Thanks so much, yet again, for all of the support!

As always, this chapter is dedicated to you beautiful little reviewers. However, this week, I'd like to send out a special dedication to starlily and Lovelikethemovies, who completely hit it on the dot when they guessed who the mysterious voice belonged to. Also, Lilly, who left the most beautiful review ever; I almost cried when you compared me to two of my most FAVORITE authors ever: Stephenie Meyer and Jane Austen!

Happy reading, and I know you'll love this chapter! My longest one yet, might I add. As Zaneeta Shinn would say, Ye Gods!

"Now why's a pretty little belle like you crying so?"

Hearing this strangely sudden, and unbearably unwanted question, I pulled my head up warily, my vision blurry from my tears. I gazed through them reluctantly, not straining to try to wipe them away, and thumped my head back down on my arms when I realized I didn't even care.

I was far too into my own problems to care if anyone even...cared. Who was this person, and why were they so nosy? I felt the urge to sit up and glare at them, but decided I didn't have enough energy- physical or emotional- to do so.

The soft voice, low and husky and most definitely masculine, had a thick southern drawl mixed into it. But, strangely enough, the rough texture that seemed to belong to it didn't affect the luxurious smoothness at all, the velvety way it came out. "You can tell me..." He was still going on, for some reason, and I could tell he was smiling, even though he seemed to know my present case of apparent unhappiness.

I wanted to look up at him and respond sarcastically, "Yeah, sure Mister Wonderful Soothing Deceiving Voice. I'll just let you, a total and complete stranger, into my personal life without the slightest hesitation." For a moment, I thought about actually looking up to see if he was serious, or if this was just a joke, but I knew that the pooling water in my eyes would surely prevent me from seeing him clearly.

So I didn't respond.

And, after the way I blatantly ignored him, I thought I had actually scared him off. Good, I thought bitterly, I just managed to make another beautiful man think I'm a complete freak. I sat in my rancorous, acidic silence, cursing myself and the world I lived in for landing me in such a godawful place on Earth.

But, seeing that I wasn't going to answer him any time soon, the man continued, seemingly oblivious to the sour disdain I presented to him. He had an almost cheerful- I shuddered at the small, mocking word- concern evident in the way he spoke. "Come on now," he said, an encouraging grin evident in the way continued to speak. "Are you mute? Or has the cat just got your tongue?"

He was waiting for me to answer, a patient silence hanging in the air. It was almost as if he was trying to show me something. Maybe he wanted to let me know he could take whatever I was ready to give him, that he could handle all of my problems. Maybe he just wanted me to understand that he wouldn't be moving anytime soon, that he wouldn't leave until I spilled all of my deepest darkest secrets to him.

Again, that thought, dripping with an unsweetened sarcasm, rang through my head like a deep church bell. My eyes squeezed shut even tighter, if that were possible, and I strained with all my might to keep them that way. It was almost as if I believed that, if I were to shut them tightly enough, I could block out the rest of the world and throw myself into a peaceful, thoughtless oblivion.

I kept my head down, buried deep within my arms so that no light could even have a chance of seeing my face. But, even with this barrier, I couldn't seem to escape the sound of his voice.

The way he spoke, so soft and smooth that it seemed like the sound was made purely out of velvet, reminded me too much of another beautiful voice I knew too well. My mind briefly flitted back to Edward, as it usually did on a daily basis, but this time it was different.

The mere thought of him, that short, fleeting glimpse of his face, brought a sting to my heart, as if it was shot with a bolt of electricity. It wasn't the elictricity I was used to, however, the tingly, sweet feeling I got whenever I was around him, but a painful, frightening sting that echoed throughout the rest of my body. Feeling this, I immediately pushed the thought of him into the back of my mind.

That is, of course, not before a whole new round of choked sobs escaped my lips.

I didn't feel like speaking to anyone at all, much less this smooth-talking man sitting in the same booth as me. As far as I knew, my life was over. Done for. There was no reason to keep going on with it all, I thought, and therefore figured I would just mope around all the time, depressed and feeling sorry for myself. "Might as well save myself the trouble and just sit here in this very booth for all of eternity," I muttered sourly to myself.

"Now, is that a positive attitude?" The wonderful voice chuckled.

