Good evening! Tonight, we have something experimental. I was trying to put together a one-shot that focused on Jasper as a hybrid because I'm equal-opportunity with my nonsense.
It's still in parts, and I'm not sure that I've captured the vibes that I'm aiming for, but we persevere. I kind of love the idea of Jasper being the vulnerable one and Alice being the protective one and wanted to riff on that concept. Some of the 'rules' and world-building are a little iffy at the moment, but first drafts always need a little work.
Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, tagged, and messaged me. Those tags and messages absolutely make my day and I love every single one of them.
I'm off to sleep off this cold, in the hopes that I can recover fast enough to finish off a couple of planned entires <3
on the edge of dawn.
His past is knotted up in secrets and lies.
And blood, he can’t forget that.
(It starts and ends in rivers of blood, in so many lives worth of blood, that it would be disingenuous not to acknowledge it.)
When he meets the eyes of the recruitment officer and tells him that he’s of-age, he’s not lying. He’s been a grown-ass man for a decade now; just because he’s sixteen in human terms is meaningless. He is more than capable of fighting a war.
(He fights to protect the people that raised him, the cousins who were really his little sisters. He goes to war to make sure that he can send money home, enough to keep them fed and warm and safe. He doesn’t need much, and it’s nothing compared to what they gave him.)
When he runs afoul of Maria, he expects it to be his death. One that is surprisingly appropriate considering his own origins. Instead, it is a fever that cooks him from the inside out, one that he stays lucid throughout, begging for answers, to explain what is happening for water, to know what has become of his poor horse. He sees a lot of people, strange people, that feel like they are all wrong but he doesn’t know why.
He thinks of his little sisters, and hopes that they’ll be okay. He saved a lot of his pay, sent it home, so maybe they will. Maybe they won’t go hungry or get sick.
Maria is exceptionally intrigued by him. This man who doesn’t die, who rambles at her, begs her. And even when the fever ebbs, his eyes are still a piercing hazel. He still bleeds and sleeps and breathes. But he feeds on blood, he can move at least as fast as the slowest newborn, and has a gift that he almost effortlessly weaponising.
He is a marvel, a miracle, a prize.
So she keeps him, and Jasper is mostly reminded of stories about hell from the Bible.
(He can never go home again.)
—
Her visions have shown him since she awoke, but he’s always been very strange in them - like he’s made of smoke and memory, faded and halfway gone. She doesn’t understand it, and it scares her - that very first vision, where he tucks a flower behind her ear and says her name - is her north star, and her touchstone. She doesn’t know who she is without him, and the idea that he could disappear terrifies her to the bone. No one else does that in her visions, and she can’t work it out.
Then she realises his eyes are hazel. Somehow she missed that little detail as she watched him fight and feed and rule Mexico in Maria’s name. They are such a beautiful shade, impossible for a vampire.
And then she sees him sleeping, and it terrifies her that he is so vulnerable and unguarded in such a terrible place. She feels sick at it.
He’s still an enigma, she still has questions, but it’s a clue. It’s something. It helps her shape and frame their future in her mind, knowing that he is not entirely the same as her.
It makes her feel useful, and that’s a nice feeling.
—
He remembers his mother a little too well. She had sharp hazel eyes and hair so light it was almost white. She’s already dead by then, washed out and still, and it’s a single frame in his memory. Something he should never be able to remember. But he does.
(Jasper remembers her best when faced with the bodies. The ones who were taken as a meal, and the ones that don’t survive the change. Bloodless and broken in every way that counts. Her face is always clearest in his mind as he gathers up those dead people, and maybe he remembers his upbringing and says a quick prayer for them. But it doesn’t take long for those prayers to be meaningless mutterings under his breath, part of the routine without any of the meaning.)
Sometimes he wonders what would have become of him in another life, with his mother perfectly dead. His grandmother had no love for him, not in those earliest days; a pious woman, she would have cast him out young if it hadn’t been for his mother’s brother.
For a long time, he’s raised by his Uncle Jed. Jed looks at him and seems to see past all the things that shouldn’t be and the things that make him strange, right down to the lost boy he is.
Jed gives him the family name - Whitlock - and puts him to work on the ranch. It’s a good life, and he likes working with animals, likes that the things that make him different make him useful on the ranch. He likes that he never has to see the old bitch of a grandmother that never let Jasper forget that he was the reason his momma was dead.
(His momma named him. She picked the name out herself and started embroidering it on a blanket because she became too ill. That’s something he tucks in the back of his mind, that possibility that maybe she didn’t hate him, maybe she even loved him.)
Then Jed meets Gracie Wainwright and Jasper is terrified that he’ll have to leave; that being reclusive and unseen is the only way he can stay there, outside San Antonio. Jed doesn’t even let him go to church except at Christmas; for Jasper to grown up, he must be invisible and it’s the one family law they all obey.
Except… Aunt Grace is his greatest champion, the mother he never had before. She is quick to teach him, bringing him books and teaching him his sums, how to sew on a button and darn a sock, and cook a hot meal - “Everyone needs to know these things Jasper, no matter where you go in life.”
