"For the Love of Jasper" One-Shot Contest

Title: Serendipitous Savior

Pen name: tuesdaymidnight

Existing work: Just a few one-shots

Primary Players: Jasper and Alice

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

To see other entries in the "For the Love of Jasper" contest, please visit the C2:
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/For_the_Love_of_Jasper_Contest/72564/


One second she was there. And then she was gone.

I could see her petite, graceful form disappear around the corner. I ran as fast as I could, but it felt as though my legs were pulling through molasses.

Eventually I reached the corner, but then what was once a narrow street began to unfold into an intricate labyrinth of twisting narrow halls, corners and dead ends. I ran for what felt like hours, but I was never fast enough. I would turn left, then turn right, reach a wall, and then have to turn around and retrace my steps. Only, I could never be sure that I was retracing steps I had taken or if this maze was ever-shifting behind me.

After an eternity seemed to pass, I heard a strangled voice ring out through the stony halls that I could not navigate.

"Help!" I thought I heard it cry out.

A dark fog started to appear then, it looked as solid as a wall, but as it swirled around my feet it felt like I was surrounded by an innocuous mist. Only as it started to rise, up past my calves, up to my waist, and up to my chest, did I realize that it was trying to choke me.

"Help me!"

This time I recognized the voice immediately. I knew it belonged to her, the woman whose face I never saw, whose form was always a blur as I chased her, only to lose her as she slipped around that dreaded corner.

"Jasper!"

The voice called out again. She knew my name. But it was hopeless - I could not decipher the direction of its source. Meanwhile the fog was starting to change shape and I could see two black hands emerge out of the otherwise shapeless mass.

I was frozen in place.

Stuck.

Helpless.

And then the dark evil cloud slipped its curling fingers around my neck.

I awoke with a start. My heart was racing frantically as I shot straight up in bed and turned my head quickly from one side and to the other. I could tell indeed that I was still in my bedroom, albeit covered in a cold sweat, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see that it was the same as it ever was.

The lamp, the desk, the clock with its red numerals glaring 3:27 at me were all in their respective places, none had moved an inch during my slumber. But I still felt an overwhelming sense of unrest, even as the dream that had caused me such a panic distanced itself from my current state of consciousness.

There was no way I would be able to go back to sleep now.

Every time I had a version this dream I thought of Madame Siobhan, although I didn't possess the reason for my doing so.

Our summer after freshman year of college a small group of us went down to Phoenix and stayed at Bella's mother's place to celebrate. Bella's mom, Renee, well she was something else. The woman dressed in long flowing black dresses, and then covered herself further in multi-colored, multi-patterned, mismatching scarves. She burned incense, drank a peculiar thick green beverage at intervals throughout the day, and she had a very disconcerting habit of holding your face between her hands and staring deep into your eyes.

Bella said it was just a phase.

By some mystical power of persuasion though, Renee had convinced all of us one day to go with her to see a friend of hers, who happened to be a practicing psychic. Madame Siobhan was her name, and she ran her psychic business from the backroom of her storefront, which was an equally ridiculous gift shop for all things New Age and mystical. Not only did most of Renee's scarf collection seem to have originated from the store, it also had a wide variety of essential oils, books on witchcraft, jars full of mysterious herbs, and an inordinate number of dreamcatchers.

The most bizarre part of the experience, which naturally could only happen to me, was that as soon as I crossed the threshold of her bizarre little store, Madame Siobhan took one look at me, gasped, and nearly collapsed onto the floor. Doubled-over as if in pain she all but hobbled toward me, her eyes as wide as saucers. My feet were planted to the spot but my brain was telling me to run before this crazy woman force fed me eye of newt and toe of frog. But before I could even croak out a gasp, I felt something gripping my arm tightly, and using me for balance she straightened upright.

In another movement I didn't register in my frozen state, Siobhan put her hands to my face much the same way Renee was in the habit of doing, but instead of staring into my eyes, she gave me the most sympathetic look I had ever seen and pulled my head down to her shoulder, holding it place she used her other arm to envelop me in a hug. She reeked of patchouli but something about her embrace made me feel relaxed.

"You poor thing," she cooed at me. "You must be so exhausted."

I had no idea what she was talking about.

Eventually after Edward and Emmett had stopped laughing their asses off and Siobhan finally let me go, she explained to me that I was something called an "Empath" which meant that I felt and understood other people's emotions as strongly as I did my own.

She said in her 40-some odd years of being a psychic, or a nutcase, whatever, she had never come across someone who had such a strong power to ease the emotions of those around them as I.

