When Alice looked into Jasper's eyes for the first time outside of a dream, she felt as though she floated straight into his arms. Several people scurried out of her way as she looked vaguely through them, and she slipped her arms around his neck and sighed in complete happiness.
She inched her face right into his neck, watching the mottled skin move as he spoke softly. "Welcome home, Mary-Alice." His hand gentled over her head and closed her eyes as he pressed it to her cheek. The stub of his thumb brushed over her chin, and she pulls away from him only enough to tilt her head up and close her eyes in anticipation.
When she felt his lips on hers, she had to force herself not to break their first kiss with her grin.
0o0
They'd brought the marriage certificates. Carlisle signed as officiate and Esme as the witness. There was no to-do, no celebration. Though when Alice finished signing her name; she threw her arms around Jasper and kissed him so hard that Esme looked like she wanted to scold her for indecency. Emmett took Rosalie's pen after she signed, and the hand she had written with, and gave her knuckles a quick kiss, which Rosalie seemed to accept. Waylon took the papers, promising to have them in the city hall of the Port of Angeles by that afternoon.
Rosalie was uneasy when she looked at Jasper for the first time. The side of his face that was still human-looking seemed very young, but he limped heavily on his cane. He didn't make eye contact with anyone; except he didn't look down, but his gaze slid to their ear or chin. It gave the unsettling feeling of being looked through, something the dreamy Alice was also guilty of. Rosalie could not stand not being looked in the eye, it was abominably rude.
Esme had gasped when she saw the scarred man, and while the reaction had been ignored it instantly embarrassed her. She distracted herself with introductions and signing the marriage paperwork as a witness. She felt her chest hurt when she looked at the mangled boy. Because she could see it in his eyes; he was young.
Alice, Rosalie and Esme rode in the carriage, and the men rode on top. Well, three of them. There had actually been a young man waiting inside.
"Edward Mason. Carlisle is my father, for all intents and purposes." He had introduced himself as he helped them all inside. He was very handsome and lanky. But the man was too old to have a father so young. He'd made small talk; he was a piano teacher when he wasn't made to be the postman, surely the town would benefit from Alice's sewing skills, Esme's flat needed a kettle but until then it would be much preferred if she ate with them, and Rosalie would need to put any frivolous shoes away, and perhaps need to purchase another pair of boots.
"You'll be living on a slightly wild part of the town, Alice, are you good with manual labour?" Edward asked her, looking a little sceptical. It was easy to see why; Alice was so small, and her hands were soft with delicate tips.
Alice shakes her head pleasantly. "Oh, not at all! Emmett will remain gainfully employed as of yet!" She told him cheerfully. For a fleeting moment, Edward almost looked suspicious. "Rosalie can come to us in the afternoon, and we can all have dinner together!" She added, petting Rosalie's knee affectionately.
Rosalie looked quite bored but gave a nod in confirmation. Edward looked amused at her response. But something about his expression seemed mocking, and she deigned to ignore it.
"What is the McCarty house like?" Rosalie asked him softly. The lull of the rain was a soothing balm to how unsettled she'd became in their long journey.
Edward glances out the window. "They're a good family, they've worked hard in this town." His voice was steely, something about him seemed guarded, and it made Rosalie's defence raise in response. "Their jobs aren't glamourous, but they're vital to the continuation of our community." He added.
He hadn't answered her question. "… What is it like?" Her own tone was just as hard.
Edward, for his part, looked quite annoyed for a touch, until his expression smoothed out into something professional. "I heard from the Matriarch last week, your new mother-in-law," he said clearly, "they're more than half-way saved for the flooring timber."
Rosalie's eyes flew open, as did her mouth; "… They don't have a floor?"
0o0
Rosalie and Emmett are the first to arrive at their home. Emmett's broad, grinning face met Rosalie's shuttered off expression, as he helped her from the carriage.
Rosalie looked down a dirt road, to a looming, low yet long house that seemed to slowly creep closer. She didn't respond as Alice kissed her goodbye, or Esme petted her cheek and promised to come to tea.
