I went inside, combing the bookshelves in our room for a familiar title before lying out across the couch to read. Humans could meditate; they could take deep, cleansing breaths. Television, literature and radio distracted them completely. For our kind, only sheer force of will could control a wandering mind and too much white noise was keeping me from concentrating. Stubbornly determined, I flipped the book open and snapped the spine, whispering the words on the page aloud. I'd almost achieved my goal – getting lost in the world of Samuel Beckett – when I heard Edward's footsteps in the hall on the way to Carlisle's study. I hadn't felt him approach, but now that I was aware of his presence, I couldn't help but absorb how beaten and defeated he felt.

I was sure Alice had told him I was home, so it surprised me that he and Carlisle made no effort to speak softly. Their words reached me as if they were standing in the same room.

"Did Alice tell you what happened to Bella tonight?" Edward asked. Carlisle didn't answer him, at least not aloud, anyway, but Edward continued, and his words stung. Alice voluntarily told Carlisle what she'd withheld from me. "Yes, almost. I've got a dilemma, Carlisle. You see, I want…very much…to kill him."

What Edward said didn't surprise me. This strong sense of justice where women were concerned was a personality trait I respected, and one he'd displayed since Alice and I had known him. Whether as a consequence of his human upbringing, his time with Carlisle or Rosalie's own violent history, I would have expected nothing less that this violent reaction. What surprised me more was his restraint. Edward had killed men before to protect strangers, so to think that he'd shown this man mercy, of a sort, after making the mistake of threatening this girl…it was astonishing and I probed his mood, trying to find something that would explain it.

There was anger and rage aplenty, boiling just below the surface of his calm, collected exterior. He was struggling against it to allow Carlisle to handle this in his own way, but the impetus behind it…underneath the torment.

I hated driving, which was possibly the reason neither Alice nor I owned cars. I could run faster than Edward's Vanquish could drive and take a more direct route to wherever I was going than Rosalie ever could in her little convertible. Of all their vehicles, Emmett's seemed the most well adapted to our lifestyle – his hulking Jeep, with it's off road tires and roll cage – and even that provided nothing but a limitation. These past months had been nearly enough to convince me it was time to cash in some of my winnings for something with four wheels and a little peace and quiet.

Rosalie's mood turned acid the minute Edward got home, and it continued down its poisonous path all morning. "Get in," she barked at Alice and me. Emmett jumped over the door and into the passenger seat, with Alice's more graceful leap to follow.

"I think I'd rather run," I started to say, but Alice widened her eyes and gestured toward the seat. Either this was an argument I would not win – or it was one I wouldn't want to. "Nevermind." I said instead, getting in behind Rosalie

When we pulled into the lot, Rose lovingly parked on a diagonal, across two of the precious spaces, leaving a third open , presumably for Edward. It was unnecessary – on the few occasions her car appeared in the lot, no one ever parked anywhere near it – probably because they sensed how easy, and likely, it might be for her to kill them if a door ding were to appear. Only Alice seemed eager to wait for him but, since our argument last night, she seemed to be very aware of what I wanted and agreed to forgo the opportunity much more readily than she normally would have. I was grateful for that.

The week away from humans had done nothing to build my resistance to their scent. I could feel the burning mounting even as we crossed the open yard. Alice squeezed my hand. To make matters worse, in addition to the searing burn in my throat, the hum of nearly one hundred unique sets of emotions began to buzz ever louder and then, a peak of surprise.

Alice was already staring at her shoes when I put the pieces together – realizing all too late that Edward hadn't driven us to school today because he was driving someone else. "He didn't?" My words were a quiet whisper, issued through a clenched jaw – inhaling would cost me too much effort as the throng of students pushed past.

She nodded.

"You knew?"

"Jasper…"

"Don't. Alice, just don't."

It was a testament to how quickly news travelled that no one noticed our argument – their focus entirely on Edward and Bella. The remainder of the morning came and went without incident. The gossip increased, and awkward glances were shot, not only in their direction, but in ours.

Alice didn't meet me after any of my classes, and I didn't go looking for her, but I survived the day.

"Are you OK?" she asked, genuinely concerned when she saw my expression at the lunch table. It was raining and the windows, open on less inclimate days to let out some of the humid air, were slammed shut. The scent was intoxicating and the pain tremendous.

I nodded, but she frowned. "It's under control," I assured her, forcing a smile. Rosalie still looked alarmed. "Really, I'm fine," I added, gulping in a huge lungful of air and forcing my face to remain expressionless while the searing intensified. "See?"

She snickered. "Maybe next time you should pretend to homeschool."

