Chapter 2.

Philadelphia, 1948.

"We can go, if this is difficult for you." Alice pressed her shoulder to his, looking up at him with worry in those beautiful eyes.

Jasper resisted, a soldier in life and in death.

Her brow furrowed, "I didn't mean you weren't tough enough, silly man."

Jasper managed a tight smile, "Are you hearing thoughts now?"

Alice ran one finger down his cheek, tapped his chin, "No, but you looked offended."

He said nothing, hoping to control his expression. His mastery of emotion only applied to others. He was still subject to pride, jealousy, longing, with no way to calm himself.

It was late evening, the tail-end of the final night of jazz in the park. His growing hunger forced them to sit much further away than before, nearly at the other end of the park, and yet the music was still very clear. He tried to hold onto it, to focus on the notes of the saxophone rather than the burning in his throat and chest.

"How do you do it?" he said.

She had her eyes on him, her focus on him, and he worried she wasn't listening to the music at all. It was hard for her to enjoy things when she had to watch him day and night.

"Practice."

"How long did it take you?"

She hesitated.

Jasper said, "I'm behind, then."

"But I'm not very normal, am I? You can hardly use me as a standard. If I could see the past, I would probably tell you that our family also struggled. I imagine it depends on the person…" she trailed off, perhaps hoping he wouldn't read into that.

Jasper used to be able to associate loosely with humans, because feeding on them was enough to temper his thirst. He would attack if they injured themselves, but otherwise he could stand to be around them. His last meal, though, was an unlucky, unappetizing white-tailed deer. It was almost as if he had eaten nothing in months, only days after his last human victim.

It was psychological. It had to be.

His mind was typically analytical, precise, shuffling little wooden pieces around on a war board. Jasper was a master strategist. It propelled his career when he was still human, and when he became immortal, he became even sharper. He never imagined he would feel this out of control.

Alice slid into his lap, rested her hand on his throat, laid her head back on his shoulder to watch his face. It was almost like she was trying to be a physical barrier, an anchor that might hold him down if he suddenly decided to attack – it was silly, because she was half his size.

He considered how easy it would be to go through her to get to the humans.

Her brow furrowed, "Rude."

Jasper laughed, "What?"

"I just saw you drop me on the lawn, and I must remind you, these are new pants." She lifted her leg, displaying the strange zebra-print pants. "I'll be very cross."

"Of course," he said. "Very sorry, ma'am."

Alice grinned.

Jasper took uneasy breaths, soothed by her closeness, her scent. Honey and fresh air, river water, flowers in rolling fields. He tried to picture his old home, getting glimpses of a sprawling ranch, old wooden fences, rusted silos.

Alice said, "I want to live in a place like this. Big city parks. Little squirrels in the trees. Fashion. Cars. Did you see how fast that one was driving earlier?"

"We can run faster than that."

"I know, but it must be fun to drive fast, right? I could hold more cargo, and I wouldn't get any mud on my clothes… no tears from branches, no attention from humans…"

"Do you want me to get you one of the fast cars?"

She smiled into his throat, "Yes."

"I will."

"Blue. No! Pink. No! Purple. Yes, the purple one is perfect."

"Purple?"

"We have it specially painted. You'll love it." Alice leaned up to kiss his cheek, brushed her thumb across his lips. Her emotions were an open book, as honest on the inside as the outside – and when she looked at him, a wave of affection rolled over him. She said, "Your eyes are turning gold."

"Really?" Jasper was uncertain, wondering if she would lie to make him feel that his goals were closer at hand, but Alice was the type who would never lie to him.

She sat up, holding his face in both hands, "Yes. Do you want to see?" She dug through her shopping haul for the day and produced a small hand mirror.

Jasper took it, fascinated.

She was right. His previously bloodred eyes were paling. Instead of crimson, they were the color of a late sunset. He looked between his reflection and Alice, fascinated. He trusted her, of course, and believed her, but some part of him had not accepted that he could really look like her.

"Our family has gold eyes," Alice reminded him. "When we meet them, this will be the first thing that makes them trust us – especially Carlisle."

Jasper didn't ask for any more detail, leaving that as another 'see it to believe it' mystery.

He let his attention waver, drawing Alice into a kiss. Her taste, her smell, her hands roving down his chest, her beautiful laugh penetrating the darkest, most horrific parts of him – it was enough to tear down his guard, his caution.

And then he caught the scent of blood.

Alice was a moment too late.

