This story has been pestering me to be written for months now, and I finally gave in! If you've read my story Journey Through the Flames, this first chapter will sound pretty familiar. I'm setting the scene, so to speak. If you haven't read Journey, and you want a more in depth look at Jasper's history, that's the place to go. I'm just kind of giving a recap here… I'm in a hurry to get to the good stuff! :-)

This story is going to take us through Alice and Jasper's early years together… the formative years of their relationship. I'll warn you now, this is a different train of thought than I've seen anywhere else before. We're going to end up in the same destination, I promise, but we're just taking a different route. I'm hoping you'll give it a shot. I'll be holding my breath to hear what you think… well, figuratively, that is! (wink)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, themes, and dialogue are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer and no copyright infringement is intended. I just love her characters too much to leave them alone!

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Alice

1920s

Darkness.

The darkness was all around me. Consuming me. Encompassing me.

The darkness was all I knew.

There was no pain, no feeling, nothing to mark the passage of time. Time didn't exist in the darkness.

The darkness had no beginning and no end. There was nothing.

I was trapped in the vague, empty void with no way out, and with nothing to struggle against to break free.

In the instant when something broke through the dark abyss into my consciousness, I grasped it like a lifeline; clinging to it in this sea of emptiness.

Alice…

The soft whisper of sound wrapped around me like a caress, soothing me, comforting me – the first sound my ears had ever heard.

If I had dreamed for a thousand years, I could have never imagined that such love could be infused into a single word. The deep tenor could only have belonged to an angel… my angel, coming to release me from this prison of darkness.

I waited for the voice to speak again – needing it as an anchor in the void in which I existed.

I strained to hear it, becoming anxious when I couldn't

Finally the voice came back to me, speaking in murmurs too low for me to understand. But the words didn't matter. The musical lilt of his voice soothed me like a lullaby – calming me, sustaining me. The darkness meant nothing as long as he was here with me.

I wasn't alone anymore.

My Alice…

Gradually the voice became stronger, more distinct. The beauty of it caused a strange fluttery feeling in my chest. I could listen to this voice forever and not tire of it. Surely a more beautiful sound could not exist.

A gentle light filtered into my awareness, shining from the same source as the voice that my world had suddenly come to center around. Slowly the face came into my view.

Some small part of my mind noted the scars that marred his features – the scars which were his dominant feature. That instinctive part of me warned that he was dangerous, that I should be afraid.

Perhaps I should be, but I wasn't.

The warning was pushed from my mind as I focused wholly on burning this face into my memory, each and every detail of it.

Blonde curls framed his face lending him a boyish appearance that was incongruous with the rest of him. A single curl fell over his forehead, and, for the first time, I felt my fingers as they itched to reach up and brush it back… to feel that lock of hair and see if it was as soft as it appeared.

His eyes were brimming with warmth… oceans of love were contained in their amber depths. I could see the gold flecks that sparkled in those eyes… the long, dark lashes that framed them, contributing to his boyish look.

My eyes caressed his straight nose, the strong line of his jaw… the full lips that were turned upward in a tender smile.

He was beautiful… perfect.

Even the scars couldn't diminish his perfection. A desire rose inside me to caress each of those marks, to brush my lips over them and love away the pain that must have accompanied them.

I traced my gaze over him again, memorizing every minute detail.

This time my gaze continued onward to the breadth of his shoulders, the curve where his shoulders joined his neck – a place where my head was made to fit.

My eyes adored the strength that was evident in the defined muscles of his chest, and in his arms – arms that were meant to hold me and to shelter me. I knew the protective circle of those arms was meant to be my own special haven.

His hands fascinated me. That instinctive place inside me knew that these scar-covered hands could be used to crush, to break… to kill. But none of that mattered to me, for now they were being used to cradle, to caress.

By slow degrees the vision had shifted, until now I could see a woman by his side.

The face that I saw now was strangely foreign, though somehow I felt that I should recognize it. Her features were delicate, her build slight. A perfect counterpoint to his tall, masculine beauty. As if she had been fashioned specifically with him in mind.

That woman was me, I realized.

Alice.

That was what he had called me, so that was who I was.