"Maybe next time you should consider some frizzease," Alice retorted lamely.

Emmett and I exchanged a significant glance. "Rose, let's go get lunch before Edward gets here," he suggested, throwing his jacket over the back of the chair and nearly knocking it over. Alice reached out to steady it.

The mention of Edward's name caused Alice to jolt and, when they were gone, she slid into the seat across from me and set a hand on top of my own. "Jazz, listen," she glanced in Rose's direction. "No matter what happens, can you promise me that you'll talk to me before you react?"

If it were possible, I stiffened further. "Alice…"

She looked at the cafeteria line again. "Just promise. Please."

Alice and I met sixty years ago. I, having just left Maria – having just lost Peter – wandered into a diner without any real reason for doing so. I supposed now that the impulse might have been more than mere chance, but nonetheless, when I arrived, my knowledge of feelings as complex as love was entirely secondhand, and even that had it's basis in feeble human emotions. I certainly didn't recognize it in Peter and Charlotte when it had grown right in front of my own eyes. How I identified the emotion in Alice so quickly, I'll never know, but know it I did. She was everything in my world from the moment she entered my orbit and, by a stroke of luck so improbable it would never materialize again if time existed for a million more millennia; she loved me the same way before I even knew she existed.

Since then, love had become a common fixture in my life. There was my own for Alice and hers for me, but also the carnal passion of Emmett and Rosalie's and Carlisle and Esme's generous hearts. For Edward, there was nothing. That wasn't fair – there was the love he felt for Carlisle, the man who created and mentored him for over a quarter century, and there were of course his feelings for Esme, the only mother he'd ever known – Edward was capable of love, he just hadn't found a subject so worthy of his affections as mine for Alice or Emmett's for Rose. Or had he? This girl, whoever she was, didn't seem to be a passing fancy and Edward, despite our collective disbelief, seemed to be holding his own against his thirst for her blood. Somehow, the prospect of her demise was more painful to him than the very real, physical pain he felt.

"Here." Emmett's voice called me from my thoughts. He was holding out a can of soda, his eyes trained intensely on his sometimes-wife. I reached out and took the can without saying anything. Abruptly, Alice got up, offering her seat to Rosalie, and sat down next to me.

"I'm fine," I muttered. She just shook her head and squeezed my hand. I couldn't tell if she was being intentionally supportive or accidentally condescending.

I felt them before I could hear them – the burning in my throat intensifying further. If anyone had been watching our table, they would have noticed all four of our faces turn for the double doors a few beats too soon, but no one appeared to be concerned about us any longer because, moments later, all eyes were on Edward and Bella. The blistering began anew – not as big a shock as I'd expected, but stronger – as if I'd swallowed boiling metal. Alice whispered reassuringly in my ear but I barely heard her. It took everything I had to turn her soft murmurings into words behind the blinding white heat but after a few moments concentration, words they became nonetheless and I found I could almost dare to breathe again. When I opened my eyes again, the table was worse for the wear – my knuckles smashing into the lip so hard they left dents in the Formica.

"Just hear me out," Alice whispered. "That's all I'm asking."

Her words seemed disconnected from the situation. Here I was, submerged in a mire of pain so deep and so nuanced I could scarcely keep myself from lunging at the nearest human, and she was asking for an opportunity to plead her case? But then I saw Rosalie.

"So the waitress was pretty, was she?" Edward's words weren't difficult to hear – even for the humans sitting close to them.

The girl raised an eyebrow "You really didn't notice?"

"No," he answered. "I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."

"Poor girl." It caught me off guard when I felt her skepticism turn to hope. I hadn't expected to be able to feel her moods, but before that realization could be fully dealt with, Edward was speaking again.

"Something you said to Jessica…well, it bothers me."

"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdroppers," she chided – defensive.

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

The room around us moved even slower than usual – suddenly, it seemed as if time had stopped. I didn't need to look at Alice to know that she would be staring at the table. I didn't have to look at Rosalie to know that Emmett was physically restraining her from springing across the room and tearing Edward apart. Our careful ruse, slipping all day, escaped us completely while their conversation continued. No one moved. No one pretended to breathe. No one fidgeted with the trays of food. Emmett, the only one amongst us who seemed to have his faculties, held Rosalie unapologetically in an iron grip.

"You did. You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking – everything. I just wish…that you wouldn't be thinking some things."

"That's quite a distinction," the girl said, annoyed.

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" she asked, when she looked up at him from under half-closed eyelids, I saw something in them I'd seen before…not in her, but in Charlotte. Pushing aside Rosalie's rage, and my own, I felt my way toward her, scrutinizing her psyche.

