AN: I love Jasper and Alice...my favorite characters in the Twilight series.

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Philadelphia, 1948

I pushed the hat lower over my eyes as I walked out into the rapidly dimming daylight, the thin glass door of the bookstore swinging shut behind me. It was cloudy--a storm was coming up, and the sky was already a dark, angry color. The air was oppressively hot. If I could, I would be sweating. Instead, I shrugged on my new jacket, enjoying the feel of it straining over my shoulders. It was better if as little skin as possible was revealed; I'd been able to come into town today because the storm was blocking out most of the sunlight, but I still had to be careful.

I also had to hold my breath so I wouldn't be arrested for murder.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to come into the city when I hadn't hunted in this long. I found myself noticing, more than I normally did, the heady smell of human blood in the air. It must have been the oppressively muggy air; everyone was sweating like crazy. I'd come in to replace the clothing that had gradually shredded over the last few months--I had been wandering for a long time now, trying to get away from the thoughts that threatened to pull me over the brink of despair, and running at the speeds I was capable of over rocky ground didn't do much for clothing. For a moment, I glanced in the nearest shop window--my reflection stared back at me, tall and vaguely threatening. I had deep circles beneath my thirst-black eyes, and my expression was...on edge. It didn't take away from the brutal perfection of my face. I looked away, unaccountably angry. Everything I had was gone, and now I was left with this: a highly effective draw for the one creature I was the biggest danger to in its human form. As much as I craved company--it was a kind of high to feel all the emotions around me all the time--it was horribly dangerous, and I'd slipped far too many times. Maybe the books I'd bought would stave off the solitude.

For a while.

But I couldn't go back to the company I used to keep. Peter and Charlotte were on their own now; I'd claimed depression and left them to wander, but it was partly because if she found me there'd be hell to pay for all three of us. Maria, who had changed me, raised me from "birth," had tried to kill me so that her position would remain secure. She had me into what I was: a powerful and ruthlessly efficient soldier. A killer. I was perfection at its worst--a dangerously charismatic leader with the speed and strength to outfight any newborn vampire, incredibly strong and violent as they were. I was beyond lethal, and even the biggest of the newborns--the hulking males transformed into killing machines by Maria and her coven to subdue the vampires of the South--feared me. They had good reason to. The scars that roped over my body were from the endless series of bites I had received, most of them from newborns who had quickly learned what it was to fight for their lives. Sometimes I had let them live.

I smiled bitterly at my reflection, ignoring the woman staring at me from her desk behind the window. I was perfect. Terribly so.

Wind gusted down the street and I stared unseeingly into it, unconsciously adjusting my hat. Behind me, I heard the woman in the store's breathing slow somewhat as I ceased my inadvertant eye contact, and my bitter smile twisted upward into a grimace. Damn it if I couldn't hear every heartbeat around me for several blocks. It had been a bad idea to come here, and I might pay for it now. I should have payed attention to how black my eyes were, how much the thirst was burning the inside of my throat...

I suddenly realized, to my horror, that it was too late; I'd gone past the point of no return in the time it had taken me to purchase those books. I staggered back against the window as a young family--two parents and their flock of small children--walked by, laughing and talking. They were sweating in the heat, and their delicious--no, literally mouth-watering--scent rolled off them in waves that hit me like a punch in the face. I grabbed the sandstone of the wall below the window and ground it into powder, clenching my jaw until it hurt. Oh God. Not here. Not THEM.

I fed on human blood, but I couldn't do it now, not in daylight. Not when people would see. And not this happy family. I could always feel my prey's emotions as they died, and even the thought of turning this beautiful little family's happiness into the horrified anguish and terror I knew they would feel made me feel almost physically sick. It was one reason that I had left Peter and Charlotte, why I was wandering now. At least alone I could blame depression on loneliness, not on the things that the monster inside me did to survive. I would wait until a more...suitable target arose, preferably someone who wouldn't be missed. I knew enough of Maria's tactics to be aware that she would be able to pinpoint my location if something this public were reported, even in this big of a city. She was too good at what she did--she had to be. And she knew my style very well.

