A/N
Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight-related.
Here's a long chapter for you.
The wonderful and talented maryhell AKA Taylin Clavelli helped me make the emotions and logistics better in this chapter.
…oOo…
...oOo... Death is not the end ...oOo...
Chapter 11
A soft knock on my door announced Carlisle and Esme's presence. Carlisle examined my taping-finesse and had a conversation with Jasper about his health, while Esme arranged a pot of hot tea, and neatly cut vegetable sticks on a plate. She was humming quietly, and I could tell she enjoyed pampering my friend, my man. Jasper was in for the big treat, as she rarely had the chance of testing her motherly and domestic skills on another person.
They left, and Jasper served a cup of steaming tea. He looked confused when he noticed the single cup on the table in front of us. Surprisingly, the hot brew smelled nice - still it didn't tempt me. Wryly I told Jasper I hardly drank anything, and he nodded knowingly. Since Jasper couldn't join me in a glass of whiskey while he was medicated, I renounced my urge for the golden liquor; the only fluid I drank, beside blood.
My couch was large and soft – big enough for the both of us to sit comfortably. Even though I never needed a blanket to warm my bones, Esme had thrown a beautifully woven one on the armrest to match the interior of my masculine room. Esme's taste was impeccable when it came to colors and materials. My room was warm, welcoming and matched nature's own materials and coloring. She'd managed to blend the dark antique furniture and golden colors with black & white art photographs and raw steel shelves for my books, advanced TV & sound system, and record collection. When Jasper shivered, I wrapped the autumn-colored wool around him, making sure the weight didn't feel uncomfortable against his injured arm.
"Jasper, if you feel like talking, I'd very much like to hear your story." Curiosity and uncertainty were nagging me. I wanted to know about his unusual life. I also hoped his story would give me some hints for further investigation regarding his ability to stay human, or better still – become my true mate.
Jasper savored his tea, then placed his empty cup on the table, and awkwardly readjusted his position under the blanket to face me. He closed his eyes briefly as if he composed himself, and with a low and serious voice, he narrated the story of his life.
"It was a hot summer. My twin and I had turned seven when our parents took us on a trip. Usually, we rented a cabin by a lake for our summer vacation, but that year we rented canoes. I shared the canoe with my mother, and my sister sat by our father. We were all having fun. Neither of us knew it would be the last time we'd all be together. The last time they'd all be alive."
Jasper sighed, and sadness covered his face, but he went on.
"Of course my parents had studied a map of the area; however they'd missed the sign for the advancing danger. Ahead of us, a waterfall roared, but it was too late for us to act upon our newfound fact. Before we could even paddle ashore, a fast stream had taken control of our canoes. They turned over, and we all fell into the whirling water."
He paused, and I gently squeezed his hand.
"When I finally managed to drag myself ashore, I collapsed. I wanted to swim back into the river and look for my parents, but most of all I wanted to find and save my sister. But I couldn't. The struggle had taken all my energy. Edward, I swear to you, I tried to get up. I lost count of my attempts to rise and look for her, but every time I moved my stomach lurched and my arms shook, and I'd find myself back on the ground. I managed to make it back to the water's edge before I passed out. In the end, all I could do was hoping she and my parents had made it. Hoped that if they did, they'd come looking for me.
It was dark when I came too. I was cold, scared and hungry. I walked along the river, calling for my family. Hours later, there was still no sign of them. Then I thought they might have tried to make it back to the holiday center where we rented the canoes. So, I started through the forest, in what I hoped was the right direction for the lodge.
Soon, it appeared someone was watching and following me. I wondered if it was my family approaching, and stopped. But all I heard was the ruffle of leaves and a deep growl. Even though I was frightened of what I might discover, I looked back over my shoulder. Between the lush bushes, I caught signs of movement and glimpses of golden fur. Before I had the chance to run or even cry out for help, a powerful animal, tackled me to the ground. All I noticed were two big green eyes and then the excruciating pain when the beast scratched and bit me."
