Title: After the Storm
Chapter Two – Shades of Guilt
Pairings: Jasper/Edward, Jasper/OCs
Disclaimer: This story mine. Characters of Twilight and associated - not mine. Don't sue. Unless you really want the kids.
Author's note: Dark Edward, possibly dark Jasper, M-rated for violence and other graphic content and use of crude language.
Many thanks to my wonderful betas and helpers, especially my heartfelt thanks to my main woman rhenea5018 - you are a saint for putting up with all the changes! Thanks to KuroiBlackNightingale for being the grammar nazi and your patience at rereading, and rechecking, and to gypsysue, VanpireNZ and vampisthenewblack for their support!
"One thing that comes out in myths is that at the bottom of the abyss comes the voice of salvation. The black moment is the moment when the real message of transformation is going to come. At the darkest moment comes the light."-— Joseph Campbell
It seems to Jasper that the house is more silent than usual. He feels a cold shiver slide down his back and is perturbed by the disquiet he suddenly feels. However, Jasper is not so lost in his thoughts that he is unaware of who and what is in the room with him. He is acutely aware that behind him is Edward, who has been his constant companion for the last few hours. Seated by the corpse of Isabella Swan, the vampire is unwaveringly still and it is this stillness that mesmerises, yet disconcerts, Jasper. He waits, listening to minute creaks and groans from the old house until Edward speaks again.
"I think it's time you tell me something Jasper. After all, I have shared a lot with you over the course of this night." His tone indicates to Jasper that Edward will not tolerate any evasion. "Tell me - how does it make you feel knowing that you harbour evil in your house? Does it not bother you in the slightest having her soulless body in your home? After all, you allow an evil monster into your home. Is that to appease your own tortured soul over your inaction? You watching all, but not acting to save her?" Although the words seem accusatory, Edward's tone is not. His eyes seem to indicate his curiosity as if he could not understand Jasper's reasoning behind bringing Isabella's dead body inside Jasper's home.
Jasper considers many alternatives before discarding them in favour of the truth. Quietly, he replies, "There is evil everywhere. Saying you are an evil monster does not make it so." He pauses to gather his thoughts. Jasper knows you don't have to say it to be an evil monster. His past proves that. Memories loom in his mind's eye and it almost renders him speechless. He takes a deep breath before plunging ahead, "Edward, folk around here would crucify someone like me just for having her in my home, without saying anything. They would stone me, or burn my house down if they were to know of her death and by what hand... they would torch me as I stand if they knew of you and of what you are. I think that is evil in itself. If I were to choose between them and you, I... I..." His voice chokes slightly as he considers the possibility.
Deliberating his following words, he buys some time by taking a generous sip of his drink. Unease floods through him as the implications of knowing that, should he choose this vampire, this creature, over human beings that had helped raise him - the possibilities of 'accidents' that would befall them were endless. They would not have a chance against this vampire should they try to get rid of him. A sudden wave of exaltation sweeps through him at the thought of the town getting its just dues and it is this feeling that causes Jasper the most consternation. Guiltily, Jasper's eyes drop to his drink, as if seeking his absolution for his wayward thoughts within its amber contents.
Those same people were quick enough to implicate him in his parents' accident, but were slow to eradicate the feelings of mistrust to this day. Nonetheless, the possible consequences of his choice vex him somewhat. It would be his inaction that could cause the death of many, and needlessly. He did not want those deaths on his conscience. Already inaction on his part had caused accidents before, resulting in the loss of lives, including Isabella's. Jasper would not forgive himself for his part in Isabella's death.
He takes another breath, easing the tightness in his chest. Pursing his lips tightly as he harnesses the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him, Jasper finally replies, "Between two evils, I will choose the one I have not yet experienced. I think I would choose you."
Moving to stand before Jasper, Edward places a finger under his chin, forcing Jasper to look into his eyes. Flushing under the intense red-eyed scrutiny, Jasper's inner walls start to crumble as his past comes to the forefront of his mind, his face guilt-ridden as intense feelings rise and crash against his walls. He hears Edward sigh before Edward murmurs, "Oh Jasper, at the darkest moment comes the light."