The palm of one of his hands was curved against my face, cupping it gently as if the slightest twitch of his fingers could crush me. The other traced a soft path from my temple to the corner of my lips.

The adoration in his eyes produced a soft warmth that began in my chest and spread through my body down to my fingers and even to my toes.

I love you.

The voice that belonged to my angel breathed against my hair.

The gentle warmth surged again with his words. My body felt weightless – not the same as before when the darkness obscured it, but as if he was supporting me… as if I was being carried in his strong arms.

There was no room for fear or anxiety in my heart now – no need to struggle. I was with my angel… I was home. Peace that came from his presence wrapped around me softly like a blanket.

Slowly his face lowered closer to mine, his eyes never breaking our gaze. I could almost feel his soft breath blowing against my face. My eyes slid shut as I finally gave into the desire to reach out for him – to touch him.

My hand rose to brush that unruly curl away from his forehead as his lips hovered a breath away from mine.

Jasper.

No sooner did the soft moan fall from my lips than he disappeared.

My eyes shot open in a vain attempt to bring him back.

It was no use. He was gone… and the light was gone with him.

I jumped to my feet taking in the bleak brick walls surrounding me. My angel was nowhere in sight.

He wasn't here…

Why wasn't he here?

Desolation crashed over me, knocking me from my feet. I fell to my knees under the crushing weight of this sense of utter aloneness. This was far too much like the darkness from before, only now it seemed twice as dark since I had seen how bright his light could be.

A scorching burn made its presence known in my throat, but it was overshadowed by the aching feeling in my arms… and the heavy emptiness that was carved in my chest.

My eyes stung as I raised my arms to wrap around the hollow cavity where my heart should be.

He was my heart. Without him I would never be whole. The emptiness that consumed me now, as the darkness had before, was something only he could fill.

"Jasper." The sound – the first my lips had ever uttered – came out as a strangled cry. My arms wrapped tighter around myself… a poor substitute for the arms I craved.

I fought to bring his face to mind again. My fists clenched and pressed into my eyes with my effort.

Finally his face flashed into my sight again, though I had to look twice to see that it was the same man as before.

His face was almost unrecognizable. The eyes that had gazed so lovingly at me were now cold and hard, and, instead of the rich golden hue as before, they were a glaring blood red. The smile that had brought light into my darkness was nowhere in sight. Those lips that I had ached to feel were drawn into a tight, firm line.

His jaw was set, and his posture was cold and forbidding as he paced in front of a line of restless beings. The tender voice that had guided me from the darkness was replaced by a harsh voice barking instructions and commands at those restless ones.

Without warning, one of the beings towards the center of the line charged at him with a vicious growl. My heart leapt into my throat in fear that my angel, different though he appeared, might be harmed. I needn't have worried for him.

The attacker hadn't closed half the distance before Jasper had leapt to the side, his arm slung out sending the other careening into a massive tree across the field. The tree crashed to the ground with an earth-shattering boom.

Before he even had a chance to regain his footing, Jasper had descended on the one foolish enough to challenge him. I watched as the hands that had cradled my face like it was spun glass, tore him into pieces while the others watched from the sidelines with wide, shocked eyes.

Like them, I couldn't tear my eyes away from my angel… the angel who had rescued me – now an avenging angel… an angel of death.

I watched, spellbound, as Jasper set fire to the broken pieces, and then as he straightened his posture again, his military bearing bordering on regal.

"Let that be a lesson to the rest of you," he roared. "You will listen and do exactly as I say. That," he gestured with a wave of his hand to the flames, "is the fate of anyone who attempts otherwise. You have all been placed under my command now. I suggest you remember this when any of you are tempted by such foolishness again. "

As one, the remaining six beings shrank back, their posture speaking clearly of fear.

Jasper motioned for the three men who had been standing guard on the perimeter throughout the whole time keeping the others in line.

One in particular caught my attention. He resembled Jasper enough to be his own brother with the same tall, lean frame, and similar blonde hair. Instead of watching the six standing in line as the others had done, his eyes had been focused intently on Jasper throughout the short fight. I could see the determination in his eyes, as if he was waiting for a moment when his help might be needed. Standing at readiness if Jasper had required his aid.

