A/N: This was written as a "spur of the moment" thing this morning because the idea stubbornly refused to leave my head. I never had the urge to write an AU before, especially not an AllHuman!AU. But alas, here we are: An AllHuman!AU alternate version of Diner Day. Thank you, early morning brain!

Two raindrops rolled from his hair and fell onto the crumpled piece of paper between his fingers. When he brushed them away, the writing smudged into illegibility. Jasper cursed. Not because of the address, he had memorised that months ago. But because of the weather. The last thing he was prepared for when getting on the flight from Houston in the early morning was a proper East Coast downpour.

His eyes shifted over to the diner again. He had triple-checked it on Google maps. That was the address. And yet there was no second entry, no residential access. Just the diner.

Maybe that's where she intended to meet him.

Of course not. Jasper laughed at himself. He wasn't starting to believe that she actually saw the future, was he?

But then, his doubts had cost him once before. If he had believed her, stopped instead of slowed down when he saw the graffiti, he would have gotten away with a few splinters. The last time, the IED took a pound of flesh. This time, the rain would add a cold, if he didn't act soon.

What is the worst-case scenario anyway? Her not being there and him warming up over a coffee.

Or maybe her being there was exactly what he was afraid of.

How was he supposed to wrap his head around the whole thing? Going to the funfair on their last night before deployment was supposed to be harmless fun. Just as getting their fortunes told. She was supposed to tell him that he'll get married and have three kids. Not to look out for a strange symbol he'd never seen before. And that symbol should never have shown up sprayed to the side of a building hundreds of miles overseas. Slowing to look at it shouldn't have saved his life. But it did. And all Jasper could think about after was not 'How?' or 'Why?'. It was 'Who?'. Who was that tiny fortune teller he now owed his life to?

He had almost been relieved when he finally reached the manager of the funfair, and the man told him that it had been a one-time gig. The fortune teller was no longer with them. Of course, she wasn't. His obsession with her was a figment of his concussion. He had hit his head pretty hard, after all.

But then the nurse had entered to tell him that he had a visitor. And the manager immediately reacted to her addressing him by his rank. "I'm sorry Sir, are you a soldier?"

I was, would have been the truth. But he hadn't officially been discharged yet. So, his 'yes' was not technically a lie.

The manager had chuckled and shuffled through some things on his end. "This may seem strange but when she left, she told me that a soldier would come asking after her. And if he did, I should give him this address."

Jasper had repeated it aloud and, fortunately, Peter reacted immediately, dropping his bag at the door and hurrying over to the table to write it down. The paper weighed heavily against his palm now, scraping against the skin of his fist, as if it was trying to say, 'Go ahead, you fool.'

Jasper sighed and put it back into the pocket of his jacket. The rain was starting to push through. He'd be soaked to the bones in a few minutes. It was act or leave now.

xxx

A bright bell jingled as he pushed open the door. Warm air and the smell of coffee immediately encompassed him, the sudden warmth making him shiver. He was acutely aware of the skin on his face, a cold mask now slowly melting under the cosy warmth of the diner.

"What can I get you, dear?" the waitress at the counter asked.

"Just some coffee," he replied, his eyes scanning the crowd. She was nowhere to be seen. Of course, she wasn't. What did he expect? He really was turning crazy.

But then, the waitress moved over to the coffee machine and revealed another line of booths behind her. In the last one sat a small dark-haired figure. She was staring straight at him, smiling.

Jasper crossed the room with large strides. The soles of his wet boots squeaked on the chequered floor. Maybe he should have left his soaking jacket at the coatrack in the front. It was too late for that now.

The closer he got, the smaller she seemed; the booth almost swallowed her whole. She couldn't have been much taller than a child and yet something in the way she looked at him, her eyes sharp and full of certainty, told him that she was much older than that.

When he reached her, the smile gave way to a few simple words. "You've kept me waiting a long time."

His instincts kicked in and he bowed his head. "I'm sorry ma'am." But inside his thoughts were racing.

What did she mean by that? Could she see him standing out there in the rain like a fool for the last hour? Or was she referring to the months of rehab he spent agonising over whether he should go after her in the first place.

No, it couldn't be. She couldn't possibly know that.

And yet, here they were. Because she had shown him the symbol. Because some kid in a warzone on the other end of the world had sprayed it to the side of a no-longer inhabited building. Because that graffiti had saved his life. And because she somehow had known that he would look for her and left this address with the manager.

