brightly it could radiate. At times, it was extremely nauseating to be around the two. After several years of it, he realized why it bothered him so much. The feeling was wonderful; he didn't mind the peace and comfort that it brought. It was the realization that he was alone.
He left them at the early part of the century, wandering from city to city in the north. He made sure to steer clear of the South; he was sure that the war was still raging down there, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He had already fought in two wars; that was enough for him.
He was carefree about his life of freedom; killing when he needed to without a thought of who his prey was. It was what he was created to do; kill. It never bothered him or caused him a second thought.
Then on a cloudy April morning in 1917, the US entered World War 1.
Jasper had been living in New York City at the time, and would spend his days in his apartment overlooking the harbor watching the ships take the young soldiers away. A furious fire had built within him. These were lads not much older than her was when he joined the Confederate Army. They, like he once did, had mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children. And they were being sent to fight across the ocean where they didn't belong. Sure, President Wilson had claimed they were protecting the country. Jasper didn't buy it. It was all for the same reason that the Southern Wars still raged on; power and control. The drafted young men were just pawns, like the newborns he had controlled.
He had left the South to escape the wars, and here he was thrust into yet another. While he believed that Vampires were damned monsters, it was of no comfort to discover that Humans were too.
The war made him look at his prey differently. Would he be taking a father from his children? Or a young man from his girlfriend? In his mind, Jasper knew he was no better than the government who were sending these young men out to die for their country without any thought as to what they would be leaving behind.
It made hunting harder at first. The elderly were easy, but didn't taste as good. Street urchins or beggars were usually malnourished and thin. It was a sacrifice on his part, yet Jasper got an odd sense of pride knowing that he was not completely a monster.
With the end of the war rose Nazi Germany, and that itself provided a whole new game for Jasper.
He had stumbled across his first Nazi spy by accident; he had been living in Chicago and while hunting had heard a quiet whisper in German. The sound was not meant to reach human ears, yet Jasper was no human. It was too easy to follow the man and drag him down a corner. For once, he did not kill his prey instantly. The interrogation was quick but Jasper soon learned of a network of American spies for Nazi Germany. The thought sickened Jasper; monster that he was, he was still a patriot for his country. His blood had been spilt all those years ago; weakling spies like this one were the reason why more young men would die.
It was rather ironic, Jasper noted. The patriotic vampire. He didn't mind at all; it was a new game where he still inevitably got his prey and could take out Nazi rats in one swoop.
It was of little surprise to him when the second World War came around. It surprised him even less to learn that it was, of course, for power and control. Mankind was such a greedy race; Jasper had spent many evenings wondering why the vampire world was still hidden in shadows. The two races were so alike; it wasn't as if they had completely different morals and ideals. Vampires killed to live. So did humans.
A small wisp of wind blew past Jasper's cheek. He inhaled deeply once more. The Philadelphia air was full of many a foul scent. Yet only one thing could stand out so sweetly that he could pick it up from a distance. The smell of fresh blood was sweeter than any Texas rosebush in bloom. Once he picked up on the scent, there was nothing that could break his focus- A new scent crossed his path. His eyes popped open, his back going rigid – unless it was that.
He breathed in the air once more, confirming his thoughts. There was another Vampire in this neighborhood. He'd caught her scent before - he was fairly certain it was a female, judging by the fact that her scent was laced with perfume. It puzzled him, for he was certain that he'd crossed her scent in this exact area. Vampires didn't like to remain stationary and moved around every few days. She'd been in this same spot for weeks.
He shook his head. She wasn't around at the present, so she was of little concern to him. He had dinner to catch.
The city awoke early, as it always did. Bakers began warming up their ovens, trucks made their deliveries throughout the city, street sweepers made their rounds to clean up the trash from the night before.
Jasper leaned stiffly against an alley wall. He cast a red eye up at the sky. The fog coverage wouldn't hold for much longer. He softly cursed under his breath. It just needed to wait another twenty minutes or so. He would be very put out if it didn't.
The familiar popping of an old engine reached his ears. It was about time. Jasper left his wall and ventured out onto the sidewalk. Several older men stood waiting as well. He inhaled their scent deeply, smiling wickedly to himself. It was a good thing he was full, because if he wasn't… In this early morning, it would only be too easy to take the small crowd out.
The men shuffled their feet, looking cross and anxious as they waited. Jasper could feel the tumult of emotions raging from the group. Closest to him, an old round man was very impatient, checking his pocket watch periodically.
