To Love and To Be Loved (A Jasper Hale/ Whitlock Love Story)

A Past Uncovered

It was late once again, Bella had gone home, and it was just myself and Jasper in the forest, now. I still couldn't win a single fight against him, but our fights had grown longer, upwards of five minutes sometimes. But I still hadn't managed a single swipe at him. It was... frustrating. Yet somehow, whenever I began to feel frustrated, it would dissipate almost as soon as it reared its ugly head.

I sighed when I was pinned under Jasper yet again, frustration simmering under the surface, but not growing any more than that. I began to feel a bit uneasy as Jasper sat up.

"Again?" he asked, and I sat up as well, rubbing my eyes with my hand. He moved from where he was straddling me (as hot as that was) to stand.

"How do you have so much experience with this?" I asked, and he sat back down into the dirt, only a few feet away. He took off his zip-up hoodie, and my brow furrowed at the sight of the hundreds of bite marks that marred his skin. They matched the ones I could just barely see peeking out from the top of his shirt and the ones on his hands. I reached out to touch them, but I froze less than an inch away. "May I?" I asked, and he nodded. I took his wrist gently, trying not to show the way the contact with his skin affected me as I twisted it, and he let me observe.

"Battle scars," he told me. "All the training I was given in the Confederate Army was useless against the newborns." I shifted my gaze from his arm to look to him. "Still," he smirked. "I've never lost a fight."

"Impressive," I agreed with a small smirk of my own. "Wish I could say the same for myself." We laughed at that, sharing a small grin. I sat back. "So, the American Civil War, then," I noted, and he nodded, giving another proud smirk.

"I was the youngest major in the Texas cavalry. And I hadn't even seen any real battle."

I had to admit, that was impressive.

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen," he told me, and I nodded. Suddenly, things grew more serious. "But it all changed when I met Maria."

"Maria?" I asked, urging him to continue.

"I was riding back to Galveston after evacuating a column of women and children when I saw her... I immediately offered her my aid." He told me of what happened, how she changed him, and how she didn't stop with her tirade to create newborns.

"So you were a part of a new army, then," I nodded, my voice quiet.

"Newborn armies were very common in the South," he told me, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shocked.

"Were they?"

"Very," he nodded. "There were brutal battles for territory... Maria won them all. She was smart, careful." His eyes trailed to the ground, his brow furrowed slightly as he remembered. "And she had me. I was the second in command. My abilities to control emotions served her well."

"So you're the reason I haven't lost my head," I realized, and he looked back to me, giving a small shrug and a smirk.

"Can't have you losing your temper with what you can do. Could have devastating effects." My smile faded. He had no idea how right he was. If I snapped, everything could be over.

"Thank you," I conceded, and he nodded back.

"Of course," he agreed.

"The newborns?" I questioned, urging him to continue with his story, and he nodded.

"I trained her newborns. An endless occupation, since she never let them live beyond their first year." Again, shock shot through me at that. "It was my job to dispose of them when Maria felt they fulfilled their purpose." I felt my heart sink, and I saw the guilt, the heartbreak in his eyes. "I could feel everything they felt." Just looking into his eyes, I knew if he could, he would likely be crying. And that broke my heart. I understood the feeling, the guilt for killing innocent people. It was something we both had experience with. If I could cry, I would've been crying with him. He looked back to me.