His Grandfather's watch.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. No infringement intended.

Beta'd by A Jasper For Me.

This fic was my second attempt at writing for the SBS3.0 contest, but like Sixty Five Hours, I went over the word limit. This story is only short; six short chapters to be exact. It's barely 14k in total, kinda fluffy, a little bit angsty and oh...there's no sex. Yep, you read that right. None. Feel free to bail now if it's not your thing. :) It is ExJ sexless slash.

Jasper's grandmother suffers dementia, as did mine in rl. I understand this may be a sensitive topic for some.

This story is told in Edward's pov.

Sitting in the back room at my desk, with a dismantled 1901 Newman's clock, I hear the bell that chimes every time a customer walks through the door. My dad's behind the counter, and I hear him greet the customer, making small talk, discussing whatever antique it is they've brought with them.

It's what we do.

My father's love of all things antique grew into this business, Cullen's Antiquities. Dad's the expert and Mom does the research, but they both travel, scouring the globe for their life's passion. My brother Emmett does antique furniture restoration, but it wasn't something I ever saw myself doing. Then I started helping out when I was a kid at school, and I found a love of clocks.

It's my specialty.

I can hear Dad talking to the customer, but don't pay them any mind until I hear my name.

"Edward?"

Putting down the part in my hand, I walk through to the showroom where I find my father and the customer he's talking to. It's a good looking guy, similar age to me, who has blond, kinda curly hair, blue eyes and a pocket watch in his hand.

"This is my son, Edward," Dad explains. "He's the expert on watches like yours."

I extend my hand in professional courtesy. "Hello."

"Jasper Whitlock," he says, by way of greeting, putting the watch on the counter before shaking my hand. There's an accent, Southern I think, but I can't be sure.

Dad waits for us to let go of each other's hands, then he looks at me and smiles. "Jasper was just telling me he'd like to know more about this watch."

I look at the silver watch casing and fob chain, then at its owner. I reach my hand toward the watch, but before I touch it, I ask, "May I?"

"Sure," he nods.

Picking it up, I can tell a few things from a visual inspection. "This casing was a popular design in the 1940's," I tell him. Gently, I open the casing to reveal the quartz face. "The dial is Hamilton, but I won't know dates or maker for certain, unless I take the back of it off and look at the movement."

"Could you do that?" he asks. "I was hoping to know as much about it as I could."

I smile. "Sure. I'll need to grab some details, and I should be able to look at it in about two days. Then I can tell you everything I know."

Jasper nods. "That'd be great." We look at each other, for a little too long, and I can't help but wonder if this cute, Southern blond man is gay.

Dad seems to think so, because with a cheeky smirk, he hands me the register log, looks between us and not-so subtly says, "Jasper, I'll leave you in Edward's very capable hands." He points behind us, "I have...stuff...I need to do out the back."

Jasper politely thanks him, and I consider kicking my father in the shins. We're behind the counter, so it's not like Jasper would see me do it. But Dad must pick up on the look I give him, because he smiles, turns quickly and disappears through the door.

I grab a pen, hand Jasper the register and ask him to fill in his details. I pick up the watch, turning it over in my hands. It's a nice piece, and I can't help but ask, "What do you know about the watch?"

He looks up from the paperwork. "Um, it was my grandfather's. That's about all I know."

He hands me the filled in form, and I tell him as procedure, I require some ID. Taking out his wallet, he hands me his driver's licence. His Texan driver's licence.

"I just moved here," he says. "I've got my change of address receipt here somewhere."

He starts looking through his wallet, and I stop him. "No, its fine. I just need to sight photo ID, that's all."

He smiles kindly and nods. "So, two days?"

"Yeah. I'm half way through another job. Then I can look at this, and I'll give you a call when I'm done," I tell him. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

He shrugs one shoulder and shakes his head. "No, not really. Just dates, make, model...I'm not really sure, to be honest."

As I'm putting the watch and paperwork in a paper envelope, I ask him, "Would you like a valuation?"

