An old song on the radio reminds Jasper of someone he used to love.

Note: the hymn is 'Am I a Soldier of the Cross', by Isaac Watts, written circa 1720s. The music was written later, around the 1840s.

Am I a soldier of the cross,

A follow'r of the Lamb?

And shall I fear to own His cause,

Or blush to speak His name?

Must I be carried to the skies

On flow'ry beds of ease,

While others fought to win the prize,

And sailed through bloody seas?

The pen bounced off the tiles where Jasper had dropped it. The little clicker shut the nib safely away. Carlisle's crisp clear voice had been accompanying the radio softly for the past few hours. The ladies had gone on a shopping weekend to Montreal, whilst Edward and Emmett had gone off in pursuit of new cars to add to an already impressive collection. Jasper would never understand the appeal.

But, in the solitude, Carlisle had indulged himself by turning on the radio and setting the dial to his favourite station, that churned out hymns and prayers and all things Christian, all day long. Jasper didn't mind. The words, the sentiments, the feelings those boys on the radio were describing – they'd all been familiar to him at some time. It was a vaguely comforting background noise for Jasper to read by.

Until those lines had flitted over the air waves. Good lord, he hadn't heard them in an age.

In his mind he saw flashes of bright red hair curled up on top of a head set with green eyes. He thought there might have been freckles. A jewel was strapped round the collar at her throat. He thought he remembered his own itchy white shirt, that made him rub his neck even now. He saw packed pews on stifling days. He saw a reverend gesticulating wildly as he preached. He saw people bent over in fields, aching and trudging and singing. He heard daddy singing the words with ease. His voice had been baritone.

Jasper's boots had carried him to Carlisle and the radio.

Are there no foes for me to face?

Must I not stem the flood?

Is this vile world a friend to grace,

To help me on to God?

Carlisle smiled as he sang the words. Jasper expected no less of course. Nothing made Carlisle happier than living a life of peace despite what external influences tried to put him and his family through. It was a smile Jasper had seen before, though. Equally innocent and ignorant beaming grins on the smiles of boys. Ironic, bitter smirks on muddy faces as they brushed down horses, cleaned guns, scraped the last morsel from their mess tins. He'd been both. Oh Lord, he'd been both of those boys.

Sure I must fight, if I would reign;

increase my courage, Lord.

I'll bear the toil, endure the pain,

supported by thy word.

Carlisle's voice grew a little stronger this verse. Jasper imagined his new leader had comforted himself on those lonely years before Edward, in those early days where he had grappled with his nature and his abhorrence of harming humankind, with words just like those.

But truly, he didn't know what Carlisle really knew of pain.

Even though they had never flitted through his mind in Monterrey, he remembered those words with clarity now. God, his cause, the Faith – none of it had comforted him in his darkest moments. He wasn't angry of course - he had become a devil; but all the same as he heard them now it reminded him how lost he had been. As a child his daddy had always told him to seek the light when he lost his way, but the light had never shown itself to him all the way down there.

He had hurt. He had burned. He had ached. He had been ravaged and beaten and drawn past his bodily and mental limits. He'd been exhausted in body and spirit. He had been completely broken down. And yet he had always believed, and that had been worse than anything.

Thy saints in all this glorious war

shall conquer though they die;

they see the triumph from afar,

by faith they bring it nigh.

If he hadn't still believed, he would have been able to accept his monstrosity with the same fervour Maria had. If he hadn't still believed, he wouldn't have felt so hopeless, so helpless and so abandoned. If he hadn't still believed, he would have seen himself as a predator instead of a murderer.

But even then, if he hadn't still believed, there would have been nothing left for even Alice to recover and lead back to the light. She would have been burnt all up in his hellfire.

When that illustrious day shall rise,

and all thy armies shine

in robes of victory through the skies,

the glory shall be thine.

Glory. It had been what he'd dreamed of. He fought for it. Snuck away and likely broke his parents' hearts for it. Sacrificed every part of himself pursuing it for someone else. Fuck, he hated it.

"Jasper?"

