Because You Loved Me
Part 8/?
Words Are Cheap...
For the next few months, Alice is extremely quiet. She declined invitations from Esme and Rosalie to go shopping, and she seems to panic slightly on the rare occassions that she realizes Jasper has gone somewhere without her. When questioned about her behavior, she simply shakes her head and says, "I don't want to say anything until I'm sure."
Jasper's hunting trips are down to twice a day - once when evening falls and once before the sun rises - but he still has not gone into town with the rest of the family.
"Where do they go when they leave?" Alice asks one day. She, Esme and Jasper are lounging in the family room; Esme is teaching Alice to paint. Alice thinks she may have liked this in her human life.
"Carlisle works at the hospital, as you know," Esme replies, dipping her brush into a particularly bright orange, "Rosalie, Emmett and Edward go to university. The weather here allows it."
"University? We can do that? Oh, Esme, when can I go? There's so much I don't know. School would be good for me."
Jasper scowls slightly at the idea of Alice being gone for most of the day; he knows he wouldn't be able to join her. Not unless he wanted to see details of a massacre on the front page of the morning newspaper.
"School would be perfect," Esme agrees. "But you have to learn your basics first. When we move again, they're going to enroll themselves in high school. It will allow us to stay a little longer - the younger we start, the longer we can stay without people noticing that we aren't aging. I will teach you, catch you up with the others. You'll have to learn the math, and do a fair bit of reading."
Alice bounces on her stool, then frowns when a dollop of pink paint drops onto her knee. She turns and looks over her shoulder, her mouth open to speak, but she simply smiles when she sees Jasper holding out a paint-covered towel. "Thank you, Jasper."
"That's a beautiful dress, Alice."
She looks back to her painting - a pink and lavendar knee-length design. "Thank you."
"You could easily design fashion, I think."
"Do you? What do you think Jasper? ....Jasper?"
Alice stands, her eyes darting around the room. He's gone.
Jasper slows his pace to a brisk walk and shakes his head as he glances over his shoulder at the house. One more word of fashion and paint and schooling, and he fears his head will explode. The woods behind the house was his only comfort now that the others were gone. He loves Alice to pieces, but sometimes...
He pauses and frowns at the ground. Kneeling, he reaches out and runs his hand over the damp path; his fingers trace the outline of a small boot. Alice didn't know any boots that he knew off, and Rosalie refused to wear anything that didn't have a heel of at least three inches on it.
This was a flat, regular boot. Freshly made.
Since they'd moved in with the Cullens, Jasper hasn't heard even a whisper of another vampire. His eyes scan the length of the path, and he finds only two pair of prints: his own, which he just made, and the other. Besides the prints, however, there is no sign of anyone ever being here.
"Jasper!"
He spins around, desperately trying to override the automatic defense mode that his body is trying to go into when he sees Emmett's face approaching him through the trees. He closes his eyes and rocks his head from side to side, trying to calm himself. What's the use of having the ability to manipulate emotions if he can't use it on himself?
"Emmett. I thought you were off gettin' a proper education."
"I was. School's out." He grins a large, boyish grin and claps Jasper on the shoulder. Too hard; he stumbles forward a bit. "Sorry."
Jasper's lip curls involuntarily; Emmett was clearly the youngest of the family, which meant his strength was greater even than his own, but Jasper suspects that he was quite a large and strong fellow even in his human life. He wonders briefly what he did then.
"That's alright."
"So, hey, s'just you and me now. Tell me your story."
Jasper raises an eyebrow. "My story?"
"You must've gotten all those medals on your coat from somewhere. Oh, Esme says she can fix that, by the way. All the tears and holes in it."
Rubbing at his forehead, Jasper sighs. This one talks almost as much as Alice, and nearly four months still hasn't been enough time to get used to it. "I was a soldier during the Civil War, a major. I was turned then, and became a soldier for someone else. That's all you need to know."
"Or all you're willing to share?"
Irritated, Jasper changes the direction of questioning. "And what's your story?"
Emmett is quiet for a moment, then leans back against a tree. "I was a photographer for National Geographic. We were doing a story on the seasonal habits of large mammals, one article to be published every week. We were doing great; all of our work had been done ahead of schedule, so we moved onto our next article early. Bears were our next topic. We camped out the first night, and the next morning I woke before my partner did. I decided I'd get a little bit of work done before breakfast..."
He trails off, and Jasper frowns at the emotion coming from him. A sense of loss, and, even all these years later, a little bit of fear.
"That bear came outta nowhere, man. One minute I was getting a picture of two butterflies on some flowers, and the next this row of teeth was in my face. I think she must've had some cubs around and felt threatened. Anyway, I don't really remember much after that. Just Rosalie."
"She saved you?"
Emmett nods. "My angel, I call her, because I thought I'd died... seeing something that beautiful after being face to face with something so horrible... you'd think the same thing, too."
Jasper doesn't doubt him. "Sounds like you were lucky she was there, then."
"Beyond lucky. ...I know you don't like Rosalie, Jazz --"
"Jazz?"
" -- but she really is a good person. Deep down. ...Past all the snow and glaciers and walls of ice. She only wants to be accepted; it's all she's wanted her whole life."
Looking at the ground, Jasper sighs. He starts to say something, to tell Emmett he knows what Rosalie wants because he can feel it every time she's around - that longing to be the center of attention, that longing to be the most beautiful thing in the room - but another voice interrupts him.
"You'll learn to deal with her." Edward has appeared by Emmett's side. "Or just ignore her, like I tell everyone else. I do."
Jasper suddenly feels very uncomfortable here, sitting in the middle of a dirt path and discussing family issues with two fellow vampires. He's never had a long conversation with anyone but Alice, and he isn't quite sure what to say.
"What about Alice?"
"What?"
Edward shrugs a shoulder. "You were thinking about her."
"Stay outta my head, kid," Jasper scowls.
"It's not like I can just turn it off. You of all people should know that."
Jasper looks up and, for less than a second, he locks eyes with Edward. He does know; the anger, the irritation at feeling (or in Edward's case, hearing) things that you were never meant to...
And being able to do absolutely nothing about it.
Emmett stands. "You two doing some freaky mind thing or something?"
"No," Edward says, rolling his eyes.
"Good, 'cause I hate feeling left out."
"Sometimes, you can't help it, Emmett."
* * *
Jasper stands outside the bedroom door, his hand on the knob and his forehead resting on the frame. He'd had another talk with Edward after returning to the house; one that made him think. He'd been standing up on the roof, watching the lights from the city. He'd been up there for hours, having told Alice that he just needed time to himself. She'd pouted, but respected his wishes.
"You should tell her." It was the first thing Edward had said when he reached the roof. Jasper had simply rolled his eyes and looked away. But Edward wasn't giving up. "It's why you're avoiding her, isn't it? You can't do that forever."
"I know you can't help hearing my thoughts," Jasper had snapped, "but, contrary to your obvious belief, I don't need your opinions on them."
"I'm only trying to help, Jasper..."
"Don't."
"She wants to hear it. She thinks you're drifting away from her, and she's afraid."
Jasper didn't speak, and Edward didn't push. He'd simply left him alone on the roof to think about what he said; Alice thought she was losing him. Distancing himself from her had not been his intention at all, but now that he looked back on his actions, he knew what he had done.
He knew, too, what he should do.
So now, he stands outside their room going through the conversation in his head. He's never been good at this kind of thing, and he's not sure where to even start. He's not even sure if he's ready.
"Jasper, why are you just standing out there?"
He glares at the door. "I'm not just standing here, Alice."
"Yes you are."
His expression softens, and he chuckles a bit as he opens the door and steps into the room. "I was thinking."
"...Outside the door?"
"Yes, Alice."
She smiles up at him as he sits next to her on the bed, and peers over her shoulder at the new dresses she's drawn. "Do you like them? Esme says next time we enroll in university, I can go and get a degree in fashion."
"They're beautiful," he says, and when he leans down to place a kiss on her shoulder, she giggles and shies away. "Alice --"
"You can go, too, you know. I mean, eventually. Maybe we'll have the same classes. Rosalie said her and Emmett got separated their first year, but it worked out in the end. Oh, and I really want to take some art classes, too, I could use some instruction. And..."
Jasper sits there on the edge of the bed, listening to talk ninety miles per hour, nodding his head at the appropriate times and always agreeing with what she says, even when he doesn't know if she's right. Somewhere between the time he'd sat down and the time the sun rose, they'd managed to make their way up to the pillows.
When the first rays of morning seep through the gap in the curtain over the window, Jasper is reclining against the headboard with his eyes closed. One arm is pulled up behind his head, and the other is wrapped around Alice, who has curled up into a tiny ball at his side. Even after the two and a half years they've been together, she still amazes him; he still doesn't know how it's possible for something so beautiful and powerful to be wrapped in such a tiny little package.
He decides then that it doesn't matter; she's here, and thank God for that.
Opening his eyes, he looks down at her and smiles to himself when she mumbles something incoherently. Sometimes, when Alice rests, he's discovered that she's graced with a series of visions. She may or may not remember them later, but he thinks it has something to do with the fact that, though she gives her body a break from time to time, her mind never stops.
She mumbles again, smacks her lips a few times and then curls into, if possible, an even tinier ball. He reaches up and runs a hand through her short, dark hair and, after several failed attempts at forming words, he leans down and places a small kiss on her forehead.
I love you, he thinks. So why can't I say it?
He knows why; words are cheap, meaningless. How many times since the beginning of time have those three words been thrown around, beaten and discarded like yesterday's leftovers? How many times have they been a lie?
Words mean nothing to him. What he feels, though... that's a different story entirely. It's there, he's aware of it every second of the day - a very faint tightness near the bottom of his chest, and it reminds him of a feeling he had in his human life when he were about to cry. It's painful sometimes, especially when Alice is hurting or angry, and he wants nothing more than to comfort her.
Now, though, it's the most overwhelming sensation he's ever felt. He thinks for one silly, fleeting moment that he can actually feel his heart beating again, once or twice, just to remind him that yes, it's still there.
"Jasper," Alice mumbles into his shoulder. "Stop trying so hard."
He looks down, and finds her peering up at him with her big, golden eyes. "What?"
"I know you love me," she whispers. "I don't need to hear it. I can feel it, and that's enough. That's more than enough."
"You want to hear it, though."
"What I want and what I need are two very different things."
"What if I need to say it?"
She closes her eyes and nuzzles her cheek into his arm. "Then you will, when the time comes."
He frowns. "Have you seen it?"
Alice has not seen this, nor has she tried. She hasn't seen Jasper speaking these words to her, in the near or distant future, because she hasn't looked for it. She doesn't want to see him doing something he isn't ready for, because that, she thinks, would be the worst vision ever.
"Yes," she whispers, the lie barely audible even to her own ears. She says it because she knows it's what he needs to hear; he needs to know that he's going to say it. He needs to know this, because he needs to say it more than she needs to hear it.
"I have."