"Do you want to sit down?" Her voice was clear as the summer sky. It somehow reminded him of the bell that had rung upon his entry. It pulled Jasper from his thoughts and returned him to the reality of a small Philadelphia diner with a growing puddle beneath his feet.

Almost mechanically, he folded himself into the seat opposite her. He hated these booths; they always were too small for him. The table too close to the seat, the seat too low. His knees brushed hers under the table and she blushed as he muttered another apology.

It dawned on him that he didn't even remember her name.

The waitress came and placed a cup of coffee in front of him. Her eyes disapprovingly fixated on his drenched jacket. "Let me hang that up for you." Her tone didn't permit refusal.

The fortune teller chuckled.

Jasper quickly shrugged his coat off and handed it over to the waitress, ignoring the way she stared at the end of his left sleeve dangling in the air; no forearm to cling to anymore. She slipped in the puddle when she retreated and barely caught herself on the next booth over. He didn't feel bad about it. Should teach her not to gawk.

"I had hoped you would stop earlier," the tiny brunette said and drew his attention back. She was looking at his arm too. "But then, part of me knew that you wouldn't."

"Why is that?"

"You're stubborn."

Jasper raised an eyebrow. It was no secret that he could, at times, be enormously pig-headed. But when she last saw him, he was tipsy and in a great mood. Also, he had sat in her tent for no more than five minutes. She couldn't know that. And yet, somehow, she did. Again.

"How do you know? About this. And the graffiti?"

She smiled. Jasper couldn't help but notice how beautiful it made her delicate features look. Less like a puppet, more real. Alive. "I sometimes dream of things that haven't happened yet. I have been dreaming of you for a long time, Jasper."

"You dreamed of me," he echoed, keeping his voice low to not draw any attention. The last thing he needed was for the waitress to call the police on two crazy customers talking about prophetic dreams. She didn't like him already, he could tell. He'd always been good at reading other people's sentiments.

She took a sip of her tea. "For a long time."

"How long?"

"A few years."

"Years?!"

The waitress glanced over. Luckily, the bell chimed to announce another patron. An elderly couple. They would keep her occupied for a while. Or so, Jasper hoped.

"How many years?" he added quietly.

"I've seen four different foster homes. I believe there were six in total?"

"Seven," Jasper corrected instinctively. He knew that he should be horrified that she knew about his past. Possibly knew even more than she currently let on. And yet, the expected unease didn't come. He felt perfectly comfortable sitting across the unnamed stranger.

And she seemed content as well, a delighted smile returned to her face.

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their hot beverages, looking out the window at the clouds who were slowly giving way to blue skies. The waitress didn't come to top Jasper up as he finished his coffee. He hadn't expected her too.

"You saved my life," he said eventually.

"I know."

Her response baffled him. He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected, but he was positive that this was not it.

Luckily, she carried on the conversation before he had to come up with the right thing to say. "What I don't know is what you're going to do next."

Jasper sighed. That was the question everyone had been asking him after his honourable discharge six weeks ago. He hadn't found an answer yet.

"You could come with me, if you wanted," she said. "I was planning to drive up north to see my family. It's not going to be the most comfortable drive for you, my car is quite small, but I promise I will make good company."

"Sure, why not?" The words had left his mouth before his consciousness could catch up. Had he really just agreed to a road trip with a woman whose name he didn't even know? He was crazy.

But the beaming grin on her smile made it worthwhile. Outside the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the puddles on the street with her bright rays. The world suddenly seemed a shade brighter, warmer. And somewhere deep within, Jasper felt like – perhaps for the very first time in his life – he had made the right choice.

She waved for the waitress. "Let's not waste any time then. It's a long drive."

"I'll take care of it." His attention still split between comprehending reality and questioning his sanity, Jasper drew his wallet.

"Very gentlemanly of you, thank you. But be warned, I've been coming here a lot."

He raised an eyebrow at her, the incredulous voices in his head subsiding. However, the waitress came over and brought the bill for his coffee before he could inquire further.

"Her tab as well, please."

The waitress left. Jasper was positive she blamed him for having to walk over twice in her head.

"Okay, a lot might be slightly understated. Every day for the past three months," his – ride? – admitted. "I didn't want to miss you."

Jasper's eyes met hers and he felt his cheeks tense into a small smile. It felt foreign. He hadn't had many reasons to smile this year.

The waitress stalked over again and deposited another sheet of paper in front of him. He placed a couple of bills on the table without double-checking the total. All his eyes were focused on was the handwritten name at the top of the tab. Alice.

Her name was Alice.