Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters... mais, je les adore.

A/N: As always, I have to thank PerfectlyPersuasive, for turning my ugly sentences into pretty ones. :) I also must thank everyone who continues to read, review, and add my story to alert lists. It really, really keeps me going, in more ways than one.

It was a total and complete cliché, but I wanted to spend a week in Paris with the love of my life. I wanted it more than anything.

Our last day in Oxford, a Wednesday, was spent taking our final exams with a final good-bye party that night. I was surprised at how much I was going to miss our new friends. Demetri and Marcus made us promise that we would return to Europe soon and let them take us on a real tour of Italy, with Marcus promising to provide us with public places where we could engage in deviant acts. Kate and Tanya also made us vow to visit Denali sometime, where they would take us rock-climbing. The rock-climbing didn't sound appealing, but I was itching to see Alaska. Kate was planning a trip to Seattle in the winter, and we made plans to meet up with her.

It wasn't as hard to say goodbye to Angela, because we were certain to remain friends once we all got back to campus. I knew she would get along with Bella, and Alice could always use another shopping partner. Knowing that much was a bright spot in the bittersweet evening.

Jasper and I got up early that morning to take the bus to Heathrow, where we boarded a terrifyingly small plane to make the short jaunt to Paris. Luckily, we had had the foresight to ship the majority of our luggage home, only keeping enough for a week, so we didn't have to lug around our huge suitcases.

Traveling lighter, we easily navigated our way out of Charles de Gaulle and took the train into the city.

We stayed in a youth hostel on the left bank, fairly close to where the Seine cut the city into two, and more importantly, close to a métro stop. Luckily, we had our own separate room in the hostel. After hearing some of the garish stories that Marcus and Demetri told about their and some of their friends' experiences, I wasn't about to stay in a room full of bunk beds and world-weary teenagers. The room contained two narrow beds which we pushed together. They were a little uneven in height, but it didn't matter. Even after all our cohabiting done the past year, we still ended up twisted together every morning, so I figured we'd either end up on one side or the other.

Once we were settled, with no jetlag to get in our way, we set out to stroll through the streets of Paris.

As in London, I felt a lot more accepted holding hands with Jasper as we made our way through the shaded streets. We usually never refrained in Seattle, but nearly every time we were off campus we got at least one dirty look. Even on campus we got called a derogatory name or two. But here, it seemed like no one even batted an eye, and I was keeping a lookout for it. Most of the negative reactions were from American tourists. I even heard one middle-aged woman refer to us as "queer Euro-trash," which, frankly, I took as a compliment.

I think Marcus would have been proud.

I felt like I was in the scene of a movie as we made a few walking loops around the area near our hostel. The streets were old and narrow, as they were in Oxford. A lot of the buildings were centuries old, made of stone, with tiny windows. Some of the windows contained window boxes filled with brightly-colored flowers. Even though the very structures of the city were oozing with history, and decadence and strife, it seemed to feel less like an old city the way Oxford sometimes had. It was a metropolis, and people were rushing around as in any other city. There were commercial outlets everywhere you looked, contemporary logos and technological advancements, but somehow it all blended together with the historical structure that made the city so famous. Even though people were rushing around, in austere suits and with stern faces, the mood in the air seemed easier, lighter, as if even though people worked hard they didn't feel stress by it.

As if they took the time to stop and take a breath, and smell the window boxes filled with flowers.

Jasper compromised with me, and on the first full day we went to the Louvre. I knew that I was in for a day of French boutiques next, so I was going to savor it. We hit up the Mona Lisa first, just to say we had seen it, but there were so many people crowded around, I couldn't even get close.

Jasper noticed my face fall.

"We're bigger than most of these people; I'm willing to push and shove if you want to get closer."

I chuckled, "No, it's not that. Look at it."

"Um... yeah?"

"It's so... small."

"What were you expecting?"

"It's the most famous painting in the world. It revolutionized perspective in Renaissance art. I just thought it would be... bigger."

"That's what he said," Jasper whispered.

I laughed and kissed him, my disappointment fading. We strolled through the less crowded hallways, our hands intertwined. Jasper wasn't a big art fan, but he always humored me as I did him in natural history museums. He barely moved a muscle when I stopped, mesmerized by a Titian painting, and stood looking at it for a good 15 minutes.

When I finally managed to turn my head away to him, he asked me what it was about this painting that had struck me.

