Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga is the intellectual and creative property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Company. Any references to this work or direct quotes are borrowed. No plagiarism is intended. No profit is being gained from the publication of this fan-created work.

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"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."

-Casablanca (1942)

Three important things happened in August of 1948. Alger Hiss was accused of working for the Soviet Union. Candid Camera first appeared on television. And Jasper Whitlock arrived in Philadelphia.

The term "arrived" really should be used loosely. Wandered into Philadelphia, after drifting through Ohio and West Virginia? Much closer to the truth. He couldn't say much for Philadelphia as a city. Damn northerners, he thought, absently. If he were being honest with himself, or thinking much period, he would have been the first to admit he had no idea what drew him here, to this town, this street, this place.

He really should get out of the rain. He knew that. His eyes darted towards the shiny red and silver building to his right. Bob's Diner – Fine American Dining. He was quite sure nothing on that menu would appeal to him.

Still, people were beginning to stare. And no wonder. At six foot, three inches, Jasper was a strange sight, standing bone-straight in the middle of the street, his clothes hanging ill-fittingly off of him, his gaunt face, pale, expressionless, and unquestionably scarred. A man passed a little closer than the others and the fire nearly overtook him.

It was definitely time to get out of the rain.

Wincing in anticipation of the scorching his throat was about to receive, he pushed open the diner door. The heady scent of warm blood pumping overwhelmed the less appetizing smells of bacon grease and cinnamon buns. He almost turned and walked out.

"Have a seat anywhere," a man's voice called from behind the far end of the counter.

Keeping his crimson eyes down, Jasper moved quickly to the darkest corner booth. His wet coat squeaked as it slid uncomfortably along the red leather of the seat.

He did not have to look up to know the waitress was standing in front of him. Did not have to look into her eyes to taste her trepidation. It wafted in the air, almost as palatable as the blood flowing in her veins. She did not want to wait on him anymore than he wanted to be waited on.

"Coffee," he mumbled, his unruly curls falling into his eyes as he stared at the table.

"Cream and sugar?"

"No," he said. And then, "Thank you."

Truth be told, he did not want the coffee, at all. But over the past several years, he had discovered he could order a cup and be left relatively alone. The bitter taste reminded him of earth and silt after rain.

An old man in the next booth met his gaze and quickly looked away. Smart.

More out of habit than fear of real danger, Jasper glanced through the scraggly blond dreads of his hair at the other patrons. A family sat across the aisle from him. The parents were engrossed in a rather tense conversation about the family car, which was apparently in the garage for repairs. These seemed to have caused considerable problems for the mother who worked downtown and didn't want to take the trolley to the office. The father, whose business was just around the corner, found it irritating that she needed to work, at all. A girl of about seven with giant blue eyes peered over her mother's shoulder to stare at Jasper curiously.

He cleared his throat, disconcerted at the child's lack of fear. Frowning, he continued to take stock of the restaurant. Another couple sat near the door, laughing loudly. His eyes wandered to the long bar near the register, where the high red stools stood empty. All except one.

A girl sat at the counter, her back to him. She was small, the fashionable curve of her shoulder pads only emphasizing this. In front of her, a large milkshake sat untouched. Dark hair, almost black, was curled in careful waves and pinned to one side of her face. Her feet, dainty in patent leather pumps, swung freely in the air. Every now and then, she glanced down at her wrist watch. The tiny corner of her face he could make out would crinkle in frustration every time she did. Her feet would swing faster. She twirled the straw between her fingers. A small sigh escaped her lips. What was she waiting for?

"Can I get you anything else?" The waitress was back. Jasper's eyes did not leave the girl at the counter, but even so he could hear the rustling of the woman's blue cotton dress as she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Nothing."

The woman shrugged and turned to leave, almost running straight into the girl who only a second ago had been sitting next to the cash register. With a grace no human possessed, the girl stepped smoothly out of the waitress's path.

Jasper felt cold. The girl was a vampire. Of course, she was. It explained his draw to her. His instinct was warning him of the danger. He tensed himself almost before he had time to register that the girl was standing in front of him, her face brimming with so much excitement she looked as though she might burst.

He stared up at her for a moment, allowing her feelings to overrun his own. What he felt unnerved him. What did she want?

Her eyes shone as she spoke in a high, lilting voice, "You've kept me waiting a long time, Jasper Whitlock."

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TO BE CONTINUED

Author's note: What does everyone think? Push the little button and tell me! More to come. Suggestions, comments, questions all welcome!

Notes on research: The diner featured in this chapter is based upon the factual Bob's Diner built in Philadelphia in 1948. Descriptions have been taken directly from photographs both in and outside the diner. 1948 world events are taken from list on . The original concept for this chapter comes from the events recalled in Eclipse. Some artistic liberty has been taken.