My face immediately flushed as I realized I had said this aloud. I suppose I really am going crazy, I thought darkly, laughing humorlessly to myself. Then the annoyance hit me: who the hell did this man think he was? Why was he even talking to me, when I clearly didn't want to converse with anyone at this moment? My head shot up, my hands wiping away the now-flowing stream of salty tears that were blurring my vision.

My breath caught in my throat because there, before me, was the second-most gorgeous man I had ever laid my eyes on.

He was sitting casually, one arm draped lazily over the back of the opposite booth, as if he were sitting right in his own home, having a cup of coffee with me. This strange nonchalance slightly peeved me; who was he to sit here and demand to know about my own personal life? This thought, however, was completely washed over as I saw his face.

He was smiling at me, a calm, almost teasing emanation present in the way his lips curved upwards. His complexion was rich and tan, as if he had spent his whole life bathing in the sun, and his eyes were a startling electric blue, like a clear stream. They gazed at me from behind disheveled blonde hair, full of intellect and awareness, and I felt like he could see right through me.

And, as I pried my eyes away from his face (a task entirely too hard for what it should be), I noticed that he was wearing a soldier's uniform. This was a shock to me, for some reason, but as I stared at it longer, I realized that it was different from both Edward's and the one worn by the man I met on the street.

Instead of being a standard brown cotton, button-up coat and pants, I saw that a large white square was sewn onto the front, secured at the bottom by a bulky belt. On the square itself a sizable cross lay emblazoned on stark white, the cross blood red in color. It was identical to a sign one would see at a hospital or care center of sorts, the emblem universally recognized as the belonging symbol to a medical practitioner.

As I found this, I began to notice that the sign seemed to be everywhere on his uniform: one on each upper arm, one on his side, his bag that lay beside him on the table. I wondered if he was a doctor or something.

"I'm a medic," he suddenly said with a smile, watching me as I studied him. "Don't really fight. I just run around the grounds, scoping for dead or dying soldiers I can take care of."

I blushed and looked down at my hands, realizing that I had been staring at him for way too long a time. My cheeks were blood red, I was sure, and I knew I had to mind my own business before I made a fool of myself in front of yet another gorgeous man.

But then what he had said processed in my mind, and my eyes shot up again. "A...medic?" I whispered, my voice harsh and raw from crying.

"Ah! So she does speak!" He grinned teasingly. "And, yes. A medic. Now, who, may I ask, is this beautiful thing, and why she is crying chugged full?" His southern accent was now more present than ever, and I had to struggle to pay attention to the words, and not the sound of his wonderful voice.

"Um...Bella. Bella Swan."

He reached out and took one of my hands, paying no mind to the fact that it was covered in wet tears. Lifting it slowly up to his face, he pressed his lips softly to the back of my hand, making my previous blush ignite furiously. "Well, then, Bella Swan, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Jasper Whitlock." Jasper...the name seemed to fit him.

We sat there in silence for a few moments, until he continued. "Now, ma'am, I know you don't know me, and I don't know you, but I think that you ought to tell me what's on your mind. I mean, it must be hard for a pretty little lady like you to be holdin' such heavy matters in. So go on, give down the country."

The fact that the man, Jasper, was so seriously lighthearted in his uses of Southern phrases was almost comical. If it had been any other time, and if I were in the middle of any other circumstance, I would have undoubtedly giggled. But instead, I just stared at him, and whispered, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"And why not?" His expression was mockingly outraged, as if this one little refusing statement was extremely offensive to him.

I just sat there, blinking at him, until I finally said, "I don't know you."

Jasper shook his head, smiling a small smile as if to say, "Oh, silly Bella, you don't know what you're talking about". He brought his hands together, clasping them, and rested his chin on them. "Ah, but Miss Swan, you do. Did we not just exchange a form of personal information? I do believe that constitutes a state of knowing one another."

But I knew better than to give in so easily. I might have done it out of shock earlier, with Goldy Harrods, but now my mind was sharp and clear. What was my business was exactly that: my business. Not some strange, young Texan's that probably served under the command of the man I was trying to avoid even thinking about.