I felt a surge of gratefulness for this man I didn't know – someone I instinctively knew was a friend to Jasper.

"We're finished for now. Let's take them back to base." Jasper's words were clipped, carrying an undeniable command.

He didn't have to speak twice. They all fell into a formation and herded the six still wide-eyed beings back to the dreary, dilapidated buildings a few miles away.

I studied Jasper's face as they walked. His eyes were guarded, blank. There was no discernable emotion on his face at all. It was empty, detached from everything and everyone around him, as if a mask covered his features.

The mask didn't fool me. I could see right through it – straight to the hopeless darkness that chained him, holding him prisoner.

His eyes were open, but he didn't really see…

He was alive, but he wasn't really living.

The vision shifted again until I could see him walking by himself in a field with the sun hanging low in the thick clouds behind him. He appeared preoccupied, and I would have given anything to know what he was thinking to put that expression on his face. I needed desperately to know him… to know the secret thoughts that were hidden behind his façade of indifference.

Jasper's steps suddenly came to a stop, and, without warning, the mask fell away. Utter despondency became visible on his face as his shoulders slumped with the weight of this depression. I could feel the despair that was painfully evident on his countenance as it wrapped around my own heart. His pain was mine.

My arms ached with new intensity with the need to hold him, to cradle and shelter him from whatever caused the pain he was stumbling under. The protectiveness that I felt surprised me, especially in light of what I had just seen. The thought that this man could need me to physically protect him was ludicrous. No, his body didn't need my feeble protection, instead, it was his battered heart that I wanted to shelter.

My heart ached as I watched him sink to the ground and lay his head against his knees.

Seeing the savage side of him before should have frightened me; it should have made me turn and run the other way. But it accomplished just the opposite. Nothing could have prepared me for the aching need that I felt at that moment. I knew that my life was intended to be lived by his side. My heart was made specifically to love him – to be the balm that healed his wounds.

Just as he had been the one to rescue me from the nothingness that had chained me, I wanted to be the one to release him from this prison of darkness that held him captive.

He had been my savior, now I needed to be his.

The vision dissolved, and, once again, his face faded from my view.

With the disappearing vision, my resolve firmed. I was going to find him. And I was going to spend the rest of my life loving away the hopelessness I had seen in his eyes.

Hold on, Jasper. My heart called to him. Keep fighting; don't give up… I'm coming for you…

Jasper

1876

I strode down the tunnel in the midst of the dank, musty air, down the underground corridor to Maria's chambers. I had news – news that I planned to use as a nice little bargaining chip.

I had been growing suspicious of Nettie and Lucy for some time. To Maria's face, they behaved just as they always had, but there was some form of conniving from them – something brewing under the surface that had been growing more apparent to me for several months now.

I sensed a certain spite from them in Maria's presence. I felt a sense of superiority which was not befitting their positions. I had suspected them of plotting something underhanded – some kind of subterfuge. I had been right.

There had been a strange restlessness throughout a division of the newborns lately – a different kind of restlessness than was normal for them. I knew something wasn't right. It had been all too easy to take one of them aside and… question him – in a manner of speaking.

By the time I was finished, he had told me everything I wanted to know and then some. He had been stupid enough to believe that his cooperation and loose tongue would warrant clemency. He was wrong – as the ashes blowing with the wind now proved.

I ignored the two guards standing outside Maria's door and went inside. She was poring over her maps, devising her next offensive, just as I'd known she would be. She looked up briefly as I entered.

"You left your post." Her tone was disapproving – for now. That would soon change.

"I need to speak with you… privately." I said, eyeing the two outside.

She glanced up, looking at them. "Get out," she told them without preamble. They left without a word, and, when they had gone, she turned to me. "And just what is it that's so important you had to disobey orders to tell me?"

"Something that will be worth your while to hear," I told her, propping myself on the wall nonchalantly.

"Let's have it, then," she said shortly.

"In a moment." I said, preparing to lay my cards on the table. "You see, there's something I want from you in return."