Beside him, a man looked around somewhat nervously. Jasper could feel the guilt and shame that the man was experiencing. Jasper took a small whiff of air, raising an eyebrow toward the man's back. No wonder he felt so guilty. Jasper could smell the tendrils of a cheap perfume on the man, and he was guessing it didn't belong to the man's wife.
A sensation of nervousness crashed into Jasper, interrupting his thoughts. The man furthest from him was suddenly sweating. Jasper's attention quickly turned on him, looking around to see what provoked the man's sudden fear. He caught the man's eye from beneath his hat. He nearly let out a laugh when he realized the man was looking at him. The corner of Jasper's mouth turned up in amusement. The man saw this and did his best to look away, pretending not to notice Jasper, though his fear and apprehension were still there.
The delivery truck finally came into view. The loud engine roared to a halt next to the curb, a young boy hopping out of the back as a man threw several tied stacks of newspapers at his feet. The boy quickly cut through the twine and held up the papers that all of the men were anxious to read.
"Get your papers! Read all about it! Adolph Hitler found dead!"
The boy quickly began handing out papers to the waiting men, pocketing the 5 cents they shoved into his hand. Jasper deposited his coin into the boy's hand and took his paper, looking at the front page with narrowed eyes. The printed text blazed up at him. Hitler was dead. Suicide, from the sound of it.
Jasper's eyes tried to scan the text, yet he glanced up at the sky. The fog was burning up faster than he would have liked. He folded the paper and tucked it into his coat pocket, glaring at the sun and beginning to head back down a side alley into the shadows.
The sunlight was just beginning to creep through the foggy sky when Jasper finally made his way back to the abandoned loft he was residing in. It was nothing more than a dusty studio above an old abandoned warehouse. A fire had gutted the place months before, but the city hadn't had it torn down yet. The charred wood creaked when he walked on it, but it was sturdy enough to hold. It wasn't much, but it was a place for him to spend his daytime.
The crates and chairs were covered with old newspapers. It had become a daily habit to get news on the war. Reading about campaigns made the military side of Jasper kick in. He would look through the overviews, details, photos, and outcomes and strategize how he would have it if he was still an Army Major. It was pointless, but at least it gave him something to do.
He peeled off his trench coat and hung it on an old nail, pulling the newspaper out from inside the pocket. He tossed his fedora onto a crate then seated himself on the floor. It wasn't out of comfort that he sat; only habit. Leaning back against a dusty box, he unfolded the paper and dove into the text.
The paper was dripping with good news for the Allied Forces. Hitler was dead. Mussolini was executed in Milan. The US had taken Cebu Island, which officially ended the campaign in the Philippines. Jasper shook his head as he finished the section. Death for peace. It was an odd balance; many more men had to die so the war could finally end.
He quickly scanned through the rest of the paper; the stock market was doing well, a new movie was out, the continued periodic air raid drills would continue and citizens should be prepared, along with a reminder of the curfew and to keep all lights out at night. There was not much else of interest to him.
Jasper threw the paper aside, looking at the loft around him. Sunlight had begun filtering in through holes in the roof. Jasper eyed it with wistful envy. He missed the sun. He missed lying in the fields outside of town, the tall grass tickling his body as he listened to the locust humming from nearby trees. The earth below him warmed his back while the sunlight shone down onto his face.
That was all gone.
Jasper stared at the rays of light for several moments more before swiftly rising to his feet. He unbuttoned his white shift and slipped it off without a noise. Setting it off to the side, he walked across the creaking floor to the light.
He passed his arm through the rays, watching as his skin glittered and his scars shone out even brighter. He let his arms dance for several seconds more before he slipped his whole body into the sunlight. Closing his eyes, he raised his head up and let the light wash over him. He wished he could still feel the warmth that it would bring. The shell he lived in remained cold; not even the sun could warm his icy skin.
Jasper opened his eyes with a sigh then looked down at his body. The most striking feature he possessed was his scars. They were nearly invisible to human eyes, yet they covered a good part of his body. Vampires could see them perfectly well and usually halted them in their steps upon laying eyes on him. It made him look more dangerous. Threatening. They were permanent reminders of his past. Each bite told a story; each bite had an owner that he had most likely killed.
He could almost feel the sting of venom as he lightly ran a finger over a scar on his chest. That one, Shreveport. The one next to it, Tyler. The ones on his left shoulder, Piedras Negras. On his navel, Jiménez.
