A/n: I've been wanting to write this for a while, and it's the holidays, so why not? :)
This is the scene described in Eclipse by Jasper; the night that Alice and Jasper met, and is a one-shot.
I don't own the characters yada yada.
Please let me know what you think, if you have two minutes to click the odd button.
I'm sure this idea has been done before, so I apologise to anyone who has also done it.
Big thanks to Suzie, as always, my lovely proof reader :)
The Pennsylvania Café
Jasper
The Philadelphia skies were clouding over, trees lining the horizon as the sun set blissfully into the nearby coast line. Yet another day was over; yet another night was to begin. Time was nothing to the insomniac.
I had arrived here just over 6 months ago, direct from North Carolina, and never had I witnessed such a beautiful sun set. On the rare occasion I surfaced before dark, the sky was murky and dull. As much as it is a contradiction, when you have an undoubted forever, you stop to notice these things.
With the clouds coming quicker by the second, I stopped in mid-stride and listened. A crash of thunder. 30 miles away. And, with the way the clouds were looking, we were definitely going to get hit by the storm. Fantastic.
As humans passed me, care-free and delightfully ignorant, in the street, my hunger hit me. I hadn't eaten for about 3 weeks. I set off into a slow walk, about normal speed for a human, and made for the forest. There was a small stile; which I jumped, and I crouched in the undergrowth. I wasn't looking forward to satisfying my thirst. With my unique gift being able to feel, or taste, maybe even smell - I wasn't sure how to describe it - the emotions of others; I've grown to loath feeding; and, recently, myself.
As I wait to pounce, silent and deadly, from a safe place, I start to feel their unease. It waves from them and hits me like a fresh slap, every time. I should have come to expect each emotion by order, but what right do I have to sequence human emotion? It's usually when I get within 3 metres of their position that they start to check over their shoulder, their sense of unease growing close to panic. If the street is dark when I attack, I get to 1 metre when they start to run; if the sun is still shining, they don't run. I feel better if they flee. At least they expected it. If they don't, I almost feel like a cheater; playing on human ignorance. The pure fear emanating from every corner of their existence, as I dig my teeth into their attractive throats and pulse rates, is enough to make me want to bite myself. It's like I am them. Living through their deaths as I kill them. It's horrific and, most definitely, wrong. I am wrong – as an individual. I know when they're dead; their emotions cut short and I'm left feeling as empty as before, if not, slightly satisfied, but, by no means, enough to enjoy my actions. Lately, I'd taken to extending my time between feeding. It sometimes works. After a century of instant gratification, I'm finding self-discipline a difficult skill to master. At first, the need is minimal. I usually go about 2 weeks before the need overtakes me. By a fortnight, I'm weak and desperate for a hit, as it were. I kill, each time never feeling better.
I'd managed 3 weeks this time. But I was feeble; soon I was sure to give in to the necessity.
I felt a drop of rain touch my shoulder first, before the heavens opened and it began to pour down. I would be dry here, of course, but would it be safe if anybody walked by? There would be no witnesses: no reason for me to cease. If I did manage the will power, I'd sense their confusion as their eyes found a beautiful, young man hiding in the bushes in the rain. Any 'normality' I had left in my public reputation, which was little, would be gone. I'd have to move again. I didn't have a house, as such. Since I didn't need to sleep, or anything remotely human, I hadn't needed to acquire a property. I did need to shower and store some belongings though, so I rented a small, more like miniscule, office area. It had its own changing room, and plenty of empty drawers for my things.
The best thing I could do, I guess, was to wait somewhere more public. I was not willing to slaughter an entire truck full of humans. I could only just keep it together enough to sacrifice one. My will power would hold if I went somewhere with lots of humans. A café or something. The streets had already started to clear as I stepped from my hiding place and out into the alleyways. The rain splashed my skin and clothes, sparkling slightly, however, not enough to be noticeable. I still wasn't sure about coming out during the daylight hours. I knew what happened to my skin, and I knew it was not normal human behaviour. If I was seen, I'd most definitely catch someone's attention. I couldn't decide what their punishment would be. They'd probably charge me with abnormality. I'd be tested in to try and find my fault – good times.
It would be safer for me to hide in a café and wait out the storm; wet human was surprisingly appetising. The streets were already puddleing, and my feet were soaked after only a second. I couldn't feel a thing; cold on cold. A short and brisk walk later, I arrived at the nearest, and, to my luck, emptiest, diner. The sign read 'The Pennsylvania Café' and the inside was typical. The seats, red leather, were close together to optimise business. The tables looked cheap, but were polished every few minutes. Waitresses scurried around, and, looking through the window, I could see there were very few guests. Maybe 10 at most. 10 humans were enough, though. I would be able to keep my temptation to myself for 10 people. Numerous emotions filed through me from behind the door. As I approached the door, I could feel lust, love, anger and disappointment.
