Everyday Moments Of Perfection

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry that I haven't updated in a while, my Internet is being stupid. I probably won't be able to update as frequently as usual for the next month… :( Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter—especially since it was the human one. And since pretty much all the feedback was positive, I will probably be throwing a few AH ones in there every so often just to mix it up a bit. :)

Anyway, it's Jasper and Alice's anniversary and Jasper's got the perfect pressie… :)

Jasper clucked his tongue impatiently as his fingers quickly flipped with dexterity through the collection of CDs. Edward's collection was the largest in the family, and Jasper knew that. They were all ordered by the year in which they were released, and then by Edward's personal preference. He remembered overhearing that once, when Bella had asked that very question. Jasper had come in on a whim, not quite certain what he was looking for. Alice had been humming a random tune to herself yesterday, but when he had asked her what it was, she had just giggled and distracted him. Now Jasper found himself really wanting to find it for a reason he could not explain.

It was their anniversary tomorrow. Not their wedding anniversary—that was in March—but what Alice and Jasper thought of as their most important anniversary… the day they had met in the diner. Jasper could still feel the tingle in his hand—her touch was like a phantom limb; he felt like it was there all the time. It was the first moment he could remember being truly happy, feeling complete for the first time. The distinct feeling of her small hand wrapped in his larger one. He smiled wistfully, remembering it. "You've kept me waiting," she had said. Jasper had been transfixed by this mysterious creature with her brightly shining golden eyes, looking with—trust? Acceptance? Love?—into his murderous crimson counterparts. He said the only thing he could: and he meant every word. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

That was the anniversary that really mattered. Their wedding anniversary was a public affair, spent with the rest of the family, exchanging gifts, pleasant words and smiles. Alice always organised the parties with assured experience and indispensable taste, a large grin on her face from beginning to end. But their real anniversary—that was for them alone. They went away for a little while, or the rest of the family did. Whichever way it was, Alice and Jasper were on their own. Those were the sweetest times. Not that Jasper didn't adore their family—he did. They had taken them in, accepted them as their own—become his own family, his parents and his siblings. It was just that Jasper's head and heart was always so crowded and overflowing with the emotions of the people around him; he had no time that was completely his own, not invaded by foreign feelings. Those times alone with Alice were a peaceful release. Hers were the only feelings around him, but he didn't mind them at all. They were a part of him—and he would feel stranded and lost if they ever went away. They were an affectionate blanket, engulfing him with their heat, warming him to his very core.

The family had gone. They had travelled to France for a week, to the sunny climes of the South of France, secluded from the bustle of the people that usually surrounded them. There was no chance they would be spotted. Alice and Jasper had the house all to themselves. Alice was out hunting, but Jasper had stayed behind to make the place nicer for her when she got back. Alice was always the one who did this; Jasper wanted to give her a break.

Jasper's hands stopped flicking through Edward's CD collection, and he sighed heavily. Jasper wasn't made for this stuff. Edward was the musical one. Jasper was the scholar, the reader, the philosopher. But that was hardly the stuff of romance.

It was then, Jasper decided to try something he had never done before. In a flash, he was across the hall and in his library-cum-study. He sat on his comfortable red armchair, pen in hand. He closed his eyes and breathed in, taking in the senses around him, the smell of books. It seemed to comfort him. He filled his mind with thoughts of Alice; with her smile, her eyes, the way a small dimple sometimes appeared on her left cheek when she smiled the right way. He felt her milky skin under his touch, the all-too familiar tendrils of emotions that belonged to her, of the way her love felt like a bottle of champagne, bubbling under the cork, and when they kissed, it was released; a fountain of warmth and desire.

And then… Jasper put his pen to paper.

~oOo~

Alice felt the blood of the deer line her throat with a satisfying cooling sensation. She opened her eyes, once again a bright, lively gold. Alice turned on her heel, and giggling, began to run back to the house. She couldn't wait to see Jasper. That, and she had to admit, she was a bit worried about the house. Esme did like things to be a particular way—she didn't like it when they messed around with things. Not that she would say that, of course. Alice felt a surge of affection for her maternal figure.

Alice dodged in and out of the trees; the emerald leaves barely stirred as she passed, a mere ghost in the overwhelming woods that surrounded her. She was filled with an irresistible urge to see Jasper. She needed him, like she needed blood to survive. It was hard to understand, to any mere observer of their relationship. Her soul felt incomplete without him. When they touched, she felt the sparks every time, like a human stuck in a perpetual first kiss, first glance, first everything. That was how it was for Alice.

She ran, faster than a cheetah on steroids, dodging hedges and jumping over large tree roots in her path, until she saw the huge white house nestled in the middle of nowhere. Alice was a blur across the driveway, until she came to the door. She almost destroyed it in her fierce need to see Jasper, until she saw the small piece of decorated paper stuck carefully to the door. Intrigued, Alice plucked it carefully from the glass door. It had Jasper's flowing script on the front; To my dearest Alice.

Alice smiled, before unfolding it.

At the top was a small note from Jasper. You are my muse; my lover; my best friend; my wife; you are my everything. You are more than mere words can describe. This is a small hint of what you inspire in me.

Alice gasped slightly. Underneath his note, was a small impression in black charcoal. It was of her face, smiling at something to the left, in the distance, her eyes twinkling with unbridled pleasure. But beneath that—was a poem.

Alice read, whispered the words under her breath with starry admiration and reverence in her tone, every word a treasure.

"Though my past may be abhorred,
Death followed me to my very core,
When I was granted with your absolution,
My soul leaped inside; I was forgiven.
And when my history returns to haunt me,
These ghosts you purge, to the furthest valley.

My promises, though it may be said once were false,
When made to you, are anything but farce,
You stayed with me, through thick and thin,
Our valiant quest—for our fellow kin,
"You've kept me waiting," you said to me,
I took your hand, and I was free.

Salient angel, you came to me
For days, you waited ceaselessly,
Not even at eternity's dusk shall we part,
A touch of your hand, and you captured my heart.
A smile from your countenance, what went before melted away,
And I was yours—only yours,
For forever and a day."

Alice was more touched that she could articulate in that moment. She was absolutely speechless, and moved beyond words. She had always known that Jasper was the learned one of the family, the wordy one. He had read the dictionary goodness knew how many times. But she had never known he could create something like that. And for her.

She held the paper in her hand. It was now the most precious thing she owned, black Gucci stilettos and cream Prada jacket included. She held it close to her chest, closing her eyes, and smiled when she heard the door open. She opened her eyes slowly, and saw Jasper. Her wonderful, beautiful Jasper. Wordlessly, he smiled and opened his arms. She shuffled up, close to him, her face lying in the crook of his neck.

She kissed him softly in that same place, and his heart was filled with the warmth that her affection created in him. He didn't need to say anything. He had already said it all.

The way her lips lingered on his skin told him everything he needed to know.

I apologise in advance for my appalling poetry skills! Lol. I just didn't want to use a poem that already existed. I tried using, "How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways," but I didn't think it worked because I knew someone else had written it. It just seemed fake. Besides, I wanted the poem to be something personal to Jasper and Alice. So I made it up. Jasper is an amateur poet, and so am I… hehe. :)

Anyway, hope you liked it, regardless of the poetry skills. ;)

Raven. X