I'm really really really really really really sorry that this took so long. I've been on vacation -my second. My internet has been a bitch and fanfiction has been less than helpful. Oh, and I got a bit of a life -kind of.
So this is a bit of incite into dear Jasper's very confused non-drugged-up mind. His viewings on the world, Peter, Maria, and of course Alice.
I don't own Twilight.
Jasper was having a bad week- a really bad week. As a matter of fact, he doesn't really think he's ever had a week this awful- not even when he left home and got into his first street fight, or when he broke his ribs in a car accident while on acid when he was running from the cops. Overdosing, withdrawals, a three-hour car ride with Police Chief Swan, and getting holed up in rehab. Now here was the dollop of whipped cream on the sundae of crap that was Jasper's week -Peter is here, telling him that Maria confessed to putting too much heroin in his system. Oh, joy.
Saturdays are visitation days. Normally Jasper wouldn't get a visitor until next week -but since Peter is a cop, and his arrester- he gets to visit the recovering addict today. Joy.
The recovering addict in question is less than thrilled. He's sitting in a stuffy and unimpressively bland room somewhere five or seven hallways away from his room, though he couldn't tell you exactly where -this place is a maze. Beige, beige, and, wait for it, yet more beige covered every surface of the small, windowless room, except that is, for Jasper and Peter themselves.
Peter was picking at the sleeve of his button down nervously -as if removing the loose threads that had escaped the stitching would stop the tension that was mounting in the enclosed space and make everything all better again. News flash: It wouldn't; it didn't.
"She said she did it, Jasper. I have it recorded if you'd like to hear for yourself -in case you don't believe me." Peter says to his shirtsleeve. "I don't blame you if you don't believe me."
"I'd rather not." Jasper takes this in rather quickly because, well, it really isn't all that surprising. Maria has always been a bit… ruthless -now he's just starting to realize what a really bad thing that actually is. The betrayal doesn't sink in right away but waits in the confines of his mind -just because it isn't surprising doesn't mean it won't hurt… eventually. Jasper's sure it will hurt.
"She said that she wanted to put you out of your misery. Only… more colourfully- you know how Maria is." Peter mumbled, tying to joke. Too bad that the young police officer didn't realize Jasper was in no mood for joking -no, he just wanted out of this boxy prison with his would be 'hero.'
The almost silence is suffocating.
Mostly, because the monotony was starting to wage a war with Jasper's sanity -his thoughts spinning in and out of mind while his addiction whispered in his ear- as the metallic hum of the florescent lights made him restless and more irritable that he normally was. His fingers twitched on the armrest a bit in a memory of his withdrawals, though it was nothing like the quaking spasms that he'd undergone a few days ago. He wanted something -anything- to make this room less boring; if that were at all possible.
Unfortunately, for Jasper, there's nothing coming to his rescue. No cocaine, no heroin, no meth, and no Alice. Oops, did that last one slip in? Guess it did.
Jasper's been think about the little pixy girl more than he should; he can't really help it- she's anything but boring. It's her eyes -dark and dangerous. Or maybe it's the smile -the one that can light up the whole room. Or maybe it's her opening statement that's sparked his curiosity- "You've kept me waiting a long time." It's defiantly something.
There's just something -intriguing, remarkable, odd, hopeful, amazing, tactless, beautiful, wonderful- about Alice.
Jasper doesn't know what it is, and that bothers him. It bothers him that she's on his mind- constantly; from the moment he met her. He has a girlfriend; or had -Jasper refuses to try and 'make it work' with someone who has tried to kill him; which can only be expressed as reason at it's best. Though honestly, it was a long time coming -Jasper had saw the way she was making eyes at other guys and her distance- if he wouldn't have broken it off she surly would have.
"I'm sorry, Jasper." Peter says, still staring at his pinstriped sleeve. This infuriates Jasper -this pity- but he doesn't show it. His face remains calm despite the fact that he wants to stand up and to scream and shout and smash his chair against the boring beige walls -anything to release the feelings that are building up around him and choking him to the point where he feels like he can't breathe. But, he doesn't, because he's the Major- it's all packed down into a small locked box somewhere deep, deep, deep in his soul that he won't ever open. He's not even sure he can open it anymore- he has mixed feelings about actually wanting to.
Would it be better? Would it kill him in the end?
