Disclaimer - I own nothing related to Twilight, it all belongs to Stephenie Meyer and company. Which is fine, I'll just take the actor who plays Jasper since I can't have the fictional one. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Summary - Bella's had a rough time of things, and has turned to drinking. Jasper appears after one of their mutual friends call, and he comes to fix her. Very AU and OOC. All human, not really compliant with any of the books. So, I'm basically taking Stephenie Meyer's characters and using them however I want in my own story. Okay? Okay!

The biggest thank you to my wonderful, extraordinary, super-duper, Carlizzle Fo Shizzle, beta reader, Crystie. Love ya, Fancypants!

Warning - 18 and over only, please. Alcoholism, drinking, language, some violence.

Bella's POV

Rum.

Spiced rum.

It had started with a one-night extravaganza of craziness, all the girls at the bar receiving half off for their drinks. I had drank and drank and drank, not feeling the effects as fast as my cohorts. Even though my glasses of rum and some unnamed soda were much stronger, it still took me nearly twice as much to get as drunk as they did. Rose was the first to go, her inhibitions lowering, and she ended up on top of one of the many tables within the bar, her shirt somehow disappearing from her body. Jessica had joined her soon after, and they began dancing, rubbing their unclothed tops together, much to the pleasure of the men who filed in for just such debauchery on 'Ladies Night'.

Alcohol had become my best friend after that insane night. It made me blank, incoherent to any previous pain I had felt. It took away my control, which I typically held so tightly to. No one really noticed when I first started drinking, because I always did it by myself. I was always a touchy-feely drunk, and I preferred to just sit on my sofa and watch pointless reality television. I'd veg out, not really paying attention to the TV as the rich bitches whined about how bitterly unfair their lives were.

After awhile, the soda in my mixed drinks lessened, and I had taken to just drinking it straight from the bottle. I bought seven pints every Saturday, just to get me through the week. I knew it made more sense to just buy a larger-sized bottle, but it never tasted the same coming from a cup, and it was easier to ration. I never drank in the morning or midday, not even in the evenings really; I waited until nearly ten at night to start drinking my heavenly rum. It was an expensive habit, I'll admit, but my job as a secretary to the governor of Washington paid me more than enough to cover my lifestyle.

It had been going on for months and months, probably over a year, but I hadn't really been keeping track. All I knew was that I felt better than I had ever felt before. Not since Edward, not since Charlie died, not since I left Forks. I suppose that leaving Forks was a step in the right direction, leaving the constant reminder of things that hurt behind me. But that didn't stop my thoughts; it didn't stop my nightmares. The rum did, though. The rum sated my mind and made me tired enough to sleep through the night without haunting dreams of Edward leaving me for some other woman, for Charlie dying by the hand of a deranged murderer he had nearly taken off the streets.

So, there I sat, sitting on my expensive black leather loveseat, sipping the caramel colored numbing solution, flipping through the blurry channels on my ridiculously large flat-screen until I heard high-pitched voices. I left it there, watching as people moved in and out of focus the more I drank. My eyelids started to feel heavier, so I drank faster, wanting to create a kind of blitz effect on my mind. Just as I drank the last drop, my throat burning and my stomach warm, the bottle fell from my hand as my eyes slid shut, the liquor effectively putting me into a dreamless sleep.

And then it was Saturday again. I was anxious to get to the liquor store, but I wanted to wait until just before they were closing, the time I always went in. Mark, the usual Saturday closer, would lock the doors and talk to me for awhile, but I rarely had much to say back. He somehow knew I didn't like buying my lifeline when other people were around. It's wasn't as though I was ashamed, I just preferred to be alone in everything that involved my habit. But Mark understood - he saw people like me every day, but he never tried to stop me, never tried to deny my sale, as he would have with anyone else.

When I finally, finally, made it to my store of choice, I parked my car next to Mark's black Jeep and killed the engine. I tried to slow my racing pulse, knowing it was because I hadn't drank since last night - and that was only half a bottle, less than my norm. I had taken that first half down on Thursday, as it had been a hectic day, both Edward and Charlie on my mind a lot.