The matter-of-fact way in which Edward says this, combined with the profoundness of the words, tugs at Jasper's soul. With a slight and momentary hesitation, Jasper allows Edward to pull him into an embrace and as Edward holds him gently, Jasper finally allows the tightly-held-in emotions to flow without reserve.
Just as Jasper knew that Edward's torment over his actions resulting in Isabella's death would be forever seared into his memory...Jasper's own inaction of that night would be forever burnt into his own. As he weeps in Edward's arms, crippling guilt flows over him as he recalls the preceding afternoon... when he had passed by and ignored her – Edward's Isabella Swan.
He had been too busy, that rapidly greying afternoon, hurriedly walking along the desolate path that led both to the water's edge and past his home. The bleak sky had already turned charcoal-grey from clouds that roiled sluggishly in it. The atmosphere had been dark and disquieting, lying heavy with the expectation of an impending storm.
'Evil is intent on ruffling a few feathers tonight; the storm over yonder sure is having a party,' he had thought as he gazed at the horizon.
Apprehensively, Jasper had regarded the lightning that splintered across the distant sky. He'd shivered violently against the battering winds that were fighting to wash him out to the waiting water; goose bumps erupting across his skin as the moisture swirling in the air penetrated his thick coat and threatened the thin layer of warmth that lay beneath. He had stridden along the marshy grass, clutching the lapels of his coat desperately around his neck, in a rush to reach his waiting home.
The large empty home stood overlooking the dark lake, but it had held a promise of warmth and shelter as large charcoal-coloured clouds, burdened and weighted, moved laboriously like molasses in the sky; the cover over Jasper's hurrying figure. In the distance, the deep reverberation of thunder had rumbled, the vibrations reaching across the intervening miles as the storm moved its way inexorably towards him.
The winds had gusted all afternoon. Wildly whipping through the trees, they forced limbs to bend back at unnatural angles. Terrible was the noise of the squalling winds, whistling uncontrollably as it built in strength and churned up the waters of the lake; the abandoned boats on the dark surface tossing and turning frighteningly. He had run the final few yards to his home, eager for shelter.
Finally home, Jasper had observed the build up of the imminent storm with growing apprehension from the window in his study. Despite the heat at his back, Jasper had shivered violently. There was a local saying, "The mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceedingly small." Loosely translated, it meant, 'it may take a long time, but evil will always be punished.'
And Jasper had sensed the evil approaching...
The dim light had waned rapidly under the advancement of the thunderous clouds. He had cast his critical eyes over the overgrown land that surrounded his beloved lake and his eyes had landed upon her, a girl that stood alone, on the shores of the lake. Others had hurried past, too consumed with their own lives and concerns, like he had been, as she stood waiting for something, tears falling from her eyes trailing prettily down her pale face.
Light, showery rain fell and in spite of himself, Jasper shivered. Had he been the true Southern gentleman, he would have brought her inside, or at least persuaded her not to stand upon the banks whilst the ensuing storm raged around her. She could have sheltered in the warmth of the large study behind him, felt the warmth of the fire at her back. Instead, Jasper had brooded on the disquiet he felt as he absentmindedly swirled the amber liquid in his glass, gazed out the window, lost in thought, as the battle started outside.
Darkness and Light. Thunder and lightning. Good and evil.
Evil, like tendrils of inky blackness that wound out, intending the capture of innocents. Good, like the illuminating shards that pierced the heart of darkness and forced dark-dwelling creatures to shy away - Dark from dark... Light from light... true God from true God....
As Edward comforts him, Jasper in turn grasps Edward to him as the saying comes back to haunt him. Sobbing softly, Jasper whispers, "What else is there, if after tonight punishment is still to come?"
Edward holds him now, as Jasper weeps; for the past, the present and the future; the grieving; the guilt, all consuming, all encompassing. The emotions fill him and overflow, but never completely leave. With one night, the storm had broken over his beloved home, the war had raged in the skies above him, and he had lost. He weeps for his cowardice, his avarice and his pride.