Emmett had jogged around to untie Rosalie's multiple luggage cases and hollered to the house; "Henry! Come help with the bags!"
The doors opened, and a small curly-haired army came streaming out.
Rosalie forced herself to calm down; it was eight people. The McCarty family.
One of them was an older man, though not much older, who beams with one front tooth missing. "Em! She's just like her picture!" The man declared and sticks out a hand. "I'm your new older brother Henry!" He shakes her hand vigorously, not minding that she doesn't reply, before Emmett throws one of her suitcases at him, which nails him in the head. Henry begins to bicker with him, before Rosalie can demand gentler treatment of her belongings; two girls step up.
"I'm Rebecca," the shorter one says, smiling bashfully, and she points to the frowning girl next to her. "That's Sarah." She said. Three babies waddle over. Rebecca tells her that the littlest is baby Sonny, a year and a bit. Then Mary jr, three, and Johnny-boy who was six.
"Hello," Rosalie hears herself say faintly. She felt like she might start running or screaming or both soon enough.
"Welcome home!" An older man beams. It was Emmett and Rebecca's smile; on their father's face. "My wife might have told you that I'm Silas." He adds, but Rosalie shakes her head. "Well then; she must have told you I'm a fool." He says with a laugh.
She's not sure where to look; her head is spinning, and her knees feel weak. She looked at the long low house and knew it didn't even have a floor. That wasn't a house! It was a barn! Oh god, she'd have to sleep in it. She would have to sleep in it with Emmett, her husband, who was currently balancing one of her suitcases on his head.
"Rosalie," the woman, it must be Martha, smiles gently. She looks like no woman Rosalie had ever seen before; her hair is flat and un-styled, she wears no make-up and men's boots and trousers. "Do you need to sit down?" She asks. Rosalie nods faintly and takes Martha's arm when it's offered.
"Wait! They practised!" Henry yelled and started pushing the little ones into his mother's path.
"Oh, alright!" Martha snaps, not angry but stern, and nods at them all. "Hurry."
Rebecca, Sarah, Johnny-boy, Mary jr and Sonny line up in front of Rosalie; all eyes fixed on her. Rosalie had never been around so many children since she was one herself, and she stares right back at them. "Welcome sister!" They chorus nicely. Silas claps at the show.
Rosalie releases Martha's arm takes two steps to the right and vomits onto the dirt. The children break out into loud screaming and Martha rubs her back. Emmett gives a yell and drops one of her bags. Silas began scolding the children for their noise and Henry might have laughed a little.
"Best to get it out now," Martha advises with a nod.
First Night - Rosalie
Her nausea was chalked up to the stress of the trip; and Rosalie sipped water under Martha's strict supervision until the baby began to cry. Left by herself in a corner of what could only be described as a particularly large hut, Rosalie inhaled shakily, and bit down on her trembling lip.
That night, they had a stew, which Rosalie peeled the potatoes for. She wasn't particularly good at it, and after she cut her thumb, Martha had her feed the peelings to the pigs instead.
Rosalie took her time with the animals; they were not kept in a strict pen, it seemed, and unlike her imagination, weren't covered in faeces and dirt. She even thought they were quite cute; so long as they kept their wet snouts away from her skirts.
She stalled, petting them and scratching their ears; because she didn't want to go back inside. She was being a horrible snob, she was sure. But if was awful in there; it was just a barn with no floor and even the stables at her aunt's Connecticut home had been better furnished. These people were poor, and no number of rugs would keep the dirt off of her hems.
0o0
Emmett was excited. He was married now, he was a husband and he had a truly gorgeous wife. He was going to set up a little picnic outside for their dinner; with an extra blanket to share when it got colder. They needed the alone time, his mother agreed. Rosalie had a lot to adjust to with them all; and his mam said she'd spent the late afternoon with the pigs.