She shouted, "Jasper, no!" and tried to hold onto him.

But he was on his feet, out of her reach, crashing through the trees to a secluded path where a biker had fallen and hit his knee. It was dark out. He should have been more careful. Blood spilled down his leg, painting his sock, and he was only just getting up.

Jasper almost had him when Alice crashed into him from the side.

He rolled, snarled, lunged for his prey again.

Alice grabbed his wrist, weighing him down. She pulled him back, put herself between him and the human. "Jasper, stop!"

Jasper darted to the side, but Alice was in his way again and again. His bloodlust mixed with anger, frustration, his thirst assaulting his senses. His prey made a run for it, abandoning the bike, disappearing around a bend in the path. Blood dotted the concrete.

He needed it. He needed it.

Alice was still in his way.

Jasper attacked her instead, intending to throw her off her feet, to take the precious time that gave him to kill his prey. It could be for both of them. He was willing to share with his mate but unwilling to give up the hunt. Alice would understand.

She dodged his assault, eyes wide, surprised. Jasper went for her again, again, again, growing more frustrated each time she danced out of his way.

She could see the future, see every choice he made.

Jasper gave himself over to instinct, leaving his strategy in the air. It was enough of a confounding factor to make her hesitate. Jasper hit her dead-on and they rolled into the woods, felling a tree, making deep scores in the ground. They snarled like scrapping dogs, rumbling the forest. Alice was stronger than she looked, faster, but no match for him – no one was.

He pinned her.

Alice broke through her animalistic sounds, becoming that sweet girl again, "We can leave. Come on. Run away with me, please."

Jasper was slower to switch, drawn to the blood, though it was further away now…

Alice grabbed his face, flinching when he almost bit her. "Hey, hey. Focus on me."

Jasper felt the heartbeat of the human. It was moving away, rapid, soon to be out of reach…

Alice said, "Jasper…? Please?"

He waited, still as stone, until the scent was far enough away to give him some semblance of control. He pulled away from Alice, the layers of his betrayal, his weakness, hitting him one at a time. He attacked her, almost bit her. He was as out of control as a newborn, as wild and unthinking as an animal. He was everything he hated about himself, all at once.

Alice was afraid, pained, and Jasper wasn't sure if it came from what he had just done, or what he was about to do.

He ran.

Jasper was very fast. He left the park, left the city, left the state. Alice could not hope to keep up, though he sensed, at first, that she was following him.

He found a secluded, abandoned motel off the interstate, taking refuge in a room that faced the woods. It had a dilapidated mattress, a table with two chairs, a broken window with vines growing through it. A suitable place to stew over what he had done.

Alice was right about his pride. He had been too sure of his control, determined to show strength for her.

It got him nowhere.

Alice was not far behind him.

Jasper was very still when she came into the room. Her emotions were overpowering, telling him, wordlessly, that she was afraid, and sad, and pitying. Another hit to his pride.

"You didn't do anything," she said, after waiting in the doorway for several seconds. He was momentarily horrified, thinking she might be afraid of him, but the fear had another origin. She worried for him, feared for him.

He rested his face on his hand, covering his eyes, with nothing to say in his own defense.

Alice approached, her hands soft on his shoulders. "Oh, Jazz…"

He hated the hitch in her voice. Alice was a person who should never be sad, never be worried.

He said, "What are they like?"

She ran her hand through his hair, freeing leaves from his curls, "Hmm?"

"Our family," he clarified, dropping his hand to look at her. "What are they like?"

Alice took on a warm expression, like she was looking back instead of looking ahead. She slid into his lap, unbothered by their recent brawl. "I think, out of all of them, you're really going to like Emmett. I see you two together a lot. I only see glimpses of them, enough to know that they exist, that we have a future with them."

"And the others?"

She kissed him once, twice, three times. "Worth fighting for. Every one of them."

Jasper willed himself to believe her, to trust her. Over the past three days, since the moment she sat across from him in that diner, Jasper had found a lifetime of companionship in her. In the hour or so between him getting to the motel and her arrival, an eternity passed.

He wanted to be by her side every second until his last.

Alice stared ahead for a moment, her eyes distant, before she gave a satisfied smile. "Good. Nothing to interrupt us this time." And she kissed him.

XxXxX

New York, 1948.

"I was a soldier. I was turned in the Civil War."

