And here's Jasper's version. Let me just say this now, so no one gets disappointed at the end: Jasper's POV is also going to end with the diner scene (though a few seconds after Alice's did). Their relationship is so mystical, and so Fated, that I rather like the idea of leaving their romance unwritten. The next A&J outtake won't come for a while; it will be Jasper's POV of the 1950 meeting with the Cullens (leading up to when Edward enters the house). But if I need a break from 1950 in the meantime, I might post another random outtake or two before that.

Warning: Despite its title, this chapter is pretty bleak, and Jasper is depressed. Suidical thoughts/ideations are mentioned.

I trudged into Philadelphia, checking the sky as it lightened. A nice smattering of clouds, and a menacing shadow off to the Southwest: at least something was going right today. As I entered the city, the street lights began to blink out, one by one, and the lamps in the houses and apartments began to glow. The human natives, starting their morning rituals and heading off to work.

One of them wouldn't make it home tonight. I had waited too long already.

I had been stretching it out to every three days, lately. When I was with Maria, I never went more than once a day. And back in the heady days of our victory in Monterrey, I had sometimes had three square meals a day. She might have been a monster, but she sure knew how to feed a man.

It wasn't until decades later, when I was free, that Peter and I figured it out. The more I fed, the worse I felt. I could never have made the connection before then; I was always drowning in negative emotions, that I never would have been able to separate out my own from the heap. And even if I had, I was so miserable that I still wouldn't have noticed. But once I was away from all that, and my radar was silent but for the love that Peter and Charlotte shared, it didn't take long to discover that I was still miserable. And it didn't take Peter long to realize that I was the most miserable- and made them the most miserable- after feeding.

And so here I was, attempting the impossible. My goal was the same it had been for six months now: stretch it out to every four days. I knew that I could do it, physically. But the point was to go four days without going on a slaughter spree. Waiting until tonight was risky as it was, but I was going to see if I could do it. My hands were shoved in the deep pockets of my overcoat, to hide the tremors. I had a headache, and my throat was an empty wasteland of thirst. But I could do it. If I was ever going to reach four days, I had to do this. And I needed to keep improving. Because if I didn't have some kind of project, some kind of goal, I was going to lose my mind even faster.

I had thought, often enough, about ending it. I was sure that Maria would be happy to oblige, if I were to go back and check in. I was a deserter, after all, and deserters got executed. Of course, with my luck, she'd probably refuse. She'd probably shower me with blood and put me right back to work. Not that it would stop me- I'd just toss myself onto the front lines, when the next battle came, and that would be that. Suicide was easy when you knew your way around Central America.

I would probably do it. If going four days without murder was the highlight of my life, then what was the point?

It's not murder, I reminded myself. They're just humans. Food. Cattle. Easy-open containers of warm, delicious-

My hands started to shake harder in my pockets, longing for a neck to grasp, to pull to my teeth. My venom burned as I swallowed it, and I shook my head. See, this is what happens when I go this long. I start thinking of them as people. As if I needed more misery. The misery wasn't supposed to come until tonight, when I fed. I would spend the day sniffing around the city, looking for the best specimen. After all, if I was stretching it out like this, it had better be good. Noon was the best time to shop around- the herds always came out to graze at the little diners that dotted whatever city I was hunting in. And then I would wait until my prey was done at work, and lure him in an alley or something. And, like always, I would kill as quickly as possible, to minimize the emotional backfire. I might be eternally depressed, but I wasn't a masochist.

I had never killed children, after leaving Maria. And I had stopped killing women a few years ago, for the most part. I had noticed that their emotions were bigger, at the moment of death, and those female emotions had a tendency to stay with me longer. Also, women were harder to get alone at night, unless they were the nasty kind who liked to stand on street corners- and their blood usually stunk like liquor, anyway. And, if I was honest with myself, I hated the idea of killing a lady who might have kids at home.