It had been unleashed, the beast inside me--the inside of my mouth literally dripped with venom, and I clamped it shut, using all my willpower to focus on the street ahead of me. I had to go somewhere safe, or I had to get out of here. Now.

A young woman walked by, slowing down as she approached me. I smiled without thinking about it, drawing her in; her scent was drifting off of her in an intoxicating cloud and I was overcome with an almost unbearable longing to pull her into my arms, bend down and run my mouth along her soft, creamy, unresisting throat and...NO. My mind shouted incoherently at me. I stepped back, nearly snarling, and walked quickly in the other direction, cutting off my breathing completely, but the thirst didn't abate. Damn it, Jasper, CONTROL yourself. I could feel a snap coming, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

Frantic, I glanced at the stores nearest me, searching...there. A greasy-spoon diner. I had noticed at some point that the smell of human food made me gag, much as the taste of blood had once, in my human life, made me feel sick. The greasier the food, the better. Maybe, if I were lucky, I could put off my thirst for a few minutes, long enough to get far away from the downtown area. All I needed was one breath. The cafe's dilapidated sign said "Burgers, Fries, Onion Rings," and something else I couldn't read. I gritted my teeth and headed directly toward it. Control. Control. Control. I chanted the word in my head as I walked, forcing myself to relive the particularly horrific cocktail of emotions that my last victim, an old homeless man, had had as he died. I'd snapped his neck to make him stop feeling anything. I thought about the girl for half a second and almost laughed--no, there was nothing romantic about a vampire biting your throat. I shuddered as the thirst washed over me again and forced the image out of my mind.

The door swung silently and set off a little bell, and I found myself in a small, cool room. Carefully, I inhaled, but there was very little smell of greasy food and a large crowd of delicious-smelling humans--I had to think "people"--chatting quietly. Somewhere someone had a half-healed paper cut. I felt my muscles tense, and it took all my willpower not to leap across the tables to him and--

"Can I help you?" a woman said in a bored voice. I glanced up, a snarl nearly ripping from my throat, but composed my face, my whole body in pain with the effort of keeping still. Too still. She glanced at my stone-still posture, frowning a little. I'll have to kill them all, I was thinking quickly to myself. They can't be allowed to escape. But then Maria will...

"I--I have to go," I forced out from between my teeth, not allowing myself to even unclench my jaw to speak. Not even that much could be allowed, or she would die. I had to leave.

The thirst was my only sense now, and I struggled to focus as I turned slowly, stiffly, toward the door. Another person was sitting even closer to me, a woman I hadn't noticed on the barstools by the door, and I instinctively adjusted my path so that she wouldn't be within arm's reach on the way out. I knew I didn't have that much control. I glanced at her for half a second, not long enough for her to notice, and froze.

The young woman was looking up at me, and I found myself gazing into the most terrifyingly beautiful face I had ever seen. Dark hair framed a pixie's face that was unnaturally pale, and her eyes--they were deep pools of gold, and they stared straight into my soul. Everything around me vanished as I looked back at her--my thirst, my sense of smell, even my name. I saw everything in those eyes. I saw myself reflected in them, and dimly noted that my mouth was hanging open.

She smiled brilliantly. "You've kept me waiting a long time."

'I'm sorry, ma'am," I apologized automatically, dropping the centuries in an instant as I swept off my hat and bowed like the Confederate soldier I had been. I could not tear myself away from her gaze. From a great distance, I could feel something burning inside me.

She reached out and took my hand. It was a very natural action--she did not seem embarrassed or flustered--but a jolt of what felt like electricity shot through my body at her light touch. "I'm Alice," she said in her lilting voice.

"Jasper," I stammered.

She stood up, and I realized that I stood at least a head taller than her. She walked over to the door, still holding my hand, and tugged on it gently, then more insistently. Some part of my mind notified me that a human should not be able to move me with any amount of effort, but she didn't have crimson eyes. Still in a mental fog, I followed her numbly out the door.