Jasper writhed on the couch and removed the blanket. With great effort, he lowered the sweat pants single handed and revealed faded scars covering his left hip. I wished I could take his pain away and turn back the time, so all this unpleasantness hadn't happened to him.
"Then I passed out. I had no recollection of how I ended in a bed, taken care of by an elderly, generous couple. The woman, Maria, dabbed my feverish forehead and the man, Peter, tended my wounds."
"Not unlike your kind family." Jasper smiled and continued with his story.
"Over and over I asked my rescuers about my family, only to be ignored. The only constant was the concern on their faces – that never left. I slept for days and a week later, they told me the dreaded news. Both my parents had drowned, and there was no sign of my beloved sister. I tried to remain positive. With no evidence, to the contrary I hoped she'd survived the accident and that somewhere, someone was taking care of her too.
Peter and Charlotte Whitlock cared for me like I was their own son, and if it hadn't been for their kindness, I would have died. During the following weeks, my wound mended, and all I wanted to do was search for my sister. However, another obstacle appeared. I was changing. It started gradually… small signs, but within a week after the first signs, I shifted into my other form during the daytime. Every morning and every night, I transformed. By then I knew, my attacker had been a mountain lion."
Jasper stopped and addressed me directly. "I was only seven years old, so naturally this new situation was overwhelming and confusing. I'd read fairy tales and seen horror movies with creatures out of this world, and how they were treated and regarded by humans. Turning into this predatorily beast every day, was frightful and unimaginable."
I nodded compassionately. At least I had been a man when I was turned, and granted with a new family. A family with whom I could take guidance from; who were in the same situation. Jasper had not been that fortunate
"If Peter and Charlotte hadn't cared for me, I'd probably have gone insane or completely wild. In order to reassure me, I wasn't a beast or a freak, they told me about some of the strange phenomena, they'd heard of or come across during their years, living in the forest. Apparently, the forests surrounding Forks are out of the ordinary when it comes to housing unlikely creatures."
Jasper's voice became more cheerful. "Whenever Peter and Charlotte referred to tales of the cold ones; they probably meant your family or your kind at least."
"Possibly. We used to live here decades ago," I consented and encouraged him to carry on.
"Okay… Um, weeks turned into months, and suddenly I'd stayed with the loving couple for more than a year. They fed me, schooled me and taught me how to cope with my new situation, but most importantly – they loved me and gave me their family name.
I found the company with others of my own age among some Native boys living close by. Harry and Billy became my best friends even though we only met after the sun went down. One night, when we were camping, something strange happened to Billy. All of a sudden, he turned into a wolf. Harry nearly pissed himself - I was enthralled. Finally, I had found a true friend, an equal. A few nights later, the same thing happened to Harry.
Billy's grandfather, Ephraim, told us the tales of their tribe, and the cause of his grandson and friend's sudden change. However, the Quileutes had never heard of a daily shifter like me. Ephraim asked relatives all over the continent but never came across someone with my character."
"Did you know, the Quileutes are descended from the first Native Americans and are some of the oldest shifters known to men? Even they control their shifts; apparently, not the first time they change and discover what they truly are, like the camping episode. That actually has something to do with your kind."
During my own research, I had come across similar facts. However, the sound of Jasper's melodic voice was becoming my new favorite kind of heroin, only surpassed by his fragrance. Therefore, I appeared astonished and added, "Really?"
"The old Quileute legends, tell about how vampires killed an entire tribe, except for one boy, who hid in a canoe by the river. The boy swore vengeance for all his lost kind and the desire to avenge grew inside him. Finally, when he was a young man, he came across a new gang of vampire travelers. He pursued them, and one day, given his continued proximity to them, the spirits intervened and changed him into a lethal weapon against vampires - a wolf. Ever since that day, whenever Quileutes feel threatened or find themselves surrounded by vampires, their genes turn them into shifters. Your family has caused quite a few turns among the Quileute boys. Even though you don't intend to harm them or humans, their changes are unavoidable."