And then there are the girls, he beloved cousin-sisters who climb over him and cling to him and are nothing but laughter and soft, kind things. Jed and Grace produce five of them, one after the other, all golden-eyed and blue-eyed and his favourite people in the world. Girls he would die for.
So he does. He goes and signs up for the army because he’s been grown for years, because he’s faster and stronger and doesn’t need food or water. Disease never seems to touch him, and there’s little-to-no chance that they won’t have to leave the ranch. They’ll need to eat and travel, and his stipend will help with that. It’s the least he can do.
(In her letters, Aunt Grace worries about him incessantly, tells him that Little Emma wanders around calling for him, not understanding that he’s not coming home any time soon; that his stipend has been useful in keeping them fed and well. Jed writes him and scolds him for running off and for sending them his money, but always ends his letters speaking of his pride in Jasper, and wishes to come home safely. Jasper’s always felt guilty he never made it back.)
Maria is oddly fascinated by the concept of his family, by how dearly he holds them, and how he still remembers them, still adores them. Vampire memories are supposed to decay; it’s considered a rebirth for a reason. He doesn’t know why his memories stay so vivid, but he treasures them. In the end, it’s easier and safer to stop mentioning them, to pretend the memories are starting to decay, so that Maria stops interrogating him, so that she thinks he’s finally behaving how he should.
//
The first time Alice sees Jasper bleed, she nearly screams. It trickles into his eyes and he swears, and she’s frozen in a vision that she cannot escape from. He swipes it off his forehead and sucks on his fingers a moment to swipe over the shallow wound.
And it’s sealed. Does he have a healing gift?
She doesn’t know.
But the visions start showing her the things that are to come. The Cullens are still a possibility, but Jasper will be more skittish about joining them, about letting others know about what he is. About having to live with more vampires after South. He’s terrified of Carlisle on so many levels, and the idea of school goes against everything his uncle taught him.
But she’s gratified that he seems happy when they’re together. That he sees something in her, the lost girl, that maybe he recognises.
I love you Jasper, and I know that we’re going to be so happy together.
And she does. She loves that he can walk in the sunlight without notice, but he still hates doing it. She loves that he has no special talent for languages, but has still managed to learn Spanish and French fluently. That he’s never learnt to dance, but he’ll dance with her. That at some point she’s going to try to cook for him, and it’ll be a messy disaster and he’ll just laugh until there are tears in his eyes and tell her that he loves her for trying.
Sometimes she wishes that she could share visions, pass them from her head to another’s because she wants to be able to save all of this for him, to show him that everything is going to be okay. Better than okay; perfect.
//
Peter is a blessing in disguise. At first, he’s only there to make trouble, only there to test the boundaries and question authority. He hears Jasper’s sluggish heart, sees the way Maria watches over him, and decides that Jasper is the weak link, and he just needs to exert the right amount of pressure to break him.
It goes about as well as expected, and something about the fact that Jasper is the one that returns Peter’s arm instead of throwing it on the pyre cements something between them. Loyalty, understanding, and a sense of fairness.
Friendship and brotherhood comes in time. But that evening, as Jasper realigns the joint and explains to Peter that Maria has tried to rip off Jasper’s arm before but the joints are weird because he was already venomous before being bitten, that it didn’t work. Did fuck up his shoulder for a while though.
Peter is fascinated. That he can be cut and bruised and broken, but they can’t do something as simple as tear him into pieces. That Jasper takes days to heal, and on the long sunny days they stay inside for, Jasper sleeps.
//
She finds him in Philadelphia and, oh, her heart breaks. In her well-loved dress and too-big shoes with the creases deep across the toes, she looks like a real lady compared to him.
He’s outside in the alley, trying to convince himself to go inside. She’s seen it happen both ways, and that’s why she was late. To make sure that either way, he’s going to find her. She refuses to risk it any other way.
In the flesh, he’s a lot further gone than she expected. Enough that she discards her coat and her shoes as she enters the alley, moving quietly towards him. He’s so thin, and his hair is a tangled mess around his face, and he bares more than one bruise. His clothes are woeful, filthy and too thin for the cool weather. He’s not going to survive another winter like this.
“Hello,” she says, and when he looks at her, his eyes almost pass as hazel, with the ring of fading red around the pupil. But he also looks hunted and haunted, like an animal backed into a corner. “I’ve been looking for you.”
She smiles at him, and he stares back for a moment before he relaxes a little. “I didn’t realise I had an appointment,” he manages, his voice cracking with disuse. He lets her get a little closer, looking at her bare feet, her green dress that has seen better days, the less-than-clean gloves, and the ribbon in her hair. Oh, and her purse.
“That’s okay, because I’m here now,” she decides to brazen it out, and goes closer to sit beside him except he stops her.
“You’ll spoil your clothing,” he says, getting to his feet and he’s so very tall. He has to look down at her, and she feels very delicate and precious as he does so.
“I have a lot of clothing to spoil,” she says honestly, and he still looks uncomfortable. “I’m Alice.”
“Hello Miss Alice.” He sounds uncertain but for her, it’s the most beautiful sound because it’s the very first time that she’s ever heard him speak her name out loud.
