Chapter Seven:Bring Me Up
And I looked up at the sky and took another ride.
I was quiet, and I was tired, and I wanted you to bring me up.
I wanted you to make it stop.
Lisa Loeb - Bring Me Up
By the time Jasper's sedan pulled out of the garage it had started raining. His grip on the steering wheel got tighter with every passing moment. Lucy watched him tensely, the sensation that if he were to grip it any more tightly it would snap beneath his grasp. His eyes were nearly pitch black as he rolled his window down all of the way, allowing the cold, damp air to rush throughout the car. She felt cold, and as the rain picked up she had to wonder how it somehow made its way to her. He seemed unmoved by the rain, though he didn't seem to notice much of anything as he stared angrily at the road ahead. Yet despite his apparent disgust at being in a car with her he was driving below the speed limit.
"All right, Grandpa; I get that you're a safe driver, but I'd really like to get home within this century." Lucy said shortly, unable to handle the silence, the slowness, or the tense air between the two. Clearly, he was not the charismatic major she had met in her youth, and his mood swings were absolutely deplorable. Her stomach dropped slightly as he instantly sped up, going to nearly 130 miles an hour on the long, empty stretch of road that looked as though it were rarely inhabited by anyone other than their family.
"Happy?" Jasper said, his tone was crisp, practically growled.
"Very." She said icily, folding her arms as she glanced at the trees that they passed in a blur. She frowned as she felt the car slow down, though at least it was still going over 80 miles an hour.
"Pardon me for worrying over your safety, I wouldn't be harmed if we were to be in an accident." He said, had it been in a warm tone, it would have sounded caring; though being spat out darkly made it sound patronizing. "You're practically mortal."
"Yes, clearly after 160 years I am dying, and the slightest bump on the head will cause me to wither away." She drawled with a slight sneer. She liked the old Jasper much more; this Jasper was nothing short of asinine. This must have been Emmett's idea of a practical joke; sending her away in a car with an angry vampire that couldn't stand being near her. She angrily glared out the window, annoyed at being stuck with him.
"If you must know," He began slowly, through gritted teeth. She didn't turn from the window, though she could see his reflection in her window. His jaw was firmly set and he looked very intimidating. "I am trying very hard to resist the urge to attack you."
"Well that's a comfort." She rolled her eyes sarcastically; the car ride suddenly felt even more uncomfortable. They weren't even near the city limits yet, though glancing at the clock, she realized that what had felt like an hour, had actually only been five minutes.
"It would be better if you rolled your window down." He told her stiffly.
"Rolled my window down?" She frowned, raising an eye incredulously. "I'll get wet, and cold."
"Wear this." He said darkly, reaching behind his seat with one hand. Sitting on the back seat was a white jacket, it looked like a very warm winter jacket; she'd seen him wear it to school frequently.
"Fine, but this time I'm giving it back to you before I leave. I will not be responsible for watching your jacket for another 140 years just in case I mysteriously run in to you again." She grumbled, taking off her seat-belt to put the jacket on. It had a soft, slightly musky scent to it; it reminded her of a forest. She pulled it on quickly, and then put her seat-belt on and rolled the window down. She stuffed her hair in to the jacket and pulled the hood over her hair to stop it from getting even more unruly in the wind. She then groaned as she noticed that he had practically slowed to his original speed as she had taken her seat-belt on.
"Do you really still have my old jacket?" He asked her curiously, his tone seemed calmer by the moment; perhaps opening the window had helped, and perhaps he didn't despise her as much as she had suspected.
"I have a lot of your old things, actually." She said, feeling sheepish for telling him it. She zipped the jacket up under her seat-belt as the wind began to make her shiver slightly. She had always hated the cold. She never got sick from it, though it was more a discomfort than anything. She hadn't lived in Texas for nearly 70 years, yet her heart was there.
"Why do you have a lot of my old things? I only gave you my jacket." He frowned, glancing over to her in slight confusion.