Pulling away from Edward, Jasper wipes his face, heart aggrieved. He looks at the man whose arms have consoled him for the past hour as he let loose the torrent of emotions he has held at bay since his return home.
"I have to go," he whispers brokenly. Edward's eyes are unfathomable as Jasper looks at his face. His chest suddenly tight, his heart heavy, he pulls out of the other man's embrace and quickly walks out of the room.
Undecipherable, Edward's gaze follows Jasper out of the room, watching him intently and Edward's mind is actively whirling. This is better than Edward could have hoped. His acute hearing picks up the sounds of his human as he races up the stairs. "You're mine, Jasper," he purrs, "...just as you have been for the past decade. You've always been mine."
In his room, Jasper stands clad in only his pants, stress and worry marring his face. Boots lie haphazardly on the floor, indicative of his haste to remove every part of his stained and sodden clothing. He had wanted to divest himself of the guilt and sorrowful feelings and his clothing had been - in his mind - a symbol of that.
Now, he leans himself back against his dresser, frustration apparent in every inch of his lithe being. His arms are taut as his white-knuckled grip tensely clenches the edges of the dresser top, and his bare chest heaves in agitation. His thoughts heavy ever since he collapsed in Edward's arms, Jasper is disconsolate in his ruminations.
Vampires - they exist. His thoughts fluctuate wildly from vampire lore disclosed by one vampire Edward Cullen to his own incomplete and woefully lacking knowledge of vampires.
For many years, Jasper has been fascinated by the story of the vampire. It had been his grandmother, his Baba, who had regaled him with tales from the old country. It was part of what she considered his heritage and over time he had come to realise it was mostly superstition - European knowledge and superstition – nonetheless he had still absorbed it with passion.
Baba always spoke of pale, beautiful beings that could draw a person in with their breath, their glance, their very essence. Vampires, beings that wooed in order to lap at your skin; with ruby lips they'd suckle warm blood out of minuscule cuts they administered. Some had fangs, some utilised sexual advances; whatever method they used, they could and would successfully entice a human to give them their soul.
He had listened avidly on her lap as she regaled him with superstitions and folklore, hoping in his heart of hearts that one day he would be able to meet one of them. When Baba spoke of whole villages who believed that being a vampire might even be a destiny; that some were born with two hearts and when you died, the other heart would awaken and you would be one of them, all he had thought about as a young dreamer was how he would find one.
Baba's fascination had rubbed off. Jasper had spent years tracing lore, superstitions, any story relating to the supposed fictional being. After talking with Edward incessantly for several hours - once he had been reassured that he was not on the menu this evening – Jasper knows he is as enchanted as he ever was with vampire mythology. What Edward had shared with him tonight though is not only modern; it is valid, in the here and now. Some of his preconceptions had been shattered and shown to be misconceptions. Filtering superstitions and folklore from truth, Edward guided him through it all. Denouncing those that were false and spurious, and confirming the truths couched in the stories.
Edward's vampires did not need fangs; Edward's creatures could walk in the light of day; and no amount of wooden stakes, garlic cloves, nor holy water would lay them to rest. Only execution by decapitation, the tearing-off of limbs and burning them to ashes would incapacitate Edward's sort of vampire. Idly, Jasper wondered if there was any other sort. Edward had mentioned only that vampires had different names in different locales. The Strzyga from Slavic regions - his Baba had often mentioned these; Strigoi in Poland; Adze in Ghana and Dhampir from Southeastern Europe, but in essence they were all the same - all like Edward.
'And Jasper likes Edward,' taunts his mind.
Yes, everything about Edward fascinates Jasper: the knowledge, the manner in his delivery, the silent allure; and although Jasper is still partially fearful, he cannot help but feel in awe of, and attracted to, this glorious creature.
Edward Cullen. Vampire.
The phrase sends shivers down his spine and he likens it to the ecstasy of copulation. 'Oh what a turnabout', Jasper's amusement at his predicament is dry.