Stop it! They're not people, you idiot! I clenched my teeth while my so-called "gift" unwillingly processed the guilt as it doubled back on itself. This was new, the guilt. I hadn't really felt much of it back when I was going every other day. It was days like this, when I was the most thirsty, and had the tremors, that I wished I could go longer, save more lives. And that always got me thinking about those lives. Husbands, fathers, neighbors, friends… they had jobs, kids, pictures of their families stuck in their wallets, plans to play golf with their buddies on Saturday…

All right, that was it. I wasn't going to make it until tonight. I was becoming a basketcase. I would wait until noon, and I would just have to use the darkest alley I could find- one with a dumpster, for the cleanup. My right hand clenched the matchbook in my pocket in anticipation. Only one match left. I would have to drink a smoker today, to get some more. Shouldn't be too hard, since almost all of them smoked.

I began my hunt in the Western edge of the city. My eyes were dark enough that I could go where I wanted, if I kept my gaze down. And I was still in control enough, fortunately, to shop around. This was new, going around in the daytime. Having a third day, when my control and my eye color were balanced just right. But if I didn't hurry this up, the balance was going to tip.

I stepped into a drugstore first, testing the air to see if there was anyone promising inside. I checked a department store next- usually not the best turnout there, if I wanted to get a male. Next, a hardware store. A barbershop. Come on…

I finally found my prey, two hours later, in the ground floor of an office building. He was sitting at the desk in the lobby, wearing a security guard uniform. And judging by his tired eyes, and the fatigue and boredom floating around him, he was working a double shift.

Excellent. An exhausted human was a trusting human. I stepped inside, pretending to look at the list of companies and office numbers on the wall, shaking my head in confusion. I hated engaging my prey in conversation, like this; it always got the guilt going again. But it was necessary if I was planning on luring him into a dark alley later. In the daytime.

"Can I help you, sir?"

I turned around, keeping my eyes down and sending him a subtle wave of trust. "Yes, I'm looking for Dr. Wells. He's a…" I dropped my voice, stepping closer. "A cancer doctor."

I felt his pity, right on schedule. Didn't even need to help this time.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said gently. "But I think you've got the wrong building. I have a phone book, though. Wells, you said?"

"No, that's all right," I interrupted in annoyance. "I know it's on this street- he must be in the other building. My memory's just not the best lately, what with the treatments and all. Thank you."

Another wave of pity hit me, and I smiled sadly as I turned and headed for the door. This guy was going to be way, way too easy. And he smelled divine. Not even a smoker: bad for the match situation, but very, very good for the taste. I paused with my hand on the door, taking one last whiff to tide myself over until his lunch break, and walked back out into the street.

I devised my plan as I walked, looking for the nearest diner. I had been pleased not to smell a bag lunch anywhere near my prey. I was instantly rewarded: a greasy-spoon joint just around the corner. No doubt he would make a beeline for it as soon as he got the chance. And there was a nice, shady alley between the diner and his building.

Maybe this day wasn't turning out so bad, after all.

I would be ready for him, standing just inside the alley, looking confused again and sending him as much pity as I could muster. I would cough, if necessary, to get his attention. He would approach me, having remembered my ill health and forlorn expression earlier. I would confess that I had never found the doctor, and missed my appointment. He would offer to help, being the nice guy that he was, and he would draw closer to me. I would savor his awe, for just a minute, as he took in my beauty up close, and when the coast was clear, I would simply pull him into the shadows, kill him, and feed.

And then, it would begin.

I would come down from the frenzy, to find myself drowning in the fear and horror that he had given me in his death throes. I would collapse from the weight of it, and curl up into a shivering ball, waiting for the worst to pass. Then I would stand up, burn him in the dumpster, and move on. Since it was daylight, I would prop the lid open just a crack- the smoke would vent out slowly enough to go unnoticed on a cloudy day. Though judging by the stink in the alley, the dumpster was due to be emptied soon. I would need to move to another part of the city before feeding again.