"Your jacket had your grandfathers pocket watch in it. I found it in the pocket before I washed it in the river, but I had thought you would be getting it back soon after." She shrugged. "Also, your mother gave me quite a bit of your belongings before she died; she refused to believe that you had died. She was certain that it was only a matter of time before fate led us to meet once again." She laughed in a sardonic manor. "I don't think she ever could have hoped that 'a matter of time' would be 140 years, though she was right. Oddly enough."
"She told you that she thought we were fated to find one another?" He asked her, his tone nearly laughing at it.
"You know how mothers are. They see a compassionate and nurturing girl who respects elders and comes from a well educated background and start to see wedding bells." She said rolling her eyes with a laugh. "She said some very crazy things towards the end of her life, you're lucky you didn't have to witness it. It tore my heart up watching it."
"You actually stayed with her when she died? Even though she had an illness that you could have caught?" He asked; confused, wonder, and an odd sense of respect in his tone.
"Of course I did, I couldn't exactly allow her to die alone. I suppose I saw a bit of myself in her, and I know that if I had lost my son, and had no one left, that I would hope someone would care enough for me to do that much. She believed so fervently that you were alive... that you hadn't been killed. So I helped her look." She shrugged, but then grinned cheekily. "You should have seen John Lewis' face when I told him that I was leaving the town with Major Whitlock's mother to search for him. He loathed you. I was wasting my fortune to go searching for some poor farmer boy that didn't even care for me."
"He ended up becoming a general with the 16th Mississippi Infantry; married a pretty young girl from Mississippi, and spent the remainder of his life as an editor for a newspaper there." She said, suddenly feeling silly in that she was gossiping about something 140 years prior. "Not that any of that pertains to the subject matter."
"Why did you help my mother? Were you truly that besotted with me?" He asked her, his brows furrowed slightly as he drove. His speed was now at a regular speed; she supposed that since she had forever she should have been patient, though she wanted more than anything to get done with her trip.
"I help people." She frowned, folding her arms tightly against her chest, tucking her hands in to her armpits as they were growing slightly numb from the cold. "It's nearly impossible to explain it without sounding like a bumbling fool. I cannot help but love everyone unconditionally, to want the best for them, and to try to heal their pain. It's as though I can feel their pain, I can see the struggle, the hurt that courses through their every moment when they find that their son; their husband, their best friend, has died; that they've disappeared, and that no one even cares. Left with nothing but a letter saying 'We regret to inform you that so-and-so has died in the line of battle. Our most grave of condolences, general whoever.' They don't even send home a metal, a badge, anything reminiscent of the person themselves, everything was given back out to soldiers that needed uniform parts." Her words were harsh towards the end, bitter and angry. They were her worst memories; seeing all of the women, the families torn apart. "Would you have turned her away? Perhaps said 'I am sorry, Ma'am. I didn't know your son that well, perhaps you should ask the general, you just rode for two days to reach me, yet I don't care.' Could you have been that cold hearted?"
"That was what first drew me to you." He said after a few moments had past. She looked from the window to him, slightly confused. He laughed, shaking his head. The tenseness had all but disappeared between the two, and she felt much more comfortable in his presence, though she couldn't get the tense image of him spitting words out like venom at her out of her mind.
"You were easily the most beautiful woman from the entire town, though you looked much like the type of woman that knew it, and felt entitled to it... yet then I saw you walking around to nearly every person there; giving your clothes to people that you may or may not have known. You were even willing to tear your exquisite dress to make bandages for those that had injuries. You gave your food to children, and you were one of the few women that didn't seem bothered by the fact that you were in the middle of the wilderness, filthy, and in the middle of the war." He told her with a laugh. She felt a blush come to her cheeks and tried to suppress it with a laugh.
"You must have been watching me quite a bit." She laughed, trying to conceal her awkwardness at the compliment; she had assumed he had all but forgotten about her, though it seemed he truly hadn't forgotten. "Though thank you, that is quite the compliment."
"You're welcome." He laughed, the air in the car was suddenly awkward and tense, though not in the same sense as it had been before. She sighed as the sign welcoming them to Forks came in to view, though a small part of her now wanted the ride to last longer; she wanted to keep talking to him while he was in decent spirits.
