Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight :)


"Knowing is the easy part; saying it out loud is the hard part."

- Nicholas Evans, The Horse Whisperer -


Fate Worth Tempting

Alice's foot tapped against the threshold impatiently. The closer Carlisle and I got to her, the more anxious she became, looking like she was about to take off into flight. A gust of warm air greeted me as we reached the veranda, and as soon as the bottom of my shoe touched the wooden flooring, Alice took my hand and practically towed me inside. I glanced over my shoulder to exchange an amused glance with Carlisle.

As I looked around me in the hall, once more I couldn't help but compare the house to the refined mansion they had in Forks. It was the color scheme that made me do that. I had somehow gotten used to seeing the Cullens surrounded by neutral tones of cream and white. The fair colors had almost made them blend in to the walls. But in here, nothing blended in; everything stood out. The inside of the house was an unexpected explosion of life and warm colors. There was nothing neutral about it. The decor was carefully thought out, very prestige and romantic without being overly exaggerated.

Alice was staring at me expectantly as my eyes swept the walls. I didn't know if she noticed, but the place was actually giving me goose bumps. The good kind of goose bumps.

The grin on her face was pleased as I met her glance. I suppose it wasn't that hard to see the effect the house had on me, and I hadn't even left the hall yet.

"Well?" she asked. "Do you like it?"

"Very much," I answered. As I heard Carlisle step beside me, I turned to give him a small smile.

"You should see the rest of it," he suggested, answering my smile. "I am sure Alice is more than eager to give you a tour."

"You read my mind," she grinned, grabbing my elbow and beginning to lead me to the end of the hall towards the staircase.

"You're skipping downstairs," I noted as she hauled me to the second floor. Alice's steps were light and soundess as expected, but the stairs creaked lightly under my weight. The sound of it was somehow very charming, reminding me that I was surrounded by walls that had stood there for over two centuries. What had they seen, these walls? What kind of a family had lived here when the house had just been built? Had they been happy? Had they been sad?

"Downstairs is boring," Alice stated, answering my earlier statement. "I haven't worked on any of the rooms yet. Except the hall and dining room."

"What have you done to the other rooms so far?" I asked, wondering if her plan was to restore the entire house.

"There was some fixing to be done," she explained as she led us to a heavy wooden door that was open. "But I didn't dare to change things too much – it'd be a sacrilege to make the place too modern and something it's not."

I agreed quietly, thinking that the house was very charming as it was.

There were four large rooms on the second floor, all of them having a similar appearance. The color theme was the same as downstairs; different tones of burgundy and champagne were skillfully united with old wallpaper patterns. The rooms looked like bedrooms without the beds; I suppose they could have been called dens, more likely. They had been furnished with armchairs, small couches and tables. The walls were covered with paintings and other pieces of art, and a shelf or two filled with books and magazines had been situated in the cozy nooks of the rooms.

"Did you do all this?" I asked Alice, suddenly impressed. Apparently fashion wasn't the only thing she was skillful at.

"Esme did the most of the work a couple of years ago," she answered. "We lived here for a short period of time after we left Forks. I'm only finishing something she started. Jasper's been helping me as well."

"Oh," I quirked my brow, nodding. That answered one of my questions; I had earlier wondered how long they had owned the house. "Well, it looks really great."

Alice smiled, taking my arm and beginning to lead me towards another set of stairs.

On our way to the third floor, I mulled over her earlier words. Her mention of Jasper inevitably drew my attention to his absence. Already when we had arrived with Carlisle, I had noticed that Jasper was nowhere to be seen. I tried not to worry about it. If he wasn't ready to see me today, I understood. But I did want him to come around, sooner rather than later. I didn't want him to feel guilty about something that had happened years ago, something that hadn't even been his fault. He shouldn't feel the need to stay away from me, and it made me sorrowful to think that I made him feel like he should.

The rooms on the third floor didn't differ that much from the second floor. Alice showed them to me in any case, and the sound of our casual conversation filled the old hallway as we finally came to a halt. Alice's musical voice quieted down as she gazed at the wooden door ahead of us. It was the only room I hadn't seen yet. It was situated at the end of the floor, and the door was closed; that's the first thing I noticed. The other doors along the hallway had been either wide open or slightly ajar.

Alice gave me a smug glance, and at first I didn't understand why. Reaching out for the handle, she turned it and opened the door. And then I realized why she had saved this room for the last.

It was like stepping into a place I had been in before a million times, even though I hadn't. But it didn't mean anything. The room was familiar, despite the fact I had never seen it before. The air was the same air I breathed in every day. The walls were the same walls, the floor was the same floor. The shelves, wooden and old, were waiting silently and faithfully for someone to walk by.