Jasper stayed quiet for a while, pondering and sipping a fresh cup of tea. He placed the cup on the table in front of us and reached for my hand. Our entwined fingers danced a little dance. "I've never found the reason as to why I shift. Am I the carrier of a special gene, tricked by a bite from the mountain lion? Or, was the lion the special one? I don't think I'll ever know the reason for my condition," Jasper sighed.
I told Jasper about the research Carlisle, and I had already conducted during his brief stay. And how his unique case remained an enigma to us all. Subsequently, I let Jasper in on some of the encounters my family, and I had had with the Quileutes and nomad vampires, traveling through our territories. I also presented Jasper with Carlisle and Sam's renewed arrangement of truce.
Jasper nodded. "Way back, Billy told me about a truce the tribe had with a coven of vampires. Little did I know it involved you and your family. That reminds me - can I borrow a phone? I need to inform Sam I'm alright. He's probably anxious about my whereabouts."
"Sure." I knew he was right. Sam had looked every bit as worried as I'd felt when I visited the bar more than thirty hours ago. It was probably only a matter of time before we'd find him and his pack at our doorstep -demanding an answer to our involvement in Jasper's recent absence. Therefore, I handed him my mobile phone. Jasper dialed Sam's number and let the phone ring for a while, but no one picked up. Awkwardly, he started typing with his sound hand but lost control of the device. Instead, he returned it to me and dictated a short not-to-worry-message for his friend.
"At least they know I'm alright. But I'd better make an appearance soon, or they'll presume I'm fraternizing with the enemy or worse." He sent me a playful smile. I knew he didn't consider me his enemy, but he was probably right about his friends. One thing was fraternizing; turning their friend into one of us was truce breaking.
"Okay… I'll go back to the days of my youth then."
"Peter and Charlotte educated me from home. They focused on reading and writing as I showed interest and had potential, even at a young age. I read Shakespeare, Homer, Dickens, and Tolkien and used my rather vivid imagination and surreal surroundings to create my own stories and alternate universes. Harry and Billy taught me math and botany, and I learned about geography and history from all the books Peter bought or borrowed from the public library. At the end of every home-taught semester, Charlotte turned our dining room into a private exam room, and from home, she made me take similar tests as my contemporaries."
He paused and reflected; happy memories seemed to brighten his face.
"I owe Peter and Charlotte more than my life. My love for literature and writing came from their encouragement and enthusiasm for me to learn. They made it possible for me to have a livelihood and a steady income in spite of my erratic nature. Obviously, I never went to high school or the university, but over the years, I've taken some distance education courses in narrative writing and characterization. I don't have a fancy degree or any papers to prove my credibility as a writer… I'm self-educated."
Jasper turned his head and nodded toward the grand piano in my room. "Are you self-taught or did you have piano lessons growing up?"
I had only a few faint memories of my childhood and my parents but knew music had always played a central role in my life. "I took lessons as a kid, but I had a very strict and conservative teacher. He consistently made me practice Beethoven and Schubert. I preferred the lighter touch of Mozart… and later Ragtime, of course. I actually drove poor Mr. Banner nuts with the syncopated rhythms. Eventually, he resigned. My parents never replaced him, and I played what and how I wanted from that day."
Jasper chuckled and made himself more comfortable. "I had a rebellious period as well."
"For company and guidance; as a teenager, I went to the tribe's version of 'Shifter's Anonymous'. There, I realized all the attendants were capable of controlling their shifts, but me. The Quileute tribe was like family to me, and I found equality and hospitality among them when my foster parents died.
Years went by. Billy and Harry both married girls from a neighboring tribe. Soon kids followed, and not a day passed, where I didn't think of my own sister. During winter times, I often went to the public library late in the afternoons. I searched old newspapers for facts about the drowning accident and updates of her possible whereabouts."
Jasper paused. "You know… I've never accepted the fact that my sister's dead. Growing up, we were so close, and I've always had this feeling… like she's still alive somewhere."
