Disclaimers: I own nothing here but my story and imagination.

It's a very late update, I know. But I'm back in school for one more year and having a lot of work or just being plain tired. Don't worry though, this definitely will not be abandoned and I'm still writing. My stories are my life. I'm just going to need some time to recuperate at moments like these. Anyways, I'd love to thank everyone for the reviews, the many favorites and lots of follows. I'm happy. It makes me happy and has my story filled in my mine every time I see the email alerts. Thank you and please, keep them coming. It means a lot.

Please enjoy this chapter. I worked hard on it for the concept and I hope it's not too out there. It's shorter that the usual and gets into the main plot for this story. Keep an open mind, as well.

Happy Reads!

(Shoutout Teamstarkidding to for being spot on with the theory. I wanted to cry with how you figured it out so quickly. But there's more to it, though, so please enjoy and thank you!)


Chapter 4: Sycamore Tree

Regular POV

"What were you thinking, Dawn?!"

What was she thinking?

"Detention on your first day?!" The chief yelled.

She was thinking of sleep.

"For calling Mr. Bates an idiot?!"

It was past midnight when Charlie came home from a hard day on the force. He dealt with petty town crimes such as snatch & runs at the local corner store, someone harrassing old people for money and even a strange smell coming from under the sink in someone's bathroom. It was a tedious day―and to make matters worse, Forks High School blew up the station with phone calls regarding one of his girls in detention for insulting an instructor. While Charlie secretly hoped it was Bella and not Dawnette, he knew otherwise. Bella had her new boyfriend to keep her out of trouble―she never got in trouble, what the hell―and Dawn... had just escaped trouble.

So it was no surprise that she'd be the one to get detention on the first day. With her fiery attitude and revolutionary aura, it was bound to happen. Not that he expected it, anyways.

And here it was, about to be two in the morning.

Charlie had woken Dawnette up and got her downstairs to have a talk with her... a talk that turned into her snoring half the way and him scolding her.

"When I said your first day wouldn't go off without a hitch, that didn't mean you could just open your arms up for trouble!"

The brown-skinned female's response was a short yawn―she was hella tired and his yelling at her didn't help. Plus, Dawn liked to think of it as, trouble finding her rather than she looking for it.

"Did you just yawn during my reprimanding, young lady?"

Dawn opened her crusty eyes―the sandman must have given the girl a double visit tonight―and yawned once more, holding up a finger when her Uncle C looked like he was about to explode. His face was red and he was pouting; she never knew he could hold so much authority―sure, he is the chief police of Forks, but damn... even though she was half asleep, it felt like she was getting her ass handed to her.

"What? You have an explanation? Because I'd really love to know what you could come up with to save yourself from this one, Dawn!"

Dawnette simply nodded. She open her eyes wide and let out a heavy sigh, before speaking, her voice groggy with sleep, "Uncle C―in my defense... it's two o' clock in the morning. I was sleeping when you got home just about an hour ago and was woken up just to hear you yell at me for some bullsh―stuff I didn't do."

Dawnette eyed her uncle, his red face slowly turning bright pink instead. She gave her Caucasian uncle a look to show that she was however, serious.

"... Okay..." Charlie trailed off, scratching the nape of his neck. "Maybe I was a little rash..."

He got another look from his niece.

"Okay, I was very rash, Dawnie. The most rash."

Nodding in agreement, Dawnette chimed, "Thank you."

Her Uncle held up a hand though, sputtering, "But in my defense, I was being that way because I don't want to see you in trouble when you've just left trouble, Dawnie. This is supposed to be a clean start, remember?"

"Yes, Uncle Charlie. I know," she paused to yawn once more. It was a big one, too. "But in my defense, Mr. Bates basically implied that I was an idiot so I countered back by asking him which end―I didn't get in trouble for winning three hundred smackeroos* from Buff Daddy, I got in trouble because Mr. Bates decided it was cool to do that when he was the one who didn't even know my name, where I was from or any of that important stuff. Like, come on, Uncle C! If you were a teacher wouldn't you take the time to get to know your students before they arrive to the class?! And he made me stand up in front of a bunch of basic looking people―let me stop, because I said I wouldn't judge them―but I had to stand there looking like a fool with all their eyes on me and―"

"Dawnie, it's okay." Charlie interjected, his hands on her slim shoulders.

She blinked twice. "What?"

"You... were rambling." He uneasily retorted. "All I got from that whole ramble was that the first day stressed you out... Mr. Bates is the one at fault... you won three hundred dollars from someone named Buff Daddy... and that you don't need me reprimanding you―you need a hug right now."

Dawnette hadn't even come to realize that she started rambling or that her uncle was telling her that it was okay and that he shouldn't have yelled at her―he said she needed a hug. As much as she wanted to question him on that, the brown-skinned girl only settled for raising her arched eyebrows at his response.