"The first thing I noticed about you, was that you were easily the most polite, and charming man I had ever met." she said, smiling broadly. "And you smelled horribly. I realized that I could never be a soldier thanks to you."
"Thank you." He rolled his eyes darkly. "The next time I go out to war in the south I will make sure to wash my clothes every day so that I can smell decently for you."
"So long as we're on the same page." She laughed quietly. "I was dreadfully disappointed when you disappeared; I thought that John had had you beefed. The only time I've ever hit a man was when he spoke ill of you and your mother in the town square before leaving. I punched him square in the jaw; told him that speaking ill of the dead, and the widows of the war was intolerable. He cried like a girl and never came back to see me."
"You punched a soldier?" His tone shocked, not quite appalled, though clearly taken back. In those times it had been quite unheard of for a woman to hit anyone, let alone a soldier.
"He got worse from his company. Your men were very loyal to you, and felt it disgraceful to speak so ill of you, and your family." She said with a shrug. "It may have helped that your general romanticized my having your jacket, so he thought that we were more than simply friends. He found it absolutely touching that I would fight against an old friend on your behalf, 'such a loyal and beautiful young woman, if only all women were as caring.' When John tried to tell him that there really wasn't anything there, he told him to stop being such a jealous pie eater."
"He thought that we were together?" Jasper asked, somewhat wide eyed, clearly feeling a slight bit awkward at the thought.
"In those days, women weren't allowed to speak with men without there being something." She shrugged, glancing out the window with a frown, reaching a hand to wipe water from her face that had splashed in from the rain. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. She was thankful for living on the outskirts of town when she saw her road coming in to view. She was happy when 30 seconds later she was sitting outside of her house.
"Thank you for the ride, Jazz." She smiled, opening the door as she took her seat-belt off. She stood up and began to take off the jacket.
"Why don't you keep it, and give it to me when you get back." He offered, with a slightly forced looking smile.
"Are you sure? I don't need to keep it, and the last time you let me borrow a jacket I had it for quite some time." She told him, holding her belongings with one hand as she stood frozen outside of his car, awaiting his response.
"It's fine. Have a safe trip." He told her, reaching over to shut the door.
"Thank you, I'll see you later." She smiled broadly before disappearing quickly in to her house. His car pulled away slowly as he saw her enter the house.
Jasper frowned as he drove away from her house; her smell had permeated in to the car. It burned his throat, and made his head feel dizzy with thirst. She was exactly as he had remembered. Granted, she was a bit more short tempered than before, though that was to be expected. He must have been entirely different to her. She had held herself so casually at school; with the exception of an occasional slip in to old-time slang, she had managed to uphold an entirely 'normal' appearance. Yet once she was in the house she seemed to act exactly as he would have expected her to have acted; upbeat, friendly, and belonging. She had a natural grace, that while obviously not vampiric, had a certain charm to it. All of her movements seemed orchestrated, as though life were one large play that she had memorized the script for. Even when everything was going wrong, when she was confused, or angry, she smiled, and asked how everyone else was doing.
The sun had set on the beaches as they set up camp for the third night with the civilians of Texas. He stood behind a log that had been set out for a bench. Many of the soldiers who had no family from this sect were sitting around, playing songs, and trying to relish in the almost peaceful setting. He had spent most of the day with the young dark haired girl he had met the previous night. She had been very quiet the previous night, though it seemed that after resting, she had an uplifted and cheerful disposition. He was surprised at how well learned she had been, talking about everything from the political situation in France, to atmospheric changes making it hotter in Texas than in Virginia. She spoke two languages in addition to English; Spanish, and French. She thought that slavery was wrong, and that women deserved more rights than they were given. She wanted to get married, yet she also wished that women were allowed to become nurses.
