A/N: Suprise! This chapter and the whole story are dedicated to my BFF and fellow fic-h00r, theladyingrey42. Without her, well, I wouldn't be writing this, that's for sure. Big thanks to ahizelm for the beta-work. And now, what you've all been waiting for… a whole chapter of Jasper. (Sorry, not naked time just yet.) And I know the updates have been frequent recently, I'm just buttering you all up for later. :)

The Setting: Bay of Fires, Tasmania
The Music: Wish You Were Here, Incubus

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JPOV

When I get off the phone with Peter, I am livid. I think I finally understand the expression "boiling with rage" as I clench my fists and try not to take my anger out on the nearest inanimate object.

How dare he think he can tell me what to do? Not just tell, order. Especially considering what he knows about me and my past. After he lived through the same kind of hell.

And what did he mean by "or else"? Or else what? He'd leave me?

I lived a long time under the strict rule of a tyrant and I promised myself then and my mother later that I would never let anyone hold me down or keep me back. That's why when I had saved enough for this trip to Australia and Peter said he didn't like the idea and didn't want me to go, I came here anyway. No one could hold me back from what I wanted.

And here he is tonight, telling me he still doesn't like me here by myself. He doesn't want to hear about my adventures, the sights I've seen and the people I've met. He only wants me to tell him I miss him and that I was wrong to come here. I'm beginning to understand that this cuff he gave me wasn't a sign of love but of possession, and I worry about what I'm going to return to in a few days.

After performing some breathing exercises my therapist has always told me would help, I feel calm enough to leave the room. I open the door and find Edward's green eyes regarding me cautiously, his face calm with no hint of a smile.

I try to laugh it off, as I'm sure he heard my half of that call, but he sees straight through my facade. Gradually, he pulls the whole story from me and, through his words, I can start to see Peter's point of view. I still don't like it, and we're going to have a serious talk when I see him next, but I can begin to understand.

A strange, stilted silence falls between us and I excuse myself to take a shower. Before I leave, I casually invite Edward to accompany me to the Bay of Fires the next day. He shakes his head at me, saying he had a day planned at the local aquarium and just relaxing. I try not to be disappointed, that I hadn't been hoping he would spend another day with me, but I fail miserably.

I wish him a good night and go straight into the bathroom, needing a few minutes alone to just be, to re-center myself. The hot water relaxes my muscles and calms my circling thoughts considerably and when I'm done, exhaustion almost overwhelms me.

Seeing Edward curled on the couch reading his book, I stay silent and shuffle into our room. Climbing the ladder to my bunk, I throw myself onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling in my head.

Peter. Edward.

There's no comparison between the two.

Peter is my anchor and has been for so long, since we met and shared stories at a group therapy session. We have a shared past, one that he says no one would ever understand. His stormy grey eyes miss nothing, understanding my every mood, and he always has a way to bring me back from the depths of my sadness or anger. Lately, he has been less supportive of my music and wants me to spend more time with him rather than playing my guitar, but not everyone understands the pull of music. Notes and songs have always been my back up method of communication.

I absently rub my inner bicep where the words are inked permanently into my skin and I instinctively know that Edward would understand. Music is also his passion; I can see it in his eyes when I play, feel the reverence in his voice when we talk.

Edward, his green eyes smiling at me but also penetrating into my soul.

I feel like I have known him forever, that I could tell him anything and he would accept it. I know I was nervous telling Edward about my past, but he absorbed my story as easily as air. And Edward is easy, lightness, sunshine. He illuminates the darkness in my life, but not to just point out the bad - rather to show me there's nothing to hide, no reason to be ashamed.

Edward enters the room and I stay still, evening my breathing and trying to feign sleep. I hear rustling as he changes his clothes and climbs into the lower bunk. He quickly falls asleep and I lay awake picturing his sleeping form below me. I stare at the ceiling and soon I can hear his soft snores and mumbles.

I have lived through many forms of torture, but I never thought it could be this sweet. To be so close to Edward without touching. To sleep in the same room and hear his gentle sighs and resist climbing into the bed with him. I should not be entertaining these thoughts. I still have a boyfriend back home and I swore he would have nothing to worry about while I was away from him. But, when I made that promise, he had still been steady, gentle Peter. This Peter that I talked to tonight was not my Peter. He was angry and controlling and unreasonable.

How could I resolve this?

I lay awake for hours it seems, these two dynamics pulling at me. For now, I will be friends with Edward, enjoy his company and keep in touch when we leave Australia. I will deal with Peter when I get home and then we'll see what happens. Edward will still be a world away and may not want me anyway.

With these thoughts still rolling around in my head, I finally drift off for a few fitful hours of dream-filled sleep. I wake before everyone and slip out, unwilling to face Edward again, just needing to get to the beach and clear my head.

I drive north, following the ocean until I find the park just past Binalong beach. Exiting the car, I climb over the small dunes and find a white sand beach stretching before me, the ebb tide revealing large mats of kelp and small tidal pools. Along the bank are large boulders and rocks covered in lichen making them the colors of flames, giving the Bay of Fires its name. I scale the boulders closest to me, and then edge towards the water, feeling the faint salty spray on my face. Leaning back, I absorb the sun's rays, the warmth seeping into my skin.

I lay there for hours, seemingly, alone and thinking. The debate of last night is still battling it out in my head.

Last night, Edward said that Peter is probably lonely and just misses me, and at the time, it had made sense. After sleeping on it, though, I think this may have started before I left, before I had even thought about coming to Australia.

I really don't do anything for myself anymore. Peter and I do everything together. I haven't even been to the open mic night at the bar back home because Peter didn't like the bar, had a headache, too much schoolwork, whatever...and I never went without him.

When did it become like this? When did I lose myself?

The day passes slowly, my internal debate never ending, my head hurting with all of the possibilities. Most of all, I worry about what will happen when I get home. Will I just fall into the same routine? Can Peter and I change? Do I want to change? Do I want him to? Or do I want something completely different?

Would he?

My thoughts turn and turn, no end or answer in sight. I shouldn't let Edward play any role in my decisions about Peter. Edward is my friend. My friend that I want to touch. Desperately.

Suddenly, I'm startled awake, the sun much closer to the horizon then it was just a moment ago. I shake my head, trying to remember why I'm sprawled on an orange rock next to the ocean, awareness slowly returning to me.

I curse loudly as I realize I spent most of the day at this one beach thinking about all my troubles when I should have been enjoying the view. One more glance at the sun and I know I need to start the drive back to Bicheno, my adventure cut short. I worry momentarily about dinner as I know I won't even make it back to town before the store closes. I do have cereal and can probably find something else to snack on, but I really like dinner to be dinner - something hot.

I jog back to my car and turn back for the coastal drive to Bicheno. I lose myself in the music blaring from the speakers, my earlier worries about Peter and Edward and my current dilemma whirling around in my head again. I pull into the parking lot at the backpackers and shake my head once more, willing my brain to just stop for a little while. I hope that Edward is here. I hope he still wants to be my friend.

I walk in and all my fears and insecurities and anxiousness melt away at the sight of Edward's smiling face, his happiness like a ray of sunshine through my dark mood.

"Come on, Jasper. I made us dinner." He sweeps his arm dramatically and makes a big show of pulling back my chair for me.

"Why, Mr. Cullen, to what do I owe the honor?" I ask, picking up on his light mood.

"Just thought you would appreciate this after a long day of hiking. It's no Texas chili, but I think you'll find it sticks in your gut."

And with that, Peter and his little bit of crazy slip to the back of my mind, my attention solely focused on Edward. I can enjoy this now, I can be here now. With him.

Reality will slap me in the face soon enough.

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