Title: Feeling Hope
Disclaimer: Not mine O.O just borrowing.
Characters/Pairing: Alice/Jasper
Summary: In a tiny diner in Philadelphia, two people whose souls have been searching for one another for centuries finally come together in a sense of being found, in a feeling of love and more importantly: hope. (Done as a request for WeasleyWizardingWheezes).
Rating: PG-13

The second in my list of requests, this was done for FFNet user WeasleyWizardingWheezes, who asked for my take on Jasper and Alice's meeting in the diner. This is for you: I hope you enjoy it as much as I liked writing it!

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Feeling Hope

1/1

She almost loses him.

They're sitting there in one of the booths at the back corner of the diner, fresh raindrops still clinging to his blonde hair, and she stares at each one as she speaks, watches as each one drops to the table or scurries down the side of his face or falls to the back of his hand. She watches not because they're distracting, but because they're coming from him.

The one she never thought she'd find; the one that graced her with his presence so frequently that she was already in love with him before he even walked through the door. He's here, sitting in front of her, and he's so...

Beautiful.

"...And the first thing I remember seeing is you," she's saying. "I don't remember anything at all except you, and I've been searching for you ever since." She drags her gaze back to his face. Butterscotch eyes meet onyx ones, and he does something she never expected.

He laughs. "You spent your whole life lookin' for me? I dunno who you think you've found, darlin', but you don't wanna hang around me."

"No, no, you don't understand. I do. I've seen myself with you." His eyebrows raise slightly, and her face falls. "You don't believe me..."

"Oh, I believe you. I just don't believe you know exactly who and what I am."

"You're lost," she offers. "Scared; you need someone to help you get back on track."

"Do I?" he asks, staring at her without blinking.

"I didn't mean..."

But he's on his feet already, and she hears the tinker of the doorbell. She stands and hurries after him, ignoring the speed she uses because she doesn't care if anyone sees her; she can't let him get away.

She can't lose him.

"Jasper!" Her shoes pitter-patter on the concrete quickly, and little sprays of water shoot up as she rushes through a puddle in the middle of the street. "Please! What have you got to lose?"

He stops, but he doesn't turn around.

She takes this as a good sign. "I've seen you in the future, Jasper. I've seen you happy, I've seen you smile. I've seen you laughing."

How long has it been since he's laughed? He can't remember.

"If it doesn't work out, you can go, and I won't try to stop you. Please, just give me a chance. ...Give this a chance."

He tilts his head back, blinking up at the grey sky as another wave of rain begins to fall. The drops feel different to him this time somehow; fresh. Silly as it sounds, he feels like they're washing something away - the pain, the anger and the hate. The fear of being alone and the fear of this strange little creature claims to have the ability to lead him to happiness.

"What've you got to lose?" she repeats.

He turns back to her, looks her in the eye. "Are you seeing me, Alice?"

"Yes," she says slowly, the confusion evident in her voice. She's startled when he steps to her quickly.

"Are you seeing me? Do you see what I am? Do you see these scars, these eyes? You see the future, Alice, not the past. You don't know what I've done."

She's holding her breath; he's standing so close to her that she has to actually lift her face up and head head back to look into his eyes. His boots are just inches from her tiny black ballet flats, and she detects a faint scent of honey and peppermint coming from him.

"...Does it matter?" she whispers, not because she wants to but because he'd frightened her so much with his sudden aggressiveness that her voice had nearly left her. "The past is past..."

He stares down at her, his eyes filled with... something. Defeat, maybe. Carefully, slowly, as not to set him off again, she reaches forward and lets the very tips of her fingers brush against the back of his fisted hand. Softly. Timidly.

"You really don't care, do you?" he asks, finally realizing that no matter how hard he tries, he isn't getting rid of this pint-sized fortune teller.

"No," she says. "I only care about what I've seen. In the future."

His eyes drop to look at her hand - so unbelievably tiny - and, as he had done less than an hour before, he takes it in his own. "I'm not doing this," he says, "because you see the future. I'm not doing it because you're telling me I have no choice."

She blinks up at him. "Why are you doing this?"

He's doing it, he thinks, because that feeling he got when he first laid eyes on her still hasn't left him. He's doing it because the care and love and the hope radiating off of her is too much to ignore.

"Because," he whispers. "I trust you."