Green & Gold

***
Harry crouched down on the floor. Cradling his head in his hands. Screaming. So sharp, and so full of pain.

He lifts his head and there are tears trailing down his face. But more importantly: his eyes.

His bloodshot eyes with the heavy dark bags beneath them.

Eyes filled with a pain so powerful that Alice thought she could live until the earth itself crumbled and never understand the depth of it.

~a flash of sparkling white~

The same scene. Further along now.

Harry holding a knife in his hand and inspecting it carefully. Murmuring something repetitively under his breath. Looking at the knife with the desperate look of a man with nothing else to live for.

Blood, dark and richly scented as it pours from his wrists. A smile of relief as Harry leans against the wall.

~sparkling white~
***

Alice gasped as her vision ended with the white void.

“Tell Jasper to get here now,” Edward was saying urgently on the phone, already two steps ahead of Alice. He had dialed Carlisle’s number the moment that he saw Harry holding a knife in Alice’s vision.

He recognized the look in his eyes. One filled with agony, but also curiosity. As if questioning what may come next for him.

Edward himself had held that very look on his own face before. He knew that it was only thanks to his family that he hadn’t explored every facet of ending his own life. A family that Harry didn’t have.

But he could have Edward’s brother.

Edward didn’t understand the link between the two of them, or what force drove them together, but there was no doubting Alice’s visions. He never had before, and he wouldn’t now. Alice saw Harry as a human, a human beside Jasper’s side. And that’s what Edward knew may keep the human from diving in to the unknown.

If there was time.

“Can he be saved?” he asked Alice after snapping his phone closed.

Carlisle had understood the urgency in his sons voice and promised to send Jasper back to the cabin immediately.

“I don’t know, it’s all white.” Alice cursed the gaps in her vision once more. What was the good of seeing Harry in trouble if she couldn’t foresee the outcome?

“Will they turn him?” Edward asked. He didn’t think Harry should be turned, he thought he should stay human for the remainder of his life. But if he was too far gone, and turning him was the only way to save him, he would gladly accept his new brother.

“I don’t know!” Alice snapped. “I can’t see!”

“Can’t see what?” Jasper joined them, his windswept hair proof to the speed of which he ran from the mountain he had been on.

Edward gave him a pitying look.

“It’s Harry.”

Jasper ran out before Alice could even speak, needing no further explanation. If Alice and Edward’s emotions were that fearful and worried then it wasn’t good. Alice could call him on the way and explain.

The moment Jasper fled from the house, Alice refocused on the future. Surely Jasper’s decision to try and save Harry would show her something, anything.

Harry and Jasper racing their motorcycles down a flat stretch of highway.

Harry’s cheeks pink and flushed from the wind and his eyes sparkling with joy.

Jasper watching his human instead of the road, his lips turned up in an adoring smile.

“Harry’s going to make it,” Alice let out a sigh of relief. “He won’t have to turn him yet. He’s going to make it.”

As soon as she spoke, she instantly began translating a vulgar American rap song in to Vietnamese to mask her thoughts from Edward. Because in the forefront of her mind, was the thought that she hoped that someone would turn him soon. The sooner that Harry could join them, and be happy enough with them to never again have thoughts so dark, the better.

If Carlisle stuck to his refusal to do so without Harry’s consent, something that wouldn’t be easily obtained without sharing the secret, then perhaps Alice would simply do it herself. Harry, Jasper, and herself would just disappear one day. And when they returned, Harry would be a vampire. It would cause a fight with the rest of her family, but she knew they would forgive her eventually. And when they did, Harry would already, irreversibly, be one of them.

Alice hummed and danced to the bedroom in the cabin she had claimed for herself and decided that she quite liked that idea. And she knew Jasper well enough to know that he would as well.

*** 

Jasper ran quicker than he ever had before in his existence. He darted between trees and threw caution to the wind as he hardly bothered to avoid the sunlight filtering through the woods.

He knew he shouldn’t have left. He knew that Harry was in agony. Alice’s phone call, explaining her vision and the result of Jasper choosing to leave immediately, confirmed it.

His human was simply in too much pain to have left alone.

“The person you are attempting to reach has a voice mailbox that has not been set up yet. Goodbye.”

Jasper nearly crumpled his phone to dust as the generic voice told him the same message he had gotten the last seventeen times he had tried to call Harry’s cell phone.

Faster, he urged himself along. He knew he was nearly invisible to the human eye with as fast as he ran, but he needed to move quicker. Alice said that her first vision started as the sun set, and it was already beginning to lower on the west side, the very direction Jasper ran.

He had an eerie feeling that he was racing against the sun, and he had never known the great ball of fire in the sky to lose.

Instead of relief, Jasper felt more weighed down the closer he got to Forks. The sun was nearly set now. He could hardly see it over the treetops, which surely meant that he was too late.

He swore to himself that if it was too late to save Harry’s mortal life, he would at least control himself enough to give him an immortal life.

Carlisle couldn’t begrudge him that. It would be an emergency, just like Edward, Rosalie, Esme, and Emmett had been.

And then Harry would be an immortal and Jasper could share everything with him.

He just needed to reach his house before his heart stopped beating.

As he flew through town, scarcely sticking to the trees as the sky was now entirely purple, Jasper wasn’t sure what he hoped to find.

Would it be better if Harry was able to survive his own attempts at ending his life as a human or vampire?

He neared Harry’s house and immediately stopped inhaling through his nose. Despite Harry’s blood not registering to him as food, it was still blood. It still pumped through his veins, warm and wet and reminding Jasper of the days when the salty taste of animals wasn’t his preference. And Jasper would not risk (saving or turning?) Harry because he went in a frenzy.

Before he entered the little brick house, Jasper heard Harry’s sturdy heartbeat and it sent a jolt through him.

Alive.

As much as he trusted Alice and her sight, Jasper had been dreading the worst as he ran. He didn’t let Harry’s beating heart slow him though, he was still injured and nearing death every second. Jasper kicked the door open (not very subtle, but this wasn’t the time) and the mere sight before him froze him in his tracks.

Blood. So much blood. Blood in a giant puddle, forever staining the hardwood even as Jasper saw it sliding beneath the wooden boards.

And Harry. Curled up on his side, his arms drawn in to his chest, on the blue recliner Jasper knew he favored. He could hear his soft puffs of breath, the steady beating of his heart, and the faint moans he made as his emotions (disappointment.defeat.agony.) influenced his dreams.

Jasper rushed to his side and flipped him on to his back.

Which, of course, startled Harry lurching forward in his seat and kicking Jasper in the stomach. It was only thanks to his enhanced vampire senses, and a lifetime of anticipating attacks, that Jasper dodged the kick and prevented Harry from breaking his foot.

“Jasper?” Harry blinked groggily at Jasper and his emotions slowly slid to more confusion than despair. “What? What’re you doin’ here?” Harry was slurring his words, no doubt a side effect of the alcohol that Jasper was certain he had drunk.

There were recently shattered bottles strung about the room to attest to that fact. The glass shards of the clear bottles were mixed with the blood and had given a morbid sparkle on the scene.

He realized that though he had yet to witness it himself, his human had a terrible temper.

“You’re hurt, let me see.” Jasper spoke as gently as he could considering his worry had never been higher in all of his immortal life. He couldn’t just man-handle Harry, but he had his skinny arms buried beneath a thick red sweater with a yellow ‘H’ on the front and Jasper needed him to move them so he could see the cuts. “Please Harry?”

“‘M not hurt,” Harry said, sinking back in to his chair. “Bit drunk.”

“Harry.” Jasper knelt down on the ground and looked directly in to Harry’s bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes. He tried to be convincing, needing him to trust him enough to let Jasper help him. Even if he was conscious now, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to faint soon. His wounds could still be bleeding and it would be difficult to notice through the color of the sweater.

Jasper didn’t trust himself to smell the air purposefully for fresh blood. Not this close to Harry. If he didn’t want to accidentally drain his small body of blood entirely, it was best to keep his sense of smell cut off.

“You are,” he insisted. “It’s okay, I understand. I just need to see. I’ll help you.”

derision.fury.terror.

“You can’t help,” Harry slurred, closing his eyes and hiding his burning green orbs and displaying delicate purple lids. “Nobody can. Doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Damn it Harry, let me see your arms!”

Jasper hadn’t meant to snarl, truly. Aside from the fact that he considered himself to be a gentlemen, he also knew that Harry was skittish. He knew that someone or something had hurt him badly enough to leave physical scars and festering emotional ones that caused him to prepare himself for attack at the smallest transgressions.

But Jasper wasn’t going to let one moment of fear cause Harry’s death. Not if he could help it.

“My arms?” Harry flinched at the snarl and opened his eyes back up to blinked heavily at Jasper. “Why?”

“The- you-“ Jasper had never been struck dumb quite so hard. They were literally conversing in the middle of what looked to be a terrible crime scene. “The blood Harry! Yours I assume?”

He desperately wished he could tell Harry that he already knew about his injuries, there was no purpose in hiding them, but that would expose his family.

