When the last drop had slid smoothly down his throat and his thirst was finally sated after so long, Jasper paused in the act of reverently laving the gaping wound with his tongue, reveling in the long forgotten taste and looked up suddenly himself again, suddenly the man instead of the monster. The last few moments of his victim's life, all the relief bordering on worship turned confusion and ultimately overwhelming fear rolled over him like the bitterest of aftertastes and his still heart twisted painfully in his chest.
His eyes widened in horror as they focused on the small broken form with the scraped knee that had started it all in his arms, her soft brown curls and tiny sandaled feet. Tear tracks still glimmered on her bloodless face. He dropped the child and shoved himself away, breathing hard and shaking convulsively, until the broad trunk of an ancient tree stopped his fleeing. Raising his hands in front of his face he stared in disbelief at the thick viscous liquid that painted them scarlet, even as the venom pooled and burned him at the sight … and cooling scent. Swallowing hard with effort, he closed his burning eyes, hiding the grisly sight of his bloody hands. There was no way he could wash them clean after this, no way she would understand this mistake.
It had happened so quickly, the sound of the falling child as she ran home for dinner -- the slight skidding as she hit the pavement on hands and knees, the faint scent of tears and the soft snifflings of pain followed by the all encompassing scent of her blood pooling to the surface of her thin, fragile skin and seeping free. It was the scent of violets and cinnamon. Gentle, heady and utterly irresistible.
There had been no thought as he had approached the child -- he hadn't even really seen her, only the blood gleaming wetly in the thin grey of twilight had any color. He remembered only now her panic as a tall, stranger approached, her childish expression of relief that had followed as he sent it in reassuring waves to wrap her in warmth. He had knelt and touched her knee with one finger, breaking the spell, causing her to whimper in pain and her numbing terror to encircle him, but then it was over.
Jasper's head slumped to his hands, dying his fair hair red in broad streaks and smudging his bone white skin in a garish mask. How could he go home? No doubt Alice had seen this -- only in the instant before it had happened, as there had been no plan – she was too late to try and stop him. How could he face her with innocent blood on his hands and eyes ruby with his weakness? What would the others say? Would this most recent crash be the last straw? Would he be forced out, would Alice follow? She was so happy, had found the family she so longed for. Could he ask her to accompany him in his exile? His body tensed. He couldn't bear to be alone again, away from her ever optimistic hope in him, her gentleness, and bright laughter. Jasper gripped his hair in despair.
Her scent, fresh and clean, reached him before she did as did her sorrow and strangely underneath that, her love. Did she not see what he had done? It lay not five feet away still and glassy-eyed. He looked up in confusion and flinchingly met her soft golden eyes with his fiery red ones. There was no blame in hers, only love.
In one white gloved hand, she carried her small handbag; in the other was a glass bottle of water. Ignoring the dirt, she knelt in front of him and pulled off her pristine gloves, laying them on the park's path. Breaking eye contact for the first time, she opened the bottle and dug through her handbag, coming up with her neatly pressed handkerchief. Gently and with such love, she took his face in her smooth hands and cleaned the blood from his skin, dampening his hair to rid it of its gruesome stain and pouring the cool liquid over his hands until they were again white and gleaming in the light of the rising moon. Had he been able, Jasper would have cried to watch her.
When she was satisfied with herself, Alice reached for him and tenderly wrapped herself around him, holding him close to her as she rocked him like a child. Jasper's eyes closed as he moved at last to crush her to him in desperate gratitude, burying his face in the crook her slender neck and shoulder, breathing in her comforting scent. She was not much bigger than the child, but she possessed such strength. Who else but she could love a creature more monster than man? Yet she did and Jasper felt it radiating from her.
"Come home, love." She murmured into his thick hair, tasting its texture on her tongue.
Her soft words made him pull back to look into her eyes and when he cupped her tiny face in his big hand she covered it and held it close in a gesture far more intimate than the act would have called for. Jasper took a deep breath, nodded, and got to his feet. She followed lithely. Together they moved toward home.
He knew that she would return later to care for the evidence of his mistake, perhaps with Esme or Edward, but for now she stayed with him, near him, reassuring him of her unbending love and total acceptance. It lightened his heavy heart. He would never forget tonight's work, but in time the guilt would be easier to bear and he would be stronger next time – for her. Alice was his savior and with her, he felt clean.