"Probably more civilised company than your little siblings; the spectacle they made of her!" His mam admonished them, and Emmett could only laugh. Rosalie seemed to make an excellent impression on most of his siblings; they were in awe of her. So was Emmett, just a little.
Jasper had made him a newlywed present out of a few candles and Edward had given him a novel he claimed she might like. Emmett never had the patience for reading, but Rosalie had a lovely voice, mature and deep; he wouldn't mind being read to.
So Emmett took a few bowls of stew out to the blanket he'd spread with the candles he'd lit; on the other side of a great tree, to be a little obscured from the house.
He set the bowls down, and jogged over to where Rosalie was petting a very pregnant Daisy.
"Good night to you!" He called, and grinned when the woman jumped in surprise. "She's gonna make you a grand-mammy sometime next month." Emmett added, and Rosalie nodded, looking not at him but the house.
"Suppose we should go inside now." She said, her tone reluctant. Emmett was sure she might be put off by his family, who were yet strangers to her, and didn't truly just want to spend time with just him. But he was glad that it meant she would.
"I thought we'd have our dinner over there," Emmett said, and took her hand to lead her to the big tree.
She looked surprised by the candles, and her eyes flicked immediately to the book he'd left on the blanket, and sat where he bid her. He plopped down next to her and passed her some stew. Rosalie accepted it quietly, and Emmett gave a little sigh as he settled. He was comfortable right where he was; staring out at the woods in the dusk. It was peaceful, and familiar, and there was a very pretty girl by his side.
He looks at Rosalie with a bright smile, but it dims when he sees her eyeing the stew mam slaved over with distaste. "So, probably not exactly as I explained it." Emmett told her, trying for sheepish but much too pleased to have her here. "Just this morning, Lenore said I left out much too much!" Emmett gave a laugh, but Rosalie didn't so much as glance at him; scraping her spoon through the broth. "I'm not a writer, see,"
"I see." She answered blandly.
"Ma says you can help around the house." Emmett added, glancing back at the cozy structure, where the voices of his family faintly carried back to them. "You're not a little thing; some scrubbing you could do." He added, glancing over her full figure discreetly. But they were married, now, so he also reminded himself he needn't be so discreet. Though they were strangers and he didn't feel comfortable eyeing her yet.
But glancing at her face, she looked lost and a little apprehensive. "I don't … I've not a lot of experience with housework." She said quietly. "I can play the harp, and I could teach your little siblings their letters." She told him firmly.
"Well … they may not make the best pupils, and we haven't got a harp in this whole town, I think." Emmett admitted. This wasn't going how he wanted at all; he didn't want to ruin their first might together speaking of such utilitarian things. They were supposed to be enjoying meeting in the flesh, for the first time.
"You're so much prettier than your picture." Emmett added sincerely, but Rosalie seemed unaffected, inclining her head. "I thought myself the luckiest man alive when I got your first letter." He added, but this time Rosalie doesn't respond at all, in favour of setting down her bowl – she'd only eaten half – and taking up the book next to her.
Emmett huffed a little, "Well, in any case, that's from the Pastor's son, Ted. He said you'd like it."
Rosalie nodded and flipped it open. Emmett wondered if he could simply ask her to read to him; but she drew her knees up, curling in on herself with the book and blocking him out completely.
Emmett glanced around the little field and sighed. Perhaps she wasn't in a talkative mood, tonight. She'd had a long journey, after all.
"This isn't what I expected." It was Rosalie's voice now, soft but very steely. Emmett found himself shivering when she turned her bright blue gaze on him. "This isn't what you wrote to me at all." She added heavily. Emmett felt just as he did before a rumble started at a card game, a desperate rush went through his limbs.
Emmett realised that she was very angry and propped himself back up to a sitting position. "Well, um, I told you I wasn't a good writer-"
She snapped the book shut, and for a heartbeat Emmett thought she might try and hit him with it. But she only looks down on him. "I'm inclined to believe that you may have even lied to me-"
"And what of it!?" Emmett snapped, her expression causing his insides to twist awfully with shame. "I had the tintype of an angel and the chance to bring her to me! What happened to you in New York?" He demanded in turn, and her face went white. "What did that old man do to you – you didn't come here for me, at all. You ran away, I was just convenient." Emmett told her grudgingly.
