Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Jasper Whitlock was a soldier.

From his dirty blonde roots to the dirt-caked soles of his boots he was a confederate soldier through and through.

Up to the moment of his very last heartbeat.

Then he became a soldier of a very different nature.

The objective remained the same. Kill the enemy.

The principles, however, took a turn for the worse.

Teeth and limbs replaced muskets and gun powder.

Shame for his slaughtering replaced pride for his country.

Venom replaced blood.

Smooth granite replaced his hardworking calloused palms.

It was as if he had stepped through a veil.

No longer were the living fighting the living.

Now the dead were fighting the dead.

War drums pounded in his skull, pushing him forward, keeping him bound to Maria, keeping him bound to carnage and combat.

Then he left.

But the drums pounded on.

Once again his battle shifted.

His enemy became himself.

His thirst made him weak. It made him inhuman.

But the fight wore on. Relentless. The emotional climates wore him down.

Jasper Whitlock was sure he'd always be a soldier.

As he trudged through the streets on a rainy day in Philadelphia the war drums in his mind continued to beat steadily as he warded off his thirst.

The bodies around him pulsed with life.

The sacred red liquid flowed through their flimsy veins.

And the soldier still fought.

He held his breath as he slipped into a small diner off the beaten path.

She hopped down from the high stool at the counter as soon as he walked in and came directly toward him.

"You've kept me waiting a long time."

"I'm sorry ma'am."

She held out her hand and he took it without stopping to make sense of what he was doing. For the first time in almost a century, he felt hope.

The drums ceased.

The war was over.

He was finally home.