She told me that I was destined to so something great with my abilities.

She told me I would save someone's life.

However, she also told me I used the wrong type of soap, that I should stop using hot water entirely and that I should avoid shellfish. When I asked her if she just meant I shouldn't eat shellfish she looked at me like I was the stupidest person on the planet, and told me that I should avoid being around them at all. I didn't break it to her that I lived in the Pacific Northwest.

Though I was just humoring her, unfortunately I had thought about what she had told me, about my being an Empath, way too much ever since.

Even though it was two years ago, Edward and Emmett still teased me about it. One of them even came up with the brilliant idea of calling me Jasper McFeely. Even though I pointed out that they just stole it from the delivery man from Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, it still stuck.

But the truth was people did often spill their guts to me. I always thought it was because I was a good listener, and I wouldn't just spout out bullshit advice. Growing up with an older sister certainly helped in that regard. When Rosalie asked for advice, I learned quickly on that she meant that she wanted me to listen to her and agree with her, and not that she actually wanted my opinion on the matter.

But after people talked to me, they often thanked me, not just for listening, which I would expect as a courtesy, but that they felt a lot better.

I thought this must happen to everyone, until I realized that absolutely everyone I knew came to me with their problems.

When Bella wanted to complain about Edward, she'd come to me.

When Edward wanted to complain about Bella, he'd come to me.

Even my mother and father laid more burdens on me than any 21-year-old should know about his parents.

Of course, Rosalie still came to me with most of her problems, though thankfully those of a more sensitive nature she usually reserved for Bella. I already knew too much about my sister's sex life from having her boyfriend as one of my roommates. Emmett never came to me with problems, but I think that's just because Emmett didn't have any problems. He was the only person I'd ever known who was straightforward about everything, with everyone. He answered all questions truthfully and because you could tell that there was no pretense behind it, it was absolutely endearing.

Anyway it earned him the right to call me McFeely in my book, but if anyone else tried they'd get smacked in the forehead.

Eventually it grew light enough that I could get up and try to convince my body that it was normal to get up at 6 o'clock in the morning after lying awake for nearly three hours, too freaked out to attempt slumber.

I went into the kitchen, brewed some coffee, fixed a bowl of cereal, and sat down with the morning paper. At least whoever delivered the paper was awake at an ungodly hour too.

"You look like shit," Edward's voice cut through my attempt to focus on baseball box scores.

"Well Good Morning, Merry Sunshine to you, jackass."

"Ooh, kitty can scratch."

"Look can you please lay off, man. I had that dream again last night."

"Wait the one where you hear the woman's voice screaming for you to help her?" Edward's smirk melted into a look of concern. One night a few weeks ago, I awoke to him shaking me violently in an attempt to rouse me. Apparently I was screaming bloody murder in my sleep. Needless to say, it scared the shit out of Edward, but luckily I hadn't had a repeat episode of the screaming. Even though the content of the dream still seemed to be intensifying as it interrupted my sleep with more and more frequency.

"Yeah, and then I run and run through this maze trying to find her until something evil strangles me."

At that exact moment, two strong hands appeared from behind me, wrapping around my throat.

I didn't even flinch.

"I could hear you coming a mile away you dumb ox."

Emmett just laughed.

"Nightmares again Jazz?" Emmett's voice didn't carry the acute concern that Edward's did, but then, he missed the whole screaming in my sleep episode.

"Yeah, it seems to last a little longer every time I have it."

"Maybe you should see a shrink; this shit is even starting to worry me a little."

"What would a shrink do?"

"I don't know man, but it couldn't hurt."

"Yeah, maybe," I could tell that these were Rosalie's words, using Emmett as her mouthpiece.

"Well McFeely, we're headed to the gym to lift. Wanna join?"

"Nah, I'm still exhausted from not sleeping. Plus, I never finished my assignment for Banner's class."

"'Aight. Well, you still on for tonight, man?"

"Yeah, maybe I can get a nap in this afternoon. What time did the girls want to head out?"

"Rosie said she and Bells would meet us here around 9."

"'K."

The rest of my day passed in a zombie-like daze.

I finished my assignment for Dr. Banner's Abnormal Psychology class, and then walked the six blocks to campus to turn it in. I wasted time in a computer lab until it was time for my first class, which I have no memory of attending. I knew I wasn't going to make it through another class in my barely-alert state. I reasoned to myself that it was just a biology lecture and I could get the notes from someone later. Satisfied with my rationalizing I trudged home and collapsed on my bed, thankfully into a dreamless slumber.