Rosalie's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How dare you speak to me like this."
"I'm your husband now, Rosie. I can speak to you how I please." Emmett grumbled, but he didn't mean it. He meant to be nice, but the idea of such a beautiful girl looking down on him made him so humiliated that he lashed out. Besides, it wasn't true; if his mam has heard him yelling, she'll smack him when they go back inside. "We're not bad people, we haven't a lot of money, but we make do." He added, his voice soft.
He meant it too; he was proud of how hard his family worked; how useful he was getting their needs from the woods or at least getting odd jobs. They weren't suffering, just struggling. But this girl was perfumed and powered perfect; and Emmett could tell she came from money.
"I want to go back inside." Rosalie told him, and stood, took both their bowls, and her book, and left him.
Emmett watched after her with a soft groan. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all.
First Night - Esme
Esme, Edward and Carlisle bid the new Whitlocks a good-bye, planning to go the remaining half-mile on foot. Alice kisses both of Esme's cheeks when she leaves. A bustling little figure all but dancing next to a man with a severe limp.
Edward is a bright, intense young man of seventeen, and Carlisle, comfortably closer to Esme in age, is quiet and sedate next to him.
Edward entertains Esme with stories behind some of the men's injuries in town.
"The Mayor near had no left thumb because he threw a horseshoe at a donkey after his mare threw it, and it came over to give him a piece of its mind." Edward explains, and Esme rolls her eyes, but she can't help the smallest of smiles. "But he was set right."
"This town has had an eventful start." Esme says.
Edward inclines his head. "It would seem." He smiles boyishly. "We're glad you've come, it'll be a change from my potato mash," he explains, "I can't make anything else."
"It's more than edible." Carlisle assures him.
Esme chuckles, and nods to the front "So you live just the two of you?" She asks, glancing between them both. She'd been surprised when Edward had referred to the doctor as his father; she thought with their ages they might be bachelor roommates. Though Edward was young; Carlisle seemed full young to have had him. They certainly didn't look similar.
Edward nodded. "He took me in after my parents died." Edward explained, and Esme glanced up at Carlisle, to see him watching something in the opposite direction. "I was old enough to be alone by anyone else's standards, even though I think if that had happened, it would have surely doomed me. He's a good man, and I prefer the company of …" Edward stopped, and cleared his throat, "I prefer his company." He finished.
Carlisle smiles at him affectionately. "Edward's very good to come with me this far from Chicago." He told Esme. Esme nods, but Edward only laughs it away.
"Not so far at all, compared to the Isles." Edward teased, referring to Carlisle's foreign accent. But the doctor shakes his head, and reminds Edward to try and keep Esme's luggage from the rain. She couldn't help but wonder at their relationship; but she certainly wasn't going to pry.
"Here! Home!" Edward yells, and a house is in front of them. It seemed well made and Esme smiles.
"It's lovely." She tells them both. Edward smiled with a nod, and Carlisle inclines his head, and presses on. They walk around the stout structure, to Esme's mild confusion.
"And this is yours." The doctor says, mentioning to a small hut behind it.
Esme stares. It was lovely and sweet and everything she'd never had before. A dear little cottage, nestled in grass, with the giant trees behind it. It's not her parents' house, or her cramped apartment when she was a 'Mrs' or her even smaller apartment which she had just left.
"It's … wonderful." Esme breathes. She feels very fragile, just for a moment, as though she wasn't sure one touch from someone else wouldn't cause her to break into a million pieces. "It's mine?" She asks with her wobbling voice, turning to Carlisle.
He looked at her for a moment, before taking a breath. "Ah – yes, if it's to your liking." He says, as though he was caught off-guard. "We had it cleaned up, I was going to apologise for the growing vines." Carlisle explains with a small smile.