"Do you truly believe that you care for me more than I do for you?" he asked.

Bella's eyes snapped open. It hit me like a wave – an intoxicating rush of joy and sadness – and Edward's manic, erratic behavior over the past weeks seemed entirely justified.

"You're doing it again," she whispered, breathless.

"What?"

"Dazzling me." Edward made a little noise and I felt the self-satisfaction and self-loathing rise. "It's not your fault. You can't help it."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

Her response was so low, I barely heard it. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" he asked again.

"Yes, I really think that." My fingers locked back on the table as feelings that weren't my own racked my mind. Alice, seeming to regain herself, let a hand rest on my leg. She was mistaking my utter lack of composure for anger. The entire exchange lasted no more than a few minutes, but I felt as though I'd been running for days without pause. I hadn't spoken, but I was out of breath, stiff beyond compare. This tension – it wasn't natural for our kind, not even for those of us with special talents. We, who possessed infinite stores of energy, didn't tire. Yet I felt certain that if even attempting to unclench my grip might break my stone fingers.

I risked a fresh breath. "How much does she know?" I asked. Alice didn't hesitate, but when she answered, she wasn't looking at me.

"Everything."

Rosalie wrenched against Emmett's iron grasp – trying to pull away from him. He didn't need any particular skill to know what she was thinking of doing. "Easy, Rose," he whispered, tightening his arm around her. Alice shot a glance at Edward, and then looked back at me for a fraction of a second before turning her attention back on Rosalie. He didn't miss a beat.

"I have another question for you," he said, his tone completely controlled, despite his fluctuating mood. "Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all of your admirers?"

I left, it was all that I could think to do, so I left again. And Carlisle wondered why I never felt quite as integrated into the family as everyone else, I thought wryly. Only now, outside of the cafeteria, I knew Edward would never hear me. I could still sense his emotions – sense their emotions – he was too far gone to notice my musings. The scalding in my throat, the pulse of Rosalie's fury, Alice's guilt and Edward and Bella's…was it love, mixed into the self-doubt, self-deprecations…..it was too much. It's cumulative power bowled me over. The quiet of the parking lot – the clean, untainted air – it was everything I needed but nothing more than I could have.

Alice came looking for me after the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch hour. She found me laying across the back seat of Rosalie's open convertible, staring up at the clouds. "Hasn't Rose been pushed far enough already?" she asked, sliding into the passenger seat and turning to look at me, smiling. I didn't force myself to return it – the effort would have been too great. "Really," she started again, feigning irritation. "I told her to close this. No one in their right mind would leave a convertible open in Forks…"

"Alice, please," I said, my own voice surprisingly haggard.

She opened her mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it. "I'm sorry I kept this from you," she said instead. "I just…I couldn't tell you because I knew if you found out before you got the chance to know her, you would never understand."

"That's a bit of a forgone conclusion, don't you think?" I asked irritably.

"Jasper," she narrowed her eyes. "You felt it. You wouldn't' be out here if you didn't."

"I felt something," I conceded. "But I'm still not sure it was what you're looking for."

Again, she considered arguing but closed her eyes instead. "I know you'll understand in time."

"You've seen that too?" I asked sarcastically.

"Nope," she answered, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. "But I know us. I couldn't love her if you didn't love her too."

I laid there for a long while, feeling the surging current of emotion that emanated from the science building like an electrical arc in a rainstorm before I felt well enough to get to my feet. The hospital wasn't far from the school, but Carlisle wasn't in his office when I arrived, so I waited in silence, scanning the familiar shelves without much interest. The only things in the office that weren't the same as they had been for decades were the diplomas – re-forged every few years to keep the dates current – and the medical journals…those were always current. The leather chairs were worn and familiar, comforting, like the entire space. A box of tissues sat perched very intentionally askew on the leading edge of the desk, backed by a framed photo of Esme. There were no other pictures in the office, so I stared at this one until Carlisle returned, a stack of charts in his hands.

"Thank you, Mary," he said, smiling at the secretary sweetly before shutting the door.

Carlisle and Edward had an easy relationship, built during their years together, and Alice never had difficulty bonding with anyone, but, while I loved our surrogate father, I found it difficult to relate to him, particularly against Edward and Alice. He seemed to sense this and he worked twice as hard with me – I felt his hesitation as he wondered how best to phrase his greeting.

"I need insight," I offered, sparing us both.

His expression softened. "About Bella?" I nodded. "Jasper, Alice may read the future and Edward may hear people's thoughts, but I've never known anyone as insightful as you."

"I don't intend to hurt her. There's no need to flatter me into complacency," I replied, grinning all the same because I knew for his part, he meant every word he said.