Earlier, Jasper had precipitated himself into the struggle of his thoughts and in the end, his fascination with everything vampire-related won over his regard for personal safety. Although that conversation with Edward has ceased for now, the past night had been filled with questions, each answer provoking more questions, and Jasper realises that as much as he has learned, it is only part of what Edward had to offer. Now he has found his own vampire, Jasper does not know if he is elated or vexed at this long-awaited find.
'My long-held fascination is going to be my downfall,' he thinks, not missing the trace of irony.
'You finally admit it,' states his mind triumphantly. 'The vampire is not only fascinating but you have a soft spot for him.'
Confronted by his unexpected choice in his personal battle of choosing Edward to humans, he is also sorely troubled by his own expectant thought of requesting Edward to turn him into a vampire.
He leans his head back, staring at the ceiling as he moodily recalls the moment that his feelings turned, his admiration, and attraction for Edward, for what he is, completely overriding his fear and what should be loathing for his diet. The feel of Edward Cullen holding him… He snorts at himself, moderately disgusted. He knows he is not disgusted at the embrace, but rather at his own feelings while in that embrace. That he, Jasper Whitlock, was in need of touching so much that a vampire, a man, could hold him and render his carefully constructed control useless.
'How did I get here?' he wonders, his eyes tracing the cracks in his ceiling. He distractedly makes a mental note to check the origin of those cracks before he returns to his musing.
Baba may have spoken about her knowledge of vampire lore and superstitions, but never in Jasper's recollection had she spoken of their inherent humanness. That upon meeting a vampire, he would be able to relate to their human nature, to understand their feelings; to empathize with Edward's helplessness in his inability to control his nature enough to prevent the demise of another person. Wryly he thought about the reason for his return to his childhood home.
He had been fighting with his attraction to another man. A man called Philip Wilkes. In his mind, it was not right. He had been taught that feeling that way about another man was wrong. Vividly he recalls the moment of pushing Philip against a wall, of pushing his tongue into his mouth, of feeling his erect hardness pushing against his pants at the feel of the Phil's cock under his hand. Moreover, the moment where he had not been able to stop but had continued to push the other man's boundaries as well as his own.
Philip had known of Jasper's later abhorrence for their actions. Not content with feeling his own self-reproach, Jasper had instead heaped a helping of condemnation on the more experienced man. Philip had tried to help, had wanted to help Jasper, but Jasper had denied the man. Jasper would later overcome his own irrational fear, but at that time, he could not and would not appease or assuage the man's guilt. The result being the reason for Jasper's return; Philip Wilkes had plunged to his death in the harbour, incapable of dealing with the events and ensuing regret and remorse between him and Jasper.
Jasper sighs heavily. He has fought the feelings for a long time. He knows that in this society, there is only the right way, society's way and that the correct nature of any male would be to woo and court a woman, with a view to marrying her; not form clandestine relations in a back alley with a person of the same sex. In this state and others, it is not only illegal, but it is viewed as an illness, a deformity of the mind, a depravity and an ultimate sin that will doom you to eternal hell.
Now, much to his horror and bemusement, he has found himself attracted and more to, not only a man, but a vampire. 'Am I that removed from human communication, from human touch that I will accept an inhuman creature's paltry offering of consolation? A vampire for crying out loud,' he cries silently to the ceiling. 'Good grief Jasper, could you perhaps fall into a more obviously doomed relationship?' He snorts, cynicism apparent. 'Oh well at least if you are going to hell, it is with someone who has been there before.'
He is well aware of what Edward is capable of doing. Loudly Jasper exclaims, "I've seen it with my own eyes, for crying out loud! Edward killed his own love, a woman who had the power to attract him and make him want to attain some modicum of control for his hunger and ultimately made him fall in love." Not daring to voice the rest, his mind says it for him, 'And yet, at the crucial moment, even a vampire in love could not refrain from sucking his love dry as the rest of his victims. What hope is there for a mere human, like you?' Jasper's mind mocks him.
With an irritated growl, Jasper angrily shoves off the bureau, rattling it with the force. He shakes his head crossly, annoyed at his idiocy.
'What am I doing?! It is not as if Edward feels a similar attraction. I am the one witness to his fall from grace. He's a vampire. I am nothing but a food source to him. Why would he want me like that?!'
