A/N: Usual thanks to the Rav UUs and Saturday night chat. Breaking [Dawn] news: In the Days of Auld Lang Syne: Counterpoint (Bella's POV) is now up, written by the lovely PortiaKhalo. Check it out in my faves! Also, if you want to laugh your sweet ass off, check out the brand spankin' new Cullens of Hazzard, written by two of my favorite people, shalu and CarminMoon, also in my faves. Lily Zen, I owe you a PM.

I've started a playlist for Fix You in my profile. I'll be updating it as I remember what all needs to be in there.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is all up in dis bidness. I own only bidness time socks.

Chapter 11: Pieces of Me You've Never Seen

You'll say, don't fear your dreams; it's easier than it seems

You'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high

But never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie

-Fiona Apple[1]

Behind my closed eyes, I could sense the daylight filling my room, but I didn't want to wake up. In my still-drowsy stupor, I was vaguely aware of arms around me, a hand rubbing my back, little kisses on my neck. I was wrapped in a cocoon of awesome. I stretched a little and heard a voice say, "Are you awake, sleepyhead?"

"Mmmmm," I said.

"Is that a yes mmmmm or a no mmmmm?"

"It's a mmmmm mmmmm."

"Okay then."

I was so comfortable that I didn't want to move, but I also couldn't wait one moment longer to see him. My hands felt as though they were swimming in syrup as I brought them up to my face. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I stretched again and opened my eyes.

Jasper was looking at me with a grin on his face. "You are utterly charming when you wake up, you know," he said. "Very Animal Planet."

I playfully bit his shoulder, probably not helping the Animal Planet comparison. "I … I don't even know what to say to that."

"No, man, it's like …" Jasper put on a Nature Documentary Narrator voice. "In the early morning light, the baby tufted puffin burrows into her nest and yawns adorably, seeking her breakfast."

"Jasper Whitlock, as soon as I am more awake, I am going to do a Google Image search for 'tufted puffin,' and god help you if it's a creepy, beady-eyed freakshow."

Jasper swallowed hard, practically audibly, like a cartoon. "Erm, can I amend my previous comment then? Honestly, I think you look more like a dik-dik, but I didn't think you'd take kindly to be called a dik-dik without proper warning. But have you seen those guys? They're unreal. Like, you wonder where those little fuckers buy their eyeliner. And what currency they use, and where they keep it, not having pockets or opposable thumbs. Actually, how they apply it, for that matter, with their wee little hooves. Or even considering evolution and survival of the fittest, how 'looks like you're wearing sexy eyeliner even though you are some sort of crazy ass antelope' is a trait advantageous to natural selection. Nature is confusing."

Over the course of his treatise on dik-diks, I found myself hiding my face in his chest and shaking with laughter. After wheezing for a few minutes, I managed to get out, "I can't even begin to understand the way your mind works. Am I to understand that you have … a thing for antelopes? Did you just call them sexy?"

Jasper drummed his fingers lightly along my back, and I could feel him smiling against my hair. "I said the eyeliner was sexy. Although I must admit … I am puzzled by the dik-dik."

I got serious for a minute and looked up at him through my lashes. "It's … really nice to wake up with you," I said shyly. And I meant it. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this happy. If I'd known waking up with someone could be this nice, I would have done it ages ago.

Except … no. Not just "someone." Only Jasper. This was right. He was right.

In the light of day, I couldn't even remember what it felt like to be afraid of him. I snuggled in closer, twining my legs with his. I reached up and tangled my fingers in Jasper's hair, scooching up for a kiss.

"I'm, um, really sorry about last night," I said, feeling sheepish.

"Ain't no thing," he said. "Really." He grasped my chin with his thumb and forefinger and looked me right in the eye. "I need to know that you believe me."

I looked into his eyes for a second, but I couldn't handle his piercing gaze. I was still ashamed of my behavior and frustrated with myself. My eyes dropped, and I studied the fabric of his undershirt. Finally I mumbled, "It's complicated."

"I know, baby, I know," he said, rubbing my back soothingly. "It's okay."

"I mean, I believe you, but that doesn't mean I forgive myself." I guess that was as good an explanation for now.