As I entered the store, I plastered a smile on my face, looking for Mark behind the counter in the middle of the store. He was an attractive guy, about 6'1 with dark blonde hair that whispered along the tops of his ears, dark brown eyes and lots of freckles along his cheeks. He was only thirty, but he was married to my co-worker/friend Paula, and they had five young children, who were absolutely adorable, and extremely well behaved.

I liked Paula, she was sweet and kind and never asked me about my drinking, although I was positive Mark had to of told her. They always invited me over when they'd have a barbeque, which was quite often, and Mark would always have a drink waiting for me in my usual spot at the picnic table out back whenever I agreed to go. Whether or not I went always depended on how late it would run, and I noticed more and more that they started them earlier and earlier, and I had a feeling they did it because of me. It was sweet, and it made me feel welcomed and accepted, but it also made me feel guilty.

Once I saw Mark behind the counter, he shook his head at me, his eyes wide. Usually, that look meant that someone else was in the store, but the wideness of his eyes told me it was a male - the sex I tried my best to avoid. Having been deprived of my usual rations of rum, I didn't really care, but I decided to be patient. I shrugged, shaking my head. Mark gave me a sympathetic smile and nodded his head, his eyes averting to the left, telling me where the other shopper was, which was, of course, just where I was planning on going. I milled around by the front, hiding myself with the aisles of wine, wrinkling my nose at the champagne.

After what felt like hours, which had really been minutes, I heard Mark cough, indicating the shopper was checking out. I all but ran to my section of the store, hastily grabbing eight bottles off the shelf. I decided to grab an extra one just in case I had a week like this past one - I really didn't want to feel so desperate again. Just as another cough rang through the store, I heard quiet footsteps behind me.

"Bella?"

I nearly dropped my loot, but just barely managed to stay steady on my feet. I knew that voice. Above any others, I knew that one. I didn't want to turn around, I just wanted to run and never look back. I knew Mark would understand, that he would just run my tab and wait for me to come back the next day to pay for my purchases. But I couldn't move, I couldn't even breathe. As if being pulled by a magnet, I turned.

And there he stood, in all his fucking glory. Edward Cullen, my high school sweetheart who had effectively ripped my heart out by sleeping with one of my best friends. Just after Charlie died, I'd heard that she had gotten pregnant and they had married, and that only added fuel to my depression. He stood just over six-foot, his dark hair still sticking up in manicured spikes, his dark green eyes penetrating my brown ones.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. My fight or flight instinct kicked in, and I decided on the latter option. I power-walked around Edward, my eyes to the floor. I ran to the counter and Mark already had the register open, a brown bag sitting on top of the counter. I shoved the bottles into the bag and handed Mark a few bills, muttering something about adding on another bottle. Mark quirked his eyebrow, but said nothing, and handed me back a few dollars. I tried to smile and then I turned, making a beeline for the door.

"Bella!"

I didn't turn around; I didn't want to see his traitorous face or his beautiful eyes again.

"Hey, asshole!" I heard Mark shout. "If she don't want to talk to you, she don't got to!"

I heard Edward quicken his pace, and so did I.

"Bella! Stop!" he shouted at me just as I reached the door. "Bella! I want to talk to you, damn it!"

"Leave me alone!" I yelled.

I ripped the door open and ran through it, only to connect with a tall, hard body. My bag slipped from my hands and the contents shattered when they hit the concrete. My legs gave out on me, the emotions running through me too much to comprehend, and I just caved. Strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me from hitting the ground. Choking sobs wracked my body, and I couldn't find it in me to stop them.

"Bella!"

The voice of Edward reignited my mind and I tried to break free of the man who was holding me up, but his arms didn't budge. I eventually stopped fighting, knowing there was nothing else I could do.

"Stay," the man holding me said. His voice was quiet, for my ears only, but it was so strong and commanding that, even as he released me, I listened.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

I turned around to see the back of my rescuer striding toward Edward, whose eyes were wide with fright. My rescuer was wearing a dark blue dress shirt and black jeans, his frame reaching at least three inches above Edward's, long blonde curls falling gracefully to his shoulders. I gasped as I realized who he was.

"What do you want, Jasper?" Edward asked, his voice confident but his face worried.

