There was before you, and it was dark.
A pale face with a taunting smirk and polished features, as if he'd been carved out of marble. Long golden hair that never took any certain shape. It was always a mess, and she'd had to fix it for him now and then. Then there was his humming. It was magical. Whatever he sang would always stay stuck in her mind. His face was always shadowed by the cowboy hat he wore. Then there were his eyes. At first brown, dark, and passionate, then hazel when the sun hit them just right. And his voice, her name on his lips.
"Margaret..."
***
Why her dream had come to her like a tidal wave, Margaret had no idea. But it had. She tried her best to hide it as Jasper took the seat next to hers. As he did, Jasper felt an ounce of shyness and discomfort radiating from her. Carlisle was right, he felt an extreme urge to protect her, comfort her, and possess her in every way imaginable, but all of those instincts were so strong they drained his thirst for blood.
"Do you enjoy history?" He asked casually. This took Maggie by surprise, snapping her out of whatever trance she had been submerged in.
"Oh, yes!" She exclaimed in a hushed voice, nodding her head excitedly. "I love hearing about how things were done back then," she continued, opening her textbook on the table and sliding it in between them. Jasper didn't have his books yet but, at that moment, he was thankful he hadn't. Then he felt something else as if she was suppressing something, avoiding telling him something.
"What is it?" He asked her quietly. She fidgeted with her fingers, her hands on the textbook, flipping through the corners of the pages. How this boy could read right through her was beyond her, her philosophical questions were mostly to herself, as she didn't dare ask them aloud to her friends, in fear they might change their view of her. She had worked so hard to achieve what she had, she couldn't lose it all now. Not when Isabella was going to come next year.
"It's silly," she hummed, but when Jasper didn't say anything and just kept looking at her expectantly Margaret finally forced herself to meet his eyes. "Do you ever feel like you're pulled to a certain time? A certain place?" She explained, her eyes never leaving his. And if he had Edward's gift of reading minds he would've been certain she meant to finish with 'a certain person'. Jasper could feel her honesty, her eagerness to be comprehended, and most of all, he felt that spark of his beloved Margaret was within her.
"I do," he replied, nodding slowly. The ends of his mouth curved upwards ever so slightly as he met Margaret's wide excited eyes. "There's this certain time in history that simply captivates me." He went on.
"What year?" Maggie asked curiously. Jasper smiled, softly.
"Why don't you take a guess?" He insisted. Margaret sighed happily as she analyzed him. The pale chiseled face, the gold hair, and the brown passionate eyes. For a second she thought of her recurring dream, Texas, the yard, and the man in the hat. The heartache and the fire, and the war.
"1860s?" She guessed, her eyes still staring. Jasper shifted, the weight of realization falling hard on him. "Did I get close?" She inquired. That proud smirk of his plucked a certain feeling with her, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but it pulled on her.
"You guessed it on the spot." He whispered. Margaret shook her head, giggling. Her brown locks fell like curtains around her, and the shining of the locket caught Jasper's eyes in a swift motion.
"You're lying." She hummed, her nose scrunching in a way that sent Jasper back to their first few encounterings. "You're saying that to make me feel better, aren't you?" She said.
"I give you my word, I'm not." He said plainly, but with such severeness that Margaret had to nod in acceptance. "You give yourself far too little credit, Margaret." He mused, his eyes were scanning every inch of her, but she was focused on him. The way his hair fell just right above his shoulders, how it curled slightly at the ends. With the sun hitting directly on it it seemed almost gold. He reminded her of someone, someone she knew very well, but somehow forgot about.
"I politely disagree." She contradicted, snapping her eyes away from his. "And please, call me Fifi, everyone does." Margaret wasn't sure why she asked him to do it, maybe because it would be easier not to break the facade she had worked so hard to build during the last three years, better not to get attached. But the way her name had fallen effortlessly from his lips, the way his accent dragged the syllables it clicked something within her, but she kept it to herself. Better not to get attached.
For some time, they went silent. Carefully taking notes and flipping through the textbook pages. Jasper couldn't help but notice her spiked and messy cursive, the same calligraphy he had preserved in their letters. Some were smudged by their tears, either hers when she wrote them or Jasper's when he read them. It amazed him. how she hadn't changed one bit, even if she didn't remember, or not completely. The fact that she had guessed perfectly well the period they spent together fascinated him, maybe, there was a possibility she did remember him. It was a fantasy, Jasper knew, to think that by some magic of the mating bond, she may remember, but he could investigate it.
