Jasper stared down at the magnificent pixie who had hopped off of a barstool and into his life only three days earlier.
She felt his gaze and grinned up at him, "What are you thinking about?"
He hesitated. He still wasn't used to speaking openly with someone. Trusting someone. His brain told him to be wary. She was too open, too light, too curious about him. His brain wondered why she was so trusting of him. Couldn't she see his scars? The color of his eyes? Couldn't she see him?
His heart, however…his heart was drawn to her. There was an invisible tug that drew him closer. He had begun to notice, in the past twelve hours or so, that he was very uncomfortable being away from her, even for an instant. That she had the power to make him uncomfortable warned his brain even more.
His heart battled his brain's caution, telling him that even if he trusted no one ever again, he should trust her. She was good. He had forgotten what good felt like. It was amazing.
"I'm thinking about you," he finally responded.
She was used to his delayed responses, especially when she asked him a direct question. It was almost as if she expected them. She had explained to him in the first hour that they were together about her visions, especially about the ones of him.
He had been particularly interested about what she had seen of him, so she told him about every specific time she had seen him--as well as where she had been, what she had been wearing, and what she had been doing each time. Once she started talking, it was hard to get her to stop. But she amused him. He found it strange that this little person could have such an effect on him.
He liked her emotions too. He found that they were becoming even easier to read the more time he spent with her. It had only been three days and already he was picking up on even the slightest changes. Right now he could distinctly feel a spark of overwhelming happiness when he told her he was thinking about her. He didn't quite understand it.
"You're happy about that," he told her before she could respond to him.
"I am," she agreed, still smiling at him, "what about me are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about why I feel I should trust you and why I think I shouldn't," he said, blatantly honest.
She didn't miss a beat. "Are you leaning more towards what you feel or what you think?" He could feel that she was genuinely curious.
"I like what I feel and I usually trust what I think," he responded quickly now.
"'Usually' implies that you make exceptions sometimes," she stated.
"That it does. But I haven't made many exceptions…most often what I feel and what I think are the same," he said.
They were silent again for a few minutes. He used the pause to take in the warmth of her emotions, concentrating harder to feel everything he could from her. She was mainly happy, calm, excited. Then there was that one feeling that stood out, underlying everything. It was a wonderful feeling, but he couldn't put a name to it. Deep below this feeling, he could feel traces of confusion, a slight sadness, but they were very subdued. He doubted she even felt them, and if she did, it was rare, fleeting.
"Jasper?" she said finally.
He felt a weird pang of joy flutter in his stomach when she said his name. She had so many unfamiliar emotions to her, and now she was causing him to feel inferior emotions as well. What baffled him more was how he liked feeling them.
"Yes?"
He felt her feeling just the slightest bit of nervousness as she spoke.
"What you feel is all real," she said slowly, "…you can trust me."
His red-wine colored eyes met her gold ones and he was suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of them. He wondered if his eyes could ever look like hers. They were beautiful.
"I want to trust you…" he whispered, his walls slowly crumbling. She was so close to breaking through…
She took a step closer to him so that their bodies were a centimeter away from each other.
"I want you to trust me. I'll wait as long as you need me to," she said, looking up at him. He whole-heartedly believed her.
She moved almost impulsively then, as if she had been trying to restrain herself and then suddenly couldn't anymore. She reached her right hand up to his face and brushed her fingers lightly over the scars along his jaw line. He flinched at her touch.
"Its okay," she whispered soothingly, "I would never hurt you."
He had felt a sense of contentment flow through her when she had touched his face. He continued to look into her eyes as he spoke.
"But I might hurt you, Alice. And I don't want to."
"You wouldn't hurt me, Jasper. You'll like me too much."
She said this seriously, but the statement struck him as quite funny. He noticed her eyes lighten and realized that his own eyes had probably given away his amusement.
His expression must have given her more confidence, because she slowly reached up again and ran her fingers over the same scars. He didn't flinch this time. Instead, he concentrated how nice it felt to feel her smooth skin against his face. Her touch was gentle, loving. He couldn't remember the last time he had been touched by a hand that was capable of love.
He found himself giving in to what he felt over what he thought and abruptly began to speak.
"I was…I was wild, Alice. I…" he struggled to find the right words, all the while judging her reaction.
She was perfectly still, her eyes wide, but delighted that he was talking. So he continued.
"Maria…the one who changed me…I've mentioned her briefly, but not in detail."
Alice nodded to show she remembered, but didn't speak, not wanting to interrupt him.
"She had a certain…hold on me. I found out later that it was the same hold on every one of her chosen soldiers…but it was how she controlled things. How she got things done. It was a military tactic, I see that now. But at the time I was naive. Vampire life was new to me…"
He went on to explain, rather graphically, what life had been like for him, living with Maria. He found that once he started talking, it was hard to stop, and wondered briefly if that was how it was for Alice when she began to talk to him.
He went on, and told her about all of the battles and of all the lives they took. He explained about the ranks, and how Maria rewarded and punished them. He told her of destroying the newborns after they had reached their one year mark, and how it had all eventually taken its toll on him. He poured his heart out to her.
When he was done, he stopped and searched her golden eyes for any hidden feelings of disgust. He didn't immediately feel anything negative from her. Just relief, as well as that wonderful warm feeling he had been feeling since he met her. Something else too…sadness?
"You aren't disgusted," he stated, confused.
She shook her head, her light voice replying simply, "No."
"Why not?" he asked almost desperately. He wanted her to be disgusted. If she was as good as he felt she was, she should be disappointed in him.
"You thought it was the only way," she told him.
He wondered how she knew that. This only drew him closer to her.
He could only nod.
"Maria used you," Alice whispered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He realized that this was where her sadness was coming from.
He nodded again, so deep into her emotions that he couldn't decipher which were his and which were hers.
She slowly took his hand. It felt warm in his own. Maria and the others had always felt so cold to him…he was really starting to enjoy this warmth.
She brought his hand to her face and placed it gently against her cheek. She put her hand over his and closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.
Her emotions engulfed him, stronger than ever, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. He loved her. He didn't know how it was possible, but he couldn't help feeling complete in her presence. He gave himself over to her right then. It was as if his wall had never existed. He had been brainwashed for so long…how could he not trust his heart in that moment?
"Will you tell me more?" Alice murmured, slowly opening her eyes to meet his.
"You want to hear more?" His kept his hand against her cheek, rubbing his thumb slowly across her cheekbone.
She spoke fervently now, "Would you think it strange if I said I wanted to hear everything? That I wanted to know everything about you? I want to know how you got each of your scars," she moved to brush her fingers over his feathered arms.
"I want to know what you feel…what you did on your own before you walked into the diner…what you want to do in the future…I saw glimpses of some things but I want to hear it all from you. I want to know you…" she said this enthusiastically, her voice ringing with passion. Passion about him.
He stared at her, breathing in her energy and bathing in that warm emotion she gave off. It was stronger as she spoke, he realized, and he could feel it on his own when he thought of her. He hadn't felt warmth since the day he had been changed. Now, a century later, he hadn't felt cold since he met her.
"Alice," he loved the hot rush up his spine when he said her name.
"Yes?" she asked breathlessly.
"Where do you want me to start?"
A/N: Thank you again for your reviews, adds, and alerts. They make me very happy! :) Any comments, ideas, etc that you want to leave in a review are all appreciated...