He shook his head lightly and stepped out of the sunlight. They were memories he wanted to forget.
He exited the light and went back to the crates. A small pile of books lay on one and he grabbed the top one. Finding nothing better to do in the day, he had taken to reading through classic literature. Philosophy was his favorite; Socrates, Plato, and other Greek literature had been the majority of his studies, though he found Kant and Freud to be quite interesting as well.
He had read through a great deal of fiction as well. He enjoyed the longer epics from Hugo and Tolstoy – longer books meant more time to enjoy them. Though much shorter, he also enjoyed the works of Shakespeare, Marlowe, Twain, Defoe, Dickins, Conrad, Vernes, Kafka, and Wilde, to name a few.
However, Jasper was sad to discover that there comes a point where you feel as if you've read everything. While part of it was satisfying, knowing that he could quote nearly every "classic" novel ever published, it made him slightly annoyed for he knew what was next.
Romance novels.
Though considered "classics," Jasper had refrained from touching the stories focusing on female protagonists, for they almost always centered on love. However, it soon became inevitable; he would have to read them sometime.
He had stolen a small few out of a bookstore in Pittsburgh. With no income, it made it impossible to actually pay for the books. Besides, more often than not with these romance novels, he was happy he hadn't paid.
He had started with the Bronte sisters' works. Jane Eyre was frightfully dull and Wuthering Heights made him roll his eyes and toss the book away in frustration at more than one point. How people could find a book like that romantic was beyond him. Cathy was a selfish cow and Heathcliff was just a prat. Jasper finished it, but grudgingly.
His findings in Pittsburgh contained several of Jane Austen's books. He had started with Emma. The book was rather whimsical and fun, he supposed, though he found Emma herself to be too meddlesome for her own good. It was a step up from Wuthering Heights, he supposed.
Jasper eyed the book in his hand. He had heard many things about Pride and Prejudice, mostly that some considered it one of the best stories about romance. The thought annoyed him, for he feared for another Wuthering Heights – which also was counted as one of the best stories of romance. Knowing he still had many hours of daylight to kill, Jasper opened the book.
He hunted the next evening, waiting for the cover of darkness before he began his decent upon the city. While mildly disheartened that his prey was not a Nazi spy, the older man was still satisfying.
The city seemed more alive that evening than Jasper had seen in some years. News of Hitler and Mussolini's death seemed to have struck a new sense of hope in the city, as if the end of the war was in sight. Jasper knew better than to count his chicks before they hatched; just because the leader was removed did not mean that a better man would replace him.
Still, good news from the front and the Pacific continued to flow in. Strategically, Jasper could see a theoretical end in sight. Unless the Germans or Japanese had a surprise offense waiting, it looked as if the Allies were in fact on their way to victory.
Jasper found a newspaper in the alley where his victim's body was now hidden. Several spots of blood remained on his hand. Dirt and grime stuck to the liquid, contaminating the last few drops of the delicious drink. He wiped them quickly on the newspaper, slightly annoyed at the dirty alley for ruining his mood.
The headline on the newspaper was slightly crumpled yet still legible. The Allied forces had reached the German/Austrian border at last.
"Allies," Jasper said aloud with a scoff, crumpling the rest of the paper and tossing it aside. Allied though they may be, Jasper knew exactly what would happen once the war ended. Ally would turn on Ally over land and power. It happened in the first war; how people were so blind to realize the same would happen was beyond him.
With German, Italy, and Japan overcome, that would leave Russia in control of Europe. England was too small to be of any real threat, and neither Spain nor France would be in any position to fight. The Russians had already pushed the Germans back through Poland and the eastern half of Czechoslovakia; once the Americans left, it would be too easy to continue on.
Jasper shook his head, clearing his head from the thoughts. Whatever would happen would happen. He was no longer a soldier. It wasn't his concern.
The increased number of people out made it impossible for him to travel as quickly as he liked. He grudgingly walked down the streets at a human pace, keeping his coat collar high and his fedora low.
He passed numerous groups of people heading to diners and bars. Hope radiated off of the people, causing Jasper to slow with wonderment. How wonderful it was to feel hope again. The past few years was nothing but concern, worry, and fear. The sensation of hope pooled around him, causing a small smile to cross his lips.
A nearby diner door opened, a much stronger scent billowing out and hitting Jasper swiftly. He instinctively moved into a defensive position, narrowing his eyes as he watched the door.