He didn't know how long Carlisle had been looking at him. He couldn't return that simple smile that Carlisle always wore for no other reason than he was so very content. If he'd deigned to look in a mirror he would have seen a deeply unsettled man, instead.

"Is everything alright?"

The radio host droned on it the background, his words nothing more than a constant buzz as Jasper stared at Carlisle.

"I…"

Far from the strong, rumbling southern drawl Carlisle had come to expect, Jasper has spoken cracked, and whispering.

"Jasper?"

He coughed and cleared his throat. "I…the song."

Carlisle was back to smiling. "It's one of my favourites. I missed the latin when I could bring myself back to the church after I was turned, but the new hymns had their merits."

Jasper nearly scoffed. Only Carlisle could describe anything from the eighteenth century as 'new'. He took a breath, and let it out slowly. "I…listened to it and, uh, I sang it," he said. "As a boy."

Pleasure and joy thrummed from his coven leader. To his credit he'd tried to keep his smile small, and Jasper could feel a little sheepishness seep through, but even so, Carlisle was thrilled.

"I forget sometimes, when you were a young man before this life," he said. "That God was as integral to your time as He was to mine."

Jasper could only nod, his damned tongue sticking and heavy in his mouth, but Carlisle continued.

"Edward, Rosalie – even Esme – they all grew up in times where believing in God was more…optional. I'm sure they attended church – most people did regardless of their beliefs. The alternative could be quite scandalous. But there was never the need to prove the sincerity of your beliefs. Do you remember that – when you had to discuss scripture in church and the minister – well, a reverend I should imagine in Texas – was as involved in your life, your upbringing and education as your parents and teachers?"

Jasper nodded. He couldn't do anything else.

"It will be nice to have someone else at home who believes in the light of God." But then Carlisle finally looked at him again, snapping out his reverie, and looked at Jasper worriedly. "Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. Do you still believe?"

He whispered. "Yes. I tried not to. I tried… but I can't. I can't stop."

Carlisle only waited and Jasper stared over his shoulder. "He wasn't there. I was … we were taught, always, to look for the grace of God everywhere, and in everything, but He wasn't there. Not in the churches I stole into at night. Not in the sand or the sky or the people. It was just – it was too dark down there. I mean, I know I was a devil, but I was alone. I-"

"You thought he abandoned you."

He shook his head. Carlisle didn't know if it was to clear it or to disagree with him. "No. Not really. The South taught me, very quickly, that there are Godless places in the world." Carlisle looked grim and nodded "Monterrey is one of them."

"And how is your relationship with God now?"

Jasper bit back a sigh. "I have Alice, and I'm not in in the South. He's been better to me than I deserve. But there's too much between us now."

Carlisle frowned and stood by Jasper's side. He kept his hands to himself mercifully but he pressed him arm firmly against Jasper's own. "Precisely. Everything's different for you now. He saw fit to send your friends back for you. He sent Alice to you and brought you to us. How can you think you'd be shunned from His grace?"

Jasper gave a rueful smirk. "You're a praying man." Carlisle nodded. "Next time, you thank him for me. For everything he's done for me since Peter came for me?"

"You can't –"

"No. I can't. And I doubt I ever will again."

The look on Carlisle's face told Jasper this wouldn't be the last time they would have this conversation. Their leader, he surmised, wouldn't be satisfied until he'd personally seen Jasper take the knee. He stifled a sigh – Carlisle would be waiting a long time, and Jasper didn't like to disappoint him.

"Alright. I won't argue with you. I hope… I do hope one day you'll be able to speak with Him again, but in the meantime I'll be happy to play the mediator between you and God." And truly, Carlisle's smile was genuinely pleased.

"Well alright," and Jasper returned it with that slow, Texas smile and a drawl. "I mean it, you make sure you thank him for me."

A hand clasped his shoulder gently and Carlisle walked back to whatever he had been doing before Jasper had staggered through to him, and Jasper returned to the kitchen and reclaimed his pen from the floor. He had it poised to scribble down the answer for 5 across, when he heard, softly, from the living room:

"I already did, son."