"I like them, I like it all." Esme insists, beginning to smile herself. This had been a job, a gravely large expedition; but she hadn't expected that it could be truly nice. Now she thought it might just be.
Edward sighs, and staggers towards the little house. "Oh, let's go in," he exclaims huffily, "out of this rain!"
0o0
Esme was left to settle into her little cottage before dinner; Edward's last chance at potato mash.
He was peeling the wet, still-hot spuds when Carlisle came into the kitchen. Edward didn't reward him with anything more than a grunt; he was preoccupied, so he ended up dropping the potato in the sink when the man asked; "Do you think I need a haircut?"
"Why?" Edward snorted with his incredulousness as he turned around. Carlisle was frowning, brushing a hand over his hair and looking into a particularly reflective pot. Edward could have laughed; this was a man that thought to own a mirror was the sin of vanity, and never really allowed himself to be ungroomed regardless. His hair was combed back and he was never one for appearances.
Carlisle frowned at Edward's impudence, and glanced out the window, to where the hut sat in the light shower of rain. "I hope Miss Evenson is settling in with no trouble." He said as Edward picked up his potato again. "Perhaps I should go and check."
Edward shook his head. "Perhaps you should let her sit for a minute; they journeyed three days to get here." He point out, and Carlisle sits at the rickety little table instead. "You think something is amiss?" Edward asked, though his tone was conversational. "I think it is odd little Miss Mary knew Jasper often hired Emmett; he didn't mention as much in his letters." He added lightly.
Carlisle frowned. "He told you of them?" He asked, genuinely surprised. Though the men were close in age, they weren't close in anything else. Edward's ears went pink, and he muttered something, picking through his potatoes. Carlisle scowled. "… Edward, you did not read someone else's missives!" He warned, his tone dark.
Edward spun around, looking very caught out. "It's not my fault every townsperson here thinks I have little else to do but deliver the mail!" He snaps back. Carlisle sighed shortly, furiously disappointed at his reply. Edward slouched defensively; "Besides, everyone knew I thought it was a hum." He added feebly.
"Edward, I think you can spare more than a little time out of your day tomorrow and go apologise." Carlisle suggested sternly.
Edward look offended at the idea. "I think not!" He replied shortly, and the back door opened, startling them both. "Oh – Esme! I was hoping I could ask; are you any good at cutting hair?" Edward asked quickly, grinning. (That's what mind reading amounts to in a Human AU – being nosey)
Esme only looks mildly surprised, before looking over Edward critically. "Well, I might have suggested as much – it's very almost wild." She said amicably.
Edward scowled, "Not for myself!" He said irritably and nodded to the doctor-come-preacher who had stood straight from his chair as soon as Esme entered. "Carlisle has gone to the dogs." He explains, smirking at Carlisle's dry look.
Esme took a short step towards Carlisle, eyes on his forehead. "Not at all, I think it's comely." Esme disagreed softly. Carlisle looked at her and did nothing else. "I could do some at the ends, if you'd like." She offered, her hand reaching out, as though going to touch his hair, before he takes a quick step back.
"Ah, well," he cleared his throat and mentioned over to where Edward had his head ducked over the sink "for now I think it best to focus on dinner."
While Esme agreed unperturbed, Edward ended up snickering as Carlisle excused himself to his office.
First Night - Alice
Alice could really only cook a few things; butter cookies, sponge cake, vegetable pie, and ham-and-cheese criss-cross. So when Jasper takes her home, after seeing off the doctor, son and Esme, she was a little alarmed when he shows her a raw hunk of venison.
"I have to do some mending on the border fence. But I'll be back for tea." He explained. He was such a silent, shy man, and Alice was surprised. He'd written her lovely words in a lovely hand, but it seemed in person he was much quieter. She didn't mind, though, it left her with much more room to chat.