Even after I had awakened, eaten dinner and watched an hour of mindless television, I was still kind of groggy, so once the girls arrived I volunteered to be the DD. Alcohol just seemed like a bad idea. Anyway, it only fueled the nightmares, and I could really deal with a good night's sleep.

I tuned everyone out in the car as I drove, until the rhythm of the vehicle relaxed me into a peaceful state of mind. I even felt slightly more alert as I pulled into the parking garage. We piled out of the small sedan, left the garage, and cut across the street to the front entrance of our destination.

We paid our covers and walked into the crowed club. I had to blink a few times to adjust to the dark atmosphere. It was nearly full already and it was not even 10. The band playing tonight had a reputation for putting on a good show, though I had seen them as an opener a few years prior and had not been impressed.

I heard a noise that snapped me out of my reverie. It was a giggle coming from the direction of the bar. It sounded strikingly familiar, but there were too many people to see over and through. I instinctively turned toward the bar with the intention of finding the source of the laughter, but Rosalie grabbed my arm insistently.

"Jess and Angie snagged a table, we'd better hurry before the masses descend."

So I let myself be pulled along to the other side of the noisy club, eventually taking residence at a table large enough for all seven of us to cram around. I wondered how Jess and Angela were able to hold it so long without being asked to give it up, but then Jess flashed her cleavage at me and I decided it was a question to which I need not know the answer.

The waitress brought us some pitchers and a coke for me as we settled into our usual pattern of banter. I was unable to keep up with the conversation though, as if hearing that giggle was all it took to send my brain spinning out of control once again. Then one nagging thought started to come into focus apart from all the others.

"Shit!" I exclaimed. "I can't remember if I locked the car or not."

"Oh I'm sure you did, Jazz, you always lock it."

Rosalie was right, but I knew that it would not stop bothering me if I didn't go out to check. I stepped out of the club, making sure the bouncer would recognize me upon my return. There was no way I would pay a cover charge twice.

I was about to step out into the street when out of the corner of my eye I saw a glint of something shiny dart into the alley down the block from the club. My defensive senses kicked in at that moment and somehow I felt it would be a bad idea to investigate. Even though the parking garage was right across the street and traffic was not heavy, I thought it would be better to change my course and walk in the opposite direction of the alley to cross the street at the crosswalk. Whatever it was that I was taking care to avoid in the alley would be unable to see me that way.

I walked as quickly as I could without breaking into a run, nodded to the parking garage attendant and quickly located my 15-year-old Mercedes C-Class where I had parked it on the ground floor. Rosalie was right, it was locked. But knowing that didn't put me any more at ease.

At that moment a knot started forming in the pit of my stomach and I could feel the alley pulling me. It felt almost evil. My pulse started racing and this time I did break into a jog as I quickly vacated the parking garage. Had I waited a split second longer I wouldn't have seen it, but as luck would have it as soon as I was in range, my eyes were fixed on the alley.

She couldn't have been more than 5' tall, with short dark hair, carefully arranged into fashionable spikes. It looked like she had left the very club that I had just been in, but it registered as odd to me that she was walking alone. The crime rate wasn't astronomical in this part of the city, but still, if you were a young woman, you did not want to be walking around alone at night.

One second she was there, about to pass in front of the alley, hopefully on her way to the safety of her vehicle, and the next she was gone. It happened so fast, I didn't have time to shout out. Instead I broke into a dead run.

It could not have taken longer than a minute to reach the alley, but that was enough time for him to have gagged her and shoved her up against the side of the building in the dark shadows. I could see that he had torn her skirt in his efforts and she was positively quaking in fear as he held her in place with a hand at her throat. His lips were moving but I could not make out what he was saying to her. I was more concerned with the knife he held in his opposite hand; it was obviously what he had used to intimidate the petite brunette into her terrified state of submission.

But I had the element of surprise and what felt like a superhuman rush of adrenaline.

I started going over all pressure points on the human body I could remember as my sense of time seemed to alter. I'm sure it was all over in a matter of seconds, but it played out at a snail's pace in front of me.

I was running full speed when I bum-rushed him. I aimed low and was able to take him down, the knife clattering out of his hand. Immediately he began flailing his arms and legs, thrashing underneath me as I held him down with my body weight and began to throw my fists hoping for any contact I could make.

"Phone. 911." I grunted to the woman, who now towered above the struggle with her mouth hanging open. I was about to grunt the instructions again when she sprung into action, retrieved her discarded purse and began to dial.