Jasper doesn't say anything and his silence unnerves the young police officer to the point that Peter starts tapping his foot, fiddling with his coffee stained tie, and staring at the ceiling tiles -perhaps counting them, but Jasper can't tell for sure. Not that he cares of course.
"Look, Jasper, this could be really good for you. I know that world -you showed it to me, but this could be a new beginning for you. The start of a whole new life. A fresh start."
"You wouldn't have left 'that world' if Charlotte hadn't gotten lost on our street. If she wouldn't have been there that day you'd be in this place with me right now." Jasper replies stone faced, while using quotation marks -quite an achievement. It's true, and they both know it. The betrayal is still there -etched on Jasper's face and hidden in Peter's eyes. They both know that the Major hasn't forgiven Peter for what he's done- abandoned Jasper to a group of thugs with guns for a chance to save a damsel in distress; a chance at love and happiness.
"Jasper, I'm sorry I ran out on you like that. Really, I am…. but, Charlotte is the best thing that has ever happened to me." Peter wrings his hands as he rambles -something he does when he's nervous-while hoping his friend will forgive him, or at least get help. Jasper can read what Peter's feeling like an open book, and his twitching fingers increase in speed. Jasper's not sure he wants help; he's not sure he's worth helping; he's not sure he can be helped anymore.
"Are we done here?" Jasper asks, rather abruptly. After sighing, Peter nods. Jasper leaves, slamming the door behind him, not knowing where he is or where he's going. But, then again, one could argue that that's the story of Jasper Whitlock's life- to wonder without direction, never feeling like he belongs.
He walks down the undescriptive hallways, his long legs taking him quickly as he thinks- of Maria, of highs, of lows, of life, and of an almost death. His hands are fists at his sides, the only thing shattering his calm image- an image that he's fallen into; an image he hates. He's angry -angry with Peter for betraying him, for putting him here. He's angry with Maria for attempting to kill him. He's angry at this place for containing him -a prison without bars.
But, most importantly, Jasper's angry with himself -for reasons he's not even quite sure. Maybe it's for trusting Maria -for loving her; maybe it's for hating Peter -when really he's far too jealous of him for words; or maybe it's because he belongs in this place -though the chances that he would admit it aloud are few and far between. No, Jasper's not quite sure but he'd be wiling to place his money on 'all of the above.'
He moves down hallway after hallway -not caring about being caught because he's sure that he could come up with some excuse to why he's here.
Why is he here? Not in this hallway, but in this place- this rehab full of crazies.
Drugs, that's something to be sure of, but Jasper can't remember when the drugs started. At first, all he remembers is the violence. The crashing of fists and the grunts and hits of street fighting- the flesh and the blood and the hate and the release. That's how he'd met Maria -back when he thought she was spotless and perfect. Now he knew differently.
Maria was a mixture of bad decisions, deception, chemicals, fake smiles, skin-deep beauty, and malicious intentions.
Jasper's sure he never wants to see her ever again- it's the only thing he's positive about right now.
It's funny -in an ironic sort of way- how he went from thinking just hours ago that he'd do anything to be out of this place -for Maria and her 'love.' Now just thinking about that makes him slam his fist against the wall- hard enough that he's sure the bricks left a bruise on his knuckles, but not enough to break them like he wants. Jasper knows that if he broke his knuckles that they would keep him here longer. He doesn't want to stay here any longer than he has to. He's sure no one would.
Angry and frustrated -more confused because he never let's himself get this violent anymore and show this much emotion- he slides his back down the wall he's just punched to collect himself, which is a rather new feeling for the Major.
Jasper holds his head in his hands and rests his elbows on his knees, feeling more -confused, lost, bitter, and out of control- than he has in the last five years.
Why the hell is this happening? How can he make it stop? Does he want it to stop?
He's not sure.
Tinkling laughter is echoing in the hallway he's in -bright as silver bells over the sound of music coming from a hallway close to his- he notices after a few minutes. Jasper's curiosity is spiked as his stomach shifts a bit and he stands before he realizes what he's doing. Once he's conscious of his actions, he starts towards the laughter, vaguely wondering how someone can laugh in a place like this.
The door to the room where the laughter is coming from says 'Rec Room' and Jasper peers in carefully. The first thing he sees is Emmett, his burly roommate who says the reason he's here is that he was traumatized when he was mauled by a bear -Jasper doesn't put too much stock into this story because Emmett, as he is quickly learning, is constantly joking. The next person he sees is the girl that's making the halls sing with her laughter -brightening up this dim place and Jasper's day, throwing the world from black and white into technicolour.