"The colors," I answered firmly. "That painting is 500 years old, and the colors are still so vibrant. It's almost as if time stopped touching it."

"I've never been much of a religious person," Jasper said. "But, my mom and dad made me go to Sunday school when we were in Virginia, and then again when we moved back to El Paso."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and stared back into the painting, and continued.

"I always liked the stories in the Old Testament. They always seemed more like fairy tales, about a world that was long ago and far away, and some of the Psalms are so beautifully written... but, my favorite book was always the book of Luke. Not, just because of the prodigal son and the good Samaritan. I like the way he wrote, about the crucifixion and the entombment and the resurrection, about the multitude leaving the crucifixion, beating their breasts. This looks the way his words always read to me. You can see the devotion on the visible faces. Love comes in many forms, and that devotion and agony and faith in their actions and their body language is definitely love."

He turned back to me, his eyes blazing with his own love.

"I love you, Jasper," I whispered as I curled my hand behind the back of his neck to pull his lips to mine. "More than anything."

"I love you too, Ed."

We lingered another hour in the museum, inappropriately snickering at some of the nude sculptures. Even these marble figures, that were supposed to epitomize the beauty of the male form, couldn't hold a candle to the Adonis that walked beside me. I probably checked out Jasper more than I admired any of the sculptures, but I couldn't help it, my sexy boyfriend belonged with the Greek demi-gods. When I told him so, he rolled his eyes.

"I'm covered in scars from years of scrapes and cuts and grunt-work and roughhousing, I'd hardly say I'm a work of art. You on the other hand..."

His raised our intertwined hands up to his lips and gave the back of my hand a kiss.

"You are as beautiful as the gods."

I blushed.

"Or an underwear model," he added as an afterthought.

I collected my melted heart and weak knees together enough to give him a suggestive wink.

Eventually we made our way back to Winged Victory, and it absolutely took my breath. Honestly, if the statue still had its head, I didn't think it would hold the same amount of power as it did. The way the goddess's robes were carved made the marble look like it was blowing in strong, sea wind, and the fact that it was over 2000 years old made me feel wholly insignificant. I didn't think I could look at anymore art after being so floored by the statue, so we took our leave thereafter.

Jasper had taken two semesters of French, so I put him in charge of communicating with waiters, cashiers, and shopkeepers. He was better at reading than at understanding spoken French, because everyone spoke so fast, but I thought he did pretty well for himself. He taught me how to say a few things, so I wouldn't sound like a complete dope. Even though we were obviously American, since we attempted to communicate in the native language, everyone we interacted with was friendly and usually surprisingly patient.

We spent the second day mostly window shopping, though Jasper did go into quite a few boutiques. We couldn't afford to buy much, but in a maroquinerie, Jasper fell in love with a leather jacket. I think my jaw may have dropped a little when I saw him in it. Unbelievable as it sounds, Jasper in leather was even sexier than Jasper in a tux. Even the clerk was ooh-ing and aah-ing over him, and I'm positive it wasn't just to make the sale. I split the cost with him, after he made me insist that I would consider it his birthday present, but the truth was, I wouldn't have let him walk out of the store without it. Not only was I looking forward to fall so I could properly ogle him in his new acquisition, but his face just lit up when he had it on. I couldn't deny him anything when he made that face.

I swear, going shopping always seemed to make Jasper horny, so that night I took advantage of his frisky mood as we upped our total of countries we'd had sex in to three.

The third morning, we woke early, packed a backpack for our day trip, and went to the St. Lazare train station.

The train ride to the Normandy region was a little over two hours. Our stop was at the city of Caen. From there, we took a bus to the stop nearest Omaha beach. The day was covered in a fine mist that reflected the melancholy of the location. There were official guided tours, but Jasper said that he didn't think he would be able to handle a tour. He was more interested in getting the feel of the beaches than in being told historical facts that he already knew.

The beach looked like any other coastline, but there was something intangible in atmosphere that made it feel very solemn. I never really seriously considered the existence of ghosts before in my life, but I could feel with surety some spiritual presence on that beach. Whether it came from in me or outside me didn't matter.

Many of the German fortifications still stood in place on the cliffs, providing an ominous threat to the atmosphere. The gun casements looked over a steep slope down to Omaha Beach, making the sheer bravery of the American attack all the more impressive.

We strode in silence, taking in the location. I tried to imagine what it would have been like on that day in 1944. I was almost grateful that I lacked the graphic images to place myself in combat.

