You, Me, Him, Her... Us? What?
(I'm continuing this in Jasper's POV from the last chapter)
She moves her hands in such a masterful way, it feels absolutely amazing, "You seem content, Jasper."
"You have no idea how good this feels."
'She has no idea what I want her to do with those hands.'
Why? Why, why, why? I'm fighting my instincts to claim her.
It's all her fault, "What's so funny?"
Shit, did I really chuckle? "Nothing."
I can feel her skepticism, but she doesn't push me, I'm actually afraid to open my eyes, "Alright, Mr. Hale."
"Awe, if you're going to not use my first name, I'm begging you not to call me Hale."
"Then what would you like me to call you, hm?"
'Please call us Mate or an endearment,' the Major begs.
"Whitlock, Major or whatever you feel is fitting," I blurt out, without thinking about what that could lead to.
"Really?" she pauses for a second, then moves to start running her fingers through my hair again.
"What?" her shock is pronounced, but she then returns to a full on calm, cool and collected girl again.
"You wouldn't mind me calling you 'Major'?"
'That's all she's shocked about?' the Major snorts, 'That's awesome.'
"No," I tell her.
"So I can call you anything BUT Hale?"
"Yup."
She just hums, 'I wish we knew what she was thinking.'
'Don't worry,' the Major says, he's almost to the front of my mind, 'Mate is probably thinking of what she's going to call us.'
"Do you ever call yourself 'Whitlock' when you're pretending to be twins with Ms. Rosalie?"
"No," I wonder where that came from, "Why?"
"Because you said that is the only thing I'm not allowed to call you and I'm trying to figure out as to why that is."
"Rose doesn't like the affiliation of the name with who I was," I know I don't sound composed, but now that I think about it, it kind of hurts that she realized it before I did.
"Jasper," she says, her breath catches for the slightest of seconds, "I don't know how, but I will make you see that you are not a monster. I know for a fact that you don't believe me, but that's only because you are not accepting yourself. Once you accept your past, everything else falls into place."
"You sound like you know what your talking about," I sneer.
I feel her stop mid-run. I can feel her hurt, but then she resumes, like nothing happened, but the hurt is still there, she doesn't say a word.
'Good job, dumb ass.'
'Oh, shit!'
'And things were going so well,' he sighs, 'You just had to sound like an asshole, didn't you?'
'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-'
'Mate's hurting now.'
(Chris' POV)
I'm such an idiot, I've got to fix this.
God dammit!
The pain in my chest is back, not too bad, but it's there, just enough to be noticed.
"I'm sorry, Jasper, I should have just kept my thoughts to myself."
He was up and facing me right after the words left my mouth, "No."
"No?" I don't understand.
"I want you to be comfortable to tell me your thoughts, I should be apologizing to you."
"No, you're right, I shouldn't be taking about things that I don't understand," I say, I look at the clock and it's still pretty early.
"Everyone goes through-"
"I'm going to go and get changed," I cut him off, standing after I remove his head from my lap, "I'll be back shortly."
I don't turn to look at him, I just need to get my head together. I make it to my room, close and lock the door, the window's open, but it gives me some peace of mind. I don't know what's wrong with me. Why do I feel the need to constantly apologize? To him no less? For a true statement!
I grab some sweats and get changed, then decide to sit on my bed, let my mind go back to what he said, not exactly what he said, but how he said it. My mind wanders to why I got adopted in the first place...
I was seven when it happened, my biological parents and I were walking home from a dinner party, it was a beautifully warm night in Ohio...
(Flashback)
"Did you have fun, sweetheart?" A beautiful red headed woman asks.
"Yes, it was fun!" a little girl says with excitement, "But did we really have to leave?"
"Yes, it's almost your bedtime," a gruff, blond man says, "Now, don't argue."
"Yes, daddy," the girl says with a small voice.
The little girl is holding onto her parents hands, she is pretty small for her age, lifting her up and swinging her, trying to tire her out so that the adults don't have to worry about her.
The family made it back to their place by nine-thirty, getting the little girl put into bed by ten, "Night mommy, night daddy," she says with a yawn.
"Sweet dreams, 'Tie," they say as one, closing the door.
The girl looks around her room, the Winnie-the-Pooh nightlight emitting a low light, the clear sky letting in the natural light of the moon and stars. Slowly her eyes droop, and sleep claims her.
She awakes some time later to a crash, the little girl sits up and listens closely, she hears rummaging, hushed voices and people walking.
Getting out of bed, she walks to the door, putting her ear to the wood, they sound like they are downstairs. She doesn't know what's going on, but her family did come up with an emergency plan, just in case. The family owns the house, and her father built a safe house for her. It was under her bed. Her floor is a wood paneling and he made a hatch to fit her.
She quietly goes towards her bed, but first stopping at her dresser to grab the key, actually it's a butter knife, then grabs her stuffed animal, and crawls underneath, opening the hatch, just like her father showed her. The hatch door closes and she locks it from the inside. There is bottled water and a battery operated clock in there with her, so she opens one of the waters and takes a drink, looking at the clock it shows that it is two in the morning. Another crash is heard, but this time, cussing follows.
She hears more footsteps and her parents talking, the door to her room opens and she hears her father say, "Good girl."
For what felt like an eternity, but in actuality was only minutes, there was only the sound of rummaging and footsteps, but then there were shots fired, then one more. The little girl jumps, but keeps quiet.
She hears her mother run to the steps, calling out to her father, and a person or persons running up the stairs. She hears her mother scream as another shot is fired, then another, "They have a kid too," a woman says, walking to her door.
"Are you seriously going to kill a kid?" A male voice questions.
They argue for a minute and then doors start to open and more rummaging commences, "Where are you, you little slut?" the woman asks, loudly.