Charlie nodded. "Yep. Come on over here, kiddo." Her Uncle awkwardly hugged her, squeezing tight for a second or two before letting go. He flopped down on the couch beside her, giving his niece a glance. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"As long as you carry me back to bed." She giggled, leaning her head childishly on his shoulder while looking up at him, her brown eyes very doe-like.

The look on her uncle's face made her take back the statement, with a giggle and another yawn. "Just kidding. But, I'm tired... We finish this over breakfast?"

Charlie pat his niece on the head. "Sure thing, Dawnie. Good night and uh, sorry for... waking you up out of your sleep."

"It's okay, Uncle C... I was just sleep―didn't even have a dream, so it's all good." She said, leaving the middle aged man to get himself together as she headed back upstairs to her room.

As soon as she opened the door and closed it, Dawnette jumped at the sight of her cousin sitting on her bed.

"That sounded bad." Bella said, a slight shrug on her shoulders.

Dawn waved her cousin off, climbing into her small bed―the space her cousin didn't take up. She flipped over to face Bella, sassing, "Not as bad as you sneaking up on me in my own room, B."

The brunette blushed at the comment, before shrugging again, her bottom lip being tugged on by her teeth. "Sorry, it's just I couldn't sleep... felt like there was a draft in my room..." She whispered, smiling to herself. "A very nice draft... that kept me up... and was near my bed... in it..."

Dawn raised an eyebrow at her cousin who seemed to be dazzled for the fact that it was cold in her room... maybe it was just always hot for her in there or something. Never had she seen a girl excited about the cold as much as Bella was.

"Okay...? It's cold in your room. I get it."

Bella quickly changed the subject. "So how was your first day?"

When Dawn rolled her eyes, her lips frowning, the brunette tilted her head to the side. She settled herself comfortably in the small bed, covering up with the comforter blanket. It was like old memories―little Bells and Dawnie curled up next to each other as best cousins, talking through the night and sharing secrets. Except instead of being small children, they were now teenagers on the brink of early adulthood. And both completely different. More different than they were as children.

"Touchy subject, I see." Bella murmured to her cousin.

Dawnette let a heavy sigh escape her lips before asking, "Where were you all day? I didn't see you during lunch or anything..."

"I was with―"

"Oh, yeah." The brown-skinned girl muttered. "I forgot you have a little Eddie."

"Him and his family would really like to meet you, Dawn..."

She scrunched her small, button nose up at that statement. Why would a boyfriend of her cousin's want to meet her? And his family, too? When it was only now her third day in this small town―if that wasn't considered weird... "He's your man, Bells."

"And you're my cousin, Dawn." Bella countered, giving Dawnette a pout.

Dawnette let out a loud groan, before laying on her back, staring up at the wooden ceilings. "Do I have to?"

"You'd end up meeting them either way... they all go to our school." Bella tried to be more comforting. She reached for her cousin's hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

"Oh." Dawn's eyes raked over the difference of their skin tone for a spilt second before she sighed, "Bells, it's pushing to two' thirty..."

In an instant the brunette was sitting up in the small bed. "Oh, sorry. So I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Dawn nodded. She watched as Bella gave her a small smile.

"Good night."

"Night, B." She smiled back, yawned before she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

And a night it was going to be.


1866, Georgia

' I don't know why I write these letters knowin' that you'll never get them. I don't know why I come and sit under this here sycamore... the same sycamore we made love under before you left me again to go fight in the war... why didn't you just stay here with me? Why did you have to leave, Jasper Whitlock? '


Her dark brown eyes stared at the sheet of stationary perched in her lap. The words she wrote looked right back at her and in an instant, Nailah folded the piece of paper once, twice, thrice before huffing and tossing it with the others―the many letters written to the man she loved by the name of Jasper. Some folded, others ripped and many clenched into little balls.

Nailah leaned back against the soft birch of the big, blooming sycamore tree. It was true. Ever since Jasper led a raid on massa' James, torched the plantation, rescued her , freed the other slaves, and brought her to this "safe" part of hot Georgia with the most biggest, beautiful sycamore she ever laid eyes on, she'd come sit here.

And write.

Write letters the honey blonde would never receive.

He'd never receive them because she didn't have a clue where she was or a clue where he was. Only that this land was hers, as he told her before leaving a second time, three years ago. And that he was off somewhere, probably in another state or province fighting for the Confederate Army―which baffled her because the Confederate did not support abolishing slavery...

Nailah, swallowed back bile, clutching her stomach as she thought back to the troubles she went through, over three years ago. Starting from when she was just fifteen and was taken from her home land to be sold as a slave and work on a plantation. From her cruel slavemaster and mistress to the overseer she found herself in love with... She had been through a lot. Way too much for the lifetime of a girl growing into a woman.

Nailah let a heavy sigh escape between her two plump yet thin lips, closing her eyes. For a moment, she basked in the sounds the Lord blessed her with. The sounds of birds chirping occasionally, the wind howling in the distance and the shimmer and rattle of the field of wheat and grass, the rustling green leaves of the sycamore tree.

A twig snapped behind her, causing the brown-skinned female to jolt up, frozen in place.

Her first instinct was to runthat was what the honey-blonde told her.

"Nailah, you hear anything and I mean anything out of the ordinary ' round these parts... run. Run like it's the devil himself, chasing you. Run like you're trying to find me and don't look back. Don't try to see who or what is chasing ya'. Just run. Remember you ask me that one day what kind of lovers is we? We're the kind that always has an escape plan. And when I'm not there... I need you to escape for me."

She gulped, feeling a bead of sweat drip down the nape of her neck; Nailah closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in and a deep breath out. She wanted to run. She really did... but something...

Something held her in that very spot, perched under that tree.

And while she felt anxious... She also felt calm. And safe.

"Jasper?" She breathed out, taking the chance of it not being him. "That you?" The brown skinned woman's dark pink lips curved into a small smile at the sound of soft steps heard crunching over the fallen leaves, twigs and stalks of grass. She immediately stood from her spot, smoothing over the wrinkles on her simple gown, fluffing her head full of unruly, soft curls that draped towards her shoulders. From behind the tree stepped a honey-blonde with wavy, hair now cascading to his shoulders―red eyes glowing at the chocolate woman just a few feet before him, that same crooked, small smile he used to smile at her years ago.

In an instant, she was crushed against his chest, embraced lovingly in his arms.

"It'll always be me, ma'am." Jasper Whitlock pressed his marbled, pink lips to her forehead, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

"Y-You're back! You're―it's you, Jasper... it's really you." She breathed heavily, tears coating the brim of her brown eyes. Drop by drop, the tears fell down her freckled cheeks, onto his grey and gold uniform.

"Oh, Nailah..." Jasper let her go, his eyebrows knit in a furrow as he deeply inhaled like he was in pain. He wrapped tight arms back around her wide waist. "I've missed you so―"

"I thought you weren't coming back…" Nailah cut him off. She buried her face into his chest and he hugged tighter, pulling her body impossibly closer. "Hold me." She sniffled, shaking her head in disbelief. He was really here. After three years. Her lips painfully curved into a smile. "Just like that... just like this."

Pushing her back gently, he took her face in his callous, cold hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His hands were cold and made her shiver like the ointment he used that one time to spread over her lashes... and with the hot heat in the Georgia air, it cooled her skin. He was also gentle―so gentle that she felt herself leaning into his palms. Peeking up at him, her lips parted in soft gasp when she saw his red eyes. The last time, they were as brown as her skin. Now they were red like her former slavemaster, James.

And as she stared into his eyes, his every own gaze shifted to her lips and she could hear him hitch and pause breathing. Consciously, she leaned in closer, her eyes closing as she waited for him. He groaned softly then pressed his mouth to hers lightly, almost like he wasn't kissing her at all.

The feeling of his lips on hers were not foreign. She knew and craved the feeling. How his marbled yet soft lips curved into hers, his cool tongue brushing slowly over hers and the warmth spreading in places that sent her over the edge. She wanted more. She needed more.

But he pulled back and let out a shaky breath, resuming back to holding her tight, against his chest.

The two stayed embracing each other in silence. The only sounds heard were natural: the birds, the bees, the wind, the trees.

"I miss it." Jasper finally spoke, his southern drawl sinking into her ears.

Bravely, she kissed his cold, sparkling cheeks. "Miss what?"

"The way you smellnot the smell of wash you bathe with or the cream you use to moisturize your skin―your scent, Nailah. I mean the smell of your skin..." Jasper tilted his head down, his lips gently pressing against hers. As he softly kissed the brown-skinned female, he breathed deeply taking in her scent; a mixture of the white cotton she used to pick and an exotic smell he couldn't exactly identify... it hinted at her roots of coming from a far away land not in America. "it's the only thing that felt like... home..." he said against her mouth, pecking her lips, this time more fiercely.

He meant it, too. After leaving that fiend of a slavemaster, before he was 17 to serve in the Confederate Army, he was turned into the very same thing as the fiend when he encountered Maria. A woman named Maria who smelled of spices. Spices that burned his nose. A smell that was comforting but not the same scent he loved and dreamed about. In the past few years after rescuing Nailah, freeing the niggers and leaving her once again, that's where he's been. With Maria.

And he'd never tell Nailah about that.

Maria wasn't his home.

Nailah was.