The scent of the other vampire flew out of the diner and into his nostrils. She was still here, it seemed. Looking around him, Jasper noted that it was the same place he had smelt her before.
Curiosity filled him, followed by bafflement. Why did she not move? And why was she in a diner? The place was full of dozens of delicious humans, all tempting her thirst and causing that too-familiar burn in the throat. What could she possibly want there? What was she waiting for?
Jasper knew it wasn't of his concern. The further he stayed away from other vampires, the better. He didn't need anything from her. There was no logical reason as to why he should go into the diner and seek her out. What if it caused a scene? On a night like tonight, with so many extra humans out, he would possibly have to kill even more people.
At the back of his mind, the notion briefly flickered that perhaps she was waiting for him. She stayed in the same spot, knowing he could catch her scent. He shook his head. That would be absurd.
He needed to leave. Just head back to his loft, and possibly think about moving on to New York or Chicago. He had no reason to meet another vampire.
However, he stayed where he was. As strange as it felt, he could not deny that he was incredibly curious to learn why she was here. There were too many humans for her to start a scene. He knew how frightening he looked to his own kind; what if her initial reaction was what prompted a vampire fight?
Yet he had the ability to control the emotions of others. He had used it for decades to control the Newborn armies of the South; how hard could it be to keep one vampire at peace just so he could talk?
Jasper shook his head and turned to head in the opposite direction.
A storm broke early that morning, dampening the happy mood the city had the night before. Heavy rain began pouring before seven am, thunder starting up around ten.
Cascades of water began to form in his loft, trickling down from the holes in the roof and across the already damaged floors.
Jasper looked at the water with irritation. The cold and moisture didn't bother him at all. He was perfectly content with the temperature.
What bothered him was that he had discovered last night that the last fifty pages of Pride and Prejudice happened to be missing. And therefore he didn't know how the story ended. And with this weather, the temptation to go into the city to find a bookstore was all too tempting.
Jasper was still very wary of going outside in the daytime. Cloud coverage though there was, he still was anxious that the sun would break through at any instant and expose him for the freak he was. However, the rain didn't look as if it would be letting up anytime soon. Even then, he was still worried about his control around humans. At night, controlling his thirst around a few people was one thing. Being in a crowded city full of potential prey was another.
Jasper paced lightly, contemplating the risk. He could always just wait until nightfall. It was only eight or nine hours off anyway. On the other hand, this storm was not leaving, and it provided just as good coverage as nightfall.
He could just read a different book in the meantime, he reasoned. However, nothing bothered him more than an unfinished story. Besides, he would need to learn how to go outside in the daytime sooner or later.
Pulling his trench coat on, he grabbed his hat and headed into the rain.
The storm only got worse as he headed into the city, which eased his fears. He could see the rain dripping off the front of his fedora. His coat was soaked, not that he minded much.
He did find that the rain kept less people off the streets, which helped the burn in his throat. Those that were present walked by quickly, huddled under umbrellas or hailing a taxi.
A whiff of a familiar scent filled his nostrils, causing Jasper to pause in the middle of the sidewalk and turn to stare at a small diner not too far off. Though the rain had helped wash much of it away, there was no denying the smell. She was still there.
Jasper's brows furrowed, the arguments from the night before resurfacing in his mind. Whatever it was, there was no denying that she was staying there for a reason. It may have been better to find out what it was rather than be surprised, he reasoned.
Yet the diner was much less crowded than it was the night before; it would be too easy for a mistake to happen, and even harder to go unnoticed.
An uncomfortable sensation floated into his senses, breaking the trance he held on the diner to become aware that people were staring at him. It was rather uncommon for a man to simply be standing in the pouring rain, unmoving and not breathing. A woman was giving him a suspicious eye, looking away to see a police officer further down the street.
Oh hell…
Jasper headed toward the diner, bracing himself for whatever would happen.
The first thing that hit him was the smell.
Meat, milk, coffee, ice cream, sizzling onions, and dozens of other foods floated in the air from the kitchen. Cigarette smoke hung in the air like a tangible blanket. Old smoke clung to the ceiling and curtains while new smoke cascaded up from a man in the corner, puffing away as he read a paper whose front page reported that relief supplies had finally reached Holland.
Stronger than them all was the scent of blood.
Oh, was there blood.