Hearing no answer from the depths of his mind, he crashes his hand against the wall. Wincing at the brief flash of pain, he takes a deep breath and furiously picks up his scattered clothing, piling it into a heap in the corner. He squats down, intending to sort through the articles. 'Fuck,' he swears to himself testily, resting back against his heels, his wrists upon his knees. 'I should have left her body there. It had nothing to do with me. Or I should have told someone about her.' Knowing this is an empty thought, he stands; he would never have told anyone.
'I wouldn't be in this position if I had left well enough alone. I wouldn't have met Edward, been held within his arms, smelled that incredible scent and-' abruptly he stops mid thought as he realises that he is talking himself into feeling something for Edward as opposed to talking himself out of it.
"Good Lord!" Growling in frustration, he paces back and forth across his carpet, running a shaking hand in aggravation through his damp hair. Jasper stops, leaning against the windowsill and looks down upon the moonlit tattered remnants of his mother's garden. His tone wistful as he traces circles upon the glass, he whispers, "What would you have said, Mama? What words of advice would you or Pa have offered?"
Sighing, he knows that he will never hear words of comfort from his folks. They had died, leaving him alone. He had run home, tail between his legs, eager for the comfort and solace he would find in his mother's embrace and for the stoic words of advice from his undemonstrative father. Instead, he had returned to a town filled with speculation and suspicion as he walked his horse into the town square. Only one person would give him information, the news that his folks were gone, that they were missing - the Widow Simmons, their neighbour. She had placed her hand on his upper thigh, halting him in his tracks and he had leaned down to hear her distressing words, but when he heard what she'd had to say, he had been terrified for his family. He had shaken her hand off, wheeled his horse around, anxious to ride hard to his childhood home, but instead he had been restrained, questioned as to his reasons for returning, and under heavy suspicion that he was part of, if not the cause for, their disappearance.
Leaves rustle outside his window and they draw his attention, breaking him out of his silent reverie. He stands slowly, thoughts of his past dissipating as he brings himself back to the present.
Briefly, a flash of sadness crosses his eyes. He misses them immensely. As he thinks about what his mother would have thought of him and Bonnie, he sighs a mournful sigh. Bonnie is the widow Simmons who, up until now, has been the only one who has offered him solaces, much needed sympathy, and had petitioned for his innocence. Bonnie was his entry to the world of man, his first real lover, for he has not allowed himself to count Philip Wilkes as a lover, until now. Bonnie had never wanted to be anything more to him. They had conducted their comings in secret, a clandestine affair. They were unable to conduct a more public affair, choosing instead to be discreet and not draw attention to him, the one whom the town still secretly thought of as the murderer of his family. Now, he could not in good conscience carry on an affair with her, knowing that he feels so strongly about this man, this vampire.
Jasper wants more than Bonnie would ever offer. The feel of someone holding him, caring for him and with her it was always a brief interlude, amusing her until the right new man came along. Edward's hold feels right, and yet Jasper is warring with his own head. 'Is it too good to be true?'
His mother would have liked Edward, but even she would have foisted a large number of eligible young ladies at him, in the hopes he would accept one, and she would have heavily guilt tripped him with her desire to be a grandmother.
Smiling at his whimsy, Jasper blows a silent kiss to his mother's garden in memory. He stands up straight and turns to walk back to the door, intending to walk back downstairs. He pauses and smiles again, this time in melancholy. He knows he and Bonnie will not continue their relationship, not now. He knows that Edward has changed him and he will not be happy being second best. He is the only other person, aside from Bonnie to set foot in this house. In addition, he is not even human.
Standing silently at the door, his hand gripping the knob tightly, Jasper intends to go back downstairs, but he cannot; not yet. His palm braced on the door, he shuts his eyes, head thrown back as his mind feverishly hopes that he is reading Edward correctly and he wonders if Edward will let him go after this is over. 'But you don't want this to be over,' his mind taunts him. He ruefully acknowledges that his mind is correct. Taking a deep breath, he jerks open the door and walks out, his heart on his sleeve. He is hopeful his body, soul, and heart will come out of this unscathed.