Eventually, I could see Jasper visibly relax from his contemplative and reflective disposition, and I knew it would not interrupt him if I asked him about it.

"What are you thinking?"

"The last time a Hale stood on these beaches, he was stepping off a boat. I just can't imagine what it would have felt like, to serve in that kind of combat, under a direct attack, in a war where so many lives were at stake. The world changed on these beaches." He added in a whisper, "and my grandfather was here."

I squeezed his hand and we stood in silence on the beach.

Jasper's Grandfather had landed on Omaha beach as a member of the 29th Infantry division, and was one of the lucky ones to have survived. I knew that his grandfather had died when Jasper was a young boy, but he obviously had a profound impact on Jasper's life. My mom's father had served as a medic in the Korean War, but he never spoke much about his experience. I made a mental note to ask him some questions the next time I saw him, to try to get him to open up. I understood the reluctance to talk about it, especially to someone like me who had no point of reference to understand what experiencing war was like.

"Do you ever regret not joining the marines?" I asked Jasper then.

"Only in that, I wish I could do something that important for my country. My family's disappointment in me still stings a little, but I feel like I owe something to the men fought here, and who gave their lives to something so much greater than themselves," his voice was hushed. "I'll just have to find another way to do it."

We spent some time walking slowly through the American Cemetery, overwhelmed by the sheer number of markers, and ended the excursion with a climb up the slope to the 1st Infantry Division monument. From there, we hitched a ride back to town with a tour group van, then grabbed a very late lunch and waited for the train.

Exhausted from the traveling, the walking and the emotional drainage, as soon as we returned to the hostel, we collapsed onto our makeshift bed and spent the rest of the evening curled up together until we drifted off to sleep.

We did quite a few touristy things during the remainder of the week, like climbing the Eiffel Tower and visiting Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Sacré-Coeur. We took a train out to see Versailles, the extravagance of which I never could have imagined.

We promised Alice, oddly enough a Doors fan, that we would put a flower on Jim Morrison's grave for her, so we spent an afternoon wandering around the maze of the Père Lachaise, trying to find it. Eventually, we did and took a picture for Alice. The giant cemetery was actually very peaceful. Walking around its quiet pathways, you could almost forget you were in one of the largest cities in the world. We found the graves of Georges Bizet, Molière, Pissarro, and Oscar Wilde, and though we only brought flowers for Jim, we paid a silent homage at each one, and I silently thanked them each for their contributions to the world.

One of the most interesting things we did was take a tour of the catacombs that ran under the city. It was creepy as hell, not just seeing skulls and bones embedded in the walls, but being deep underground in the tunnel of a mass grave was rather macabre. I wasn't squeamish by the fact that the bones were the remains of real people who actually walked this earth, but the astonishing number of them and the somber feeling in the atmosphere was chilling. I could tell that Jasper was mesmerized by the experience. Once we returned above ground, we talked about the significance of the bones of peasants being mixed in with the bones of the gentry, all victims of the French Revolution, and mused about the differences with the American ways of dealing with death.

It was an interesting experience, but it wasn't one that I ever needed to have again.

We sat in a café along the Champs-Élysées, sipping cappuccinos and eating pastries one morning near the end of our week, and I couldn't help the huge grin that wouldn't leave my face.

"What are you so happy about?" Jasper's smile matched mine.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm in Paris, sitting across from the man I love, and I don't have school or work or meddling parents or annoying siblings or anything to get in the way of this moment."

He leaned across the small table and took my lips gently in his.

"Je t'aime," he breathed.

"And, I love you," I whispered back. Jasper speaking French made him impossibly sexier.

Even with the landmark visits, we spent a lot of time just walking around, enjoying each other's company, sitting in cafes, perusing open air markets, watching sidewalk artists and shopping from street vendors. Some people dreamed of spending their vacations at coastal resorts, lying in the sand and sipping piña coladas. It wasn't that all of that didn't sound appealing, but I couldn't imagine a better way to spend a week with Jasper than together in Paris.

Our hostel room had a gorgeous view of the city. It looked out directly onto the street, and every morning since we had arrived, I watched the same old man sit outside an unmarked building in a metal chair, sipping a cup of black coffee, watching the pedestrians pass as they headed off to work. A few people stopped by everyday as they passed by, to greet him or chitchat for a few minutes, and it was obvious he was well-known.