It's Alice.
Of course, it's Alice, Jasper thinks.
She's thrown over Emmett's shoulder -the one that's not bandaged- and she's giggling, asking him to put her down in between her peels of laugher and squeals as he jostles her around a bit. The smiling Emmett doesn't comply with her wishes, and stomps around the room. From the grins on everyone's faces Jasper knows she isn't in any trouble -even her brother is laughing, holding hands with the pretty-in-a-shy-way brunette and bobbing his head to the music in the background- and that this has probably happened before. It's like a scene from a movie and Jasper feels like a spectator -an intruder who wants to scoop up the small pixy and carry her away from everyone else.
Alice seems so small, so fragile- breakable and innocent.
"Emmett! Put me down!" She giggles as Emmett stomps through the room. Alice dangles over his shoulder, rocking precariously, eyes bright, and smile spread wide- never afraid.
Jasper is shocked by the jealously and protectiveness that twinges through him.
Her eyes flicker up to Jasper's, as if she knows he's there -maybe she does. Stormy sky gray and tropical ocean blue connect for a long second before Emmett turns and her face disappears, taking those bewitching eyes with it.
"Jasper!" Emmett hollers facing his roommate; gripping Alice's dainty legs with the meaty log he calls an arm. "Get in here man! You're missing out on all the fun!"
Jasper glances down the hallway and decided that he really doesn't have anywhere better to go. His legs carry him through the doorway and the scene unravels at the seams.
"Emmett, put me down. Please?" Alice wiggles and this time Emmett obliges. Alice dances away from him the second her feet touch down -lithe and light- and over to Jasper himself. Her face is bright with her excitement and her storm eyes are flashing in a way that makes Jasper feel a little intimidated, and like he should rethink the idea that she's completely innocent.
Maybe she isn't the breakable fairy doll that he thought her to be. Maybe she's dangerous.
He eyes her uneasily with the thought, but she ignores that and grabs his wrist, dragging him farther into the room with a surprising amount of strength. Jasper doesn't resist because, well, Alice just has that way about her- an undeniable aura, a sure nature that can't be denied. Alice is just… Alice- a girl you really can't explain; one of a kind.
"Hello Jasper." She smiles at him. "How are you?"
The half smile that had seemed to worm it's way onto his face without his knowledge falters. He had forgotten about his talk with Peter for a blissful minute or so. He'd actually fooled himself into thinking he was happy -genuinely, really, and truly happy. What a laugh.
She doesn't seem fazed, though the corners of her smile tug down in a frown as she drags him toward the couch. She was upset and Jasper couldn't figure out for the life of him why. Alice sits down and tugs his wrist until he sits down next to her. As soon as he's seated, she lets go of him -part of him really doesn't like that.
"I'm fine, Mary Alice Brandon Cullen." He teases her for reasons he doesn't know- though he suspects it's to make her feel better. "How are you, darlin?" He twangs, overdoing his normally subtle southern accent.
"I'm just peachy, Mr. Whitlock." She twangs right back, giggling -her good mood restored to full force, until even Jasper felt light headed from the thrill it. Jasper's sure that no ones excitement has ever compared to Alice's -bouncing, bubbling, and head spinning; like cocaine.
Alice told him stories, and so did Emmett and the others -filling up the room with words and crazy hand gestures and laughter and happiness. A semi-contentment washed over Jasper and even though he didn't say much -or anything, come to think of it- he enjoyed himself.
And, it isn't until a staff member shows up and takes him back to his room -for 'quite time'- does he realize that he never told her -or Emmett, or any 'guest'- his last name.
The last thing he knew when he left the 'Rec Room' was smiles from people he was starting to get to know, and a sad melancholy in storm eyes with a wave of disappointment to match.
That isn't right, he thinks as he walks behind a woman in solemn scrubs, hallways away. Alice should smile. Alice shouldn't be sad. It just didn't seem right.
A wave of melancholy washed over him like rolling waves -pounding and relentless. Until, that is, he thought of fair skin -pale as moonlight- and dark hair -ebony in disarray- and storm eyes -entrancing and fascinating- and the brightest, happiest smile in the world.
Alice.
Jasper couldn't help it as the corner of his mouth quirked up in an almost smile.
What's your favorite line?
You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine.