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AN: We feel the need to address something real quick like. Keep in mind that none of you know our Jasper. You know Jasper through Bella, and Bella does not know him. You will begin to learn him as she does. Also keep in mind that there's a lot of stuff in play that you aren't aware of. Patience, my darlings.

Chapter 16

"Any relationship (friend, romantic or business) that's one sided isn't one; it's a one way street headed in one direction... nowhere. Cultivation requires input from willing participants."
― T.F. Hodge

I sighed outwardly and continued to play with the cap from my drink. My head was resting on my other arm and I stared blankly at the red cap as I spun it again on the table. I heard a girlish chuckle from behind me and sat up quickly, my cap spinning to the floor.

"Bored, Bella?" Charlotte asked as she came into the kitchen.

I flushed slightly, not wanting to admit aloud that 'bored' was an understatement.

"Sorry I'm late, Joseph," she said, nodding to the silent man standing still in the corner, "We'll see you at dinner."

I perked up a bit at her obvious dismissal of him and held my breath as I waited for his response. To my utter surprise, however, he simply inclined his head and walked briskly away with a quiet "Perhaps," before gliding through the door.

Deflated, I slumped back down in my seat. I hoped not. My feet, not to mention my behind and arms were sore from our first Zumba foray, as I had expected they would be. Today was just the basics, the simple stuff. She had let me watch the more advanced stuff while I rested. I found that I was really out of shape, much to my displeasure.

"We have a couple of hours before we need to prep for dinner," she said facing me, "Want to sit in the Library?"

I glanced out the window and saw the rain pelting the glass before dropping to the bed of cacti below. It had been raining for two days straight now and I was feeling antsy to go outside. Jasper had been working more so than usual after finding out about the scouts, which left me with a lot of time to myself. Not by myself physically, I always had someone with me, but more alone in regards with no one to talk to. He and I exchanged a few words here and there over meals but then he was rushing us back to his office where I either sat on my stool beside him or napped beside his chair.

Two weeks ago he'd said that I could have Library time but seemed reluctant to let me out of his sight much for the time being. To compensate, he had started giving me a variety of books to read ranging from the Civil War to philosophy to marketing to some really weird fiction. Interesting, but weird nonetheless. Either way I was grateful to be rescued from my bored and circular thoughts.

If I wasn't with him then he made sure I was accompanied by Joseph. And Joseph never talked. To be honest I also wasn't that inclined to talk to him either given that he helped hold me hostage inside the Isolation room. The Bastard.

"I'm not much in a reading mood," I said apologetically.

Charlotte placed a brown paper bag beneath the kitchen sink before turning to me, her lips pursed.

"Let me think," she said, tapping her fingernails on the counter, "How good is your Spanish?"

I gave a sharp laugh and rolled my eyes, "Nonexistent," I replied. "I know just a bit, random words here and there."

Charlotte smirked and came around to where I was sitting, looping her arm through mine, "Well, since joining Jasper here I have been studying it with Peter and it's actually a pretty easy language to learn."

"Peter is teaching you?" I asked incredulously.

I knew Peter was fluent in the language but he didn't strike me as a Teacher type.

Charlotte grinned as she led us out of the kitchen, "He is," she confirmed, "And you know how I learn outside of him? By watching Novelas. You pick up on the language surprisingly fast when you listen to it constantly and are invested in the story."

I cocked my eyebrow but said nothing as she brought us into a room near Peter's office, shutting the door behind her. There was a large flat screen television in front of me and a black leather couch beside me. Paintings adorned the walls on both sides of me but it was too dim to see what they were exactly.

"Allow me to introduce you to the Queen of the drug world, Teresa Mendoza," Charlotte said cheerfully as she plopped down onto the couch, the remote grasped in her right hand.

I sat down hesitantly beside her as a daunting theme song played over the surround sound speakers.

"That's Teresa," Charlotte pointed out, "We like her."

I chortled and settled into the cushions as Charlotte hurriedly caught me up on the major points of the television series, trying to pay close attention to dialogue and subtitles.

"We all have to start somewhere, Bella," she said sympathetically, probably seeing how lost I looked, "A few months of this and you'll be speaking the native language in no time."

I had never been into soap operas but then again things had changed and I had a new learning opportunity. I found it entertaining to watch, yet interesting as the building blocks began to lay themselves down in my mind. Small bits of course, mainly calling forth what I already knew of Spanish and putting it in a real world dialogue setting.

The show went by faster than I had anticipated and before I knew it, the ending credits had rolled. I stood up then and temporarily blinded us via the light switch while Charlotte shut down everything else.

"What did you think?" Charlotte asked coming up beside me.

She slapped off the switch as if it had personally offended her and together we walked out of the room.

"Teresa is a very nasty woman," I accused.

Charlotte laughed, nodding her head, "That's an understatement," she agreed.

"I'll check with Jasper to see if you and I can watch the show together for a couple of weeks until you're caught up," she offered, "He wasn't much of a fan for this kind of learning growing up but I'm sure he will be fine with it. Until he has more time to teach you that is."

"You knew Ja- my Master as a child?" I asked incredulously.

Charlotte stopped and faced me, her smile gone.

"Yes," she said hesitantly. It was obvious that she was concerned that I would start in with questions.

Instead I just nodded, my eyes downcast as I started walking again towards the kitchen. It was almost dinner time and knew it was time to start prepping the meal. I was shocked for some reason that Charlotte knew Jasper growing up and it took all of my strength not to ask her relentless questions about his childhood and what he was like growing up. But I also knew that there was an obvious bond there between them and her loyalty was to him. She likely wouldn't give me many, if any, details unless he okay'ed it. The tension melted from her shoulders when she realized that I wouldn't be continuing any questions.

I had learned just a bit about his life from what he had shared with me and it left a hunger to know more. I knew some devastation but I wanted to know some joy as well. I wanted to have the reminder that he was human. Oddly enough, I wanted him to be the one to tell me rather than anyone else.

I bit my lip as we began taking food out of the fridge and placing everything on the counters. Jasper and I had made a lot of progress it seemed like. Well, maybe not so much progress as it was me actually respecting him and doing as he asked without the usual attitude I sported.

Either way, we had finally found a place where we were both able to open up bit by bit and slowly learn one another. And I really didn't want to ruin that by asking questions about him to other people. It was highly doubtful that he would appreciate that much. I sighed as I thought about the real reason; I didn't want to lose what little trust I had gained. He was slowly giving me more freedoms and I wanted to stay on that trajectory.

That thought made me want to heave another sigh at the thought of how much more work was ahead of me in that minefield. It also made me want scoff in complete disgust at myself. The man pays to have me kidnapped, drags me down here illegally, takes me captive, spanks me, humiliates me, deprives me of almost any social contact or any other freedoms then dangles tasty bits of information in front of my face that made my curiosity rage and here I am wanting to know more. Half due to curiosity and half due to being starved for social interaction.

What I could do, however, was admit to myself that I was dealing with my situation in the most practical way possible now.

It hit me then as I stood stirring meat in a skillet that I had underwent the cycle of grief.

When I was abducted and brought down here I was in denial that this could be happening to me. When everything went sideways and I did my best to resist and, admittedly, did some exceptionally foolish things, that was the anger phase. That hung around for a while. Then came the short lived bargaining. If I prayed hard enough and promised everything short of becoming a nun before I went to sleep then surely the merciful God Esme believed in would deliver me from this evil at any moment. A week later found me in the depression stage. Looking back, it lasted longer than I would have anticipated, had I been aware of things. Then Jasper reached the end of his patience for it and intervened. Now I was in the acceptance stage.

I had even got Char to agree to do Zumba with me even though I knew that it guaranteed that I would be laughed at when the klutz gene kicked in hard. If that wasn't acceptance and coping with my situation I didn't know what was.

"Did the carnitas insult you? You're going to get early wrinkles if you keep doing that, like I told you the other day," Jasper teased.

I jumped but kept the pork in the pan and the spatula in my hand. Two points to me.

"No Sir, just… contemplating," I answered, breaking out the mental clothes iron again for my expression.

"Must have been bad to bring about that expression," he mused.

"Oh, just thinking about the prospects of zigging when I should have zagged and giving Charlotte a case of the hysterics when we start the more advanced Zumba together and I become better acquainted with the floor," I tossed out.

His eyes sparked with mirth as the musical laughter fell from his lips. I reminded myself about Lucifer being beautiful.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine. If not in the beginning then by the end," he reassured me. The laughter had now taken up residence in his eyes. I had wished to see him more human and now I had gotten it. Be careful what you wish for indeed.

I rolled my own, "We'll see."

It was clear that I didn't have anything close to the confidence he had. At least the space in the living room we'd used had been mostly empty. The most damage I could do would be to myself and Charlotte. If she didn't dodge in time.

I dumped the carnitas into an awaiting bowl and took it to the bar. My hands assembled our dinner on autopilot and put them in our respective places before circling around. My brain had paid no attention to what he'd been doing. I had been building my case for Charlotte letting me use the knife tomorrow to help with salsa day rather than just roasting peppers on the burners, mixing and dumping the goods into mason jars. She let me slice and dice sometimes when there was small and limited amounts to do, but never on big days. I had just pulled out my seat when a big bottle of ice cold Mexican Coke with the real sugar appeared in front of my face. I took it with a grateful 'Thank you!', tipping the bottle back for a nice long drink.

"You're really lost in your thoughts today, aren't you?" He chuckled.

Fire erupted in my cheeks, this was probably the first time I wasn't on my every last guard around him and had just gone on about my thoughts. My teeth worried my lip a moment before I responded.

"Sorry, I was trying to construct an argument in my head to get Char to let me use the knife and actually dice stuff for salsa day tomorrow. She said she's afraid of me taking a finger off but I used to do that sort of thing frequently… Dicing stuff that is, not chopping off fingers," I stumbled along, word vomiting all the way.

"You have no scars that indicate you should be missing a digit or have had one reattached. I see no reason for you not to be able to help out in whatever way you like," He said, his sharp eyes running along my hands and wrists.

His cursory exam seemed to satisfy him. When he picked up his chalupa and chowed down I felt as if I'd passed some sort of test and felt good for it, even though I hadn't done anything. It was stupid because all I had done was to manage to not dismember myself up to this point. I did have a scar on my palm and wrist area but it was obvious that it hadn't been from a knife. I started on my nachos and let it slip from my mind.

Dinner was delicious, blissfully uneventful and fantastically Joseph free. I relished every drop of my oversized Coke, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin on the way out.

Maybe now that I was exercising again he would give me more Cokes.

As I followed Jasper out, I'd expected to head back to the office. Instead he headed into what I had mentally dubbed the 'Schmoozing room'.

"Shut the door behind you please," he requested as I stepped in.

The door slid shut just as silently as it had before.

I didn't know what to do with myself but seeing as I was on the sore side from being put through some paces with Char after having sat on my ass for months, I decided to sit down. Not on a cushion nor on my knees nor on the floor. On the loveseat. It was far more comfortable than its utilitarian design alluded to, which had surprised me the first time I sat on it.

Jasper was busy at the bar. I could tell he was muddling something in a glass but I had no idea what. He must have had a tough day. He rarely had a drink at the day's end but when he did it was usually at dinner or while reading in bed.

He had finished finagling with the drinks and was now putting on a record. Instrumental again. I could appreciate it and the mood it set. Slow paced, full of strings and winds with light percussion, xylophones mainly if I had to guess. He brought the drinks over, handing me mine, his fingertips suspending it from near the rim and making it easy to take securely.

The deep red of cherries on the bottom almost glowed in the lamp light as they floated in the amber liquid. I brought the edge of the glass to my nose for further examination. Vanilla, bourbon, and something else aside from cherries. Taking an experimental sip, I allowed it to wash over my palate slowly. It was a touch sweet from both the cherries and, I would bet, some sugar but not much. Simple vanilla brought complexity and harmony to the equation. The bourbon was old and expensive. In my opinion, as a mixed drinks type of person, the additives made it all the better. A bigger sip this time, holding it my mouth to relish the taste again before allowing it to slide down. A new favorite for sure.

When I opened my eyes I found him studying me, as always. He was relaxed, more so than he usually was when he was out of bed. His hair had gotten longer, becoming curlier with the added length. I noted this as my eyes drifted across his form, laid back against the couch with his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and his legs crossed casually at the knee. The tailoring of his gray suit pants accentuated his legs fantastically in that position but I forbade my mind from that train of thought.

His hands, another thing that my traitorous, hormonal mind lusted over were also relaxed. One on his thigh, the other holding his tumbler filled with straight bourbon. Normally he folded them together while he pondered and while he worked one was usually flying on the mouse and the other was taking notes or tapping out some tune while he was lost in his zone. My eyes darted back up to his face. He didn't seem angry or displeased, mostly just tired.

"How's your drink?" he asked.

"Delicious. I love the way the flavors work with one another and blend beautifully with the bourbon. I think this is definitely a new favorite," I stopped myself before I started rambling. Or worse, gushing inadvertently.

The corner of his mouth tilted up, "Good, it pleases me to hear that. Now, relax, be comfortable."

I realized I was sitting straight up still from when I received my drink. Cradling the glass in my hands, I slipped my flats off and settled back into the corner, tucking my stocking clad legs and feet to the side as I did.

"I figured we'd be going back to your office," I chanced. I almost never started conversations.

"Do you not like this room?" he asked.

"Quite the opposite, I like it quite a lot. It's just a deviation from the recent norm is all," I explained.

He nodded in acquiescence.

"I think it would be good to spend less time in there. Charlotte has lectured me for years that I need to cut back. Truthfully I can and do the same amount of work. I suppose you could say it's my 'Happy Place'," he explained, even using air quotes.

Made sense. The most used piece of furniture of his I'd seen so far was his desk. I'd watched him stay there from dawn until dark, only leaving for the bathroom since I'd brought him his meals during those times.

"I, too, have been told spending too much time cooped up in one place was an unhealthy habit," I nodded.

I had heard it from both Renee and Charlie more times than I could count.

"I thought we might build a new routine together. My parents would sit in the living room at the end of the day and talk or watch the news or a show, as many people do and I think it would be good to try something similar out," he proposed.

"I would like that," I replied.

Anything else was better than being stuck in silence on a stool.

"I also think it would be a good opportunity to get to know one another better. When we're in here you can ask almost any question you want. I have the right to veto questions, as do you. I will answer with complete honesty," he said.

It was unspoken and understood that my honesty was a given. Anything else would buy me a one way ticket to over his knee.

He watched me steadily as he took a long pull. I did the same in turn, letting the proposal roll around in my head. I had just wanted reminders of him being human and here it was being gifted to me.

"Alright then. I agree to your proposal. I think it would be beneficial to the both of us," I said.

I didn't have much trust in this new venture. Life was never agreeable with me. If it was bad, it would happen to me. My current situation was direct proof.

A grin curled his lips, "Ladies first," he said, draining the glass.

"Alright. How is it that you know how to do hair?" I queried.

"When our parents died, Rosalie had a really hard time of it. She found having her hair brushed was soothing, so I watched a few tutorials and when she was having a tumultuous day I would do her hair for her. It was soothing to the both of us. She felt better and I could help relieve some suffering," he explained.

He eyed me, "What do you dream about most frequently?"

I thought about it for a few minutes.

"When I originally moved to Forks it was so vastly different. I had been used to Phoenix and Forks was so, so green. It was like a foreign planet. For a while I would dream of all the greenery and being lost in the woods. I still do sometimes and I suppose you could label it as recurring. Except now I reach the edge of the forest and find the desert. I take a few steps forward, but when I go to retreat, the forest is gone. The cool, almost damp air is replaced with dry heat and there's nothing but desert as far as I can see," I swirled the glass in my hands, drinking more.

I looked up, "How long have you been doing this?"

He counted silently, eyes looking towards the ceiling as if the answer was written there, the fingers on his thigh tapping away, "Ten years, give or take a bit. Eleazer took me under his wing when I was eighteen and I proved a natural. He almost made me into a warlord. I had a knack for battle, where to send who and when. I was good at making people function as a group. A unit. Then after a couple of close calls too many he pulled me back. I still consult frequently but not in person and I definitely don't get to go in with them anymore. He said he didn't promise my father to watch over me with his own life just to go back on it not two years after he was murdered, so he set me to doing this and I took classes online while I 'apprenticed' and networked… If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?"