I didn't hear a word she spoke, because I was struggling to keep the upper hand in the situation with the bastard beneath me.

I had one of his legs trapped but he had managed to free the other and was kicking wildly. Unfortunately for him in the midst of his flailing he left his groin unprotected, in any other circumstance I would never take such a cheap shot, but this motherfucker had it coming. My knee connected.

He squealed like a stuck pig and momentarily stop thrashing.

That gave me the window I needed. I slammed the butt of my palm against his neck, the shock of forced pressure on his carotid artery did exactly as I hoped, and I felt his body relax below me.

He was out.

I wasn't a violent person by nature, but the rage still lingered inside me. Even though it was probably unnecessary after the strike I gave to his neck, I grabbed a fistful of his hair like a handle and lifted his head a few inches off the ground before slamming it back against the pavement. It made a loud thumping noise, but not the sickening crack I was half-expecting. I didn't think he was dead, but at that moment I didn't really care. Either way he was not waking up anytime soon. But just to be sure I took off my belt, rolled his limp body over and attempted to hogtie the unconscious piece of swine.

My heart was beating wildly as I did so, but the adrenaline rush was starting to fade and I finally let out a long breath that I had been unwittingly holding.

It was only then that I was able to fully take in the woman. After the bizarre chain of events that had just unfolded in slow motion like a home run at the end of a bad baseball movie, I wasn't at all prepared for it. It hit me with a force so strong I nearly fell back in shock. It was her. It was the woman from my dreams. Even though I had never seen her face or figure clearly in my dreaming, I knew with every fiber of my being that this was the woman who cried out for help, who cried out for me to help her nearly every night for the past few months. I knew that I was meant to save her. Since the crazy trip to Madame Siobhan's two years ago, this was what I had been waiting for.

Our eyes met and that was it.

I was hers.

I reached my hand out to her. She took it, tentatively, but it was only a split second hesitation before she forcefully threw herself into my arms. I lowered us both to the curb and held her tightly on my lap.

"What's your name darlin'?"

She was shaking like a leaf, obviously in a state of severe shock, but she still managed to squeak out an "A-A-Alice."

The mantra just spilled out of me: "You're okay now Alice, you'll be all right. I'm Jasper. I won't let anything like that happen to you ever again."

I held her in my arms and repeated those words over and over, rocking her back and forth slightly in what I hoped was a calming motion.

At some point she spoke, "Oh Jasper," her whispered voice seemed to ring clear in contrast to her strangled sobs. "I knew you'd come. I knew you'd save my life."

It was pure serendipity, because I knew exactly what she meant.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," I murmured into her ear.

It was then the police arrived and chaos erupted as they began to bombard us with questions. I was able to piece together that this was not just some creep date rapist. He was the infamous Lurking Lonnie, Alonzo Calderas Wallace, serial rapist and murderer; raping women and leaving their bodies in dumpsters was part of his M.O. He was wanted in a few states in the South and was just passing through Seattle on his way up to Canada. Apparently he was getting more and more desperate and reckless in his behavior. Still feeling the lingering effects of my rage, I silently hoped that he would be extradited to Austin so Texas justice could serve to fry the bastard.

I wanted to vomit.

But I couldn't, Alice needed me and I remained at her side the entire time, as the medics checked both of us out. Neither one of us sustained too much physical damage. I had some claw marks on both my arms, but the blood on my hands belonged to the sick bastard. They wanted to take us to the hospital, but we both tried to refuse. Alice hated hospitals and insisted to both the medics and the investigator that there was no need for a rape kit.

Thankfully I had gotten there when I did.

I could see my friends at the edge of the crime scene, trying to push their way through the yellow tape, but the police forcefully held them back. I could hear Rosalie's voice above the rest, screaming that I was her brother. I looked over pointedly and searched for her eyes; she managed to free herself for a moment from the police officer's focus and was able to meet my gaze. I gave her a nod of assurance, and she instantly seemed to calm.

Eventually news reporters and television crews arrived on the scene. Though they had just as hard a time navigating the cavalcade of ambulances, police cars, and even a completely unnecessary fire truck, some managed to push their way through before the police could escort them away. I just kept my head down and declined to comment. With any luck my name would never be associated with taking out the notorious serial rapist and killer. I didn't want the recognition, nor did I want to be remembered in association with a sick excuse for a human being. I wanted to put all of this behind me.

I had Alice now and somehow I just knew.

I would never need anything else.