"Our Yellow Rose!" One of the men cried out, Merry Grant. A low ranking soldier who had joined earlier that year. He was from a farm outside of Galveston. John Lewis sat besides him, jumping up to dart out. Walking by were two women, as his eyes fell on the familiar form of Lucy he frowned. Her dress was a pale yellow, her bonnet matching. She glanced over, surprised. Her friend giggled, golden blonde hair dancing as she leaned in to whisper something to Lucy.
"Come on, Luce. Bring Isabelle over; sing and dance with us." John began, grabbing the small girls arm.
"No, John. I can't." Lucy laughed quietly, shaking her head as she looked down to the ground, her cheeks blushing a pale shade of pink.
"I was just telling them what a beautiful voice you've got." John said, trying to coerce her in to joining the group. At that moment the two men playing and singing began to sing 'yellow rose of Texas' as John pulled her in to the center of the large fire circle. Her friend followed a few steps behind.
"All right, hard case; show me your grit." She grinned cheekily, her eyes dancing in the light. With a slight bow as one of the men began singing, the two began a distinctly country dance; it only took a moment before many of the men were up, singing loudly as they danced with the two girls around the fire. Jasper watched as she danced with a man that she didn't seem to know, she laughed loudly, the sound carrying over their singing. Her cheeks were bright pink as she laughed, clearly enjoying herself as another man cut in. He couldn't help but smile as not seconds after the other man cut in, another tried to cut in for her.
She held her skirt up as the man did a quick banjo solo, dancing quickly with the other girl, laughing at the men around them; he couldn't help but be impressed that for being a 'city girl' she seemed very much like a country girl. She glanced up to him as the song was ending, smiling broadly.
"She's the sweetest rose of color
This soldier ever knew
Her eyes are bright as diamonds
They sparkle like the dew.
You may talk about your dearest May
And sing of Rosa Lee
But the Yellow Rose of Texas
Beats the belles of Tennessee." The men sang out loudly, watching the girls brightly. It was nice to see his men enjoying themselves, a welcome break from fighting.
"Your turn, Luce! Sing a song." Merry called out, grabbing the banjo. She leaned in to her blonde friend, whispering quietly. The blonde nodded her head, turning to whisper something in return. Her blonde friend then approached Merry and whispered something to him. Lucy approached her friend, glancing out to the men almost shyly before holding her hands to her stomach quietly, gently pushing his sleeves up so that they didn't fall over her hands. He recognized the tune immediately as she glanced to her friend, they took a deep breath in.
"Dearest love, do you remember
When we last did meet,
How you told me that you loved me
Kneeling at my feet.
Oh how proud you stood before me
In your suit of grey.
There you vowed to me
Nevermore to stray." She sang a high soprano, while her blonde friend sang a lower melody to it. It was the type of thing he would have expected to be sung in a parlor, when her fiance would have left to go to war, not at a campfire on a beach, waiting to return to their town for fear of union soldiers.
"Weeping sad and lonely
Hopes and fears, how vain. (Yet praying)
When this cruel war is over,
Pray that we meet again.
When the summer breeze is sighing
Mournfully along,
Or when autumn leaves are falling,
Sadly breathes a song.
Oft in dreams I see thee lying
On the battle plain.
Lonely, wounded, even dying,
Calling but in vain.
Weeping sad and lonely
Hopes and fears, how vain. (Yet praying)
When this cruel war is over,
Pray that we meet again.
If amid the din of battle
Nobly you should fall,
Far away from those that love you,
None to hear you call,
Who would whisper words of comfort?
Who would ease your pain?
Ah, the many cruel fancies
Ever in my brain.
Weeping sad and lonely
Hopes and fears, how vain. (Yet praying)
When this cruel war is over,
Pray that we meet again.
But our country called you, darling,
Angels cheer your way.
While our nation's sons are fighting,
We can only pray.
when you strike for god and freedom,
let all nations see,
how you love our southern banner,
emblem of the free."