One story below from where Jasper stands, Edward has stopped pacing. He stands with his head cocked to one side, frowning as he listens intently to Jasper mentally berating himself. Edward smiles as he hears Jasper thinking about his parents.
'That was our best idea yet,' congratulates the voice in his head. Smirking a little, Edward intones lowly, "Yes, I daresay it was one of our better plans." Ignoring the voice shortly, he concentrates on the thoughts of Jasper. The smile turns into a self-satisfied grin, growing wider as he hears Jasper hoping that he will return his feelings. Elation spreads through his body like wildfire and he pivots on the spot for a moment, celebrating this success. As he hastens to tamp it down, he smugly tells the silent room, "Jasper is mine now. As he should always have been. I will take care of him."
Edward's intentions included being the only source of solace available to Jasper; believing it when he tells himself that he is doing what is best for Jasper, he chooses to ignore the nagging thoughts in his mind. He does not wish to recognize the warning that screams at him.
With his mind set, Edward waits for Jasper to appear. Jasper will not be pleased once he finds out what it is he wishes to do. He pushes that thought further away as he hears Jasper's footfalls at the base of the stairs.
"Jasper?"
Smiling, he approaches the young man. Jasper has finally returned downstairs, but to Edward's annoyance, he is quiet, and refuses to meet Edward's eyes. This avoidance chafes at him.
"Jasper," he repeats himself, his tone enquiring. Jasper sighs deeply before turning to face him. He reaches up and brushes the hair away from the young man's face. His mind sighs, 'So pretty...' Edward thinks back, 'and all ours.'
Aloud he says, "Please stop the recriminations on yourself over Isabella's demise. It's not your fault. It could not be helped. Only she is at fault here, Jasper. I was waiting until I knew I could control myself. You reminded me of that."
"I know Edward, but I can't help feeling that if I had extended my hand out to her, that she would be standing here alive, instead of..."
He notes Jasper's eyes are focused beyond him and he feels an irrational bolt of jealousy flooding his body. 'Stop looking at her,' he thinks angrily. 'Look at me!' Somewhat irritated, Edward pulls the man into a loose embrace, as if offering a small measure of comfort, but he turns them around while he does so, thereby changing Jasper's point of focus. 'There, now he can't look at her,' he thinks pettishly.
He strokes Jasper's hair, feeling the individual strands against his sensitive fingertips."It was her choice, Jasper. She knew what was possible."
Edward feels rather than hears Jasper's deep indrawn breath causing a stir deep within his own self. Desperate for Jasper to stay with him, not to lose him to his distraught thoughts, Edward pulls back. He peers anxiously to look into the deep blue eyes of his human.
"Listen to me Jasper," making his voice insistent, Edward wills the other to listen to his words. "Isabella and I were doomed from the beginning." Even as the words tumble from his lips, Edward cannot help but think it wasn't doomed before he had spied the blond Jasper - that first day Edward visited the Swan residence. Nevertheless, spy Jasper he had, and from that moment any thoughts or feelings he may or may not have had for Bella Swan, had been instantly torched with the sight of the near perfect Jasper Whitlock. It was this thought that forced Edward to concentrate on the man before him.
"Jasper, I have been perfectly honest with you tonight. I have told you everything about Bella and myself." Edward knows worry is filtering through his tone. He is relieved to discover Jasper thinks the concern is about him, and does not suspect otherwise. "She knew what the risks were, why I was holding back, but she pushed me, forced me to the point. It is only unfortunate that you were caught amid the turmoil that she created. It was only supposed to be me that went down with her. Please... do not go down there too. I could... I could not bear it."
He stares searchingly into Jasper's eyes, watching, waiting, and he sees it. The imperceptible clearing of the other man's eyes, the moment when Jasper believes his words and Edward's heart rejoices.
Jasper speaks to him, intensity in his tone, "I will not have you held responsible, Edward. Just as you believe I am not responsible for my inaction, I believe that you are not to blame for your instincts."