"What made you say the 1860s?" Jasper finally asked. Margaret didn't look up from her notes and commented simply.
"It's the year that intrigues me the most." Her pen scratched her paper, ink flowing into smooth, quick strokes. She then worked up the courage to continue. "Where are you from?" Her hair had fallen like a curtain, shielding her face from Jasper's view. After getting no answer she shook the strands of hair out of her face and looked at him intently.
"Houston, Texas." His smile shifted into a smirk. "Is it quite noticeable?" Margaret kept looking at him with her searching eyes, under her gaze Jasper felt transparent and defenseless, but he didn't mind it, not when it was his Margaret staring back at him.
"I just noticed it now." She said earnestly. "Besides, accents are very attractive." She hummed almost to herself, then as if she had realized what she had said she blushed brightly and added quickly. "That's what most people say, anyway. Not that I would know." Then she laughed awkwardly. Jasper hummed, if it weren't for the setting this could've been a normal conversation Margaret and he would've had. She placed her pencil harshly on the textbook. "I'm sorry," she stated, packing her things. "I just made this all awkward, it truly wasn't my intention..." She went on, slipping her textbook into her bag. Her mind was foggy, unfocused, and confused between her dreams, imagination, and the real world. Margaret thought to herself she needed to get out more and touch the grass.
"I had a nice time," Jasper admitted. "I was hoping you'd have English next?" He asked, eying his schedule and waving it before her, his eyes shining with hope.
"What if I did?" Margaret had swiftly flung her bag over one shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest, she had always been so stubborn.
"I'd be very old-fashioned and ask to walk you to class." Jasper stated, remembering the inner jokes he and Margaret had about Jasper being old fashioned, or 'such a gentleman' as she would say, sarcasm coating her words, and Margaret laughing and calling him a Cowboy. She stared at him, curiosity still dancing in her eyes. Jasper offered her his hand, and for some unexplainable reason, Margaret took it without hesitation smiling at the comfort it brought her, the coldness of his palm on hers, it sparkled like fireworks.
There was before you, and it was dark.
But there was with you and it was light.
For a brief second, she was taken aback with an odd feeling, almost like a Dejá Vu, but not quite. It was like remembering something very important that she had long forgotten about, and it filled her with joy. Jasper eyed her intrigued. Her feelings were all over the place, but overall, she felt full. Filled with joy and anticipation and eagerness to live.
"I just had the weirdest sense of Dejá Vu." She laughed softly. Jasper's fingers tightened around her hand, their eyes meeting again. Jasper had felt it too, only he saw the images clear in his mind, the day he had taken Margaret dancing, the day he asked her to marry him, and, the day he was sent to war. The last time he would see his beloved, in a very long time.
"Shall we?" Jasper faked an elegant accent and mimicked a serious face. Margaret laughed truthfully from deep within her. Something in Jasper's way of acting, in the way he would talk and comfort her, it was as if she had known him all her life. Loved him all her life.
"Hmm, I hadn't thought of you as a gentleman." She hummed eyeing him as they exited the class.
"No? What then?" Jasper asked swinging their laced hands together.
"I don't know," she began, "a cowboy." She giggled earning a full laugh from Jasper. He laughed, full and almost painful - if he had been able to feel pain or cry from laughter he would've - he held his free arm over his stomach, more out of habit than anything else. For a split second, Jasper thought Marggie would feel offended, or confused, but she started laughing too.
"Oh, God!" Jasper sighed regaining his breath, he planted his hand on his chest as he 'breathed'.
"But seriously," She said firmly, staring seriously into Jasper's eyes. "You would look nice in a cowboy hat." She mused, biting slightly on the corner of her bottom lip as she used to do. Jasper quirked his head to the side. They walked slowly, making their way to the next lesson. "Alright, out with it Cowboy." She said, feeling his piercing eyes on her.
"I wouldn't want to intrude." He answered immediately, finding out he had been staring.
"We already stated you aren't a gentleman, cowboy." Maggie walked in front of him, their hands never letting go. "Tell me." She insisted. They had stopped in the middle of the hall and had little time to their advantage, besides, Jasper couldn't deny her of anything, so he finally gave in.
"I was wondering," he began hesitantly. "The Principal called you Margaret?"
"Margaret..."
She felt herself getting a little light-headed. The way her name fell off his lips with his Texan drool made her weak in the knees at the same time it made her brain snap awake. It was as if she had been asleep and had finally been able to regain consciousness.
"Say that again?" She said almost absently.