"No," he says simply. "Monetary value on it isn't important."

He thanks me, I tell him I'll be in touch and he leaves. When I walk back into the workshop, Dad grins at me. "He was a nice young man," he says.

"Mom!" I yell to the upstairs office, where my mother would undoubtedly have her head in a catalogue. "Dad's trying to set me up again."

She yells back, "Was he cute?"

Oh, for crying out loud.

He was actually, but that's not the point. Dad chuckles at me.

Ignoring him, I set the pocket watch on my desk and turn my attention back to the clock I'm working on.

I manage to ignore both my parents and their comments about cute, blond watch owners until they leave me alone. And I manage to push the thoughts of the pocket watch and its handsome Texan owner out of my mind until it's time to go home.

~oOo~

I arrive back at work a little before nine in the morning and heading straight for my desk, which is more like a workstation, when the paper sleeve holding the pocket watch catches my eye.

I pick it up and take the watch out, feeling the cool, heavy weight of it in my hand. I don't hear my dad come up behind me, and his voice startles me. "How's Mr. Aro's clock coming along?"

"Oh, shit! You scared me," I say with a laugh. Then looking back to the clock I've half done, I tell him, "It should be ready by tomorrow lunch time."

He nods thoughtfully. "I think you should do the watch instead."

I look at the pocket watch I'm still holding. "Why?"

"Because Mr. Aro is a collector," he says with a shrug. "To him that clock is just something else he acquired. Even old Mr. Aro will tell you that. But this," he points to the watch in my hand, "this means something."

Dad smiles at me. "Mr. Aro can wait a day or two. He won't mind. I'll even phone him myself."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

He nods. "He wants me to go with him to look an 18th Century hand-carved Italian rococo centre table he'd seen at an auction house anyway, so I need to speak to him."

"Okay," I agree. Within twenty minutes, I have Mr. Aro's clock itemized and put away and the silver pocket watch in front of me.

I make my usual notes as I proceed detailing, and there's nothing remarkable about it, until I remove the back casing.

Because what I find hidden in the back of the pocket watch is unlike anything I've encountered before.

I take out the client form with Jasper Whitlock's details on it and pick up the phone. "Jasper Whitlock? It's Edward from Cullen Antiquities. I'm calling about your watch."

"Yes?" he says, unsure.

"Can you come into the store?" I ask. "There's something you need to see."

~oOo~

When Jasper arrives, I lead him through to the workshop and offer him a seat at my desk. I've never had a customer back here; I guess there's never been a reason to.

Until today.

He looks at my desk, which has his grandfather's pocket watch pulled into three pieces. "What is it?" he asks.

"When I took the casing off, I found this," I tell him, pointing to the small square of yellowed paper.

"A photograph?"

I nod. "And an inscription engraved into the back of the watch."

Jasper blinks, absorbing the information, before he picks up the photo. It's small, only an inch and a half square, black and white and aged, but there's no mistaking who or what the picture is of.

Two men, about 18 years old. They're dressed in outfits from possibly the 1940's. But that's not what's remarkable about it. It's how they're standing. They're facing the camera with an arm each around the other; not in a brotherly love embrace, but an embrace that shows a history – an intimate history.

They were lovers.

Jasper stares at the photo for quite some time before he asks, "What's the inscription?"

I show him the watch, and I watch him as he reads it.

H. So I am with you, always. Forever yours, B.

"Do you know who they are?" I ask.

"Um..." Jasper stalls. Then looking at the photograph, he says, "I think that's my grandfather. The man with blond hair, though he's very young."

"And the other man?"

Jasper shakes his head, no. "I've not seen him before." He looks at the two men for a long moment. "They look...um, like they're..."

"A happy couple," I finish for him. He looks at me, then really looks at me. There's a brief moment of understanding between us, from one gay man to another.

He gives me a small nod and half a smile, before looking back at the photograph in his hand. "Yes, they do, don't they?"

I clear my throat and bring the subject back to the pocket watch. "Do you know who the H and B are in the inscription?"