"Sincerely, Jasper – Edward and Alice…even Rosalie and Emmett, to a degree, are over-confident because of their abilities, but you – you take nothing for granted. You examine everything you see with what you feel as a component to it, not as a filter."

I waved my free hand, gesturing for him to stop. With a note of bemused, paternal frustration, he did, letting his teeth click shut and puffing out air. "That's the problem, Carlisle," I started. "I know what I'm feeling – or rather, what I'm sensing that he feels. What I can't separate is whether it's right."

"Love is seldom right. Sometimes, it just is," he answered sagely.

"I understand that part. Edward can't be away from her – and she can't be away from him, but that's theirs. What does that mean for morality?" I set the photo back down on the desk, putting it back precisely where it had been. "I don't think any of us believe he'll be able to keep her alive for long."

The nod he issued was a solemn one. "That outcome has certainly occurred to everyone – Edward included."

"He won't live through that – turning her into a newborn. It will break him." I couldn't look Carlisle in the eye as I spoke, staring at the carpet instead. 52 fibers per square inch. Plush, for a hospital setting.

"With you and Alice on the same side of an argument, your opponent couldn't stand a chance," he mused aloud, smiling vaguely.

"It's probably a good thing we so seldom are then," I joked, playing along with his efforts to lighten the collective mood, and when I inhaled again, I found it had, indeed, helped.

Whether he decided this conversation was going to be longer than anticipated or he just felt he could be more persuasive up close, Carlisle slid into the chair beside me, letting his long arms dray over the sides. It was the first time I'd seen him look old. "If you were anyone else, I would have to try to draw you to this conclusion gently but, in truth, I think we're a little past that stage at this point – no? Jasper, can you honestly see another option for him?" Do you really think he could leave her now?" I shook my head almost immediately. There was no other way for either of them…the solution would never be that simple. "Me either," he replied a little sadly. "But, if Alice is right and I gain a daughter or you're right and I lose a son, it's far too late to stop either outcome." He glanced over, a half-smile on his lips and looked into my eyes. "Me…I'm hoping for another wedding, because that's the best I can do."

"Just accept it and hope for the best…" I summarized glumly. Carlisle chuckled.

"That's the gist of it."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, immersed in our own thoughts, and then I realized with a start that Carlisle's feelings weren't intensifying or overshadowing my own because he felt the same conflict – the same unrest. "What was it like, when you realized Edward didn't want Rose?" I asked impulsively.

Carlisle saved Rosalie from certain death – but he saved her for Edward, hoping that she might be his Esme. Needless to say, things didn't quite work out as he'd planned. I wasn't sure why this question was so important now, but it seemed vital – imperative.

He missed a few beats before answering me – too much hesitation to be convincingly calm. "In truth, it was terrifying. When I saved Edward and Esme, they were presumed dead by all who knew them. With Rosalie…her family was still looking for her, which presented its own set of difficulties. Knowing I'd undertaken such a risk, only to have Edward despise her? It was devastating." He got up again, picking up the photo I'd discarded and examining it intensely – drawing calm from even this poor representation of his wife. "I didn't know what I was doing back then, mind you," he added, glancing up for an instant. "I'd loved Esme so intensely from the moment I laid eyes on her and I loved Rosalie as well…I just assumed that Edward would care for her as he'd done Esme. I didn't imagine he could feel anything else. And then, to watch what she suffered…everything she hoped for was taken from her in the most violent and despicable of ways. In the early days – when she ran wild, avenging her death – I wondered if it might have been kinder to let her die, rather than to prolong the pain she felt, because I was sure she would destroy herself. Eventually, of course, things changed and normalized. I would say she learned to control herself but, really, I don't think any of her murders were about control so much as retribution, so let's just say she ran out of people to kill, shall we? They bonded eventually, more like siblings than anything else….they certainly fought too much to pass off for friends. I think it was then that the ruse shifted. Rosalie and Edward became adoptees and Esme got her chance at surrogacy.

"I don't regret doing it. If Rose hadn't joined our family, who knows if we would ever have found Emmett, or if you and Alice would ever have found us? Still, I learned a very valuable lesson there – you can't force these things. Even when she brought Emmett to me – broken as he was, I hesitated to change him for fear that her love for him might be diminished when the danger had passed. It didn't, but I worried for the first few years that it might."

I left the hospital a few minutes later, not lighter than I'd been when I came and certainly not less unsure, just less conflicted, but that was enough. I didn't go back to school. Carlisle called the office, begging me off on the grounds that I'd picked something up while we were on vacation last week. Mrs. Cope, the secretary, was sympathetic. As persuasive and attractive as she found Edward, it was nothing compared to the way she felt about Carlisle – her swooning practically palpable over the phone line. "That's such a shame, Mr. Cullen," she said, a simper in her tone.