"I shouldn't have-" Jasper began apologetically, dropping his hand from hers. Suddenly Margaret felt empty and she rushed, grabbing him by the wrist. Jasper kept frozen in place and eyed her, his eyes bordering with pain.
"Please." She begged.
"I just wondered why you didn't go by Margaret." He said quickly. "I know it's none of my business, or that you probably didn't like it and simply-" He was cut off by the potent feeling of nostalgia. He imagined her face, destroyed, sad. For a second he believed she would drop his hand and avoid him for the rest of her life. A wide radiant smile was not what he was expecting when he faced her.
"I might just start going by it again." She crooned. Then with a soft sigh, she explained. "My father used to love calling me Margaret, and he still does" They had arrived at class by then, and she took her seat at the back of the class and waited for Jasper to finish introducing himself to the professor. Once they were both seated and sharing her book once more, Jasper whispered in her ear why she had stopped going by Margaret.
"Once my sister stopped visiting I felt as if I could never be happy again." She begun. "I decided to change my life, stop being shy and take control of things." Jasper listened attentively. "That's the way things have been for three years." She paused taking a deep breath. "I tried to bury Margaret deep within me, I believed that creating a new persona would make the pain go away, but it doesn't." Their eyes met, "Patience, forgiveness, and acceptance bring happiness together, it wasn't Margaret's fault, she just didn't know how to deal with it, so she didn't." Jasper completely understood her, he remembered how he had been blaming The Major for Margaret's death, but it wasn't his fault, he simply didn't know how to live without her mate, so he didn't. "But I have a feeling that Margaret is strong enough now to carry on." their eyes never left one another's, and Jasper could almost feel that she was thanking him. He didn't know how to respond, how to make her know that he loved her, so he could only show her the way he knew, he sent his feelings in soothing waves towards her, her eyes shining. Margaret was indeed back.
That night, when Margaret arrived home she told his father, with the widest and happiest smile she had ever worn, that Margaret was back. Charlie, who knew what that meant, hugged her close, his eyes shining with tears.
When Maggie was alone in her bedroom she looked around at the countless medals and trophies that hung from a wall with pictures from cheering competitions. At the mural of photographs she had of her friends and her, and her sister. She walked towards it decisively and took the photo that was at the center of them all. Her mother her sister and her all together when they were younger. She ripped it and threw it in her garbage can. Once on her bed, wrapped in blankets and her laptop on her thighs she went on her social media. MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter, all under her username '@fifimswan' and changed her profile picture.
Anyone who knew her followed her or even tried to look for her would only find Margaret. @margaretswan was her social media username now, and her old profile picture - her all dressed up for prom, from two years ago, and standing next to her friends - was now a photo his father had taken of her when she was reading, laying on her stomach in a grassy hill with a white summer dress. No more hiding, no more pretending. She could be happy, and she would be. No more denying herself the joy of a life of her own.
She was Margaret Swan.
***
Jasper was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with one of his arms behind his neck. He heard footsteps downstairs, but he couldn't be bothered at all. For once the only sensation he felt was his. The overwhelming happiness radiated from him like the rays of the sun. He had a picture of Margaret and him from their engagement, one of the first they had together back in 1858. She was sitting on a chair, her hair swept up in an intricate updo with curls around her face, and dressed in a well-fitted dress that on the photo looked greyish, but was, actually, a soft blue that enhanced her brown chocolate hair. His hand was playing with it over his chest just as Alice appeared in his doorway.
"She seemed to have known you forever." She commented blissfully, rocking back and forth on her heels.
"Technically she does," Jasper argued, the smile still stuck on his face as he turned to look at Alice. She sat beside him in a heartbeat and Jasper handed her the photograph. "This is from when we got engaged." He pointed at the photograph, tapping it softly. "Not too long after I was sent to the front." He added. Then he felt Alice's emotions change as she froze, her eyes glazed. When she snapped out of it she didn't know how to proceed, she stood, and Jasper felt her hesitation and doubt. Then Edward's came bursting in.
"When will that be?" He asked just as he arrived, his voice confused.
"I- I can't tell," Alice answered.
"What is going on?" It was Carlisle now, followed by Esme. Shortly after Rosalie, Emmett, and Michael all came to the room.
"Alice, what did you see?" Jasper's voice came out strained, he still held the photo in his hand.
"It was her," Alice began, not able to make eye contact with anyone. "She was just running through the woods." She added.
"Was she hurt? In danger?" Jasper spoke quickly, his mind racing and his eyes darkening.
"No," Alice murmured. "She was running," she paused and looked him in the eyes. "With you."