He leans forward, closing the distance and his arms feel soft, almost delicate as they wind around Edward's waist. They stand that way for a long while, breathing in the other's scent.
Leaves whisper sibilantly as they brush against one another, the muculent moistness of the fog roiling sluggishly through the trees, much like the thoughts in Jasper's head. He sips his drink, quiet in his introspection, his mind churning as ponderously as the slow-moving waters of the dark, dank lake he spies, pale in the mist.
Positioned high in the sky, the moon casts a strangely eerie glow as it shines down on the fog-laden ground and he can tell from its position, the lateness of the hour.
There is the occasional splutter of the logs as they burn in the fireplace. Its warmth does not reach him at his window. It is only the burn of alcohol that warms him as he ponders about all of the things he has learnt over the past few hours.
Perturbed somewhat by the direction of his thoughts, Jasper tries to ignore them, but in the back of his head they clamour still as he drains his glass of its contents. He lets the warmth fill his body. As he feels the alcoholic burn in his throat, he is distracted by his curiosity; would this be similar to the burn of wanting to feed on human blood?
"That and then some, Jasper." Jasper turns at the sound of Edward's voice, detecting the low, melodious tone, almost as if he is listening to an instrument keyed just for him. Jasper is somewhat surprised that he had not noticed the pleasant tenor before.
Edward smiles and it occurs to Jasper once again that Edward's smile hints at knowing Jasper's thoughts before he voices them. He shakes his head at this seemingly illogical thought, watching with envy as the vampire rises gracefully to his feet.
"I am an instrument of speed and precision, keyed for my prey." The drawling tone of Edward's voice is almost hypnotic and Jasper finds himself once again entranced by the rhythmic manner of his speech. "My voice, my face, even my scent is designed to enthral you, entice you..."
Jasper barely sees Edward move and gasps in shock, leaning back against the window when Edward is suddenly in front of him. Edward's palms brace against the window frame as he entraps Jasper against the cold glass pane of the window. His cool, sweet breath caresses over Jasper, obviously stimulating and stirring something inside of his prey, as Jasper's heartbeat accelerates. He speaks lowly, his crimson eyes intensely focused on their deep blue counterpart, "...and my speed and strength are designed to kill you."
Still unprepared for how quickly Edward can move, Jasper's heart is in his throat and he gulps audibly. Air is suddenly denied from his lungs as he holds his breath, sensing. Edward leans further forward, his hand dropping from the frame, and Jasper, like a deer in headlights, is rooted to the spot. Throatily, Edward chuckles, leans down and plucks the empty glass from Jasper's rigid grip.
"A vivid display of my talents, yes?" As he pushes off from the wall, he smiles charmingly at Jasper, causing Jasper to buckle at the knees. "I see that still works," Edward purrs, "...regardless of sex."
He walks over to the mahogany cabinet and places the glass down, reaching for one of the decanters that sits there.
"So... Jasper..." With a light splash, Edward pours the liquid into the glass, and glances at Jasper. "I've shown you my talents. Perhaps later...," Confused, Jasper looks at him questioningly. Smugly, Edward leans back against the armoire and cocks his head towards the replenished drink. "Nevermind. More scotch?"
Bemused, Jasper accepts the newly poured drink. Cradling it, his eyes sweep the room, finally coming to rest on the woman. 'No,' he corrects himself, 'not just the woman…Isabella - Edward's almost-wife.' Jasper's curiosity rears once again and he wants to ask...
"Just ask me Jasper."
Jasper had not seen Edward move from where he had been standing and it is with a startled oath that Jasper finds himself suddenly looking at the unpredictable vampire directly before him. Edward reaches forth and brushes Jasper's hair from his face; Edward's touch so cold, so fleeting, but Jasper feels like it is blazing a trail against his skin. He shivers, but knows not if it is from the coldness; or if it is from having Edward's hand upon his skin. Jasper scrutinises his vampire's face even as he questions his own feelings, and he notes Edward's eyes rove over his own face, as if also seeking something.
"Jasper," Edward is softly insistent. "Whatever you ask, it is up to me as to whether I answer or not. Know that I believe that I will deny you nothing."