Maria's eyes widened in disbelief at that statement. "Oh, and what might that be?" She asked in a deceptively pleasant tone. She eyed me speculatively, not certain what to make of this game I was playing. I'd never dared to speak to her like this before.

I stepped forward, placing my hands on her desk and leaning towards her. "I want the territory between Houston, Dallas, and Austin." The three cities made a nice little triangle of land that would be excellent feeding grounds.

"You're joking, I assume." She narrowed her eyes at me, her voice growing cool very quickly.

"Not at all," I met her gaze evenly.

"You must think quite a lot of this 'information' of yours, Major." Her frostbitten tone, was a threat for me to back down, and normally I would. I had never before attempted to play this kind of game with my maker.

"It's worth it," I assured her, holding my ground.

Her eyes narrowed to little slits as her indignation to my evasiveness mounted. I was keeping careful tabs on her anger. I knew I was being bold, but, like a poker player, I couldn't resist playing a good hand – and I had a good hand, there was no doubt about that. There was enough curiosity from Maria to keep me going… and a certain level of something akin to appreciation, so I didn't back down from her glare.

"Of course, I could have just have you destroyed for this defiance. I don't have to give you anything." She hissed.

"You could," I conceded with a nod, "but then you'd never find out what I know – at least not until it's too late." I smirked. "That would be unfortunate."

She stood, leaning her fists on the desk, mirroring my pose. Her nose was mere inches from mine, her posture as threatening as her words. "I'm quite certain I could get it out of you another way."

"You could try." I didn't shift from my position, no matter how much my instincts warned me to.

Maria had not been certain that I had the ruthlessness to last in this life. Up to this point, I had given her what she wanted without question. I had been eager to please. And, in some capacity, I was still trying to do so. She wanted to know that I could play the game? That I knew how to get what I wanted? So be it. It was time to rise through the ranks once again.

She studied me for a moment, her glare daring me to back down. But inside I could feel her indignation warring with admiration.

Admiration won.

Maria threw back her head and laughed. She clapped her hands in approval. "Nicely played, Jasper. I honestly didn't think you had it in you. It would appear that you're learning from me after all." She seemed inordinately pleased at the thought. "Very well. The land you requested is yours… provided that your information warrants that kind of reward."

So I told her everything I knew. That Nettie and Lucy had been plotting against her. That they had an uprising almost ready to take place. I gave her the names of all the newborns they'd enlisted… we disposed of them all immediately – swiftly and silently.

Nettie and Lucy didn't see us coming. They were destroyed just as easily as the newborns had been.

Standing over their pyre, Maria felt no remorse. She was already calculating how their demise benefited her… there were now two less to share her herd lands with.

And now, risen through the ranks I had. With the two of them gone, I became Maria's second in command. Her partner.

Yet even as I worked alongside her daily, there was no question in my mind that, when and if, my death served her better than my life, she would have me destroyed without a twinge of conscience. The only reason I was alive now – that I had even survived the first year – was because of my particular talent. It was advantageous to her to keep me around.

She used me.

And I determined to use her just as shamelessly.

Over the next six decades, we built an empire together… and a reputation to match. Among the Southern covens, we were hated as much as we were feared. Our lands increased and vendettas against us abounded just as profusely.

For every scar that was added to my body over those many years, there were at least ten immortals who had been vanquished by my hands… and yet more who would have paid handsomely to see me dead. Immortals, ally or foe, took one look at my ravaged visage and felt fear to their very bones.

I had become a monster… a demon from the deepest, blackest pits of hell.

As those years passed, and as those scars came to mar nearly every inch of my body, my heart was sacrificed… my conscience silenced. With every day that passed, I lost a little more of myself, until finally I had lost sight of Jasper Whitlock altogether. He was a stranger to me… that man who had fought with honor for his God, his family, and his country… a man who had valued integrity and loyalty… a man who had known and lived by principles.

That man had died on a still January night in the year 1863 on the road from Galveston.

That man was dead.

And yet he haunted me.

With each passing year, I fell deeper and deeper into depression. Every day was the same vicious cycle… hatred and death. Death spawned more hatred among those left alive, and so the feuding continued. There was no escape from it.