And that was all. This was what I did, because this was what I was. Kill, feel, wait, thirst, kill. Day in and day out, for the rest of eternity. Granted, it was much better than kill, kill, kill. But it wasn't much.

And when the day came when I couldn't stand it anymore, I had my plan. I would take matters into my own hands, and go back to Maria to end it. But, then again, the thought of seeing her again was repulsive. Maybe I could just wander South and get myself killed by whoever was in a bad mood that day- though there was the risk of not being truly killed, if it wasn't a formal battle. I didn't relish the thought of my pieces burning in pain as they crawled back together over the course of several hours.

Maybe I could find a skirmish going on. There was usually a fire going by the time the action was over, and the victors always cleaned up. I might still be in pain for a while that way, but at least I wouldn't have to see Maria.

It was as good a plan as any.

But not today. This guy was going to be good, and I wasn't sure if I was that depressed yet. I would see how I felt after feeding. I probably had a good two hours before he went on his lunch break, so I began to cross the street. Now that my body knew a meal was coming, the venom was flowing in earnest, but the tremors had subsided. Maybe there was a library around somewhere. That was one thing I enjoyed, at least- learning. And a library was a nice habitat for me: poor lighting, and usually calm in terms of emotions. It wasn't often that I struck this balance, where my eyes were dark enough to be in public, and yet I was controlled enough to risk it in the daytime, when libraries had patrons around. If I could get to four days, maybe I could do this more often…

My nose twitched. Vampire. Very faint- hours old. Probably someone who was just passing through like I was, but I would need to be careful. I lived in constant fear of being recognized, even this far North. There were plenty of enemies that I had left alive- never on purpose, but it happened quite frequently. The armies that we had faced were just the same as ours- loosely-bonded savages whose only real drive was self-preservation. It was rare that I ever faced an army that had someone as old as me in command, unless it was the leader himself. And even when there was a good commander, desertion was common, once it became clear that death was imminent.

I had always wondered what had happened to deserters. I even asked Maria once, when she was in a particularly good mood. She had assured me that the whole populated world was one big battlefield, and that anyone who ran from one battle just found themselves in the middle of another.

And, being the sycophantic idiot that I was, I had believed her.

Now that I knew the truth, I had no way of knowing how many of our kind were wandering about. I assumed that many were peaceable, and had never had any contact with the Wars. Peter and Charlotte had encountered a few like that, before returning for me- but I wasn't about to press my luck. When I smelled vampire, I went the other way.

So now that I smelled it, here in Philadephia, my instincts started itching to run out of town. And I would, after I fed. I decided against my library trek, as well. It was better to stay in one place, and not spread my scent around. I slowed my steps and began loitering around the stores on my block, taking care not to cross directly in front of my prey's building.

Before long, there was a crash overhead, followed by a flash of lightening. I looked up, to feel the first raindrops on my face.

Great. Just great. The humans around me put up their umbrellas. And those that hadn't been prepared pulled up their collars and started running for cover, grumbling about the weather. It was just water, for crying out loud. And now I had to get out of the rain too, or I would attract attention. I could go back to the alley. I could wait there, but then I would be a drowned rat by the time my prey came by later. It would help with the pity-me part, but I hated being drenched. My lack of body temperature, my coat and my longish hair made drying off an hours-long process. I glanced back toward the diner- maybe I would just duck in there for a while. I would have to put up with the greasy stink of the food, but that actually might help to keep my thirst at bay while I waited. And if I sat in one of the booths, I would have a nice view of the entrance to my prey's building.

The rain was my friend, I supposed, in the case of there possibly being another vampire about. His scent was already gone. My scent would wash away just as easily while I was holed up in the diner, and then I could feed without fear of being interrupted. I still felt nervous, but I knew the chances of encountering the stranger had just gone down. It was funny, though. Now that I actually was at risk of getting into a fight, I wanted to avoid it. Maybe I wasn't as depressed as I thought.