"Well, then, I'll have something ready for tea!" She said, chipper, and she pressed one last, lingering kiss onto his mouth before he went. The smile slipped off her face when she turned back to the meat. "Oh … dear." She said slowly.
She ended up trying to chop it into steaks, and decided so long as it was cooked, it was edible. She left them sizzling on the stove, not fond of waiting around until they were done.
Alice took the rest of her time looking around the house. Not very large, and very well made. Alice smiled a little; she liked it, just like she dreamed she would. She was already thinking ahead; new curtains, lemonade in summer, a woven rug ….
She came back from her pleased, satisfied daze at the smell of burning.
"Oh no!" She squealed. Racing back to the kitchen was for naught. The steak was awfully cooked, unevenly and too much. She was staring at the sorry meal sadly as the back door opened.
Jasper stepped through the door, his limp only just a little more noticeable after his exertion. Alice is loath to make him starve, and finds her tongue stuck in her throat as she watches him unlace his boots.
Alice finds herself watching the way his shirt hangs as he bends over to pull off his boot, and she can see the hard muscle underneath, the slightly raised scar tissue, and one brown nipple.
Jasper looks up at her when he hears her faint whimper and blinks a few times. For just a moment, Alice is frightened, watching the shadows play across his scars. They make him look lonely and grave. She was frightened of disappointing him; what good was she if she couldn't be useful? He would no doubt much rather a proper, grown woman who knew how to care for a man.
But Jasper, it seemed, was mostly surprised. "Alice, you're still here." He says, straightening up and stepping up to her. She'd excited he's back, and quickly embraces him, enjoying the tangy smell of his sweat. This was a man that worked hard.
She forces herself to pull away. There was still her inattentiveness to own up to. She takes his hand and reluctantly, shyly, leads him to the stove, showing the charred meat. "It's burnt and I'm sorry." She tells him clearly. She won't hide her mistakes, she wanted to be as honest as she could to him.
Jasper glances at the dish, and smiles at her, causing half of his scarred face to morph into a grimace. "You sit down, I'll plate it." He tells her, his voice was at most amused.
Alice was surprised she wasn't scolded. She did as he says, and he brought over the food.
She's not entirely confounded; farmers certainly wouldn't turn away food at the end of a long day unless it was truly disastrous. "I didn't mean to ruin it." She insisted, but her voice was quiet. She wanted to tell him that she had hoped their first meal together was perfect, but she felt suddenly shy in a way she wasn't used to.
Jasper looks at her and smiles again. "Surely you didn't." He agrees easily. He seemed to be eating with ease too. "After dinner, what would you like to do?" He asks her.
Alice isn't sure what to say to answer him. She imagined him in every way; every way. Embracing her as her husband, making her all his, sleepy and blinking so slowly, waiting for her to come back to bed before he allowed himself to fall asleep, holding her hand as he woke next to her. All those visions that were not yet memories, but were for her, swirled around her head.
They made her shy, and nervous. Rationally, she didn't know him yet. But her heart knew him, her senses did. Her brain just needed time to catch up. She wanted them to be real now, she wanted to kiss him until she couldn't breathe. She wanted the future that had not yet passed.
So she stared at him, not yet able to articulate what she wanted, and he takes some pity on her. "… I have a radio, shall we listen?" He offers tentatively.
Jasper smiles up at her, seated on the faded green couch, as she hands him a cup of hot chocolate. She takes a seat next to him, and he wraps the old blue blanket around them both.
He starts pleasantly. "Thank you, dear-"
"It's starting!" She exclaims, shushing him as the tune to 'Always and Ever' plays over the radio. She grins up at Jasper, who wrinkles his nose at her. "I shan't even spoil the best part this time!" She tells him.
Jasper just chuckles, "oh, I love you." He decides fondly and settles next to her to listen.
Alice nods once, tamping down her eagerness. This was the foundation, the wonderous start of her whole life. Her dreams only showed her the middle, the long stretch of love and love and love. She could start from the beginning.
Jasper smiles, his scars pulling it into a grimace. "Do you like music?" He asks her.