They seemed to keep their eyes focused on the proud confederate flag perched outside of their tent, not glancing to the soldiers. Once the song had finished, they glanced around, smiling proudly to the soldiers, who cheered loudly, particularly at the mention of 'our southern banner.' A few of the other soldiers who had been wandering the camp had come with their friends and family to watch the two girls singing, clapping politely. Grabbing her friends hand she did a slight courtsee to the men, turning to bow politely to them as well. Her blonde friend then approached Merry; sitting shyly besides him on the log. The girl blushed as she spoke with the soldier. Lucy grinned before walking through the crowd of people, nodding politely, and thanking them for their praise.
"You sing and dance very well. You're almost a country girl." Jasper said when she stopped besides him. He couldn't help but smile when she stood besides him behind the others.
"Thank you, kind sir." She said with a bow, splaying out her skirt broadly. She placed her hand out before her as they began the next song. "May I have this dance?"
"That is what the man is supposed to say." He laughed at her as she stood there, standing still as she waited.
"You were not asking me, so I decided to ask you myself." She grinned brightly, her eyes shining in the moonlight with mirth. He found it impossible to say no as he reached his hand out tentatively. He had never been the type of man to dance with women. He was not opposed to singing and dancing; it raised moral, though he did not take part of it. She laughed as they spun around quickly, she seemed to be leading more than he, spinning under his arm with a laugh. He could hear her singing along with the rest of the soldiers.
"Come on, Soldier! Don't be a dead beat; you know this song!" She laughed to him, looking up to him brightly. He knew all of the songs, they were one of the few things that the soldiers could carry with them. He knew that when they grew weary, the men would remember this night... he would remember this night. She had lost as much as anyone else in this war, yet she stood there singing proudly, supporting the troops, supporting him. He laughed at her enthusiasm as she pulled him closer to the group.
"Sing, Major! Sing out!" One of his soldiers called out brightly as he danced with an unnamed girl that he hadn't met. He couldn't help but sing along quietly as they danced; these were nights that reminded him what they fought for. She even seemed to somehow know the songs that were hardly appropriate for a woman to know, let alone sing along to.
"Merry! This is-" Jasper began darkly to the younger soldier as he began a song that he knew was over the line.
"Let them play, Jasper." Lucy said, her hand touching his shoulder briefly as they sat down on a log on the outskirts of the group. "They need to remember what they're fighting for."
He glanced down at her as she folded her arms over her knees, watching the group, her eyes almost looked sad for a moment before she put on a smile and glanced up to him, her pales eyes glistening with joy.
"And we need to remember why our men aren't at home. It's not easy for us, either. To sit at home awaiting word, being forced to pretend that our lives are continuing normally; never knowing if they are alive or dead." She said, her eyes deep and grave. "Let my women find joy for one night with your men, and hope that somewhere under these stars, their men are out there alive."
"What of you? You have lost more than most any other woman here, your men will not return, should you have joy so that they may have hope?" He asked her as her eyes turned to watch the people singing a patriotic song for the confederacy about President Jefferson. She sighed, looking in thought for a moment.
"I have lost everyone I hold dear to this war. If I can show them that I may find joy, then they shall follow in my lead. Moral is getting low, if I do not try to uplift them, no one will." She said, sitting up slightly straighter as she wrapped her arms around herself, his jacket was long on her, covering her hands as she held it close to her body. Jasper glanced up from her and saw the brooding figure of John Lewis watching them darkly, he couldn't help the slightly triumphant feeling that coursed through his veins. "I need to give my women hope that the way will not last forever, and that despite our loses, it will not have been in vain."
"And who will give you hope?" He asked her curiously.
"You give me hope." She said with a small sheepish smile as she glanced over at him briefly, she then glanced back at the flames that flickered high in to the air in the center of the group of soldiers and civilians. "You remind me that there are decent people out there, and that the yanks aren't taking all of our men."
"I haven't seen my men this spirited in a long time. You give my men, and me, more hope than you could ever know." He told her seriously. Watching her as she glanced up at him curiously, she looked slightly surprised to hear this. She would have given up anything so long as women that she hardly knew were hopeful; she reminded them what they fought for, more than any flag, or speech from the president; the proud eyes of a woman reminded the soldiers why they were fighting bloody battles, wearing worn uniforms, suffering conditions of great poverty. "Thank you for that."