The last full day we had in the city, I was watching the old man sip his coffee when an older woman stepped outside of the building, holding a coffee urn. She didn't say anything to the man, she just poured the rest of the coffee into his half-empty cup. Then, she stood next to him with her free hand resting on his shoulder. He raised his own hand to cover hers where it was placed on his shoulder, then tilted his head up to look at her.

The smile they shared was so intimate, I almost had to look away.

At that moment, Jasper came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

"Someday we'll be old and gray," he murmured into my ear.

"And I'll be giving you the last of the morning coffee while you read the paper," I sighed back.

"No," his kissed my neck. "My Edward keeps the rest of the coffee for himself."

"You know me so well."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

I turned to kiss him. The feeling behind our kiss expressed that for which we didn't possess words.

I felt his fingers twist in my hair as the kiss deepened. I pulled him closer to me. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I reached under his shirt to feel the smooth skin of his back. Our bodies were flush, but I pressed into his back in an effort to bring him even closer to me. He understood my action, and he moved his hand to the base of my neck, holding us together.

Joined at our lips, we merged into one being, our bodies a reflection of our two souls inexplicably connected.

Eventually, we had to stop for breath, and Jasper leaned his head in to nuzzle the crook of my neck.

Every doubt I ever had that our connection was primarily physical vanished from me in that moment. The intense physical attraction we had for each other could be overwhelming at times; our forays into excessive public displays of affection were evidence of that. But, even before I thought being with Jasper was a possibility, it was always more than his body and gorgeous features that drew me to him. The longer we were together, the more I understood that it was because of a connection, stronger than anything I could ever dare to explain.

I knew it would only continue to grow, so long as we gave in and allowed it to.

And I was all in.

The next morning, we had an early flight out of Paris, so I didn't get to see the old man and his coffee. It was so early, the train to the airport was nearly empty as we took our last look at the city of lights while it flashed passed us. Once we were on the plane and had taken off, my initial panic eased, I immediately fell asleep, tucked up against Jasper's side.

When I woke, I got up to go to the bathroom, pissing into the annoyingly small metal toilet bowl. I washed my hands then splashed some water on my face to help wake myself up from the nap that had helped me pass a third of the flight. As I was patting my face dry with a towel, I heard an insistent knock on the bathroom door.

Ugh, obviously the door was locked with the occupied sign flipped up.

"Occupied," I called out.

"I know," Jasper's low voice called back.

I unlocked the door and stepped back as Jasper entered the tiny bathroom.

"Miss me?" I asked.

He pressed himself against me, though there wasn't really an alternative in the tiny bathroom, and roughly shoved his tongue down my throat.

"I want you," he growled.

"What's gotten into you, Jasper?"

He grinned at me and then spun me around and put my hands up so they were pressing against the mirror. He unbuckled my belt and then pushed my jeans down, revealing my bare ass.

"Fuck," he whispered against my ear, giving my ass a light slap. "Do you have any idea how much you were torturing me back there? You must have been having some dream. You were moaning in my ear, and I could see you getting so hard."

I felt a wet finger shove into my asshole.

"Shit," I hissed.

"You're gonna have to try to be quiet Ed, unless you want everyone in the back of the plane to know how good I'm going to make you feel."

A second finger joined the first and he brushed up against my prostate, my hips bucked involuntarily as I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out.

"You're ready for me aren't you?"

I think I whimpered and nodded. Something about the way I was being manhandled made me unable to think or speak rationally.

He planted a few wet kisses on the back of my neck, spread my legs a little wider, then he entered my tight hole slowly, as usual, and somehow, he had sheathed himself and lubed up without my being aware. He slowly pulled himself out of me, then thrust back in. Digging his fingernails into my hips, he guided himself in and out. His speed increased, and I forgot where we were. I forgot that we were on a tiny plane that I was sure could plummet into the ocean at any time. I forgot my fears, my disappointment at returning to the real world of responsibilities and obligations. I forgot that there were a hundred other people, sitting complacently a thin wall away. I almost forgot to be quiet until Jasper's hand clamped over my mouth.

"Stroke yourself for me, babe," he leaned forward and ordered into my ear.

He didn't need to tell me twice.

The pounding I was receiving was like being completely ravaged. The frantic, desperate speed at which he pummeled into me was positively primeval. I could hardly keep his rhythm as I used my right hand to stroke my cock. As he drove in and out of me with rapid succession, the soft, pleading words, "need you... so much, Ed," escaped his whispering lips. Then, he shifted our position ever so slightly, and it was like a jolt pleasure, hitting me right where I needed it.