The story of his lost twin was sad and uncommon. Yet, I could have sworn I'd heard it all before. Sure, it had to be mere coincidence. The version I had repeatedly heard took place sixty years ago. Carlisle and I had researched the drowning incident several times, but we never found any signs of the missing boy.
"Edward, in case, you wonder?" Jasper interrupted my thoughts. "The Whitlocks never told anyone apart from the Quileutes about my survival and existence. Living in a remote part of the forest, made it possible for them to keep me away from social services. Without a doubt, they'd have transferred me to a state-approved foster family or worse - an institution. Probably a traveling freak show, if they'd realized what I truly was."
Losing a family the way Jasper had lost his, was horrible. After all, the Whitlocks sounded like the best family a boy with special needs, could have had. I only wished they were still alive. I'd have liked to thank them for taking care of Jasper, and for turning him into this beautiful person.
"There's only a small part of my story left to tell, are you up for it, or shall we continue another night?"
"No, no please, continue."
"When I was in my twenties, I decided to leave the place I had come to know as home. Harry knew a small-time crook, and he supplied me with papers and a passport for a considerable amount of money. With my new identity documents in hand, I moved to Scandinavia where I hired a remotely situated cabin. That's when I began to write novels. That's also the time I noticed, I hardly aged anymore."
One fact about Jasper had played in my mind for days. Now was the opening to ask it. "Jasper, how old are you?"
Slowly, he reached forward and stroked a lock of disheveled hair away from my forehead. "I was born in 1947."
Jesus! He was what, sixty-seven years old! Nothing compared to my own actual 120 years. Nevertheless, I was immortal – he was not. The Harry and Billy from his story were actually the Harry and Billy Carlisle had spoken of over the years. They were grandfathers by now. Of course, the story about his lost sister had my mind working overtime, as his real age had been revealed. Before I'd made any final conclusions, Jasper continued with his story.
"I had to move around a lot… every tenth year or so; in order to keep my lack of aging hidden from neighbors, and the few friends I managed to keep. The inhabitants probably saw me as the odd fellow or even the town freak, in some of the places I lived. Prior to my return to Forks, I lived in Alaska for ten years give or take."
"Why did you return to Forks?" I was thrilled he'd moved back. Though, I was sure I'd have eventually found him in Alaska on one of my hunting trips.
"It was time for me to move along. I'm glad to be back where it all began. I feel at home here. Abroad I stayed in touch with Billy, Harry, and their families. Especially Sam and some of the men from his pack. These days, we sometimes hunt or run together. Apart from the Quileutes, the only other person knowing my real identity is my literary agent. He's about to retire in a year or two, and I have to find a suitable replacement. A person I can trust completely. A person who's willing to keep my identity hidden from the public, but still manage to brand my books."
…oOo…
We talked for hours about his authorship and my life as a composer. Carlisle's investments in land and stocks facilitated me with financial means for all eternity. I didn't need to publish my music – it was only a diversion. Jasper told me, the sales of his books were profitable, but he needed to release a novel every other year to maintain a decent living. I hoped that he wouldn't need to worry himself about financial issues henceforward. I hoped he'd become my mate and share everything with me. Still, I'd ask my own agent if he knew about a trustworthy, literary agent, who'd be willing to represent Jasper.
Jasper encouraged me to tell highlights from my own life. I shared dim memories of a happy childhood and young adulthood with him. Told about the day, Carlisle found me dying of the Spanish flu, in a hospital ward abandoned by all nurses and doctors, but himself. I withheld the part of the actual transformation into a vampire, only mentioning the essentials.
Jasper listened affectionately, absorbing my anecdotes. I could tell he wasn't repulsed or prejudiced by the story or my life - only curious and eager to hear more. Upon his request, I went to the shelf where I stored photo albums. When I'd found the one I was looking for, I smiled as I recalled the night when Carlisle and I broke into my family home. Shortly after my transformation, Carlisle had suggested I might want to have a few personal heirlooms; and with the Masen family all deceased, and no one to claim the artifacts – my home and its interior was put up for auction. On the night of our intrusion, I took a few of my favorite records, my father's pocket watch, my mother's wedding ring, and the family photo albums.