Then a new feeling overtook me. Something I had not felt in a long time. I couldn't tell from not knowing the diners well, but it felt like… hope. The emotion was flowing freely, in huge waves across my skin, forcing up the hairs on my neck, from a small form. I didn't know who it was, but this was what my gift told me. It was strong and certain. To feel this sensation through thick walls was incredibly new to me. They were sure. 100% sure. Something was or wasn't going to happen for them, almost certainly – or at least, that was they thought. They had no doubts; their feelings were firm and not changing. I told myself to distinguish who it was when I was inside. I hadn't felt hope this strong in a very, very prolonged time. With my current and confirmed mind set, I only managed to account for strong emotion in everyday life. Little changes in emotion didn't register. This one definitely did. I hadn't come across someone so confident in themselves since Maria.
I'd left her around 10 years ago. My mental state had been a manic downward spiral for a few years when I'd decided I'd either have to leave, or die trying. She'd turned on me. Her emotions showed me that. At the time, I'd thought about killing her, that way I could definitely be free, but Peter had saved me. One day, only a few before I'd planned to assassinate Maria, he came back for me. I'd released him a year or so before. Maria had ordered I 'take care' of some newborns who were losing their human-blood strength. Amongst them had been a girl. Charlotte. Peter cared for her, that much I knew, but it was not lust; it was stronger. Peter was my friend, and the better I know someone, the more obvious their feelings are to me. He gave himself away. He shouted to her to run and he'd followed her. I didn't pursue him. If I could kill my only friend, then who was I? Maria was furious and had watched me closely from then on. She was not my friend, but I knew her, probably better than most people. I could interpret her fear when she was with me. Her spite towards me. I knew I only had limited time left. When Peter had found me, it had only taken one conversation for him to convince me there was a better life out there for me. He'd told me of his and Charlotte's new lifestyle, their freedom to do as they pleased, and I only had to sense his gratitude and admiration for his mate to know he was true. I'd travelled with them for a few years, my mind deteriorating more with each passing annum. I was soon depressed, never satisfied and confused as to why. The gift for sensing feelings meant I knew how everyone else felt, but had no idea quite how I felt. I couldn't understand myself or what I wanted. I soon went it alone, and had been travelling ever since. I usually stayed in one place for a few months and then moved on. I'd like Philadelphia, so I'd stayed a little longer.
A bell rang as I opened the door. A few sets of eyes flashed towards me, desire hit me square between the eyes. I was used to that from women now, but it still made me smile. Two women sat in a far corner instantly entered a hushed conversation, that which my increased hearing picked up easily, about how the blonde thought to woo me. It really was quite flattering. Most eyes moved away from me quickly, afraid of my direct gaze. I was alien to them, they felt uncomfortable around me, and, believe me, I would know.
I made towards the counter, hoping to purchase a small drink in order to hide on their premises. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small movement from the far end of the counter. I slowed, and, taking a deep breath, smelt the vampire. I was cautious at once. My experiences with vampires when I was with Maria, and my few encounters afterwards, left me feeling uncertain. I was fully expecting an attack, but not in here. Vampires were violent when provoked, I knew that, but would he or she really launch into a confrontation in such a place? Had they no respect for vampire law? I knew little of the law keepers, except that they were ruthless. I hoped this vampire wouldn't strike; I did not want to have a run in with the Italians. It took me about half a second longer than it should have done to realise that this vampire was the being emanating the strong hopeful sensations. I had a strangely positive feeling, laced with unease, regarding this meeting.
I stood and turned. The petite vampire strode confidently towards me. She was female. Her smiling face was enveloped by her mid length dark hair. She was thin, wearing a knee-length, deep red Vivienne dress which clipped in at her tiny waist. Her pale shoulders looked serene above the hem of dress, her neck pronounced and long. Her heels clipped the wooden floor as she paced towards me. The way her hips swayed… it was something I'd never witnessed. Her emotions encased her like some sort of hopeful aura, giving her a vampiric halo. Finally, I looked for the true sense of vampire character: her eyes were a strange dark gold, but the bruises around her eyes were noticeable. I felt sorry for her. She halted before me, her palms facing towards me by her sides. She was short, and looked up at me.
She was beautiful.
Her voice was like ringing bells. "You've kept me waiting a long time." Her smile was dazzling, my knees feeling weak. She held my eyes in a way that I'd never thought I'd see.
I ducked my head, smiling crookedly down at her. I had offended this stunning young woman before I'd even known her. Typical. "I'm sorry, ma'am."
Her answering smile was incredible. If I could faint, I would have. Her emotions shifted. Where hope had once been, there was admiration, and relief… and love. This strange girl loved me. I hardly knew her, but her emotions were the clearest I'd ever felt. I wanted to spend my life deciphering her, getting to know her, understanding her facial expressions and thoughts. I love her. I knew it like I'd known nothing in my life. For going through feeling like I didn't know myself, it had come to this. I loved her. I damn well loved her!
Without breaking eye contact, she held up one hand to me.
I glanced at her fingers and they trembled slightly. My eyes moved back to hers, her glittering face still staring back at me. I took her hand and she walked leisurely out into the rain. I trailed her, strolling behind. She smiled back at me, still holding my eyes. I wanted to never look away.
She ran slowly, for a vampire, at least, towards the forest. Once under the cover of the grateful and large trees, she sped off, dragging me along. I caught up.
I did not care who or what she was. Nor where she was from. I didn't even care why; why she'd been waiting for me or why she felt so strongly for me… why I loved her. I just knew that I would follow her anywhere, and, if she let me, absolutely everywhere. She was perfect.
