Disclaimer: I don't own The Twilight Saga, or any characters, places, things, or ideas therein. Those belong to the talented Stephenie Meyer, not me. I am making no monetary gain from this story in any way, shape, or form.
Summary: What if Alice had had a vision of Jasper came sooner than she remembered, at a time when she was at her most fragile human state and desperately in need of a happy future? AxJ Slightly dark one-shot.
Author's Note: After getting to see Eclipse at a drive-in on opening night, I was wildly inspired for this fic. I'm not entirely sure what exactly prompted this idea, other than the fact that all of Jasper and Alice's moments were absolutely adorable and wonderful and magnificent and squeal-worthy. Thanks for checking my story out, and I hope you enjoy it!
For as long as I could remember, I could See more than the average person. It wasn't until I had mentioned this in casual passing that I realized it was far from normal, but even then I couldn't let it go, especially when my Vision allowed me to see some danger.
In the end, I don't believe that my parents institutionalized me because they believed I was insane, or that I was lying, or even that I was possessed. I believe they put me in the asylum because they were afraid of what I Saw, because after seeing me save people, say something about an occurrence before it happened, they believed it. They were afraid of what I could do to them.
It didn't take me long to realize that if I even so much as gave a hint that I was having a Vision, I would be severely punished for it. They called it "therapy," but they couldn't fool me. I knew it for what it truly was - pure, undiluted torture under the guise of nice terms that kept them from getting in trouble for satisfying their evil desires to cause pain in the name of medicine.
Eventually it became a sort of game for me. I would find ways to be clever, to toe the line between telling the truth and telling lies, for no matter what, I knew I would be punished. So I played a very dangerous and slightly altered form of hide-and-seek with my torturers, succeeding only when I didn't have a Vision during my sessions. And, sometimes, I even sought the comfort of my Visions during the sessions, simply to keep my mind from focusing on what was happening to me.
As time wore on, I began to fracture. My mind was failing me as steadily as my body, and I began to realize that there was something to my being institutionalized - I was insane. Where I hadn't been insane when I'd been committed, I was slowly going insane now because I was trapped in a nightmare that never ended.
I lived in almost constant darkness. I wasn't sure whose idea it was to deprive me of light, but it was the blackness that nearly drove me to the brink. The theory that they had deprived me of light so I couldn't see, in hopes that it would keep my other sight from me, was no comfort. In fact, it made me retreat farther and father into my visions, desperate for the pinpricks of light and color they offered me.
Even though now even my visions were growing darker, mirroring the empty room I occupied, often curled up on the floor for hours or even days on end where the orderlies had uncaringly dropped me.
My visions had brought me nothing but trouble in the past. But now they came in handy, helping me to know what was coming for me. I could see blackness, pierced only by a pair of bright red eyes. I didn't know what it meant, other than that those two things put together meant the end for me. In a perverse way, I was actually looking forward to it. After all, hadn't I always been looking for an end to this pain and madness? It did not matter what form that end came in now, so long as it came swiftly and relatively painlessly.
It started with red eyes, but these were different. The others were lighter, almost - compassionate. These were hard as stones, filled with a fiery anger that matched their color. Slightly shaggy blond hair fell into them, and the closer I looked, the more I realized there was almost a brokenness on his face, a twisted sadness that stirred something deep inside me. Feelings that I, at the same time, hadn't felt in a long time and had never felt before.
I had no clue who this person was, where he was, or even what he was. But I knew, beyond of a shadow or shred of doubt, that my future and his were unbreakably intertwined.
And even when I knew my death was coming for me, I knew I would somehow still be able to see him someday. I refused to believe anything else.
The merry tinkle of the bell over the door was far too cheerful for the stormy day, but it suited my mood perfectly. I turned from my place at the counter to look at who had just entered, knowing immediately who it was.
I had been having visions of him for as long as I could remember, ever since I woke up in the woods with no memory of who I was or where I'd come from. I had known him before I even knew myself. It had been he who had kept me sane, he who I had been coordinating my entire life and journey around.
He looked even better than my visions had promised. His honey blond hair was damp and slightly curly from the humidity. Raindrops formed at the ends of his hair and dripped down into his eyes - irises as black as his pupils from thirst - and trailed like tears down his warily tight face, peppered with scars only my vampire eyes could see.
All the years of hoping and wishing and patience had paid off. Sliding down from my high stool, I danced toward him, unable to keep the joy from my steps. Stopping before him, I took a moment to look up into his face and admire his handsome features. Then I thrust out my hand, smiled, and said, "You've kept me waiting for a long time."
At first he looked startled - as I'd known he would. But then his Southern gentleman side took over, and though it was obvious he had no idea what he was doing or why, he reached out to take my hand, ducked his head, and said the three words that left me irrecoverably in love with him for the rest of our very long existence together.
"I'm sorry, ma'am."