A/N: Thanks so much to all that review! I am very happy to find that you all are just praising and giving no criticism. One of my reviewers, she is so sweet, she said that she had read only one Jacob/Renesmee story, and that it was so good she never read any other. Until she saw Purple Notebook. She was surprised to see the direction mine was taking. So, to wolfygrr21, thank you so much. It really warms my heart. And to RinDey, I know, right? He is really a pain to deal with every day. Also, hagithara, you are very inquisitive and funny with the holy crap and doodle! expression.

RobstenLover93, this chapter is for you. You were wondering about a certain someone, so I came up with this chapter. Again, tell me if anything is wrong grammatical or otherwise, marshmallow princess only reads them first and she HATES Twilight, so I hope you all tell me through a pm or something. Not really that bad a speller, only on a keyboard.

DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer, THE GODDESS OF TWILIGHT, takes everything only the plot is mine.

Chapter 3: Alice's Visit

I stood motionless, watching, always watching. Or more like listening.

I stayed as close to the castle as possible without detection. They knew vaguely that they were being watched; that much their instinct told them. I was waiting for the day they would remember her and remember me.

Day had risen, and all the Volturi could do was talk. There was more trouble in the southern U.S., and they were going to have to intercede soon.

Aro agreed, and he thought about the New World that wasn't so new anymore. He compared the North to the South, and noticed how the North caused no trouble. Well, almost none.

I tensed, and it came.

"Brothers, how long has it been since we've seen Carlisle?" he asked, eyes wide. Marcus and Caius were startled, and they too were brought to its attention.

"Yes, it has been a while."

"We have yet to see to the human . . . Bella, was it?"

Her name sent a dagger through me, the pain almost physical. They had no idea, no idea . . .

"What shall we do then?" Aro wondered, though the answer was hardly needed.

"I think it's time we paid my friend a visit," Aro answered for them.

"Yes, ind-"

"Hey, Edward."

The new voice startled me and broke my concentration. I growled. Not this again.

"Dammit, Alice! What do you want this time?" Why did she always feel the need to do this? Come and see me to talk to me?

Her eyes narrowed, but I didn't care that I had offended he. She crossed her arms, a scowl on her face.

We were in a forest only half a mile from the Volturi castle. I leaned my head against a tree and sighed. "Alice, this is starting to get out of hand. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I saw that you would be wondering about her, and I came to spare you the trouble," she spit, clearly fuming. If you had taken the time to hear me, then you would have known that instead of being a jerk.

I sighed again, remorseful. It wasn't her fault. She only cared about me. She was my only connection . . . speaking of which.

"How is she?" I whispered.

Alice sighed quietly, and relayed all of the events that had occurred since she last saw me, almost a year ago.

In her head, I saw her, the child I had seen in reality only a few times.

Renesmee. My child.

She was rather okay a while after I saw you. About five months later something changed.

She wouldn't talk to anyone. She shut herself up in her room and refused come out, even for school. For about a week, she avoided all contact with the outside world, and no one knew what she was doing. Sort of like you were . . .

Then, one day, she just got out of her room and went to school. She didn't answer anybody's questions, just left for school on foot. We didn't see her the rest of the day until we came home. Again, she ran to the house by herself.

The state she was in, though . . .

Renesmee runs through the house, tears streaming down her cheeks. She's a blur as she zips up to her room, and the door slams hard. Esme pleads with her by the door, but there is no response. I flinched at her hopeless expression.

Eventually, she came out, only she acted like nothing had happened. But you could see the new hardness in her face and the defensive walls she put up. She talked, but barely enough to make a real conversation. She's still like that, but she talks a little bit more now. Jasper says it's because she's depressed, but no knows how she could have gotten that sad that quickly.

Alice's mind paused, deciding whether or not to tell me something.

She hesitated, then said aloud," She has horrible nightmares. Most nights she'll wake up screaming. She won't say what scared her, only to Esme, who keeps it locked in her head. We don't understand, but I don't think she does either."

"Do you listen?" I whispered, not quite knowing what I was feeling, but I didn't like that something was scaring her.

"We tried once . . . It didn't end well." She shuddered.

I sighed. "All right. Keep going."

She's been pretty much the same: quiet, secretive, but she's found something to let it all out.

"What?"

She plays piano at school. Best in her class, I hear. I don't listen to it, and she doesn't play the one at home, so I don't know how good she really is.

I smiled. Good. At least I had one thing in common with my daughter.

I caught her trying to play at home though, and I think I made an impression because she hasn't touched it since. Alice laughed quietly, remembering the scolding she had given Renesmee.

I frowned. "I don't like you doing that, Alice."

She shrugged. Whatever. Someone's gotta watch her, since you're not there.

I froze, and her mind turned pleading.

Please, Edward, come home! she begged for the hundredth time. Please! We all miss you! Esme, Carlisle, even Rosalie! Come home. Nothing's the same anymore. There's no happiness in that house, and even a smile is a rarity, much less laughter. And you wouldn't have to rely on me for getting to know her. Even Renesmee wants you in her life, though she'd never –

"Enough, Alice! I'm not going home, and that's final! Stop asking!" I snapped my temper getting the better of me.

Alice's face was heartbroken. She looked down and turned to leave.

How did this come to be? If it had been 20 years earlier and someone had told me that I would be fighting with my family, the woman I loved was dead – hell, even saying that I would love at all – and our daughter on the verge of being suicidal, I would have regarded them as crazy and tried to forget our conversation.

"Wait, Alice. Stop, please, I'm sorry," I apologized, but it was too late. She was already gone.

I called her name again, but the only response I was given was the forest's silence.

A/N: Again, if you find anything wrong with this, tell me please. And tell everyone else about it too! Facebook updates, twitter, shouting in the middle of Times Square during rush hour… doesn't matter to me. Review please!

-Rosie