"Carlisle, please," he protested genuinely.

"Carlisle then," she replied, her voice going up an octave when she said his name. "I hope little Alice doesn't get ill as well."

I grinned. Mrs. Cope adored Alice. "I don't think he's contagious, but please call if you think any of the others are coming down with something."

"I will," she promised. I wondered aloud, when he hung up the phone, how long it would be before she started asking to check foreheads for fevers. Carlisle smiled.

"So what are you going to do with your free afternoon?" he asked. The charade was well played - his nonchalance convincing, but I felt the faint notes of interest beneath it.

"I think I'll go home and try to rest my mind some," I answered. "It's been one of those days."

Alice, Emmett and Rosalie made it home before anyone else. Emmett and Rose were arguing – they stormed off in opposite directions the minute the front door closed – but Alice made a beeline for me, sitting on a branch that hung just outside or window. "You're getting to be just as bad as he is," she grumbled immediately, scrunching her pretty features into a scowl.

"What?" I asked, caught off guard. I"d expected the Alice from this afternoon – cautious and apologetic. I even had a speech prepared….

"I can't see my present anymore!" she explained, her insult growing with every syllable. The laugh that escaped from my chest was genuine and deep – more curative than any conversation or amount of distance could be. Right then, in that moment with her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed, Alice was everything I'd ever wanted and she was mine. "It's not funny, Jasper," she chided, annoyed. "I liked the blue one."

"How did I end up being the one in trouble when you're the one sneaking a peak at your anniversary gift before I've bought it?" I asked, trying to sound affronted.

Without warning, she was perched precariously in my lap, a grin spreading across her face like a ray of light. This moment – the seconds in between the conversation we'd been having and the more serious one that was about to come felt like a break in the storm – that one perfect moment when the sun peaks out from behind the clouds and the rain stops. It amazed me how good it felt to haveher cradled in my arms, suspended above the problems that were consuming my thoughts…existing outside the reach of the day to day. For those fleeting seconds, I could hear Carlisle and Esme, Rosalie and Emmett, my family around me, but in my mind and heart, only Alice.

"You see it now, don't you?" she asked eagerly – excited. The moment shattered.

For Alice, here was only what she saw. She didn't question the future. What she saw was what would be, for all practical purposes and, since it was already decided, there would scarcely be a point in questioning it. That was how she saw things – in black and white. For me and, where this particular subject was concerned, for Edward as well, things were more complicated. Decisions could change, and that changed everything.

"I'm trying," I started, loosening my grip on her waist to lean back against the mossy trunk. "to accept that it's too late to stop this – that they're on whatever path they're on and that, no matter twhat happens, the only thing I can do is hope for the best."

I was repeating Carlisle's words and I knew she probably registered the redundancy but, trite or not, that was precisely what I was trying to do and there would be no point in rewriting it. Alice leaned into my chest and I inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, still intoxicating so many years later.

"Why do I see you and Edward in the Volvo on the 101?" she asked, half-pleased, half-confused.

"Never you mind," I replied, pulling her closer, a touch of my southern drawl slipping into my generally precise cadence.

Alice sat up against my protesting arms and leapt down from the tree, landing noiselessly on the carpet. "Oooh! Presents!" she exclaimed, smiling. "He'll be home in five minutes," she added in a sing-song voice before heading out into the hall. I wanted to stop her – to ask what all she'd seen, but I knew this would be a conversation best experienced for the first time during the having of it. I might say the wrong thing, but that was the point after all.

A few seconds drifted slowly by, my eyes on the wall clock that had become such a fixture of my life during the past fifty years. This week had changed me. I was impatient – unwilling to wait even a moment more…for what? Then I heard the Volvo in the driveway. Edward. It was his urgency seeping into my thoughts – his impatience.

Tonight would not be easy.

The ground shook beneath my feet when I swung back on the branch, dropping into the grass. The Volvo stopped a few seconds later, mere inches in front of me.

"I don't want to argue, Jasper," Edward said immediately. "Not tonight."

I stepped in his path, conventionally a dangerous decision, but I knew he would find nothing threatening in my thoughts if he stopped long enough to look. "Neither do I."

Edward did stop, angry for a moment, but then breathing his way back into a calm. "I don't want to argue either", I said quietly. I could sense Rosalie's curiosity. She'd heard us. Edward didn't say anything. "Let's go into Seattle. I have to get a gift for Alice and the distance will give us at least some measure of privacy."