And he couldn’t do that just yet.

“Oh.” Harry turned his head and looked at the blood darkening as it dried in a puddle on his floor. He blinked at it a few times, as if surprised to see it. “Accident. Not my blood. ‘M fine.”

“Is there a dead body nearby then?” he drawled. “Because if not, I do insist on checking you for injuries. Unless you would prefer I call Chief Swan and have him drag you to the hospital in an ambulance.” Jasper knew he was clenching his jaw and speaking harshly. Threatening his human was not way to earn his trust, but even Rosalie couldn’t compete with this level of pig-headed stubbornness.

‘Not his blood’.

Ridiculous.

“Get out,” Harry sighed. “Or ‘m calling Charlie and saying you broke in. Why...” Harry trailed off and his anxious emotions twisted in to a dull curiosity. “Why’re you hear anyway? Thought you went camping? Which is dumb. Camping sucks.”

“You didn’t answer my calls,” Jasper said with a smooth half-truth, intentionally ignoring Harry’s request that he leaves. Harry was in no position to call the police chief, not while his house looked like the scene of a heinous crime. “I was worried.”

“Sweet,” Harry murmured. His head was dipping forward now and he looked prepared to pass out. “Don’t be.” Jasper sent a wave of calming peace towards Harry, shamelessly utilizing his gift in order to dull the turmoil the human was experiencing and ease his way to slumber.

Jasper wasn’t going to grab Harry, not even while he was asleep, his upbringing and common sense wouldn’t allow it. So he did the next best thing. He stood up straight, took a few steps away from Harry, froze his muscles in place, and tentatively inhaled.

Harry’s house smelled dark and cold. For there was no better way to describe it. The dark odor that clung to the very walls smelled like death, but with a cold after shock that was much like life. Jasper had never experienced such a smell in his life. It was intoxicating. Invigorating. Unnatural.

Beneath that terrifyingly unique smell was the smell of blood, definitely Harry’s oddly scented blood. Jasper’s senses placed it at roughly two hours old now. And beneath even that, a combination of alcohol, sweat, and the salty scent of tears. A mixture that made his stomach feel hollow at the grief that caused such a smell. But... Jasper inhaled again, more deeply now that he confirmed that Harry’s odd blood wouldn’t trigger a frenzy... no fresh blood.

He took a step closer to Harry and leaned forward, safe in his silence as Harry’s eyes were closed once more. He sniffed the human carefully. Ashes, sweat, alcohol, smoke, a hint of clove from a meal Harry hopefully ate during the day, but no fresh blood.

He scrutinized Harry himself more thoroughly as well. His soft red sweater had no droplets of blood on it at all. Neither did his grey sweatpants, aside from a smear on the bottom of the ankles, a smear Jasper matched to a spot on the floor near the bathroom doorway.

Alice’s vision hadn’t seen Jasper saving Harry, only that Harry had cut his wrists deeply before everything went white. Once Jasper left, Alice checked and once again saw them together in the future.

Had Harry recognized the severity of what he had done and bandaged his own wounds, saving his life on his own? He didn’t smell injured, but he didn’t smell like cotton bandages either. Yet that was a lot of blood on the floor, Jasper measured it with his eyes and guessed it to be roughly one liter.

As Harry’s soft snores filled the room, Jasper whipped his phone out and called Alice.

“Carlisle says maybe it just looked like Harry bled so much because of the alcohol in his system thinning his blood. He needs to put fresh bandages on in the morning to prevent infection. Also fresh fruits, vegetables, and lots of fluids are the best way to replenish blood loss quicker. If the bleeding already stopped then it must not need stitches. And if you aren’t taking him to the hospital to be admitted then you have to stay with him in case he tries again. We’ll be home tomorrow unless you want us there sooner. Anything I missed?”

“I hate you,” Jasper sighed in to the phone. One couldn’t just call Alice and be greeted with a polite ‘hello’. Oh no. She always answered the phone with the answers the other person was calling for.

“You love me,” Alice sang. “And hold on... yep, he’ll be fine if you run to the store. He won’t even wake up before you get back. I don’t see any future without him. Don’t forget he likes grapes.”

“You’re my favorite sibling, even if you are a tiny little pain,” Jasper teased her. “Bye.”

Jasper didn’t want to leave Harry, loathe as he was to make the same mistake twice, but a rapid check of the bathroom and kitchen cabinets showed a distinct lack of supplies.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered to Harry’s sleeping form. He sent one more strong wave of calm.peace.joy. to try and fight off the night terrors he knows his human suffers from before running to the closest store for the supplies Carlisle recommended.