"Baby, what have you got to forgive yourself for?"

I shivered, his words echoing so much my mother's.

Jasper seemed to take note of my silence, giving me a little squeeze and saying, "Let's get breakfast, my sweet dik-dik."

I glared at him, then smiled evilly and leaped out of bed, taking the comforter with me like a big superhero cape. As I walked out of the bedroom, I heard Jasper yelp from the cold. I called over my shoulder, "That's what you get!"

I muttered darkly about dik-diks as I shuffled down the hallway to the bathroom, but I was smiling. I was pretty sure he was smiling too.

When I returned to the bedroom, Jasper had already gotten dressed and was sitting patiently on the edge of the mattress with his hair sticking out in all directions and flopping over his eyes. His bedhead was beyond adorable. I grabbed his face and said, "You are ridiculous cute." I smushed his face with kisses, and he pulled me onto his lap.

"Mmmmm," I said.

"Mmmmm," he said.

"Breakfast," I reminded.

"Right," he replied.

Eventually I found the willpower to scoot off of his lap. "Breakfast," I repeated. He nodded and headed to the bathroom.

I dressed while he did … whatever boys do in the bathroom in the mornings. I put on an off-white crocheted tunic over a long-sleeve gray tissue tee, dark jeans, and my tallest t-strap character shoes. Now that I no longer did theater, I had no reason to try to save the soles, and they made me feel sexy. While I waited for Jasper, I put the comforter back on my bed and smiled, noticing the bed smelled a little like him.

It was my turn now to perch at the edge of the bed and wait. I crossed and uncrossed my legs at the ankles. When Jasper came back, I saw with a little disappointment that he'd managed to tame his hair. Oh well, maybe I didn't want anyone else to know how cute his bedhead was. I smiled to myself as I considered that maybe his bedhead belonged just to me.

While I studied him, he took a moment to look me up and down and said, "Now who's ridiculous cute?"

I grinned at him like a kid, all teeth, and jumped up, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.

I led Jasper to a diner a few blocks from the Convent. It was an overcast day, but as far as I was concerned, it was the most beautiful morning I'd ever seen. It occurred to me that this was a time of day I'd never been with Jasper, which made it extra precious to me, something new to experience with him by my side. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd let go of his hand and had happily executed a bunch of chaînés turns.

"Are … are we in a musical?" asked Jasper not unkindly, glancing over his shoulder. He stage-whispered, "Where's the fourth wall?"

I stopped mid-turn. "Oh. It's the shoes. And you. Sorry." I blushed.

"No, no, I like it. I just wanted to know if I needed to be putting on my dance belt."

I laughed. "Do you even know what a dance belt is?"

Jasper looked offended. "I've seen enough footage of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But please, turn, turn some more, ma petite danseuse. I wish I had a cane so I could rap it on the floor like Debbie Allen in Fame."

I laughed and did a few more chaînés, stopping when I reached an intersection. "That's probably enough for today. If I turn too much, I might throw up. I'm a little out of practice."

Jasper applauded, tipping an imaginary hat. He held out his hand as the light changed, and I chasséed across the intersection. I just couldn't stop dancing. Jasper's legs were so long compared to mine that he only had to take slightly longer strides to keep up. He twirled me once as we reached the curb on the other side, and I stood on my tiptoes to give him a kiss.

By the time we reached the diner, we'd managed to hit the sweet spot between the early morning rush and the lazy weekend brunch stragglers, easily scoring a booth. Our waitress, sporting a hilarious and inexplicable bouffant, raised an eyebrow quizzically as I slid right next to Jasper on the same side of the booth, but I didn't care. I propped my feet up on the empty bench on the other side and leaned against Jasper's arm.

"You're going to order waffles, aren't you?" I asked without thinking. He hadn't even opened his menu yet.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

I grimaced. "I just, I don't know, I can see what you want sometimes. Mundane stuff, mostly. You probably don't believe in that kooky shit, right? With your rational science and stuff?"

He frowned and fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers. "Just because it hasn't been proven doesn't mean it can't exist. I don't like to rule anything out. I think it's arrogant to think we already understand everything in the universe."

"I wish I could turn it off."

