Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): Rating =T (probably lower lol).

This is as close to cannon Jasper you're EVER gonna see from me. I hope I do him justice. I doubt it though. Also took some liberties with the prompt. Just saying.

Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Prompt: Prompt: Imagined Image: You found this woman's diary with her obituary in a box under a wooden floor plank. What secrets did she take to the grave? http:/ / images34. fotki. com/ v1076/ photos/ 9/ 9610/ 16264/ highheels-vi. jpg? 1200877601

JPOV

I pace along the living room while waiting impatiently for my wife to return from her shopping trip. As much as I hated seeing her leave for any period of time, I could never deny her this. Especially today of all days; her birthday. I could never understand why she had chosen this date, as she had no recollection of her human past. But again, I found myself unable to argue with her.

As I continued my silent contemplation as to why Alice would be so adamant about the date, my pacing continued until I heard the faintest sound of floorboard beneath my foot creak. I pause, examining the hardwood plank below for imperfections. I kneel down, carefully lifting the edge of the wood up where I could see a tin box hidden in the space below.

Finding it odd that Esme and Alice would have let the loose board go unnoticed in their renovations of the house; I reach for the box, curiosity getting the best of me. Carefully, I wrap my fingers around the box and pull it from its cavernous home. Sitting myself near the faulty flooring, I slowly pry off the lid, noting the rust and fading coloring of the tin's original design. Whoever the original owner was, they must have had an affinity for toffee.

As I look through the contents, I'm struck with a sense of familiarity. Inside I find a dainty white cloth, similar to a woman's kerchief; evident by its discoloration that is was well beyond it's years. Gingerly, I move the cloth to the side, revealing the treasures. A bright burst of red catches my eye among the dull coloring of paper and a stark contrast to the white of the cloth. Upon further inspection I find a necklace made of brass and beads of red glass. My minds mulls over the various fashions I've seen in my years of existence and come to the conclusion that it is from the early to mid twentieth century.

Interesting…

I inspect further, using even more caution than before to pull out the pieces of paper within my grasp. Clearly one is thicker than the other, but I proceed to the oldest looking, most delicate one. An obituary… how peculiar... I glance at the date and source of the clipping only to take a sharp inhalation of breath.

January 18th, 1920 Biloxi Times

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the head as my wife's name screamed at me in bold print.

MARY ALICE BRANDON

Biloxi, Mississippi. – Rite for Mary Brandon, 19, who died Monday the twelfth, were held at Saint Margaret's cathedral, Thursday with burial in the adjacent cemetery off Main Street.

Surviving are her father William, step-mother, Anne, and a sister, Cynthia; all from Biloxi.

January twelfth in nineteen-twenty is when my dear sweet Alice believed that she had died and begun her transformation. This is why she chose this day as her date of birth. All because of a flimsy scrape of parchment.

I shook my head at disbelief as I looked at the final piece of the mysterious puzzle my wife has left in the foundation of our house.

The final piece, the thicker piece of paper, wasn't paper at all, but a photo. In the picture you saw a woman's legs, the left thigh crossed over the right knee. The angle of the photograph, hinted at an improper position for a lady, a tease really. And based by the heels that were strapped to the woman's small feet; that was the intended purpose.

I would know, for I would know those legs anywhere. They - when I let the adolescent long lost inside me take over my thoughts - were the place I liked to be in between the most.

I would definitely have to ask Alice about this photograph…

"Just the picture?" I hear her soft tinkling voice float to me from outside the house.

I smile, careful to put the things back the way I found them. "The contents of the box as well," I respond.

I feel her presence closer and look up as she enters the threshold, depositing the bags from her earlier adventures by the door. She shrugs a sense of longing and sadness reaches me as she watches me place the box back beneath the floor.

"I found the obituary when we were in Mississippi after the encounter with James. The kerchief and necklace is from my sister's estate. The lawyer said it was her sister's so I assumed he meant me. And the tin," she chuckles sadly before sitting herself in my lap. Instantly I wrap my arms around her, attempting, to the best of my ability, to show her my love for her without the use of my gift as I place a gentle kiss to her temple. "When we were researching, and found those old diaries, there was mention to that brand of toffee. Apparently I loved it as a child," she continued with a shrug.

I shook my head, unable to recall what toffee tasted like, or if I had ever had the chance to try it before my fateful meeting with Maria in Galveston.

"And the picture?" I ask.

She tilts her head, unease filters through her emotions but is quickly replaced with pride and a touch of worry. "I tested myself," she laments.

I feel my eyebrow raise in question before I give her a slight nod to continue. She sighs and I watch as her eyes glaze over, most likely seeing how I will react to what she has to say. When her eyes refocus on mine she rolls her eyes, annoyance now evident.

"I haven't even done anything," I chuckle.

"You're going to get all cave man on me."

"Cave man?" I repeat, not understanding her meaning.

"Yes. Like 'Me Tarzan, you Jane'. Only, 'Me Jasper, you mine'."

I bark out a laugh at explanation and shake my head. "I don't sound like that." Her annoyance waivers at the sound of my laughter, the beginning of a smile starts to tug the corner of her lips upwards.

"In nineteen-thirty-five, I tried burlesque dancing. I wanted to test myself around humans," she explains quickly, using my laughter as a distraction. It doesn't work as my laughter stops and eyes narrow at her.

"Stop," she says putting her hand over my mouth. "I know. Bad idea… room full of humans, what if I slip? But see that's the thing, Jazz. I didn't slip. If anything, think it made me stronger."

I shook my head as I removed her hand from lips, kissing her palm before twisting our fingers together. "That's not the point darlin'. The point it was indecent for those men to look at you in such a way. "

She laughs and shakes her head. "Relax Jazz. I did it for one dance. The photograph was taken by a woman." Suddenly, I feel her desire and lust as she wraps her arms around my neck; her long slender fingers weave their way into my hair. "Besides, I only dance for you now," she says as her voice takes a husky turn.

"I better be," I tease before crashing my lips to hers. And in that moment, I want nothing more than to see her dance for me.

A/N: Yep I'm updating these again. Shooting for one a day, maybe more depending on how fast I can crank these out.

Alice's necklace - http:/ / www(dot)grapenutglass(dot)com/ popup_image /pID /158

Alice's Tin box - http:/ / www(dot)britishbiscuittins(dot)co(dot)uk /images / firsttin(dot)jpg

I realize the toffee is a British toffee, but as per the Twilight Illustrated guide; Alice's father was a tradesman, and who's to say he didn't trade someone with British ties?