Bandage wraps, bottled water, fruits, vegetables, and even a few of the nasty smelling canned drinks that Harry enjoys. He also thought to grab a bottle of ibuprofen at the checkout. Harry may be sore from the injuries he gave himself, and even if he didn’t then Jasper was certain headaches were a common after side effect of hangovers.

When he returned he sent more calming energies to Harry, who, in the mere eleven minutes and forty six seconds Jasper had been gone, had already sunk back down in to turmoil.

“Why are you like this?” Jasper murmured. He desperately wanted to reach out and smooth away the black locks that were hiding part of Harry’s forehead, but he was already overstepping more than a few boundaries. He would keep his hands to himself.

After easing Harry’s sleep once more, Jasper made short work of cleaning Harry’s living room; mopping up the blood, sweeping the glass shards up, and replacing Harry’s books and trinkets on his bookshelf. He turned a small golden metal ball over and over in his hands, trying to identify what the value in such an odd object may be to Harry to be placed on a shelf beside the photo of the people who could only be his parents.

Once he had completed his self-imposed cleaning spree, he stretched his legs out on the couch, not a necessity for comfort, simply in case Harry woke up soon, and thought about all the oddities of this human that has changed the unchangeable.

Harry’s blood; so richly scented, yet entirely unappetizing. His past; something that molded him in to the traumatized and agonized teenager he is now, but something he’s unwilling to discuss. His parents and godfather, dead. His friends, an ocean away. The Chief of a Tribe of werewolves the only distant relation he claims. His emotions; so strong. His mind; nearly impenetrable. His future; filled with white gaps.

“Who are you?” he mused aloud. Harry Potter was a mystery. And even though Jasper was a soldier rather than a spy, it doesn’t mean that he can’t be kept awake by a good mystery.

Figuratively speaking of course.

Jasper cloaked his own emotions with the same sense of calm he was forcing on Harry as he considered it all. This couldn’t happen again. He counted Harry’s heartbeats and thought of how incredibly lucky Harry was to still have them at all. He watched as the air around his nose released small puffs of air and imagined Harry no longer producing those little misty puffs. Not as a corpse (a startlingly painful image), but as something stronger. Something that even Harry’s reckless and self-destructive behavior couldn’t destroy.

The more he imagined it, the more he became set on the idea. He was surprised Alice had yet to call him with reports of a vision of a talented (certainly Harry would be reborn with a powerful gift) raven-haired newborn with flawlessly hard skin and crimson eyes.

He would miss Harry’s green eyes.

But he wouldn’t miss this overwhelming worry and anxiety for the frail human. He wouldn’t miss leaving Harry alone to drown in his sorrows while he hunted and hid who he truly was.

And surely Harry wouldn’t miss being plagued by nightmares during his sleep. Jasper could keep him from ever experiencing those again. He didn’t imagine that Harry would miss being alone either. He could be one of them, a Cullen, a Hale. Hell, he could even be a Whitlock if he liked the sound of it.

There would be no need for secrets anymore. He could share his past with Harry, as gory as it may be. And Harry would accept him, Alice’s visions were assurance of that. Harry would eventually learn to trust Jasper with his own past, and his crushing despair would lessen when Jasper gave him a better future. He would give him a family, true friends, and himself.

They could spend forever together. As partners. Equals.

As the sun rose over the sleepy town of Forks, Jasper lay perfectly still on Harry’s couch with a fully formed plan intact.

He would find a way to ask Harry if he would want to join Jasper’s family, join Jasper, as one of them. He would have to be careful, but he was certain he could do it without exposing them all. This would appease Carlisle’s concerns of turning Harry himself.

If Harry said no, Jasper would convince him that an eternity doesn’t have to be something to fear. Certainly not when he would never have to suffer the guilt that comes with taking a life, as Jasper had. In fact, an eternity could be a blessing in Harry’s case. He could travel, explore, and be a part of a community so unnaturally unique that it was nearly magical.

Jasper hadn’t seen the magic in his life before now, before Harry. But as he envisioned showing Harry the world, he could see it clearly. Being immortal was a gift of time to spend with someone who makes your existence mean something again.

And if that still didn’t work, Jasper would simply turn him himself. He had mopped up a liter of Harry’s blood without once feeling the flare of thirst in his throat or the sharp taste of his venom pooling in his mouth. He was confident that he could change him without killing him. If Harry was angry with him for taking away his frail morality then he would leave him with Alice and Carlisle and patiently wait for a century or so for the stubborn boy to forgive him.

He had plenty of time after all.