I cursed this ability to feel the emotional atmosphere around me. I couldn't so much as feed without being reminded of the life I once had – the life that had been wrenched from me. I couldn't escape the fear, the terror that was so reminiscent of my own death.

I had grown weary… so very weary.

I wanted an end to the hatred and the incessant killing.

I wanted to die.

I sought after death. Each battle I determined would be my last. Yet each time, some indefinable something prevented me from giving up at the last possible moment… but what that something was, I hadn't the faintest notion.

Maria couldn't understand my ever deteriorating frame of mind. This depression was something she couldn't relate to – she thrived on the godlike feeling of deciding who lived and who died. It was what she existed for… and she was incapable of comprehending why I was not the same.

She grew increasingly suspicious of my dejected nature. I came to notice that same unrest, that same malice, that had given me warning when Nettie and Lucy planned their uprising so many years before.

By the 1940s, it was obvious that we could no longer exist together. One of us had to die.

After all those I had murdered in the past, I was strangely adverse to killing her. After all, she had been my mentor, my companion for more than seventy years. I'd worked by her side, training her army and building her domain.

I didn't necessarily want to kill her, but I didn't see that I had a choice. There was no other way out… or so I thought.

My escape came from the most unlikely place.

The only "friend" I had allowed myself in all my years as an immortal was a man named Peter. He was one of our most skilled fighters, but he didn't relish the battle. He was civilized in a way that I had nearly forgotten. Peter quickly earned my respect for both his skill and his trustworthiness.

When he came to love one of the new ones brought into our camp, I was surprised. When the newborn returned his feelings, I was stunned even further. That was an emotion that I hadn't felt in so many years I had all but forgotten what it was.

Intellectually, I recognized it, but, for myself, I had nothing to compare it to. Certainly what I shared with Maria was anything but love. There was nothing giving, nothing selfless, as I came to see Peter and Charlotte's feelings for each other characterized.

My heart was still and silent as stone. There was no question in my mind, I had lost all capacity to love.

When the time came for Charlotte to be eliminated, Peter protested but it did no good. I had my orders and there was no choice to be made – or so I had believed.

When Peter interfered, I thought to destroy them both. It was what Maria would expect… but I couldn't.

They ran. And I let them go.

Perhaps, I thought, they might be able to have the escape from this life that was denied me. Their love was too pure to be destroyed so malevolently.

It was five years before Maria found out about my deception, and, when she did, she was livid. I had truly believed she meant to kill me then – and I was honestly relieved that the fight was over… I was ready to die… there was nothing for me to live for in any case. I was glad to have reached the end.

Yet, to my surprise, that was not to be, and I cursed my peculiar talent for giving her reason to keep me alive.

By some fortunate twist of fate, it was that same day that Peter returned, sneaking back into camp, and telling me of a life I had never dreamed possible… a life without the oppressive curtain of constant hatred… a life without ceaseless, senseless carnage.

In five years, he and Charlotte had never had a fight. He assured me that peace was attainable for us, despite everything Maria had conditioned us to believe to the contrary.

In one conversation, I was convinced.

I knew my defection would enrage Maria… she would have rather seen me dead. But I didn't care.

If Peter was right, then perhaps it was possible for me to obtain some modicum of peace— maybe to find some place just to rest. If he was wrong, then if nothing else, surely my defection would be reason enough for Maria to destroy me when or if she ever found me. Either way I had nothing to lose.

I left without a backwards glance, turning my back on the only life I had ever known.

For several years, I wandered with Peter and Charlotte until my depression began to wear on them – until the incessant restlessness compelled me to move on my own.

The peace I craved was still out of reach. My spirit was troubled – unceasingly agitated. I had done everything I knew, but nothing helped. The peace I longed for evaded me.

There was an emptiness inside that wouldn't let me rest. I hadn't the faintest idea what it was that might be missing… I only knew I couldn't stay still.

And so I became a nomad… a man with no home… nothing to my name save the clothes on my back… and a hollow ache in my chest begging to be filled.

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He may not know what's missing, but we do, don't we? ;-) The next chapter is mostly written, so it shouldn't take me too long to get it ready. (fingers crossed) In the meantime, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Nik