At least a dozen humans were in the tiny space, seeking refuge from the weather. The burn in his throat ignited, forcing him to hold his breath. Though he had gorged on his meal the night before, the thirst and desire to rip open every last one of them was too great.
Part of his mind reminded him of social mannerisms. He removed his dripping hat and wet coat and let his curls bounce free, not bothering to meet the eye of an attractive waitress who gave him a suggesting smile as he looked around.
Their feelings and sensations crashed into him next. There was a glum mood in the air, no doubt thanks to the weather. Hunger came as well, though not as profoundly as the first. Small waves of worry came from a waitress and plenty of lust flowed from a young man seated across from a lady.
Jasper turned his focus away from the crowd, searching through them for the one who did not belong. He didn't dare to let himself breathe to follow her scent in fear of the burning becoming too great. Instead, he searched for one who would stand out like him.
A wave of immense relief and happiness hit him. He turned his attention to its owner, making his way through the tables to the far corner. His eyes at once found their target.
She sat perched on a barstool at the far end of the counter. She was small with short black hair curled and pinned at her nape. Jasper made note of how nicely she was dressed but kept his attention on her face. Her red eyes confirmed what she was.
Jasper had braced himself for her surprise or for any sudden feelings of being threatened. However, he was shocked to feel nothing but relief. Incredibly happy relief. A smile broke out over her red lips. It was not wicked or cruel. It was genuine and soft, causing a chink in Jasper's mental armor. This wasn't right.
She gracefully slid off her stool and approached him, causing Jasper to stiffen with shock and alarm. Jasper kept his guard yet could feel no threat from her. She did not look afraid of him at all. On the contrary, she was giving him the oddest expression, like he was an old friend or even a loved one that she was being reunited with.
She paused before him, craning her head back slightly to look up at his eyes.
"You've kept me waiting a long time," she said quietly.
Her voice mesmerized him. It was incredibly light and angelic. The way she had spoken was with a playful admonishment, yet beneath it all was something Jasper could not place.
His mind turned to mush, unsure of what to do. Memories of his human rearing were the first to surface, telling him to bow his head. He complied and apologized. "I'm sorry, ma'am."
She laughed at that, her voice sounding like wind chimes and causing something in Jasper's mind to stir. He slowly let his guard down, staring down at her with wonderment.
She remained silent but extended her hand, looking up at him expectantly.
Without stopping to think of what he was doing, Jasper took it. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch. There was something in the act that felt complete, as if something he had been missing had slipped into place. Jasper broke his intense stare to look down at his hand. Her small white fingers had become intertwined with his, holding on with such a fierce grip that he could not tell if it was his or hers.
He met her silent gaze again, and she smiled. He found himself smiling as well, feeling the happiness radiate off of her. A new sensation filled him that he had not felt in nearly a hundred years.
Hope.
"I'm Alice," she said quietly.
"Jasper Whitlock, ma'am. At your service," he replied.
At the back of his mind, he remembered where he was. The burning in his throat was still present yet utterly forgotten the moment he took her hand. He held it so tight that he wasn't quite sure if he could let go.
He didn't want to let go.
Alice continued to stare up at him with a smile. Her red eyes became unfocused after a minute, her emotions dropping off. Jasper's senses rose with alarm at the sudden shift. Before he had time to question it, her focus and happiness were back.
"The storm will be ending soon. We should leave before it does." Without waiting for him to speak, Alice released her hold on his hand, turning to her chair and pulling on her coat. Jasper stood dumbfounded in his spot, feeling a sudden great loss at losing her touch. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
Alice grabbed her purse and a large black umbrella, turning her attention back to Jasper. After a moment, she smiled and grabbed his hat out of his hand, placing it on his head.
"Are you coming?"
Jasper blinked out of habit, shaking his head from his shock. He pulled his trench coat back on, eyeing Alice with a sudden confusion and wariness as they exited the diner. He would go with her, but where would they go?
She opened her large black umbrella, speaking quickly as if she knew his question. "I have a hotel room not far from here. We can talk there." She held out her arm to him.
Jasper blinked at her. This could be a trap, his mind supposed. It was too perfect to simply be fate. However, he wasn't sure that emotions like the ones he felt from her were possible to fake. Nor the ones he felt upon taking her hand.
He took her arm, allowing her to pull him close to her. Wordlessly, he took the umbrella from her hand, which caused her to radiate a smile up at him. He held it above them as they walked, arms linked, down the sidewalk.