"You're welcome." She said quietly, watching the others. She yawned slightly; it was late. The moon was high in the sky, yet the soldiers continued playing, and dancing with the other young women. There was almost an underlying desperation beneath the joyous, prideful behaviors between them. She had been right; the women needed to see soldiers in good spirits, nearly as much as the soldiers needed to see supportive women. In a matter of days they would once again be separated; they would move on to a new location for battle, while the women would return to sitting at home, upholding their homely duties, waiting eagerly for word of their men. They knew that these were not their women, and that these men were not their beloved soldiers; yet for these few, brief moments, they could pretend that all was well.
"You should go to sleep. We will be leaving early in the morning." He told her as she shook her head. She didn't have to say anything, her eyes never left the small group. He was certain that her thoughts mirrored his; if they left this moment, it may never return; certainly people that laughed and cheered now would be dead in a months time. If there was one thing the war taught them, it was to take advantage of every moment of happiness. He hadn't realized how close they had been sitting until he felt her small hands grasp around his arm, her head resting on his shoulder silently. He nearly jumped in shock at the closeness, having never been in such a compromising position. She was warm, and despite having been in the hot sun, walking for nearly three whole days, she had a slight smell of fruit, and flowers that he could pick up over the stench from his jacket that she wore proudly, as though it were a well tailored tail coat as opposed to a worn uniform that had seen more battles than it had baths.
"Do you think the war will be over soon?" Her voice was quiet; filled with silent hope and fear. He glanced down to her. She held his arm tightly, her head bowed slightly, her long eyelashes cast shadows on her cheek as they shut gently. She was tired but didn't want to sleep.
"I don't know." He said quietly, wishing that he could tell her yes, say that it would be over soon, that they would win, and there would be no more losses. "The yanks outnumber us, and are better equipped for battle. We're giving them a good fight."
"I want this war to be over." She sighed, her tone was so soft that he nearly hadn't heard it over the noises. She opened her eyes, watching everyone silently, the corners of her lips were turned down slightly. Her eyes were sad.
"So do I." He sighed in response, glancing up at the moon before leaning his head over hers. For a moment he was able to close his eyes, listen to the festivities, and feel almost as though they weren't in the middle of a harsh war where either of them could have died at any moment.
Glancing up, Jasper realized that he had returned to the house without paying attention to the road. Stepping out he sighed; he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had he never been bitten. It had been easy as a vampire to distance himself from the emotions he had felt in his human life, and even easier to have forgotten what had happened... yet from his memories it had been easy to see that had he lived, he probably would have married that girl. It was an almost cheerful thought, that perhaps they had not run in to one another on coincidence... yet the dark cloud of reason hovered above any uplifting thought at the realization that 140 years had passed, and he was an entirely different person from the man she had known. He had done things that would undoubtedly disgust her, and instill fear in to her. She was a warm hearted, loving person. She healed people, and gave life to them when modern medicine couldn't save them; he took life. He was a monster, and she was practically a saint; he couldn't even be in a car with her without wanting to kill her. Even Emmett, another vampire, could be near her; could joke with her, could touch her. They were able to joke like siblings, like normal people; it was easy to forget their differences when watching them interact. Emmett was 70 years younger than him, yet he was able to handle being around her as though it were nothing. He felt more ashamed of his past now, than ever before.
A/N: So this chapter wasn't supposed to be mostly on Jasper, but it just sort of happened. I also lied, I had written part of her trip to New Orleans, where she finds out about what she 'is', but it made the chapter longer than I really wanted it to be, and after adding in the flashback from Jasper, it seemed to fit better as a different chapter. This chapter as a whole wasn't what I had intended it to be, it's a little off, but I wanted to get more from Jasper's side. :x The songs I put in the flashback were 'The Yellow Rose of Texas', and 'When This Cruel War is Over', both were popular songs during the civil war.
Let me know what you think. Thanks! :D