A/N: YEAH, I KNOW, I'M GETTING SOFT IN MY OLD AGE, ANOTHER STORY THAT GOES LONGER THAN I USUALLY PRODUCE. BUT DON'T GET TOO EXCITED, IT'S STILL RATHER SHORT. SO THIS IS PROBABLY A BIT MORE SERIOUS THAN THE STUFF I USUALLY WRITE, WHICH COULD ALSO PROVE WHY I DON'T WRITE IN THIS STYLE LOL. NOW, I REALLY TRIED TO SQUEEZE OUT ALL OF MY AUSTRALIAN LINGO WITH THIS STORY, SO THIS TIME I ACTUALLY APOLOGISE FOR INCORRECT SLANG OR TERMINOLOGY. I USUALLY DON'T FILTER IT OUT, BECAUSE I'VE NEVER ACTUALLY GIVEN A FUCK, BUT IT JUST FELT WRONG IN THIS STORY FOR SOME REASON. I'VE ALSO ADDED IN 3 ODE'S TO JOHN CUSACK BY QUOTING AND REFERENCING 3 OF HIS MOVIES, SO TO ALL JOHN CUSACK FANS, SEE IF YOU CAN FIND THEM. WHILE ON THIS SUBJECT, I DON'T KNOW IF ANYONE HAS NOTICED, BUT I ACTUALLY DO THIS ALOT THROUGHOUT MY STORIES, NOT JUST WITH JOHN CUSACK, BUT WITH PEOPLE, SONGS, MOVIES, SHOWS OR BOOKS I LIKE, I'LL JUST ADD A SMALL ODE TO THEM. ANYWAY, BACK ON TRACK, ENJOY!

THE MOUSE AND THE MISCREANT

Chapter 1

The post lady slides a few envelopes into my mailbox, then continues her trek to my neighbours house to deliver their mail. I continue to watch her through my curtains until she is well out of sight and quite out of the line of sight of my house.

I walk out the front, rushing to my mailbox, retrieving my letters and rushing back to the safety of my house. I flop down on my fathers favourite recliner, God bless his soul, and start by tearing open the first envelope. A quick assessment shows it is my bank statement. I scan the small list of transactions, and as per usual, everything is in order. Sitting it aside, I open the next, a quick once over showing it is a letter from the bookstore in Port Angeles, informing me that my order has arrived. I place it on top of my statement, and pause at the next envelope. It is handwritten and smaller than most envelopes, as well as made of brown paper, not white. I flip it over, but there is no return address written there.

I peel it open gently and pull out the small pages that make up the letter. I unfold them, then re-fold them the opposite way to remove the severity of the creases. I don't recognise the writing at all, so I flip to the last page and read the name there, it, like the writing is quite unrecognisable. Flipping back to the beginning, I read.

02/19/2016

To Isabella,

I'd like to firstly apologise for my abrupt and unlikely letter, but your details fell into my hands and I found myself writing to you, and unable to stop. At this stage, I'm sure you are no doubt curious as to how your details fell into my hands, and I hope I don't get your sister into too much trouble, but she passed them on to me. Now, I'm sure you are wondering about my why, well… that is an answer I don't want to answer, but I will because I don't believe in any forms of deceit. I am an only child and my parents have passed on, with no distant relatives and only a small group of friends to speak of, I find I am quite unable to reach out to them… because I am in jail. Now, I expect you to rip up my letter at this stage, but I beg you not to. I am quite ashamed of my situation, which is why I have not reached out to the small few I call my friends; they don't know.

So, if you have made it this far in my letter, I'd like to take this opportunity to reassure you. I have met all types of people in here, and I feel I should assure you that I have no expectations of our correspondence. When I'm released, I will not show up on your door step, or beg you for money. I just seek companionship while in this cold, heartless place.

I'm sure that if you have made it this far, you'd like to know as much about myself as I do about you. Your sister told me your name and address, and that is all, so my name is Jasper Whitlock, and my address is the Washington State Penitentiary, cell 1408, occupied by myself and Garland Green. Now, we are on equal footing, but allow me to further acquaint you with myself. I was orphaned when I was 11 and when I finished my schooling, I enlisted in the armed forces. After a nine-year career, I was given an honourable discharge, which was seven months ago now. I took three months off after my discharge, then unsure of my path, I tried my hand at private detective work. Incidentally, it was that decision that led me to my current predicament. If you wish to know more, all you have to do, is ask.

Now, I suppose this is the place one might start asking questions, but I'm not going to do that. If you wish to tell me something about yourself, then I'm leaving that in your hands without any pressure or expectation from me. Your business is yours alone, and I respect that.

As much as I'd like to continue writing, I don't want to waste too much of your time until you decide whether or not you wish to write back.

I wish you well health, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Eagerly waiting,

Jasper Whitlock

I press my lips together, my teeth helping, not to mention adding a painful note to the action. I place the letter gently on the pile, and place the last unopened envelope on top of it. I walk to the kitchen, pick up the phone, and dial the familiar number of my sister.

"Bella," Rosalie greets through the receiver.

"Exactly how many inmates have you handed my address out to?" I spit through gritted teeth.

"I'm good sis, thanks for asking, I hope you're doing well? Have you left the house today yet, and I don't mean to walk to the letter box." She replies, avoiding my question.

"Answer the question," I demand.

"So that's a no then, you really should get out more, being by yourself all the time isn't good for you."

"You're right Rosalie, I should take a day trip to the local prison and hand out your details to all of the inmates." I hang up the phone and wait, predictably, she calls back in seconds.

"I just gave them to Jasper, Emmett has been hanging with him in the yard and he suggested it. He said Jasper is a really good guy and whether or not he is innocent, people make mistakes and deserve a chance."

"Rose, I've never even met Emmett, his word means nothing to me."

"Bell, it is your fault you haven't met Emmett, you refuse to leave your batcave and support your sister."

I sigh heavily into the mouthpiece, "I will not support your need to consort with criminals."

"Everything is always black-and-white to you isn't it? Emmett has never plead innocence, but he won't apologise for what he did either."

I shake my head, not that she can see it. "There are plenty of help centres he could've gone to… other family maybe."

"I'm not going to argue with you Isabella, but Emmett will be released in two months and I'd like you to come over and celebrate with us, then you can finally meet him."

"I'll be there, but I'm not going to just like him for you."

"I don't expect you to." She pauses for a beat, "you should write to him, you know. It will be good for him, but more importantly, it will be good for you." I go to protest, but she cuts in before I get the chance, "I don't expect you to marry him Bella, just write. He knows the boundaries, and when he's released, he knows he has Emmett to answer to if he does anything you don't want."

"Rosalie, one of these days you are going to have to accept the fact that I am happy with my life, and you don't need to try and fix me. I'll talk to you later." I hang up on her and walk back into the lounge room, retaking my seat in the recliner. I pull the final envelope off Jasper's letter and open it. A brief once over shows it is my phone bill, so I refold it and place it under the handwritten pages.

Unable to stop myself, I pick them back up, and re-read them.