The little girl stays quiet and after several minutes, "Sabrino! Did you check everywhere?"
"All we have left is the kid's room."
Her door opens and she can hear the stomping, "I know where you are, you little bitch!"
"Are you sure she isn't at a friend's place?"
The girl keeps quiet, not moving, not breathing, not when she hears them opening her closet, drawers and dropping to the floor to check under her bed, "You might be right, Sabrino."
"Let's get out of here before the cops show up," and with that they start walking away, pausing every so often to listen, just in case.
The little girl breaths shallowly, soundlessly to the human ears, waiting for them to leave. No sound is made by the little girl, the only sound in the house is the extra rummaging, just to make sure they didn't miss anything. She hears the front door open and close, but she doesn't get out right away. Her daddy had told her to always wait, just in case. It's three by this point and she waits until four to get out of her little hole.
She slowly walks to the door, opening it, she is met by the corpse of her mother, shot once in the chest and again in the head, she walks down the stairs, shaking, tears running down her face. She walks into the living room, it's a mess, like a tornado went through it, she walks around the couch to see her father, in the same state as her mother.
The little girl doesn't have shoes or socks on, all she has on is a thin nightgown and carrying her stuffed doggie. The little girl walks to the door and out into the yard, walking through the shared garden with her neighbors, Mr and Mrs Jones, a newly wedded African-American couple, to their front door and rings the door bell. After not getting a reply for a minute or so, she rings again, this time, Mr. Jones opens the door, looking at the state of the poor girl and the blood stains on his porch, he leads her in and sets her on the couch. The Mrs comes down after her husband calls her, they ask her what happened, she tells them, and then they calls the cops.
The cops arrive and an investigation follows. She tells her story many times, then finally at the trial. The two people who did it, did it because the girl's family had money and they got life in prison.
The girl got put in the foster system when no one wanted her or had the means to take her in, she celebrates her eighth birthday without her family, or any family for that matter.
One day these two beautifully pale people come in, they said that they didn't have them means to have children of their own, but that every child deserves a family to love and care for them. They were shown all the kids that they could adopt, they were paraded around like prized horses, eventually they saw all of the kids, including the little girl. The couple talked for about an hour and eventually chose to adopt the little girl.
The little girl was told to grab her stuff and to get ready to meet her new parents, "Hi, I'm Charlotte Whitlock and this is my husband Peter," the man waves, "What's your name?"
"Christie."
"Do you wish to come home with us?" the man, Peter, asks.
She just nods. The little girl didn't talk for a long time, not trusting these people, not that they blamed her, but after some time, she came back out of her shell, but she would never be the same.
She takes her new parents' name and moves to Texas.
Her life had changed drastically and she accepted her past and the life she was going to live, promising herself to live each day as her last, to not take anything for granted.
(End FB)
I don't know when I started crying or when Jasper started knocking on my door, calling for me to open up. I get off of my bed, rubbing the tears and mucus from my face before unlocking and opening the door.
He doesn't say anything, he just pulls me into his arms, one arm around my waist and the other around my shoulders, his hand on the back of my head. I let myself melt into the embrace, him telling me to let it out, I lay my head on his shoulder, my tears soaking his shirt.
I can feel my body shaking, the tears and sobs escaping, but he just holds me close, telling me everything is going to be okay.
I feel so weak.
I start to feel exhausted, I am thankful for this feeling. I am swiftly picked up bridal style, and next thing I know I'm in my bed, under the covers with Jasper laying next to me, propped up on his arm. His free hand wiping away the stray tears, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"I'm sorry," he says.
"I'm sure you are," I say, no emotion in my voice.
He lays down and motions for me to enter his arms. No, if I do this, I will start relying on him, on people, to be there for me. The thing is I don't want to be strong anymore, I'm tired of being the strong one.
I finally decide to climb into his arms and I start to feel relaxed rather fast, my head is on his chest and my right hand is on his shoulder. His left arm is supporting my torso and his right hand is rubbing circles on my back. He starts to hum a low tune, causing his chest to vibrate, lulling me to sleep.
As sleep claims my senses, I could swear up and down that I felt Jasper move and kiss the top of my head and say that he loved me, but I most likely imagined it.
(Jasper's POV)
I hope she didn't feel that, even if she did, she'll probably think she imagined it anyway, 'I wonder what she was thinking of when her emotions went so chaotic?'
'You're a fucking retard,' We argue about whether or not to tell her, but she's still a kid, 'She is not a kid, you moron! If we were back in our own time, she would have been married and have a kid or two of her own! Don't make excuses!'
Maybe he's right, maybe I just don't want her to be changed while still in high school.
Her emotions were incredibly strong, her fear was the worst. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze slightly, she shouldn't have felt like that, and she will never feel like that again, 'Unless you fuck up again.'
I sigh, 'Why do you want to tell her so bad?'
'Why DON'T you want to tell her?'
'She deserves-'
'The truth, Jasper,' we feel her move slightly on top of us, her fear spikes for a moment, but then settles again, we both sigh in relief, 'She doesn't deserve to be tiptoed around and lied to.'
'We're not lying'
'That's a load of bullshit and you know it!'
'What do you want me to do? Let you take control and scare her away?'
'I think you're doing a mighty fine job of that yourself,' he growls.
'And you would just scare her off, completely!'
'Mate, is the most important thing in the world,' he hisses, 'You've already scared her and you're probably going to push her away from us, NOT me.'
We argue back and forth for hours, he won't go back into his cage, he's too determined to get free of his mental confines and tell her.
"Stop fighting you two," she says very lucidly, but her body indicates that she's asleep, is she dreaming?
'What the hell?'
'Mate knows, Mate always knows,' the Major purrs.