I turned the corner, pulled up my collar like the rest of them, and headed for the diner. I glanced through the windows, not wanting to walk into an enclosed space filled with delicious, rain-logged humans. I didn't have a complete view of the interior, but it appeared empty, save for the filthy, obese proprietor who was just turning around, away from the counter. I would go in, ask for a cup of coffee, and swish it around in my cup until the rain stopped, or until I saw my prey exit his building. I wished I had thought of it five minutes earlier; my hair was already wet, sending rivulets of rain down the overcoat. I brushed absently at the extra moisture, hoping my last match hadn't gotten wet.

I swung the door open, annoyed by the jingle that announced my entry. But my annoyance quickly turned to fear as the smell of fresh vampire hit me- the same one as before. My eyes darted to the tiny female sitting at the counter, who was just turning to look at me. She was slender, with a pretty pink dress and short black hair which stuck out as if it was trying to get away from her head. My feet ached to run, though I knew she was no real threat; I could kill her before she had a chance to blink.

But I was too curious to leave yet- there was something odd about this girl. For one thing, her eyes were the most peculiar shade of… gold? And her smile when she saw me was out of place, as well. Wasn't she frightened of me? I was a male, after all, and much bigger than her. And there was only one witness- a disposable one, at that.

No, she wasn't frightened. In fact, her emotions were the most perplexing thing of all. I was being bombarded with excitement, relief, anxiety, certainty, and something else. Something I had only felt once before, from Peter and Charlotte, and only directed at each other.

It was love, and it was aimed right at me.

Love?

Me?

I felt a sudden urge to turn and look behind me, to see who she was really looking at. But I didn't, because she was already hypnotizing me with her golden eyes.

She hopped down from her stool, approaching me head on. Did she seriously think a frontal attack was a good idea? I stiffened, both in the face of her ridiculous strategy, but also in confusion as her misplaced emotions drew closer and closer. There must be some mistake…

She stopped sixteen inches away from me, her smile lighting up her little face. She took a deep breath, and spoke in a high, tinkling voice that shot right through my apprehension.

"You've kept me waiting a long time."

What was I supposed to say to something like that? Her love was so close now, I felt like I was floating in it. My feet were lifting off the ground, and my head was spinning with her scent.

And so I said the only thing I could think of. Because for some odd reason, I suddenly felt reduced to the nineteen-year-old boy that I was, staring at a pretty girl and stammering for something poetic to say. I ducked my head bashfully, and murmured, "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Her smile grew even bigger, and she extended her hand. And, much to my surprise, I found my hand meeting hers, and that was it.

I was lost.

Her touch sent a shock wave through me, lighting up every cell with life and color. Her love and relief tripled instantaneously, and a new emotion was borne out of the mix. This one was tricky, because I was very, very unfamiliar with it. Uncertainty? Anticipation?

It was hope, I finally decided. It seemed at odds with the certainty and relief that were coating every emotion she was sending me. What was she hoping for, as her tiny fingers laced through my own? All I knew was that my other hand reached up to meet her other one, and we both leaned forward, breathing in each other's scent more fully. I tightened my grip on her fingers and pulled her closer, and closer, until my hesitant embrace was a blanket around her slim shoulders. She was almost a foot and a half shorter than me; she was practically lost inside my arms. I had only held vampires like this before for one reason, and one reason only: to behead them.

And here she was, leaning into my chest, her eyes closing and trust pouring out of her. I suddenly felt a most peculiar urge to protect this strange girl, who was trusting me with her life. And her heart, it seemed. There it went again! The hope, surging stronger and stronger.

"Well! Looks like he made it after all."

The human's voice snapped us back to reality, and I discovered that I had been bending down, my cheek on the top of her head. I straightened back up, released one of the girl's hands, and reached behind me to open the door again. As we stepped out into the rain, staring at each other, it finally dawned on me. The hope wasn't coming from her at all.

It was coming from me.