Jasper swallows, mulling over Edward's somewhat cryptic answer and suspiciously eyeing Edward as if seeking a hidden message in his words. 'What is he saying?' he asks himself. 'He will deny me nothing? Does that mean I can ask of him anything and I shall receive? Will he want something in return? What will he want in return? What would I ask? What could I ask? Would he turn me if I asked?' The thoughts hurtle through his mind at breakneck speed. 'What would it feel like if he bit me? Would I want him to bite me? Do I like that idea a little too much? Should I like that idea a little less?' Jasper suddenly jerks as he finds himself becoming erect at the thought. Attempting to relax his stance, and lessen his engorgement, he swills the liquid in his glass, attempting nonchalance. As the feeling subsides, Jasper grins in relief, his eyes sliding hesitantly to Edward. Again, that piercing gaze washes over Jasper, Edward's eyes crinkling with silent laughter and Jasper feels like Edward is laughing at him. Feeling awkward, Jasper breaks the silence. "You know, you move quickly."
Edward snorts, his eyes lighting up with even more amusement, "Master of the obvious, Jasper? Perhaps that should be your new title."
The words seem to dispel the awkward tension that had descended in the room and Jasper welcomes the change. Jasper aims to keep the convivial air and he leans back on his heels as he grins. "Now, suppose I were to state the obvious, I would have said that your offer of another drink would indicate an attempt to get me intoxicated. Do not think that I have missed the refilling of my glass this evening. Not that I mind necessarily, but I'm curious as to what ends? What would you have in mind were I to become so inebriated…" he pauses, cocking his head at the extraordinary creature before him, but cannot resist adding tongue in cheek, "So tell me…are you…trying to get me drunk?"
"Was that your question?"
Although Edward quirks his brow at Jasper and indicates confusion, Jasper suspects it's feigned. Shifting unconsciously, Jasper's posture mimics Edward's before he answers tauntingly, "It might have been…" To Jasper, it seems Edward is a little disconcerted. Intrigued by Edward's attitude, Jasper presses the point. "Will you deny me?" Jasper finds he has to bite his tongue as the vampire struggles to force blankness onto his face. He laughs inwardly at this side of Edward.
"I take it, it was not."
"I take it you are evading." Jasper accuses as he sips his drink, carefully watching Edward.
"Not evasion. Prudence." Edward turns away, moving toward the sideboard as Jasper moves with him. Leaning against the cabinet, watching as Edward moves to put the decanter in its proper place, Jasper confronts him.
"So you do not deny that you are encouraging me to drink?" He is amused to see Edward's interest in the bottles seems to escalate in an apparent attempt to purchase time to answer.
"Why would I want that?" Edward finally questions in a disinterested tone that does not match his body language. Jasper leans down to seek clarity in Edward's eyes, but is met with evasion once again as Edward's interest in the decanters is once again on display. Jasper chuckles quietly at the suddenly evasive and overly fidgety vampire.
"Perhaps you wish me to be more amenable."
"If I want you amenable, I would have to just look at you, or breathe on you. I wouldn't have to rely on alcoholism."
"No, I would suppose that you wouldn't have to. But you still want me amenable or perhaps the word should be, receptive."
"Now why would I want that?"
Exasperated, Jasper throws Edward a glare while noting that Edward still cannot and does not meet his eyes. Gulping a large swig of his drink, Jasper lets the burn flow down his throat as he leans back and looks across the room. He bites out a little more harshly than he intends, "You tell me. The fine folks down here have a certain way of doing things. I wouldn't want to make a mistake as to your intentions."
"Why don't you tell me what my intentions are?"
"Why won't you tell me? I believe I'm not the one avoiding the question."
The accusation hangs in the air.
As Edward moves away to stand by the long-forgotten corpse, Jasper feels a keen sense of loss, as if Edward's rightful place is next to him. He frowns inwardly at his thoughts, wondering if his expectations are too high.
AN: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. However, new chapters will be posted as they become available! I'm still hoping for one new chapter a week at this stage. Please read and review. Thanks TJ.