"Oh, Jasper―" she cried, using sheer courage and need, to fully kissing him. He seemed unprepared at first, the rush from the kiss causing a low growl to escape from the back of his throat. And her lips―they tingled as she opened them at the sensation, inviting him in, unaware of the danger of doing so.

But Jasper was careful. It was wild with Maria, straight up lust. But love with Nailah, straight up passion. As his teeth softly, gently nipped at her bottom lips, enjoying the swollen taste of the blood embedded in the thin skin and ultimately the feel of her fleshy lips against his, the tip of his tongue glided over before plunging in deep. She moaned, her fingers grazing over his matching gray hat with gold stars and trim plastered on the front as a sign of his loyalty. She tipped it off his head, pulling closer.

Jasper pushed her against the bark of the sycamore, grounding roughly in between her legs as she roamed fingers through texture of his hair; it was so different than hers. She easily could slide her fingers through and she scratch at his scalp.

The feelings he illicit to her was more intense than she ever felt before in her life. Too intense under the sycamore tree.

And by now, her lips were swollen from his constant nips and hard sucks. She was cooled by his icy skin and dazzled by the imminent glimmers. Nailah pulled away, her breathes huffing out heavily as she murmured, her finger tips ghosting over his lips, nose, and cheeks. "... your skin... it sparkles. Like one of those big gems Mistress used to have."

She gazed deeply into his red eyes. "And your eyes... as red as... Massa' James'..." When another low growl threatened to escape his mouth, she quieted the honey blonde with a hush, continuing, "But there's a difference―yours... are kinder. As red as the color of my blood but as sweet as this here sycamore tree―love. You have love for me, Jasper. I can feel it."

As her dainty hand lay over his chest and she felt no beat, her swollen lips curved downward into a frown.

"Don't worry about that, Nailah. It's there." Jasper coaxed, placing a hand over hers. His heart was indeed dead. But , it still beat for her. Whether or not if she could hear or feel it. His heart still beat for her.

"... I used to lay my head right there, Jasper." Her eyes trailed down to the hand over hers. "I used to listen to the soft thump and then listen to my own―our hearts beat together. Does it still beat for me like mine aches for you?"

"... if only you knew..." he whispered softly in her ears, using thumbs to wipe away the tears beginning to fall down her cheeks again.

"Take me with you..." Nailah began to beg. "Wherever it is that you're fighting... Take me―"

Jasper silenced her pleas with a fierce kiss."Focus on me, ma'am. Nothing else but me, your major ." He gently lay the brown-skinned woman on the soft grass, hovering over her.

"..."


Dawnette's POV

Ever woken up with a longing ache in your chest? Or with tears coating your tired eyes? Or even a moist feeling in between your legs? ... I think we've all woken up like that before.

I slowly rose out of bed, gulping.

Last night... well―3 a.m-ish to be exact―I dreamt about him. Honey-blonde.

Jasper Hale.

Jasper Whitlock in my dream.

A dream that felt so real―like I had been there before. Like I been through just exactly that. Like it all happened yesterday.

Me having the name that was my middle name... writing unsent love letters filled with longing and pain, remembering days picking cotton for a cruel, red or gold or black eyed slavemaster named James... And making love to a sparkling honey-blonde. Under a fucking sycamore tree.

The goofy smile on my lips suddenly plastered into a frown. I didn't even get to sex him up in my dream because I woke up before it could happen! Don't you just hate waking up from some of the best, weirdest dreams you probably won't ever have for another life time?

I groaned, throwing back my covers. This was going to be the same shit, but just on a different day. Nothing was going to happen except the stares and whispers... I had to just tell myself that a dream was just a dream... even when it involved a teen boy you just met a day ago who thought your breath stunk from the way he fled like hell when you breathed out a sigh.

I grabbed my things for a hot shower.

Because... the Lord knew that I needed one.


Ending Chapter Song:

Sycamore Tree by Kali Uchis


*―references

Smackeroo ― Slang for money. Usually in terms of a lot of an undefined some.


A/N:

I've had many weird dreams, too weird. One I'll share is of this boy with long hair that I knew getting his hair cut and the next day he came to school with a hair cut. I've had even weirder and I hate when it's a great one and something wakes you up from it. Has that ever happened to any of y'all?

But wow, you got through yet another one. I can say that this one wasn't crazy or all too humorous or jumpy like the last. This one called for a more mellow approach. A moment between Dawn and Charlie, Bella and Dawn and the first dream sequence of the story...

Any thoughts or theories? I do hope you all liked it. My intentions was to put a lemon in that,but I decided against... we'll save it for later. But info was revealed through Dawn's dream. What did you pick up on? And as the story progresses, chapters will get more and more intense in terms of her "dreams".

Was this chapter good? Like it? Loved it? Please review and let me know your thoughts. Stay tooned for the next. I'm thinking about a POV for Jasper.

Thanks For Reading!

Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan