I have waited a thousand years for you.

History class

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.