"Wow! You look so handsome." With his sound hand, Jasper turned pages in the lap-placed album, and studied each cardboard picture from my time as a human being, "- and still the same." He moved the tips of his fingers to my captured portrait and caressed my nose and jaw. I quivered with anticipation. More than anything, I wanted to feel the gentle touch of his warm fingers against my real face. "Yet, your eyes seem different. It's hard to tell as these photographs are black and white, but…"
I inched closer to him, pretending to study the photographs as well. "My eyes were green back then. When I'm in need of blood, they turn almost black. I can proudly say they haven't been crimson in decades."
"Crimson?" Jasper sounded astonished; lifted his head and studied my real eyes closely. I could feel the warmth of his rapid breath against my cheeks. He was affected by our close proximity too.
"As newborns, our eyes are crimson. If we stick to human blood, they remain crimson."
"Oh, I see. I like the color they have now. They're like liquid amber." He bit the bottom of his lip, and slowly lifted his palm to my face. Gentle warm fingers caressed my cheek, and I sighed when his thumb brushed my quivering lips. Once his finger was gone, my tongue picked the flavors of cucumber and what I reckoned was Jasper's unique aroma. Before he turned his focus back to the album, he wiped the same thumb over his own lips. I readjusted my pants and moaned.
Jasper scooped closer and leaned his head against my shoulder. The album rested between our laps, and I turned the next pages. A series of photographs of me as a vampire followed. Each year at Thanksgiving, Esme took our portraits and a family photo; the present album was one of many and ended in 1958. Jasper chuckled when he saw the later photographs of a more rebellious looking version of me. Elvis was a big influence on my music as well as my looks.
…oOo…
Before dawn, Jasper went to the bathroom to take the shower he desired. I helped him undress - sans the pants, and removed his bandage. I moved a high stool to the shower stall to keep him steady, and I had placed soap and shampoo within his reach. After the cascading water caressed his body in ways I hoped to in the future, fluffy towels and a plush bathrobe awaited him.
For a creature with no need to shower, I sure knew how to make my own baths luxurious.
I heard the water run and Jasper gasping when it met his injuries. Steam and the fragrance of my soap spread from the bathroom to my bedroom. A part of me was sad, for after the shower, Jasper would smell like me – well like the camouflage, for my come-hither scent. I guessed it was for the best, as it would assist in deflecting my animalistic desires.
He returned from the bathroom minutes later, looking delicious and damn good in my fluffy wraparound. His curls were damp, and his cheeks slightly pink. The view of him stopped me in my tracks as desire surged through my loins. It took every ounce of control not to jump him. His bathrobe didn't quite meet in the middle, leaving a triangle of Jasper's chest exposed. I spotted driblets of water make a slow path from his curls over his muscles. Oh, how I wanted to catch the drops with my tongue before they disappeared to places I could not follow – yet.
The sun was only minutes from rising, and I fought to control myself – this was not the time to start an intimate encounter. Jasper seemed nervous, and I wasn't comfortable with the shifting situation either. Once again, we had to say 'goodbye' or more accurate 'see you later,' a daily situation we'd have to accept and learn to deal with if we ever were to live together.
Jasper went to Jay's quilt in front of the fireplace, and I gave him privacy to shift.
Minutes later, Jay acknowledged me by licking the palm of my hand and I taped his injuries. Afterward, I reclined in my lounge chair, where I spent hours comprehending all the information I now had, about the man I deeply loved.
…oOo…
A/N
Well, there you have it – Jasper's unique story… and some sweet moments. I promise there'll be steaming m/m-action in future chapters. This story is M-rated after all.
Take care and I'll see you on Tuesday.
Tink