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked in surprise.

I leaned down and rested my cheek against the table. "I don't know. I guess I don't know where the images come from. I'm afraid of losing myself, of becoming just like…" I cut myself off and bolted upright.

Jasper brushed the back of his hand along my cheek. "Becoming like what?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to regain control. "Um, Miss Cleo," I said lamely. That had been close. It was so easy to let my guard down around Jasper. Honestly, it was a shame his chosen field was psychiatry and not some sort of espionage or criminal interrogation. I had a feeling he could get anyone to tell him anything.

Being around him relaxed me so much, made it feel as if all the guardian voices in my head had passed out in a field of poppies. It was dangerous. He made me want to tell him everything, about Olympia, about my mother. But I just … couldn't. He'd said last night that there was nothing I could do to make him hate me, but that didn't mean there was nothing I could do to make him afraid to be around me. Or make him want to lock me away.

It killed me not to tell him, that there was a big part of me that he'd never know or understand. And it made me feel like a fraud, or worse yet, a grifter, that I'd somehow conned him into being with me. The person he thought he was with was just a small part of who I was, the edited-for-TV version. But I'd played out scenarios in my head countless times where I'd told him the whole truth, even thought about blurting out, "My mother's in an insane asylum, and I'm probably crazy too, how about those Mariners?" Just do it quickly and get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid.

There was no version in my head that ended well.

I did consider that perhaps I wasn't giving him enough credit. Maybe in some magical world, he'd tell me it was okay, that it didn't matter if I some day I ended up crazy as a loon. He seemed so understanding about everything else. But "everything else" was small potatoes compared to my tenuous hold on sanity.

"It's part of who you are," Jasper said.

I jumped. Had I been speaking out loud? "What?"

"I mean, if you can, you know, know things. You shouldn't feel ashamed."

Oh, he was back on the psychic thing. "Well, what if …" my voice trailed off. I held his hand and squeezed it for strength. "What if it's not part of me? What if it comes from a bad place?" I added softly, "I have bad dreams sometimes."

"I don't believe anything in you could come from a bad place," he said simply. "Alice, you're practically … fashioned from light."

I smiled sadly. "I don't know about that, but that's sweet of you to say." I wished I could see myself through his eyes. Determined to be cheerful, I asked, "What should I order? I don't know what dik-diks usually order in diners."

Jasper was under the impression that dik-diks liked cheese omelets with a side of corned beef hash, so I nibbled on that while he made short work of the tower of waffles. He was right about the corned beef hash. There was something about questionable meat that came in a can with a multitude of perfectly identical cubes of potatoes. It was complete space-age non-food, and it was fucking delicious.

"You're going to have to roll me home," I said, holding my hands across my middle.

"Only if I can sing the Oompa-Loompa song," he said, helping me into my jacket.

My shoes started to pinch a little on the way home—that's what I got for dancing so much on the way to the diner. I had no regrets though. Even with the pain from overeating, it was hard not to dance, especially as Jasper Oompa-Loompa, doo-bah-dee-doo'ed all the way home. When we got back to the Convent, I made Jasper wait for me as I unbuckled my shoes. I thought I caught him checking out my ass. It made me smile, and I pretended to have trouble getting the second buckle undone so he could have a longer look. I slipped the shoes off and slung them across my back, holding them by the straps. Jasper towered over me as I stood in my bare feet. "I just want to put you in my pocket, sweet pea," he said, kissing me on the top of my head. I laughed and began to walk up the stairs. The stairs were cold but felt good against my sore feet.

Once inside my apartment, Jasper flopped onto my couch, and I followed suit. I lay with my head in his lap and closed my eyes while he played with my hair. If I were a cat, I'd be purring. If I were Eartha Kitt, a still-living Eartha Kitt at least, I'd probably be purring too.

I nearly fell asleep again in a post-corned beef hash coma, but I forced myself to stay awake. I sat up drowsily and turned to face Jasper. I was sitting on my heels and leaned forward to kiss him along his jaw. His mouth curled up in a smile, and he wrapped his arms around me. I shifted so my legs were lying across his lap. This was nice. He raked his fingernails up and down my arms, sending tingles all through me. Wow. I didn't know arms could feel so good.