My release was building up in me with such force, I couldn't even give Jasper warning before my whole body tensed and released in a torrent of sensation.

When I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, I drew blood.

It was worth it.

Jasper collapsed onto my back after his own release, leaving another bite mark on the spot of my shoulder he favored. He was panting so hard, I thought I might have to perform CPR, but then he grinned at me in the mirror and hissed out a slow "fuck."

I was flushed beyond belief and my skin was practically sparkling in a fine sheen of sweat, which I tried to dab off with paper towels after I cleaned up the evidence of my release. But, there was no getting rid of the freshly-fucked look. Jasper was practically dripping with sweat from what felt like an intense workout and squeezed in next to me to splash cool water on his face. Once I was satisfied with the state of my appearance, I left the bathroom.

I returned to my seat, and Jasper followed me out about two minutes later, looking slightly more composed than he had when I exited the tiny room. I think a few of our fellow passengers noticed, but they didn't say anything. The younger woman sitting across the aisle from us looked like she was about to give us each a high five. I curled up next to Jasper as best I could in the tiny airplane seat in a state of post-coital bliss and settled in to watch a movie.

Two movies and some heavy petting under the airplane blanket later, we were approaching Sea-Tac. To distract me on the landing, Jasper made a game of trying to come up with the most ridiculous words for the male anatomy.

"Knob," Jasper started.

"Schlong," I put in.

"Dong."

"Wang."

"Pecker."

"Prick."

"Love muscle," Jasper winked at me.

"Ding dong," I quipped. "And anything of the ding-a-ling variety."

"Johnson,"

"Stamen,"

Jasper rolled his eyes at me.

"Anaconda," Jasper put in. "Or any other trouser snake."

"One-eyed monster,"

"Joystick,"

"Uh... density,"

"I don't know about that one," Jasper questioned.

"I thought you liked my density," I waggled my eyebrows at him.

Jasper rolled his eyes back.

"Okay, fine. Fluxion," I conceded.

"What's a fluxion?"

"It's something that gets subjected to change," I started to explain.

"Stop using science terms!" Jasper scolded.

"Fine, then, how about 'engorgement'?"

"Good one," Jasper nodded. "Uh... hangdown."

We continued what had become a bit of a contest as we went to baggage claim.

"Whammy bar," I pitched in.

Jasper snickered, "What would that make the balls?"

"Uh... wah-wah pedals?"

Jasper nearly doubled over. I thought he would concede defeat, but then he caught his breath,

"Load transferor," he suggested.

I snorted.

"Purple-headed yogurt-slinger!" Emmett's booming voice rang out. I looked up to find my brother, striding across the terminal with Rosalie, rolling her eyes, at his side.

Jasper and I looked at each other and cracked up.

"How did you-?" I gasped out.

"Are you kidding me? I can sense a penis contest a mile away," he continued. "Did you use baloney pony? Kielbasa? Meat popsicle? Tonsil tickler? Baby maker? Tally wacker? Steamin' semen roadway?"

The three of us stood slack-jawed at Emmett's stream of slang.

"Or, I know, wiener!" he started giggling. "I haven't said that since I was a kid," he remarked gleefully.

"All right, all right, you win!" Jasper embraced Emmett in a big hug then moved on to throw his arms around Rosalie.

"Winner and still champion," I said to my older brother. He crushed me in a hug, lifting me off the ground.

"I missed you little brother, but I'm a little disappointed you didn't come back with a British accent," he set me down.

I gave Rosalie a quick hug. Then, Emmett grabbed both of our small suitcases, and we headed toward Emmett's jeep.

Emmett and Rosalie accompanied us to Jasper's place first to drop off his suitcase and see if the luggage we shipped had arrived. The apartment was dark in the living area, but we were only inside for a few minutes when we heard noises from Alice's room. I approached her door to get a closer listen, and then I recognized the noises.

This must have been Fate's design. My punishment for joining the mile high club was to come home only to hear my twin having sex.

How could she not hear us come in?

I rolled my eyes at my three companions, wondering who Alice's summer fling was this time, and we left quickly and went up to my apartment. Bella was not there, but she had made a welcome back sign that she hung up in the kitchen. After living in smaller quarters for so long, and being trapped on an airplane for most of the day, I couldn't get over how big the apartment felt. I paced around between the kitchen, living room and my bed room until Jasper grabbed onto me to hold me still, telling me I was making him dizzy.

It didn't take long for Emmett and Jasper to start in on a round of Wii tennis, with Rosalie on deck to take on the winner, and I settled onto the couch, enjoying the view of Jasper getting into the game from behind.

There was a knock on the front door. I jumped up and pulled the door open to find my sister standing before me, holding the hand of Seth Clearwater.

Tact was not my friend in my jetlagged state, so I blurted out, "Still?"

Alice shot daggers at me. I threw her an apologetic look, but then raised an eyebrow at her. Twin owed me an explanation.

"I mean, it's nice to see you again Seth," I said as I reached out to shake his hand. "You starting at UW this fall?"

I made small talk with Seth, remembering how much I actually liked the kid. He was two years behind us in school, but he had been on the track team with me for two years. He ran distance events as well. Alice definitely needed to fill me in, but I could see that she and Seth got on together really well. He had an infectiously happy disposition, but was a little more relaxed than high-strung Alice. I watched their interactions for a few minutes, and I could tell that Alice was really serious about him. It would be weird to see Alice in a legitimate relationship, but I was glad she found someone who could keep her interest and match her energy. I was so used to just nodding and smiling at whoever she was with, so it would be weird to actually be able to get to know Seth.

I'd have to do my best to make sure Alice didn't screw this up.

Shortly thereafter, Bella arrived home from work. We decided to go out to an early dinner as a group, so we could tell our stories to everyone at once. Jake met us at the restaurant. I knew I'd have to repeat the stories to my parents, but they would probably receive the PG-13 version of it. We had already uploaded and shared a lot of our pictures from the computer lab in our living quarters in Oxford and at an internet café in Paris, so the girls anyway already had some visual ideas about our trip. Even so, we passed our cameras around to help explain.

I hadn't planned on full disclosure, but Alice caught me winking at Jasper when he talked about the weird dance club in Oxford. She smirked at me knowingly, but didn't push it. I knew she'd force a more graphic account of Edward and Jasper's summer in Europe out of me later. Emmett did pester us until we confirmed our membership into the mile-high club.

"I can't believe you beat me to it, little bro," Emmett shook his head. "I thought Alice, maybe, but you? I've never been more proud." He traced a fake tear running down his face.

They were most amused by the pictures from Madame Tussaud's, and Alice squealed so loud when she saw the picture of our flowers on Jim Morrison's gravestone that the restaurant went silent for a split second. We were both amateurs at taking photographs, but some of them turned out quite well, and I planned on getting some printed out to have physical reminders of our summer.

We were going to spend the night in Seattle and then go back to Forks the next day to see our parents and stay for a week before returning to school. I knew it was ridiculous because we had spent every day together for the past two months, but I was a little sad that this would be the last night for a week that I would get to sleep next to Jasper. I was actually surprised at how well we got on together the past two months. We bickered sometimes about little things, before we realized we were being ridiculous. I knew that I could be a little moody, and I knew that sometimes my moods affected Jasper. He was usually very understanding and was able to calm me down.

We were both so committed to being honest with each other that we hadn't let things escalate to a full-blown fight since our anniversary kafuffle. Even when Jasper was wrestling with his drinking issues and what caused them, he tried to be more open about it. Or, at least he would tell me when those things were on his mind, even if, he didn't want to expressly talk about it. We knew when to give each other breathing room.

We were both exhausted and our bodies were 8 hours ahead, so we crashed in my bedroom at an ungodly early hour, and I knew that I would probably be up and ready to go at 4 a.m. Seattle time.

I was right.

We took our time in the morning getting ready for the drive back to Forks, but even with our leisurely pace, Jasper dropped me off at my parents' house at 10 o'clock in the morning. He came in to say hello to my mom, but he left quickly, anxious to see his folks.

I walked him out to his car, and when he kissed me good-bye, the passion in our embrace contained an element of gloom.

Summer was over, and we had to go back to the real world.

A/N: Link to the Titian painting, Entombment of Christ, on my profile. I cried when I saw it in person...

Shameless Plug Alert: I just posted an entry in the "Whodunit: A Murder Mystery One-Shot TwiContest" hosted by Wide Awake Rehab. My story is a film noir style detective story, taking place in the 1950s, starring one Detective Jasper Whitlock. It's not slash (I know, I know, what's the point?), but I did try to flex my 50s slang muscle... mostly for my own personal amusement. Anyway, check out the contest! Enter your own! Link: http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2091631/Whodunit_Contest