A/N: I'm really excited about this story. It's my first Jasper and Alice story. And I want to make the characters deeper than most people write them. You have Jasper who is constantly struggling and who is so aware of other people's emotions. Then you have Alice, who as a human, was locked up because of her visions. I'm super excited for this story and I just hope that I can make the characters true to Meyer, without making them shallow and hollow.

Summary: They met each other on a subway. She was still wearing the bracelet from the hospital. He still had track marks from the night before. My answer to a challenge. No character deaths or abuse. All human. Alice and Jasper.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Rules of the Challenge:
No character deaths.
No abuse.
No rape.
No whining (example: "my life is so horrible because I didn't get the Xbox I wanted for Christmas").
Has to be as in character as possible.
Cannon pairings.

"You held out your hand, and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing. For the first time in almost a century, I felt hope."
-Eclipse, Stephenie Meyer

Boy Meets Girl

I was reading a book that someone had left on the subway earlier this week. My breath was becoming hard and my eyes were watering. I already knew how the story was going to end, but that didn't stop the tension from building up. I bit onto the dead skin of my thumb as my eyes skimmed over the words on the page.

My grip tightened around the hardcover and I moved my legs onto my chair so I was sitting on them. The plastic seat was cold. I had forgotten that I wasn't wearing pants. I moved the skirt over my knees so I didn't accidently flash anyone. My thumb went back into my mouth and I started to chew on the dead skin, tearing off small pieces.

The subway stopped and the door opened. Most of the people in the car got off and another load got on. I didn't glance away from the page to see who was now accompanying me. I ran my fingers through my short hair (it felt like dog hair because it was so dry from the black dye that I put in it) and I bit my bottom lip. My fingers started to shake as I turned the page, my eyes taking in the last word before jumping to the first word on the next page.

Someone sat next to me. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to avoid the vision that was interrupting my story. It didn't work. As soon as my eyes were open I wasn't in the subway anymore. I was sitting on a couch in a beat down apartment that I'd never seen before. Someone was standing in front of me. He was tall and slender. His shirt was off and he was smoking a cigarette. His blond hair was in tangles and he looked like he hadn't taken a shower in awhile.

"Do you want to play a card game?" He asked holding up a deck of cards. His voice was thick with a southern accent.

"Sure." I nodded, dropping my book to the side and kneeling in front of the coffee table between us. He started to shuffle the cards, his fingers were covered in scars and his arms were just veins and bone. Track marks were everywhere.

He saw me looking at his arm. "A vein collapsed when I was trying to shoot." He explained.

"That must have been painful." I grabbed the cards that he had thrown at me.

He didn't reply. The silence was comfortable, like this often happened between us. He didn't look like much of a talker, and from the grimace on his face; it was easy to tell that he was having a lot of internal conflicts.

My book started to come back into focus. Instead of getting excited to know that the vision was over with, I found myself anxious. I wanted to go back to the dream like state and see what else happened. I wanted to know how I got there, why his hands were so scarred, or even better where we were.

I looked at the person sitting next to me. His hands were in his pocket and his head was leaning back. He was taking deep breaths and couldn't stop shivering, even though he was wearing a pretty thick jacket and the subway compartment was at a comfortable eighty degrees. His blond hair was covering his face and his face looked like it hadn't seen the sun in years. He was the person from my vision.

"Hi," I held out my hand for him to shake. My sleeve slipped down my arm. My eyes widened and I pulled my hand back so I could pull my sleeve back to my wrist. "I'm Alice." I continued when I was sure that my sleeve wouldn't slide back down. "What's your name?"

He opened an eye and looked at me. His pupils were huge. It was hard to tell what color his eyes were because most of the color was taken up by his dilated pupils. But, from the small line of color surrounding the black, I was pretty sure that his eyes were blue. A very dark ocean blue.

"Jasper." He responded with his very thick southern accent. His eyes found my hand. He was slow pulling his hand out of his jacket's pocket. I glanced over all the open sores that he had. It was like he'd been attack by something, or someone. He grabbed my hand, his bony fingers wrapping around my palm. I wrapped my fingers around his and started to raise my arm up and down. He followed my movement.

"Nice to meet you, Jasper." I pulled my hand back. He smiled back at me, his eyes flickering to the book on my lap and then back at me. He opened his mouth but then quickly closed it.

"Nice to meet you, too, Alice." He finally replied, his hand going back into his pocket. "What are you reading?" He asked.

I held it up so he could read the spine. "I found it on the subway earlier this week." I admitted, setting it back down onto my lap. I grabbed the old McDonalds wrapper that I was using as a book mark and put it in my book to mark my spot. "So when are you going to invite me over?" I asked setting my hands in my lap.

"W-what?" He asked. His face scrunched up and he did a double take. "I'm sorry, but, what?" He moved his head to the side and frowned to himself, clearly bewildered by my bluntness. He pulled both of his hands from his pockets and ran them through his hair.

He looked back at me. His eyes were squinting and he kept on shaking his head. "I'm sorry." He apologized again. "But did I? Did we? What?" He asked. He whispered something to himself before staring at the floor of the subway. His hands were in his hair and he started to pull on the ends.

"I'm sorry." I apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you." I felt a tinge of embarrassment turn my cheeks red. "I've been told that I'm headstrong and blunt. A long with having borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia, delusions, and I'm extremely honest."

He looked at me. He opened his mouth and then closed it. A small, hesitant laugh escaped hi slips. "Um…yeah." He shook his head. "Do we know each other?" He sounded disoriented. He let out a harsh breath and moved his head back. "I'm too," he took a breath. "I'm too high for this." He finally admitted.

"You don't know me." I admitted.

"Are you real?" He asked.

"Yes." I smiled.

"Why do you want to come over?" He asked, frowning at me. "I've brought home hallucinations before, but most of them never actually ask to come over, they just follow me."

"Can I come over?" I asked again.

"Yeah, if you want." He pulled his hands away from his hair and let out a long breath. "I don't know why you would want to. I don't have much to offer."

"Do you have a bed?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Then you have a lot to offer."

End Chapter.

A/N: I know, it's kind of short. But it's the first chapter and most of my first chapters are short and then it gets longer. Yes, I do realize it's similar to Cigarette Burns, but in the long run there's nothing alike about it. I mean its two completely different stories. I'm really excited about this story and I would love if it does as well as my other stories, but honestly, I'm not expecting much. Tell me what you think about the first chapter. It won't be a long story. Also, Till Death Do Us Part will probably be updated tomorrow. Thanks so much for reading and please, please, please review! I'm so anxious about this story because it's not what I usually write.

Daddy's Little Cannibal