Jasper, my lifelong best friend who I had been avoiding for the better part of a decade, didn't reply. Instead, he strode straight to Edward, who was slowly backing up, and punched him square in the jaw, dropping him to the ground.

"Hey!" Mark shouted. "Take it outside! Bella, get over here… now."

I shook my head, too terrified to move. Jasper's bright blue-green eyes met mine as he turned around. I stood there, shaking from head to toe, my feet becoming wet from the spilled rum as it pooled around my flip-flops.

"Bella," Jasper whispered, a mixture of pain and relief flooding his features.

"Jasper, what the fuck?" Edward asked, sounding dazed and holding a hand against the right side of his face.

"OUTSIDE!" Mark bellowed, looking frantically between Jasper, Edward, and me. "Isabella Swan, get your ass over here now!"

"I've got her," Jasper spoke up.

"And who the fuck are you?" Mark asked.

"An old friend," he said, not taking his eyes away from mine.

"And who is this?" Mark asked, gesturing to Edward, whose lip was now obviously bleeding, his eyes glassy.

"My ex-fiancée's husband, and Bella's ex-boyfriend," he explained, his jaw clenching.

"Oh," Mark said. "Well, if you'd be so kind, please do not make my store into a boxing ring."

"Yes, sir," Jasper said, walking back over to me and looking at my feet. "Party?"

"Yes," I said instantly.

"What did you have?" he asked.

Mark spoke up before I could. "Eight bottles of Captain."

"I'll replace them," Jasper said with a smirk, starting to walk back towards the liquor coolers.

"I got 'em," Mark said, pulling a brown bag from underneath the counter and 'accidentally' hitting Edward in the stomach with his shoe as he came around to hand off the bag.

"Eight of them?" I asked anxiously.

"Nine, actually," he said with a chuckle. "Paula told me you had a rough week at the office, so I figured it'd be a niner. You two get out of here, I'll clean this up."

I smiled gratefully and Jasper took the bag. "Come on," he said. He turned back to Mark and nodded to him. "Thanks."

"Hey!" Mark called after us. Jasper and I turned. "Jasper, right?"

Jasper walked the distance back to Mark and rearranged the bag so he could hold out his hand. "Jasper Whitlock."

"Mark Coltrane," he said, shaking Jasper's hand.

"Don't worry," Jasper said just as Mark was opening his mouth. "I won't let anything bad happen to her."

Mark looked at me, his eyebrow raised, and I nodded my head in confirmation. "Good," Mark said huffily, "because it won't end pretty if you do, kid."

"Yes, sir," Jasper said again, gently smacking Mark on the arm. "Have a good night."

"You, too," Mark said, looking dazed by Jasper's gentlemanly mannerisms. "See you next week, Bells."

"Bye, Mark!" I shouted over my shoulder as Jasper ushered me out the door.

"'See you next week'?" Jasper asked as we made it to my blue Prius.

I shrugged. "I go in every Saturday."

Jasper stopped just as we reached the driver side door and he leaned against it, preventing me from opening it. "Why?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "You throw that many parties?"

I sighed. "Something like that, Jasper," I said, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Don't you lie to me, Isabella," he said, his teeth clenching.

"What are you doing here, Jasper?" I asked, avoiding the question.

"Rosalie called me," he said, and I blanched.

"Why?" I asked, closing my eyes as my voice broke.

"Because she loves you," he said quietly, reaching out and lightly grabbing my forearm. "Because we're both worried about you." He pulled on my arm, drawing me closer. "Because I've missed you and was just waiting for an excuse to come and see you."

Tears pooled in my eyes as I looked up at my previous best friend, and I noticed how much older he had gotten. He was the same, but somehow different. He had more lines in his face, a few extra crinkles around the beautiful features I had known so well. He looked tired, with circles beneath his eyes. He had worry lines in his forehead, and that made me worried. What would Jasper have to worry about so much? And then I realized I'd have no idea… because I hadn't talked to him in years. Tears fell down my face as I realized just how horrible I'd been to him.

Jasper, the kid who I used to push around in the sandbox in kindergarten, the one whose shoulder I cried on when Edward left, the one who held my hand and forced me to eat after Charlie's funeral – I'd just thrown him aside. He was the one who I'd had to comfort, when Alice had left him for Edward, when his brother died in a terrible train accident. We had fallen apart in each other's arms so many times I'd lost count. And I had just left him… I'd left him all alone in that small town with no other friends because I couldn't handle my pain. I'd abandoned the only person who tried to help me.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, a large pang ripping through my heart.

"Shh," he whispered, pulling me close enough to put his arm around my shoulders. "Don't apologize, Bella, I knew you needed space. I just wish it would have been you who had called me, not Rosalie. I've been waiting for that call for years."

I molded myself against him, letting my head rest against his hard chest. "You've gotten taller," I said, not really wanting to relive the past.

He laughed and rested his forehead against the top of my head. "I think it's just been six years since you've seen me, because I haven't grown an inch."

"Maybe I'm shrinking," I said with a sigh.

He chuckled, shaking his head against mine. "Ah, yes, how I have missed your silly humor, B-Bear."

I laughed, rolling my eyes at the nickname he'd given me some twenty years ago. I finally wrapped my arms around his waist, wedging one between his back and the car, holding him tightly to me. "I've missed you too, Razzle-Jazzle."

"Mmmm, there's my Bella-Bear," he whispered, his arm tightening around my shoulders. "Even if she is dressed very oddly."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious in my fitted black t-shirt and knee-length denim skirt.

Jasper chuckled and rested his head on top of mine. "It's just… different, I guess. I'm not used to you in skirts. It's not a bad thing… just a different thing."

I didn't have a reply.

We stood like that for what seemed like hours, Jasper holding me tightly as I dizzied myself with his smell, which was thankfully still the same - sandalwood and cupcakes. Don't ask me how that's possible, but that's what it was… sugar and spice, I always told him. Only once we heard commotion coming from the inside of the store did we pull away from each other, but not by much. I was planning on stepping away from him, but I'd missed him much too much to be too far.

"So," he said, looking down at me, "am I invited to this party?"

"Oh, well, uh," I stuttered, trying to think up some lie. "I think I'm cancelling it. It's getting late."

Jasper raised an eyebrow, and gave me a look that told me he knew I was lying. "Well, you'll have to point me in the direction of a hotel, because I didn't really stop to book one when Rose called."

"You could stay with me," I said, but then shut my mouth. I hadn't meant to blurt that out, it just sort of happened.

He smiled his typical crooked smile and his face lit up. "Brilliant idea!" he said enthusiastically. "Lead the way, Captain."

I blushed, knowing he was making fun of my drink of choice, as it had always been his, too. I suddenly realized that I had never liked the spiced rum until I had moved. Perhaps subconsciously I was thinking of Jasper, the person who I had always viewed as my real other half - like twins separated at birth. I smiled and stood on my toes to kiss his cheek. He smiled at me again before walking to the car next to mine, my liquor still firmly held in his arm.

Shit.

My hands shook as I started the engine, and I willed them to stop, but it wasn't enough. The entire way back to my apartment I wondered if it was possible to lose Jasper in the heavy traffic, to make an illegal U-turn and floor it back to the store before Mark left. But Jasper stayed right on my tail the whole way – never once did I see the headlights stray further back than a foot or two. By the time we reached my apartment, I was sweating. I was anxious and shaky, and I just put my head against the steering wheel when I parked in my usual spot, Jasper's Mustang pulling in to my left. There was a light tap at my window and I jumped.

"Bells?"

It was Jasper, of course. Who else? I cut the engine and took a few deep breaths through my nose, as I was unable to unclench my jaw. I waited until he backed up a little to open my door, and I was relieved to see he still had my bag tucked beneath his arm. He smiled at me, but I didn't really pay him too much attention; I was too anxious.

"So," he said as we made our way through the massive front doors of my apartment building, "are you going to say anything, or am I just going to be talking to myself all night?"

I laughed nervously and walked to the elevator, my foot tapping impatiently. "Quit whining, Jasper," I said, trying to make my tone joking.

He whistled through his teeth. "Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?"

I shot him a look, and his face sobered.

"Bells," he whispered, reaching out to touch me again, but I dodged him, stepping into the opening doors of the elevator.

"Are you coming?" I asked, putting my hand against the frame to keep the doors from closing.

"I suppose," he said, his eyebrows coming together.

He stepped into the elevator and I hit the fifteenth floor button, chewing on my lip as the lift moved. I power-walked down the hall, my hand still shaking slightly as I put the key into the deadbolt, turning it before thrusting open the door.

"Pretty swanky place," he commented as he followed me in.

I shrugged, quite used to the large three bedroom apartment with high ceilings and large windows overlooking the city. I kicked off my shoes and locked my door after Jasper moved further into the apartment.

"Great view," he said, glancing past the living room and into the dining room, which had the biggest window in my apartment.

"That's the perks of living on the top floor," I mumbled.

"Alright," Jasper said, turning towards me, his eyes narrowed, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, shocked at his hard tone.

"You go from scared to emotional to funny to tenser than I've ever seen you all within twenty minutes," he said. "What is wrong?"

I spluttered for a moment, knowing he was completely right, but I wasn't even sure why I was acting the way I was. I sighed.

"I don't know, Jasper," I said, shaking my head and not looking him in the eyes. "It's just been a long week, that's all."

"So I've heard," he muttered, kicking off his own shoes, which I noticed were a pair of black cowboy boots – some things never change. I was going to make a snappy retort, but Jasper spoke before I could. "Want a drink?"

I wanted to scream 'yes', and then tell him he couldn't have any of my liquid sunshine, but I reminded myself I had nine whole bottles. "Sure," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Cups are in the cabinet above the dishwasher."

"Ooooh," he said, "you have a dishwasher?"

I laughed, really laughed. "Yeah, I know, right? After hand washing dishes for twenty-two years, it was a nice change. It was the deciding factor between this place and some fancy-ass condo down the road."

"No dishwasher in the condo?" he asked.

"No, there was, but this place was about four hundred less a month," I explained.

Jasper smiled that brilliant white smile at me and sauntered off into the kitchen, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I sat on my black leather love seat and put my feet up on my glass coffee table, trying not to have an anxiety attack. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, telling myself Jasper would be coming with my drink very soon.

"Soda?" he asked.

"What?"

"Soda," he repeated.

"What about it?" I asked, confused. "It should be in the fridge."

Jasper chuckled. "How much of it do you want?"

"Not much," I replied instantly, and I was actually proud I hadn't said 'none'.

I heard Jazz rummage around in the kitchen for another minute, and I looked up when he walked into the living room. He held up a glass, and I nearly jumped out of my seat to hug him. It was a massive glass cup, the color telling me that there was very little soda in it. He handed me the cup and I thought I'd break it, my grip around the sweating glass causing my knuckles to turn white as I waited for Jasper to sit down with his own glass that was only a little darker than my own. Jasper sat down, not on one of my other three matching couches or chairs, but right next me, our upper arms touching.

"Cheers," he said, holding his glass out.

"Cheers," I repeated, clinking my glass to his before taking a sip.

Oh, God! I always love that first sip the most; it sends a sweet-burning fire down my throat, my chest and stomach feeling warmed and sated. It took all my control not to chug the entire cup down and go back for more. Instead, I kept up with Jasper, which was alright, because he drank his down fairly quickly.

"Jesus, kid," he coughed as he polished off the last of his drink and looked over to me just as I was finishing off the last of mine. "You used to get wasted just watching me drink."

I chuckled, feeling much, much better with nearly half a bottle in me. "I'm not a kid anymore, Jazz," I reminded him.

Jasper sighed and shook his head. "That's true, Bella… that's true. So, want another one?"

Once again, instead of screaming 'yes', I shrugged. "Are you getting another one?"

"If you don't mind," he said, his eyes not quite meeting mine.

"Not at all," I said with a smile, nudging his arm and handing him my cup.

He smiled and kissed my head before going to the kitchen for round two.

A/N – I know, I know, I know – I have unfinished stories but… This one won't leave me alone! I can't promise quick updates, but I'm still interested in hearing what you think! Please take two seconds out to review! Thank you!