Alice opens her mouth, but not a squeak comes out. It was all still so new, so real. She looked at her future in this man and she was overcome. But she calmed herself and starts again. "… Radio shows." She tells him quietly, eyes dark with intent.
He cocks his head to the side, but his expression doesn't change, and he nods once.
They eat in silence; Alice wants to ask him about his day, and his horse. If he would like to shower before they had sex for the first time, or after, though Alice wouldn't let herself mind. She just watched as he eats, slowly, methodically. He didn't glance up very often at all, but when he finished, he lets the cutlery fall to his plate with a clatter that makes her jump.
"I must ask you to stop staring," he says, his voice strained and heavy, "I know I didn't tell you about the scars, I didn't want to scare you away." He explained. His shoulders were hunched and he didn't look at her. He was ashamed of his appearance.
Alice blinks, and her gaze falls to the table too. She hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, and she couldn't tell him she already knew what he'd look like. "You didn't need to." Alice assures him quickly, as she had certainly not noticed it herself. "It said 'must not fear disfigured persons' in the first letter." She added, hoping he'd be cheered up, "I think you're handsome, I didn't mean to stare."
Jasper turns the damaged side of his face away with a rough jerk, scowling fiercely. "Don't do that." He tells her, his tone harsh. "I'm not handsome, I can't stand deceit." He snaps. His fury quietens her, and Alice is instantly consumed with guilt that she'd made him so upset. She wants to be very nice and brave, to stand up and sit in his lap and kiss him until he's settled again. But his body language is closed off, and she's too cowardly.
"I'll tune the radio." He says, getting up with a loud scrape from the chair, and darting out of the room. Alice collected the plates and puts them all in the sink as the sound of static floats over to her. She felt awful, like the disgusting steak she'd made was about to come back up.
Alice creeps over to the doorway of the living room. Jasper was hunched in front of the radio, a fine, expensive machine with a thick layer of dust on it. She looks longingly at the green couch, but Jasper finds the show, and sits at the armchair in the corner, his body in shadows. Alice sits on the couch alone and listens as the announcer tells them Forever and Always would be five minutes away.
In their thick silence, Alice wills herself not to sick up on the couch. Not this couch; where she would hear him tell her he loves her for the first time. "… I'm not deceitful." She whispers, eyes fixed on the crackling little fire.
Jasper sighs, and it's such a sad, tired sound, it makes Alice's chest hurt. "Then perhaps you're too kind." He advises softly. She can't think of a thing to say to him now.
She wants to tell him all about how their life together will be; but down that path lies only another institution. It was all her nightmares and then some; to get a taste of Jasper, and their ever after and after, and have it ripped away from her. She knew that it could happen, if she told him her past, so she never would. She would work to make their future perfect.
But their present was … quiet and lonely. The show started, and Alice listened with rapt attention. But as it went on, Alice could only notice the distance between her and Jasper. She wanted to rectify it.
When a commercial for zeppelin travel sang out over the speakers, Alice got up and took a cushion, to sit at Jasper's feet. She settled herself down, and braved a glance up, at where he stares at her. "… It's closer to the fire here." She explains quietly. He nods, once, and looks over her head at the flames.
She listens to the rest of the show leaning against the arm of the chair, and after the show ends, neither of them move as a tickling flautist that was the usual closing act of the program came on.
Slowly, Alice reached up, and rested her hand on Jasper's good knee.
Immediately, he wipes it away, and stands up. "No, thank you." He says shortly, and Alice's hearts sinks to her toes as Jasper walks straight to the hall. But at the doorway, he pauses, and she bites her lip with some hope. "The bedroom with your luggage is yours. I stay in the room on the other side of the kitchen." Jasper explains, and goes straight to that room, and closes the door.
Alice blinks at his sudden words and departure. "… We won't sleep in the same bed?" She whispers into the empty air.
I don't have a linear timeline, or any world-building. This won't change. Jasper's really chewed up because it's RIGHT.