And, furthermore, it was officially against my personal commandments to trust any man, whether it be in the pursuit of a romantic relationship or not. It was entirely too dangerous, and to have my heart take any more break would just be...too much.

Sensing that I was definitely not talking to him any more, Jasper started again. "Okay, so maybe you're right. We don't know each other. But sometimes it's in one's best interest to confide in someone you'll probably never speak to again. And ain't that the prime meaning of it all?" Silence.

He sighed, now, and looked at me with the most determined look in his clear blue eyes. "Well, Bella. Since you're apparently not going to be telling me what's wrong, I may have to force it out of you." He seemed to recognize the confused expression on my face and continued. "How about this: you only tell me your problem if I can guess it. You don't even have to utter a word out of your pretty little mouth. Just nod yes or no."

This was dangerous territory. Part of my mind was screaming at me to just get out of there, to leave this booth and Jasper and his beautiful voice behind, to go somewhere else to wallow in my personal misery, where this location had failed. And the worst part was that I felt like I was being lured into a trap, a ploy to bring out my anguish from its holding within my body.

But then again, Jasper Whitlock had a point. How bad could this be? This way, I wasn't putting my entire trust in him, and I wasn't telling him anything directly. He was simply being clever, and I had no choice but to tell the truth (hadn't I always shunned upon equivocation?). And, hell, maybe he was right: perhaps it was good to just let something go, to just lift the weight off your shoulders, if even for a moment.

Hesitating slightly, blinking through my stinging tears, I nodded.

A large grin spread across his face with my small movement. But then he paused. "But you gotta promise me something, okay? You have to tell the truth. No fibbing, no fabrication, and most definitely no editing. If it's the truth, it's the truth. I don't want to be hollerin' like a stuck pig." At this, he smirked. "So, do you promise?"

And so it began.

............................................

Okay, so I'll admit that I was getting a little annoyed.

Jasper had been studying me thoughtfully for about eight straight minutes now, a pensive countenance evident in his entire demeanor. His eyes, crisp and blue, gazed over my face again and again, often lingering on my eyes. I gazed back wearily, holding back the urge to look away from his icy hold, as he peered into my soul.

At least, that's what it felt like. It was almost creepy, the way he seemed to be so clearly understanding everything he sought, whatever that may have been. Still, I stayed quiet, waiting for the much-anticipated guessing that he was now, somewhat unfortunately, entitled to.

But one part of me- an extremely small, almost infinitesimal part, might I add- felt a strange itch to know what he would ask. Would he guess that the foundation of my crying had been mere family problems? I pondered over that thought, and then wondered about how I would answer that. It wasn't entirely the truth, though I suppose part of my angst these days was the fact that Larry was out in some God-forsaken sea near Europe, risking his life. But, then again, no. To say that the reason I was sobbing was my brother was a lie.

But what if he asked if it was trouble with my beau? As I considered this, I realized I had no idea how I would respond to that. What exactly was Edward to me? Or rather, what had he been? It seemed juvenile and incomplete to say that we were just friends, but at the same time, how could I ever assume that we were more than that? Sighing, I decided that, if he were to ask about boys and men, I would tell him the truth: yes. Yes, it was.

He would never guess who I was talking about in a million years. No, a trillion years would go by before the name could ever even cross his mind. I was sure of it. He would hypothesize and conjecture, until he would finally give in and say that he could no longer think. Or, he would simply ask me who it was. And I wouldn't tell him.

It was all part of the plan, see: he would say that I was inclined, even entitled to speaking nothing but the truth, I would shoot back with, "I am". I would straightforwardly tell him that the rules of his little game clearly stated that I was not in any way liable to speaking. Which, of course, would immediately be followed by silence on both of our parts, and eventually lead him to frustratedly getting up and walking away from me, leaving me to my peace, or lack thereof. Anyway, as I said, it was all part of the plan, and as I watched him finally open his mouth to speak, I felt a sick, almost masochistic satisfaction welling up inside me.

"Did Edward Cullen do this to you?"

I felt my jaw practically drop to the floor in utter shock. "What?!" I practically screeched, furious indignation dripping from my high-pitched tone (my voice tended to go unnaturally high when I was really outraged). "How the hell did you know?" The words came out half-strangled, as I was anything but prepared for using them.