Jasper brushed his hands lightly along my stomach and up my sides, always slowly, always gently. It was a lazy kind of hunger, a slow, burning desire, not a raging fire, but deceptively graying embers that glowed orange in a breeze. My lack of fear surprised me. I wanted to be consumed.

My pulse pounded in my ears as we kissed and his hands went on their lazy circuit, always grazing just by my breasts but never touching. It was beginning to be maddening. Trembling, I placed my hands on top of his. He stopped moving immediately, probably thinking that I was on the verge of freaking out again.

I gulped, not wanting to lose my nerve. I did a quick mental scan. Nope, still not afraid. I guided his hands inward, inching his hands closer. Jasper was still as a statue. I was breathing raggedly. Somewhere in the back of my head a voice hissed, Asking for it. You're asking for it.

And what if I am? I thought angrily. He won't hurt me. I want this. It's okay to want, isn't it?

Are you ready to take responsibility if you get hurt? When it happens, it'll be your fault, you know, it snapped.

It seems I get hurt anyway, don't I? So does it matter if I'm the one making it happen? At least I'll be doing something; at least I'll feel something, I mentally retorted.

The voice was pissing me off, and that burst of anger was the last bit of courage I needed to pull Jasper's hands to my breasts, to give him the all clear. Now it was up to him. He was looking at me with concern, eyes widening. I bit my lip and nodded a little. He took a breath, ostensibly to ask me if this was what I really wanted. I knew I'd never be able to say it out loud, so I just kissed him hard before he could speak, sucking on his lower lip and running my tongue along it.

Hesitantly, he ran his hand along my breast, letting his thumb rest and press against my nipple. Um, wow. He was cautious, watching me for my reaction. Did you not just hear me think, "Um, wow"? I arched my back to push my breast more into his palm. He was still staring at me. Do I need to hire a skywriter? I slid my hand behind his head and pulled it toward me.

Finally getting the hint, he started kissing down my neck, cupping my breasts gently, continuing to circle his thumbs languidly over my nipples. I had no idea I could feel so good, so fucking good. He nuzzled my breasts through the crocheted tunic, and he heat of his breath even through the layers of clothing ignited a fire in my belly and slightly more … below the Mason-Dixon.

"Mmmmm," I found myself saying again. Oh, I guess I knew how to purr after all.

Between teasing nips and sweet kisses, Jasper murmured, "Is that a good mmmmm or a bad mmmmm?"

"It's a don't-you-dare-stop mmmmm, you blockhead," I answered a bit breathlessly, twisting my fingers in his hair.

"That's what I thought," he said, seeming to address my breasts directly.

I was both frustrated and grateful that my tunic too tight for Jasper to get under it. I'd have to peel the whole thing off, and I knew I wasn't ready for that to happen. I wanted it. I didn't want it. I wanted it. Oh god, did I want it. But no, I didn't want to spoil this moment. I felt already that I'd made huge progress today, and I didn't want to backtrack. I didn't want to have another freakout, didn't want to end the day ashamed again. As it was now, I was kind of fucking proud of myself. I rolled my eyes at myself for being proud at letting Jasper feel me up. But by god, it felt like an accomplishment. And I hadn't just let him do it. I'd made it happen. I'd made him make me feel good, sexy: like a woman, not a scared little girl. That was me. I couldn't help grinning from ear to ear.

"What are you thinking about, beautiful?" asked Jasper, eyes twinkling.

"I was just wondering if it would be completely inappropriate to sing the theme from Rocky right now," I said, cupping his face in my hands and pressing my forehead against his.

"Depends on if I'm the Rocky or the Apollo in this scenario," he said.

"You're the Adrian," I teased.

"Crap," he said, laughing and shaking his head.

I kissed him again, willing him to begin the next round.

[1] Fiona Apple, "Never Is a Promise," Tidal, 1996.

A/N: I truly am puzzled by the dik-dik, but if Alice had an animal equivalent, I think it would be the dik-dik. Not just because it's fun to say. Dik-dik. Awesome.

*New for this chapter*: Reviews get a teaser for the next chapter!