"You must be hungry," she said lightly, glancing up at me. She moved very gracefully, almost like she was dancing. I let myself be pulled along. "Yes," I replied carefully. The thirst was suddenly back with a vengeance. She grinned and gave a peal of silvery laughter. "I have a car, don't worry. We won't be downtown long. But come on, hurry, or you won't be able to wait." With that, she gave my wrist a harder tug, and I knew that she wasn't human--she had actually pulled me forward.

"I--don't understand." My senses returned full force, and I heard what I had suspected--no heartbeat, and her fingers were the same temperature as mine. "Are you--"

"A vampire?" She spoke softly, but I could hear her clear as a bell. "Yes."

"But your eyes..."

We were at her car, and she motioned for me to get in. "I'll explain soon enough. We need to get you out of here."

"I--"

She smiled softly at me, starting the car, and I found it hard to breathe. "Why did you buy Robinson Crusoe? It won't take you long to read it. You should have bought something longer, like Les Miserables, so you don't have to go into town as often." She grinned. 'But I agree--not buying that Annie Halder book was a good choice."

I gaped at her as she swiftly reached across me and shut the door with a clunk. "Wha--how did you--"

We sped down the street toward the highway. "Where are you from, Jasper? I only saw you coming from the south. You're very good at not being noticed." She reached across and lightly traced a raised crescent-shaped scar on my wrist. "And this?" I flinched. My whole face and neck were scarred too. I realized for the first time that perhaps only humans found me beautiful.

I did not answer for a long moment, and she looked at me inquisitively. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." I looked out the window at the streets going by. "It's nice to travel by car again." Hers was an older Buick, maybe early 1940s, and it drove nicely. I risked a glance at the speedometer. Nearly 90 miles per hour. Not bad.

"But not as fast as running." She smiled. I nodded in agreement. "No, not nearly as fast." We headed up the on-ramp and merged onto the turnpike.

She turned back to the road, and I examined her face curiously. It was calm, focused on the road ahead, and I realized with alarm that her eyes were unfocused. "Alice?"

She snapped back into focus. "Damn," she swore. "Hold on."

I looked behinad us, over her shoulder, but could see nothing wrong. Frowning, I turned back only to be pushed back in my seat as she floored the accelerator and we shot to the left, half a second before the car ahead of us slammed on its brakes and spun out before coming to a stop in the exit it had almost missed.

I stared at my companion. "What was THAT?!?"

"Idiot drivers," she gritted out. "I'm sorry about that, I should have seen it sooner. Sometimes it's hard to pick up on split-second decisions like that."

"What do you mean?

"Oh!" Her forehead cleared and she looked at me. "I'm sorry! I didn't explain. I can see things that are going to happen based on decisions. That man back there realized he was going to miss his exit. The problem was that his decision was more instinctive than conscious, so it was harder to see."

"Is that how you knew which books I was looking at?" I eyed her skeptically.

"Yes." She turned her eyes back to the freeway.

"You could have been in the bookstore for all I know."

"How would I know that you were thinking about buying a blank diary then? You changed your mind because--"

"You're right."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up thoughts that were painful." She looked stricken, and I realized I had tensed up. I consciously relaxed and let a feeling of calm contentment flow through the car. Her features relaxed as well, and she started humming a song I hadn't heard. It was amazing how...content I felt with this person I didn't even know.

"I'm from the South," I volunteered. "I used to be a soldier in the Confederate Army."

"You're very old then." She laughed, the same silvery sound as before, and I felt myself relaxing for a different reason. "I'm not nearly that old."

"How old are you?"

"I'm not really sure," she said quietly. "I don't remember. The first thing I remember is the early 1920s. Before that, blackness. I think I was alive, but I'm not sure. Can vampires just...happen?"

I shook my head. "I've only ever seen them created."

She motioned to the scars. "You're going to tell me about those soon."

It wasn't a question. She could see the future, I remembered. "They look terrible," I muttered, loooking away. I wanted her to forget that they were there, see past them. It felt very uncomfortable to not appear to her the way I had appeared to that girl back on the street, or the woman behind the window.

"They shimmer. I think they're beautiful." Her smile lit up her face, and I felt something inside for the first time since that terrible night in 1863 when I'd met another woman, equally beautiful but far more sinister than this one, and had unknowingly signed away my human existence.

Hope.