Jasper, who had, until this point, not heard me speak anything but a muttered jumble of words or some whispered locutions. My outburst caused him to sort of shrink back into his seat, seeming extremely alarmed to the point of being almost frightened. "Well," he began, getting ore confident as he continued. "You seemed too...emotionally crushed to have undergone any real family issues or trivial problems, like school or disciplinary trouble. Not that you would be in any of that." He chuckled.

I glared at him, and his eyes widened before he hurriedly continued. "And so, I figured there was some man. And plus, you seemed awfully guarded from me, like you were afraid to trust me or something." He stopped for a moment, thinking. "And then you commented about my uniform. Or, rather, just stared at it until I explained it. Anyway, I reckoned you knew someone in the military, and since I ruled out family trouble, it had to be a romantic interest."

"Previous romantic interest," I cut in bitterly.

He raised an eyebrow, but went on anyway. "Okay, previous romantic interest. The point is that there was definitely some kind of underlying passionate inconvenience, as if there had been some definite affair with a man- a soldier- but ended up in a whole mess of complications. This subject being done, I went on to think about who it could possibly have been to upset you like this. I ran over all the soldiers here, and none of them seemed right. Excuse me, ma'am, for making assumptions, but you don't seem like a girl who would go for just any dumb ol' bag of potatoes. And, really, that left only one man: Lieutenant General Cullen."

He stopped, thinking for a moment. "And then it all sort of came together. Edward seemed to be the only practical choice for you; where most of the men were rowdy and boisterous and over-the-top, Edward has always been calm and serious and reasonable, which seems to fit your personality. Now, maybe I'm wrong, but you don't exactly seem like the type of girl that's stupid and loud: the complete opposite of anyone that Edward would ever go for."

This made complete sense to me. In the time I'd spent with him over the past few months, Edward had always seemed too polite, too sensible to want to be around girls like Lauren Mallory. Though this realization had little affect on my heart, my mind was noticing things about him that rarely sunk into my immense jealously. I mean, I had eyes; I saw the way he would reluctantly respond whenever a pretty girl said hello to him, or the way he would shy away from the obvious flirting that would occur whenever we went to the movies or the park. This, however, just processed in my thoughts as him being polite, not wanting to hurt my feelings by fancying other women in my presence.

I looked silently on as Jasper continued. "But the real signal that it was Edward was the way he had been acting since we arrived in Arlington. He's been lighthearted and cheery most of the time, cracking jokes and laughing alongside the men. He smiles almost constantly, and rarely ever lashes out against me or one of the soldiers. What's more, he's even postponed some of the paperwork he's required to do for General Collins." At this, he shook his head, and the raised his eyes so that the striking blue was pointed directly at me. "Now, ma'am, I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but Edward Cullen is a man who never procrastinates, especially when it comes to business."

I nodded solemnly as I thought back to the man I'd talked with out on the street earlier. "You don't come between the General and his busy-ness," he'd said. Now, as Jasper told me this, it was confirmed.

But then something struck me. "Jasper, you called him Edward. Do you know him well? I've only heard soldiers call him...General Cullen."

A small, reminiscent smile spread across his face. "Yes, I do. I've known little Eddie since...oh, gosh, I don't even know." He chuckled. "Since we were ten, I suppose. We grew up together until high school, when he decided to enter the military. I stayed home, of course, since he made me promise I'd take good care of his baby sister and mother, Elizabeth, who was absolutely heartbroken that her only son had gone away to war. She tried to convince him to stay, but he wouldn't hear it. Said somethin' about a man needing to protect his country."

This new information was a surprise to me: although Edward and I had talked about nearly everything together, I had never heard him mention his family. And, suddenly, I recalled a conversation we'd had; one the first we'd ever had, actually.

But didn't you ever stop to think about what your family would say? How they would be hurt by your absence? Don't you know what it's like not to know if someone you love isn't coming back? I'd asked bitterly that night, drenched in the freezing rain, as I was carried in Edward's arms. I remember he hadn't replied, but instead said something in retort with a cold tone, immediately denouncing the topic.

But I didn't mention any of this to Jasper. "That was awfully nice of you, to help your friend like that," I said softly. "But, may I ask, if you promised to take care of his family, then why did you become a medic? What happened to the Cullen women?"

He shook his head. "Not Cullen. Masen. Edward's real name is Masen. When he went to war, Edward wanted to make sure his family had no way of contacting him. He thought it would be too hard, too difficult for them to constantly be worried about if they would ever receive another letter, another telegram. He thought if he cut all ties with them, they would forget about him and would go on living their life. Of course, that didn't happen." Jasper sighed. "And so Edward took his uncle's name, Cullen."

That explained it. Edward never told me about his family because it hurt him. After all, anyone would become bitter and lonely after being away from their family for years. Even in my current state of depression, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man that suffered alone in effort to ease his loved ones' sadness.

"Anyway," Jasper continued. "It ended up that there was a deficiency in the medical department for the war. They needed doctors, and now. I had been going to medical school at the time, and it only seemed the right thing to do. So I packed my things, helped Edward's mother and sister move into an old friend's house, and went directly to the nearest Recruitment Center. Next thing I knew I was working alongside my best friends, out on the battlefields of misery."

"Poor Edward," I whispered. To have to leave your family, and then find out you might lose your best friend, too? I knew I would never be able to take it.

Jasper nodded. "At first, he didn't take it too well. In fact, the first time he laid eyes on me in this good ol' uniform right here, he just about nearly killed me. You should of seen him, throwin' his arms about with his face all red and outraged...it was the first and only time in my life I'd seen Edward Cullen throw a tantrum like a child.

"But of course, he got over it." He sighed. "After all, he would seem the biggest hypocrite in the world if he were to criticize a man, his best friend even, for going into war when he was so big on it himself in the beginning."

I thought back to what he'd said about Edward, and thought briefly back to the same conversation I'd reflected upon earlier, when Edward and I had known each other for just a few hours. The way he spoke so proudly about his country, and how stubborn he seemed about it, had reminded me so much of my brother, and how, no matter how much we fought him on it, he would not give in.

Jasper proceeded to talk. "Eventually, he got himself promoted to first lieutenant, and captain, and major. I watched him as he climbed even further up to Brigadier General and Major General, and finally, before I or anyone else could possibly believe it, my old friend Ed Masen became Lieutenant General Edward Cullen." Jasper sighed once more, running a hand through his hair. "And you know what the strangest thing was? Even stranger than the fact that he refused to be kept in an office, and instead stayed out in the fields, among the mere privates. Even stranger than the way he faced the entire war with an emotionless expression, as if he had no feeling whatsoever.

"No, Bella, the strangest thing was that he kept me by his side, the whole way through. Countless of times he was offered a more experienced doctor, a medic that would truly know what he was doing out there on the fields. But, every time, he refused, saying that he'd never seen any better MD than my own self.

"And, so it's been for the past...whenever. A few months ago the men in the Infantry Squad received orders from the Army General to go home. They were due rest, ma'am, as they hadn't been home in a couple years or so. However, they couldn't go back without the accompaniment of a higher ranking officer, and since Edward was "entitled" time off, they told him to go."

Jasper chuckled. "They had to practically force poor old Edward to take a brake. He was always so serious, and the only thing the men wanted was to see him let loose, even if it was only to be for a little bit. They were convinced that there was a wild horse waitin' to gallop inside the oh-so-serious Lieutenant General's heart."

Slowly, unwillingly, I felt a small smile spread across my face, and I nodded. "I know what you mean," I said quietly. "Sometimes he was just so darn polite that I wanted to shake him and scream, 'Let yourself go! You're nineteen, for God's sake!'"

Exhaling, Jasper said, "Yeah. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn't even supposed to be a man yet. But that's the way it always was with him. Which was why, when we first came here to Arlington, we were all so surprised by his carefree boyish attitude." Jasper looked slyly at me, raising an eyebrow. "We were all thinking, 'Could it really be that one girl could break the General's harsh exterior?'"

I blushed and looked down at my hands. "Well, I don't know about that..."

Around us, the malt shop was anything but quiet. Teenagers, raging with hormones like a volcanos ready to explode, were laughing and cheering and dancing and singing merrily, all enjoying the company of their friends. Frank Sinatra's "I'm in the Mood for Love" played sweetly in the background, the piano's melodious voice rang through the air, hanging on to the very last second until a new soft harmony took over. The mixing smells of sugar and candy and sweet, sweet things wafted through my senses, and suddenly I felt overwhelmed.

Or rather, lonely.

"I met Edward the day your soldiers came home," I found myself saying. "I was...I was at the corner shop, arguing about oil prices with Mr. Sentry. He claimed he had never raised his prices, and that I was either imagining things or my baby sister was lying." I chuckled, remembering that day as if it were yesterday.

And so, for whatever reason, I told him. I told Jasper everything that had happened in the past months I'd known Edward. I don't know why, or how I even did it, but I did. And it happened. And he listened to me carefully, listening with that same serious expression as he had earlier, when he was analyzing me and guessing my story. It was different, though, than it had been when I was spilling everything to Goldy.

Perhaps it was because I had been telling it for a different reason. Instead of seeking how I felt about Edward, I now searched for a way to stop feeling for him. Subconsciously, I suppose, all I was really looking for was a way to mend my shattered heart. Not fix, entirely, but just mend. I knew that there would never be a way to fully forget about him and what had happened between us, but all I could possibly hope for was a way to soothe the throbbing ache that presented itself in my current state of heart brake.

"And now, I just don't know!" I cried exasperatedly. "It's just that when I finally realize that I'm in love with the man, he turns coldly away from me! Don't get me wrong, I understand that his work is extremely important to him...probably more important than I could ever be to him...but why must it happen so quickly and...harshly? I love him, Jasper!" I whispered the last part urgently, willing him to understand where I was coming from.

For a moment, Jasper didn't respond. He just sat there, my words processing in his mind. Then slowly, carefully, he simply said three words.

"Then, tell him."

I laughed humorlessly. "You're a funny man, Mr. Whitlock." I shook my head, letting my bitter chuckle die down quickly. But then, as I raised my eyes again to see why he wasn't laughing, I realized that he was serious. So serious, in fact, that his eyes, those piercing, clear blue eyes, were gazing at me intently, as if this were the most critical thing. "Wait a minute, wait, wait. You're serious?"

"Bella, does it look like I'm kidding?"

"Well, no...But-"

"What you're not understanding is that Edward has shied away from any type of relationship before. Of course, women of all ages have practically thrown themselves at him, and yet he's always distance himself, always finds a way out of the situation. He's a man, in the extremely physical and mental sense of the word, and yet, he's still emotionally just a nineteen year old boy. He's never been so strongly connected to anyone before, and it scares him." Jasper's eyes became even more intense. "He's scared, Bella."

This hit me more than anything Jasper had said to me today. Could what he was saying really be true? Could Edward really be recoiling from me because of his inexperience in romantic relationships? Whenever I had previously thought of Edward, I'd always imagined him as this sort of Adonis heartthrob that'd had hundreds of women. The kind that was a capable expert in anything amour. But now, I wasn't so sure. Could it be that he was nervous? That he was unsure of what he was supposed to do? That he was just as apprehensive, just as skittish, just as afraid as...

As me?

"Do you really think so, Jasper?" I whispered, my eyebrows furrowing. I put my hands to my head, rubbing my temples.

"Bella, I would tell you nothing but the truth." Jasper smiled, loosening the tension a little, and I could feel myself starting to smile. "So go ahead. Go! You have to find your lover-man. And make sure you're yourself. Don't be changing to nothin' you're not, because the Lord knows that a whistling woman and a crowing hen never comes to a very good end."

I grinned, energized and just psyched at this sudden realization. Maybe Jasper was right; I deserved to let out my feelings for Edward, even if he wasn't ready to return them just yet. Smiling, I got up from the booth, walking towards the door.

"Thank you Jasper Whitlock," I said sincerely. "I will never forget this conversation, or you."

He smiled. "And I, you, Bella Swan. Now go get your lover-man."

"Bye, and thanks again!"

"Good day, ma'am."

With these final words, I gripped the old door handle even tighter, taking one more moment to take in the atmosphere. For one more second, I listened to the Frank Sinatra, I heard the laughs, saw the dancing, and smelled the sugary aroma. Taking this all in, I smiled to myself once more, and opened the door to outside.

And, quite possibly, my future.