Alice looked up, having been tracing the glittering patterns of bites on his chest in the midmorning sun. She was lying perpendicular to him, propped on her elbows. The windows were open, and a strip of sunlight came through the sheer drapes, running across them. Her bare back shone like diamonds, dazzling, flawless. If a human had been witness, they would have thought she was an angel – in the short time before Jasper cleaved them in half.

She said, "Were there many… vampires in the war?"

He smiled, a little sad, a little wistful, "In my war, there were."

Jasper had never told his story before, never had a reason. It was too grim, too serious, and he often wished his memory were not so sharp. He recalled every detail, every vampire and human he had ever killed. When he recounted it to Alice, though, he felt less like a monster – it was something about the way she looked at him, the peaceful, patient light in her eyes.

She listened silently, watching, waiting, her emotions never wavering from doting affection. In the midst of his story about the turn of the century, she scooted up to rest her chin over his heart.

When he concluded on the note that he had left Peter and Charlotte to be on his own, she finally commented, "I saw that part. It was how I knew you would be in Philadelphia. You passed a sign for it on the road."

Jasper said, "I was… disenchanted with this life. It seemed purposeless. Without a war to fight, I had nothing left. But I had to leave. I started to become more sensitive to their pain, and every time I reset the newborns, I experienced it more vividly. It was eating away at me. By the time I realized that I had to leave, there was almost nothing left of me."

It was both awful and freeing to admit how far he had fallen.

If anyone in the world was going to understand it, it would be Alice.

She leaned over, pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, "I had to find you and convince you of how happy we would be together."

He said, "Did you convince me?"

Alice simply grinned.

Jasper ran his fingertip down her spine. She was utterly untouched. It was a novelty to him. "What of your past?" he said.

"I was alone, and then I was with you."

Alice finally seemed unsure about something. She was trying hard to hide it, but he was privy to even the smallest changes in her mood.

He said, "Is that all of it?"

"It is. I don't have any memories from before I was a vampire."

Jasper felt her fighting to stay neutral.

He said, "So, you woke up alone?"

"Yes." Her discomfort was replaced with warm, overpowering affection. "I saw your face. I knew it was going to be alright, one day. I knew I would find you."

Jasper had never been blessed with such certainty, until now. He didn't need to see the future to know that his life would be better with her in it.

A car alarm went off several blocks away and they both looked up.

Alice said, "Do you want to leave this area?"

A moderately small town, very far from the bustling heart of New York. It was a compromise, after his desperate flight from Philadelphia three days before. Alice charmed them into a luxury hotel, got them a room on the fifth floor. She hoped that showing him the wonderful luxuries of the human world would convince him to stay close to it, to coexist with it.

It was a nice sentiment, but ultimately doomed.

Jasper saw her get that faraway look in her eyes every few hours, like she was searching for a safe time to drag him into public, and then he sensed a hit of disappointment.

He said, "No. I can manage it."

Alice seemed doubtful. "You're handling the hotel very well."

She was almost unbearably positive, giving little encouragement all hours of the day. He would be annoyed if it were anyone but her, if he could not sense her genuine worry for him.

The hotel was easy. Alice had all of his attention. He was consumed by her, made for her. But she was clearly itching to see the city, and Jasper could only distract her from that for so long.

"I want to go to a restaurant," Alice said, sitting up on her knees, drawing a diagram in the air for him. "We can sit out on the balcony so you have fresh air. They have live performers every night."

It felt too obvious to ask why.

She said, "One of our brothers is very fond of music, and he's the most skeptical of us. I need some way to bond with him."

Brothers. Jasper felt a tremor of distrust roll through him, reluctant to let other males near her.

Alice popped his shoulder, "Stop that, and listen. Edward likes classical music, so-"

"Why are you worried that they won't like you?" Jasper interrupted. "Haven't you already seen us all in one family?"

She scrunched up her face, "Yes, but I want to make sure everything is perfect."

"And the two of us – that's not enough?"

She wasn't prepared for that question. A shock of pain flashed through her. "Why would you say that? That's not what this is about."

"What is it about, then?"

"I want a family," she reiterated, frowning, speaking plainly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jasper had only seen his kind associate in destructive, dangerous groups, covens that were purpose-driven, fragile, easy to break apart. But he did have memories of his human life, of brothers and sisters, a mother and a father. Her words were echoed in her feelings – a deep, aching want.

He realized his words had upset her. Jasper sat up, drew the precious creature into his lap. There was another thing that Alice had introduced him to – intimacy. He had spent so much of his life fighting that her touch was otherworldly.

He said, "If you want to go to the restaurant, we'll go."