"H would be for my grandfather. His name was Hale," Jasper explains. "But I don't know who the B is."

Then my dad speaks. I didn't even know he was there. "Would anyone in your family know?"

Jasper looks at my father, then to me and then back at the photograph he's holding. "My parents died last year," he says quietly. "There's only my grandmother and me."

Oh.

Dad asks, "Maybe she would know?"

Jasper shrugs. "She has dementia..." his words trail off.

"Oh, I see," Dad says softly.

"She's in a care facility now," Jasper continues to explain. "But I moved up here to be with her anyway."

I'm at a loss as to what to say, so I offer him a sympathetic smile instead.

After a long moment's silence, he asks, "Anything else you can tell me about the watch?"

"It is a 1941 Hamilton Art Deco," I tell him. "I have all the particulars written down for you, but I can tell you this much..." he looks directly at me, as I tell him, "...whoever it was, this person with the initial B, who gave your grandfather this watch, must have loved him very much."

Jasper's eyes widen before he smiles sadly. "How do you know?"

"The casing is fine silver, but the watch is 14 karat white gold. I'd imagine back in 1940 it would have cost a small fortune, considering how scarce commodities were during the war."

He's silent for a while then he whispers, to me or to himself, I'm not sure. "I just wish I knew."

"I hope the photo and the inscription offer leads to finding out more," I say.

My dad is now standing beside Jasper and asks, "You've got no one else that can help you, have you?"

The blond man shakes his head and speaks quietly. "No, not really," he says. "I mean, I could ask my Gramma, but I'm not sure it'd do me any good."

"Is there anything else we can do to help?" I ask, though I'm not altogether sure why.

"Oh, no," he shakes his head. "You've done more than enough. I wasn't even expecting this much. I was worried when you rang. You said two days but called me the next day, I thought something must have gone wrong."

"Oh, heavens no," Dad reassures him. "I told Edward to start on your watch because I could tell it means a lot to you. We didn't mean to worry you."

Jasper smiles, but before he can speak, my Dad's eyes light up. "Edward could go with you!"

My mouth falls open. "He could what?"

"Oh, no," Jasper is quick to join in. "I don't expect you to do that." He stands, clearly nervous, and he starts to leave.

Dad glares at me, then looks pointedly at Jasper. "Edward!" he hisses at me.

Dad's right. Someone shouldn't have to deal with this alone.

Shit.

"Jasper, wait," I say, standing up and walking over to him. "If you want someone to go with you to see your grandmother and ask some questions, then I'll go with you."

Jasper looks at me, and his mouth opens and closes, twice.

So I tell him, "You can say no, if you'd prefer. It just seems you shouldn't do this on your own, that's all."

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, but he nods. Quietly, to two complete strangers, he admits, "It's hard not knowing anyone, not having anyone I can talk to. Gramma has good and bad days, and I know asking her questions will be hit and miss. I don't want to upset her..."

"But you need to know about your grandfather's relationship with this other man, don't you?" I ask.

He nods. "Maybe it will help me understand...a lot of things." He shrugs. "Or maybe it won't. I don't know."

"Do you want me to go with you?" I ask him again.

He gives a sad smile. "I'd like that, yeah."

"I'll just grab my things," I say, walking back to my desk.

I risk a glance at my dad, who's standing out of Jasper's line of sight. And yes, he's grinning like an idiot. "See you tomorrow," he says.

Tomorrow? What about today? It's barely 10AM.

"Oh," my father adds, waggling his eyebrows. "I'll give you a call later...to see how things went..."

I snort. Yeah, right.

I pocket my keys and my phone but hand the photograph and the watch to Jasper. "You ready?"

He replies, "As I'll ever be."

AN: The clock Edward is recalibrating is a Newman's Guardsman Watch clock. It's a 1901 Chicago made clock. Just thought I'd make it a little canon-twist.

Also the 18th Century Italian table that Carlisle mentioned sold at auction this year for $18,000. Don't know why I'm mentioning it. It's not important. At all.

Next chapter in two days. :)