I cocked a brow at him, "That's cheating a bit isn't it? Two questions in one go?" I didn't know how teasing him would go over but I may as well find out in a soft ball way.

He shrugged, "We established no rules and I see no reason for either of us not to ask two part questions that are linked. Unless you have objections…"

"No, I agree. I was just picking at you," his lips widened into closer of a grin momentarily. If you blinked too long you would have missed it.

"I, like many others, would love to go to Italy. See Rome, Milan, Pompeii, Venice, Tuscany, the Italian Lake District. All the usual stuff. The biggest prize of the trip though would be Volterra. It's such an old city and you don't hear much about it on travel channels or see it on Italian destination lists, it's like a hidden gem. So much history and so much beauty. It's almost as if it had come from a fiction piece. An ancient city on top of a hill, high stone walls surrounding it making it almost impenetrable to all but the best spies. All it really needs to finish that aspect is a group of villains living underground in one of the big ancient buildings," I was rambling but it didn't look like he cared, "I love everything about the country. The food, the climate, the history, art, the supreme age of everything. Even Italian politics are mildly interesting. You could stand in famous places and imagine the people that stood there before you that are written in history and in stories. I could probably spend years there."

I came back to myself to realize that he was listening, truly listening, as if my words mattered. The realization that I was likely just sating his curiosity hurt when it really shouldn't have. I shoved that aside, reminding myself that I was getting my curiosity fix too. It was my turn.

"What did you want to do with your life when your parents were still alive?" That was a harder question than he'd given me but I was curious as to where his path could have led him had tragedy not struck.

He sighed, almost silently, but not in anger or annoyance, "In my early teenage years I dreamed of what my opportunities would be like had I not been raised in a Mafia family. I could have gone into the military with Peter, rose through the ranks or went into Special Ops or something along those lines. Sometimes I fantasized of what it would be like to be a U.S. Marshal or even a Texas Ranger. My second year of high school, I had a reckoning. My dreaming self gave way to practicality. Or reality, more like. I knew that if I were to remain a member of the family as more than just a superficial and distant person, that those doors were forever closed to me. I wanted to help my family, not burden or betray them. My father hired independent tutors at my request and I began early education in law and accounting. If I had a solid foundation in the subjects early enough, doing a double major wouldn't be as difficult. I had even completed some college courses early, like English and math and such. My school gave me credits for attending a local college for those classes. Two birds with one stone. I had been accepted at the best law school in the U.S. in Philadelphia. As a gift for graduating early with honors right under the salutatorian, my parents had bought me a townhouse there in a nice yet quiet, low-key neighborhood. I went for a semester, then came home for the summer,"

His pause told me all I needed to know about why he didn't go back.

"Did you like Philadelphia?" I pressed on. I didn't want his mood to sour and make him rethink this whole question asking business.

He perked back up at the question somewhat to my relief.

"Oh yeah. I loved it, it was so different in comparison to Texas," he paused to huff a chuckle, "I was really focused on my heavy course load because I'd wanted to make my parents proud. I had a plan to double major then do some specialization after I passed the bar. I had even gone so far as to put a PhD on the planning table. It would take several years, but that was fine. I had time, I'd thought. There were plenty of local farmer's markets for fresh food. I would cook on the weekends but most days I just kept sub sandwich supplies so I could throw something together real quick and start in on homework and studying. Failing that there was always pizza or some sort of delivery. When I needed to get out and have a break there was plenty of local history to immerse myself in, not to mention some fantastic little diners that had been around for decades. My favorite was one that had been around since the 30's," he was smiling again. "Did college come easy for you?"

"Yes, and no. I was so far away from home but close to the place I had once called home. The scenery and weather were what I had been accustomed to growing up. Going to Forks changed all that and I missed the alien, green world. And I missed Charlie and my friends. When Mike had discovered that I had applied to the University of Arizona in Tucson he did too. He wanted away from Forks, at least for a while. My dad was glad that I would at least have someone I knew there with me, even if it was a guy. When I lived in Phoenix I did advanced placement classes, which Forks didn't have. I maintained straight A's throughout school. This carried over into college work. I already had good study habits and with the gift of modern day internet there were plenty of online resources I could take advantage of if I wasn't getting something. Growing up with my mother, I had been the responsible one. I kept house, made sure bills were paid and that there was food around. The transition was easy because I had essentially grown up already and did a good portion of the housework and cooking at my Dad's," I was rambling again so I cut myself of and changed gears. "You sounded really studious from what you described. Did you struggle any when you were on your own in Philly?"

"There towards the end, yeah. Like I said, I had a heavy course load right out of the gate and there was so much studying to do for finals, presentations to create, papers to write, etcetera. I usually studied out on the balcony off of my bedroom because there were much fewer distractions. I left my phone and my computer inside if I wasn't using it to type a paper. The neighbors behind me that I shared a brick fence with had a daughter. They would go through periods of pretty well ignoring her, it seemed. I would guess she was in the ten to twelve age. Anyway, she would entertain herself by practicing ballet in the back yard or doing art projects and homework, where the brick and good insulation kept the screaming matches inside the house. She would exuberantly wave to me sometimes if I happened to look over that way when getting up or taking a break," he grinned.

"She sounds sweet," I said, a small smile curving my lips without my permission.

His grin transformed into more of a secret smile

"She was, from what I could tell. She seemed bubbly and happy when I saw her despite what I could gather from her home life. There was one time, when I was at my pinnacle of frustration. I'd left the house to get something to eat and just ignore everythin' for a while. In an effort to clear my head, I'd walked. My luck deserted me and it started raining. I hadn't planned on stopping by Melrose Diner but it was convenient to the situation, not to mention my favorite diner. I'd went in and sat down, was perusing the menu when the neighbor girl practically danced over in her high fashion outfit and slid, uninvited into the booth across from me. That short black hair never fell from its style no matter what she did. She introduced herself as Mary Alice and started chattering away. I'd looked around for her parents and when I found them I could understand why she'd come over. They were doing the thing where they were having an intense fight at a very quiet level. So I let her stay. I guess she saw them getting ready to leave and tossed me a quick goodbye and a thanks for the milkshake I'd gotten her. I guess she'd acted as if she were returning from the bathroom because neither parent caused a fuss over it, just stormed out with her trailing after them. It gave me some perspective. If she could deal with living in an environment like that day in and day out I could suck it up and deal with a month of tough times. So I did and I came out on the other side of it with A's. Sometimes all you need is a change in perspective," he shrugged.

I was stunned. That sounded like my Alice. Except she'd never mentioned having lived anywhere besides Mississippi and Forks. That wasn't exactly odd, however. She'd rarely talked about her parents or life before she was adopted by Esme and Carlisle. I didn't know what to think. I would save it for later when I was alone in my thoughts and could comb through my memories.

"Isabella? You look like you've seen a ghost," he murmured, casting a concerned look my way.

"She just sounds very similar to someone I know. Silly though, I'm sure many people have similar stories to the two of them," I waved it off and finished my drink, fishing the cherries out and eating them before deciding that I was done with it and set it down on the coffee table.

"Half of the marriages in America result in divorce and often with children involved, so I would say you're right," he concluded as he got up.

He took our glasses to the kitchen sink with the clink of glass on glass.

He came back and offered me his upturned palm.

"It's getting late, we should go to bed."

I merely nodded and allowed him to help me up. I let the conversation we had replay in my head, his warm hand on my back guiding me through the cool house to the bedroom. I thought of home as I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I made some decisions after climbing in under the blankets and cuddling the extra pillow to my chest.

I did not work this long and hard just for my life to come to nothing. If I were to be stuck here it would behoove me to continue along the path I was now on. Perhaps I could convince him in time to allow me some online classes so I could at least finish my degree, finish the chapter of my formal education. After that I allowed myself to think about how we'd been similar and yet different as students. I could picture him, sitting with some sort of law book on his balcony, studying away with a sandwich and chips on a plate, looking up and waving to someone out of the range of my mind's eye. I let my thoughts take me on the course of imagining him doing other student activities I had done myself. It didn't take much for me to fall asleep while musing over these things. Unsurprisingly he appeared in my dreams that night in cowboy boots, jeans, a nice shirt and a messenger bag, bulging with books in the rain.