Everything about the room chanted the word home. I heard it as I stepped inside, walking closer to the wooden shelves and brushing my fingers against the spines of the books. Home, home, home, my footsteps said.

Alice gave a soft laugh behind me. I turned to her, smirking.

"I'll be fine from now on," I told her. "You can go. I don't need you anymore."

She laughed again, stepping into the room as well. "I knew you'd like it," she said, smiling. "Usually bringing work home with you and wherever you might go is unhealthy. But I don't think that's the case with you."

"I'll let you know if I burn myself out," I murmured distracredly, my lips moving soundlessly as I read the spines of the books. The place was a heaven. I realized it had to be someone's study or office, or more likely a library. However, it was clear that it belonged to Carlisle. No one else of the Cullens would dedicate an entire room for endless amounts of words. Only Carlisle would.

Eventually I forced myself to look away from the shelves, my eyes beginning to study the rich, dark wood walls that were covered with paintings. While seeing them was no surprise since the entire house was full of them, I noticed that these paintings were somehow different from the others. There was a certain spirit in them that bound them together. I felt oddly peaceful as my eyes skimmed over the sceneries captured on the canvases. Oceans of pure blue, forests of deep green. Home, home, home, I heard again. In my mind's eye, I saw Renée's and Phil's dwelling by the beach where the sand was too hot and the air was too humid. And I saw Charlie's white house, surrounded by the trees that were too green and the rain pouring against the roof was too wet.

I blinked. It was unexpected that foreign paintings could trigger such a reaction in me. That seeing something I had never layed my eyes on before could suddenly become dear memories, whispers from the past, before my very eyes. A smile curved my lips; I liked this room. It was mysterious. Full of familiar surprises.

Quiet footsteps against the hardwood floor of the hallway pulled me from my ponderings, and I turned around to see who was nearing the room. I tried to leave behind the atmosphere of the paintings, to escape the scenes that were still playing in the corners of my mind, but at the same time I was having a strange urge to linger in them for a while more.

Carlisle appeared at the doorway, wearing a small smile. He exchanged a look with Alice, one so swift that it was barely there. For some odd reason, it caught my attention.

"Does the house please you?" he asked me, drawing my focus back to him again.

"It does," I nodded. "It's very beautiful. I feel like I've gone back in time. They don't make houses like this anymore."

He smiled softly at my response. Alice came to stand beside me, exchanging a look with him. It puzzled me. It was almost like they were having a secret discussion.

She cleared her throat, then, and it made me even more confused. I had never heard her do that before. It seemed a little bit out of character, especially because she always had a crystal-clear voice.

"I'm sure you had a long drive," she said to me. "I'll go downstairs and make you tea and something to eat."

"Oh, you don't have to bother - " I tried to decline, but Alice shook her head. She was already dancing towards the doorway.

"It's no bother," she insisted, giving Carlisle a meaningful glance. "A little help, please?"

"Of course," he consented. Before he followed Alice, he turned to give me one more smile. "In the meantime, go ahead and take a look around," he suggested, gesturing towards the endless rows of books. "If you see something that you find interesting, feel free to take a closer look."

"Thanks," I nodded.

His genuinely warm smile was suddenly giving me the shivers. I tried to shake them away as he left, and I hoped he hadn't noticed how his smile had affected me. Then I struggled to ignore it myself, trying to be indifferent about the warm feelings somewhere within me. Feelings that awoke everytime he smiled at me like that.

I have no feelings, I tried to convince myself quietly. He was smiling at me only because he wanted to be friendly. There's nothing more to it than that. Right?

I turned to the towering shelves to drown the flood of thoughts, trying to focus on the books. It was usually like a paradise to me, to be surrounded by hundreds of volumes that were both old and new, but now I found it difficult to focus. I took a deep breath, a very quiet one. Then I plucked a book from the shelf randomly without looking. I idly riffled through it before I bothered to glance at the cover.

Forbidden Love by Anthony Green.

I hurriedly shoved it back to its right place, sighing. Then I rose to my tiptoes, reaching out to take another one.

Immortal Passion by Karen Wiley.

Damn it. What was up with the universe?

Sighing heavily, I stared at the name of the book, partly annoyed, partly confused.

"You seem agitated."

I nearly dropped the heavy volume as I gasped and turned around. Pressing a palm over my chest, I gazed at the shadow emerging from the hallway. It took a few seconds until my heart began to calm down again.

"You startled me," I said with a chuckle after getting over my surprise.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention."

I studied the tall man before me. His butter-scotch eyes and the blond, slightly wavy hair. His frame that was lean and strong, his expression that was slightly reserved. There was no smile on Jasper's lips, but I thought I could see a glint of amusement in his eyes. I searched for any signs that could reveal his uneasiness to me, but those things didn't seem to occupy the leonine man before me. I was relieved to see that he wasn't quite as reserved as the last time I had seen him. I remembered that dark night in the park a few weeks ago, and I remembered how his pursue to keep his distance had saddened me.

I was suddenly feeling very calm, entirely and wholly, but I knew it wasn't his doing. I was calm simply because I had no reason to feel otherwise. I had no reason to fear. He was no threat to me. I suddenly realized what Alice had been scheming earlier, and why she had urged Carlisle to leave the room with her. I guess she had wanted to give Jasper and me a short moment alone to clear the air between us.

I searched for a proper way to begin a conversation when I remembered his earlier comment. The one that had startled me in the first place. He had said that I was agitated – I suppose I had to be more careful with my moods from now on.

"I'm not agitated," I denied his earlier words, not wanting him to think that I was afraid of him. Because I wasn't. The reason for the earlier tension, for the shivers dancing on my skin, was because of something entirely else.

The other side of Jasper's mouth quirked. "I didn't meant it in a negative way," he explained, a sudden twinkle in his eyes. "One can be nervous about something without being troubled."

I gave a soft laugh, biting my lip and trying to think of something to say. I didn't want to admit that he was right, but there was no reason to argue about it, either. Because surely he knew all about that, about different tones of emotions people went through. I wondered what it was like for him to be constantly surrounded by them. Did every person have a unique scale of emotions, one of a kind like a fingerprint? And was it tiresome for him to have to constantly feel all that, to go through emotions that weren't his own?

"Well," I said, ending the silence, "I am not troubled or agitated. Not anymore. I guess I was just... lost in my thoughts."

"I see." Jasper took a step closer, his hands in his pockets. For some reason it caught my attention, probably because I had never seen him so relaxed in my company. The Jasper I had seen in the park had been cool and withdrawn, and the difference to the man in front of me was prominent. I suppose Carlisle had been right – he had just needed time to work things out with himself.

"Found something interesting?" he queried casually, nodding towards the book in my hands.

Shrugging, I turned to the shelf again and quickly hid Immortal Passion among the dozens of other volumes. "Not really my taste," I explained, not even fathoming the thought of telling him why the name of the book was making me so worked-up.

For my relief, he didn't push the matter any further. As I turned around to face him again, I tried to read his expression to know what was going through his mind. I wondered why he hadn't decided to appear until now. Had he been hiding somewhere in the house when I had arrived, trying to pluck up the courage to come and see me? Or had hesitated, perhaps even entertained the thought of not facing me at all?

I remembered Carlisle telling me that Jasper felt like he didn't deserve my trust. I thought he was wasting his energy and emotions if he felt that way. If he still felt guilty about what happened on the night of my eighteenth birthday... Well, it was needless to say that guilt was the last thing I wanted him to feel. Accidents happened, and sometimes those short moments that seemed almost insignificant were the ones that sealed our fates. That's how life functioned sometimes. It was foolish to struggle against forces that weren't ours to control.

Jasper was looking at me now, narrowing his eyes as I pondered. It was almost like he had heard what I had been thinking about because he shook his head and lowered his eyes to the floor, almost as if to disagree with my thoughts.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head again before lifting his gaze. A small laugh left his lips, but the sound held no joy.

"I wish I could describe with words the spirit you spread around you," he said. His Southern accent was more prominent than usually – I wondered what caused it. "It's like this heavy cloud of confidence and trust that drowns everything else. It makes me feel self-assured, and it shouldn't."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because it's dangerous," he answered.

The expression on his face reminded me of Edward. How many times had he told me that very same thing, said the word danger and expected me to run away? As many times as I had ignored him.

But I wasn't ignoring anything now. I was listening to what Jasper had to say, even though I was already aware of the things he was about to tell me. I wasn't blocking my ears mentally as I had done many times with Edward. I wasn't trying to deny what Jasper was saying and childishly insist that his words's weren't true. I suppose that was the difference between feigning acceptance and actually acknowledging something. You could always pretend and try to convince yourself that you were listening and understanding, or then you could actually listen and hear. And it was the hearing part that had been always so difficult for me.

"Self-assurance gives me the false feel of security," Jasper continued when I didn't say anything. "It's something I can't afford. I know the cost of it." He paused for a while, holding my gaze as if to make sure I had his attention. "There's been many times when I've felt confident with myself. A certain amount of confidence can be a good thing. But if you allow that feeling to grow, if you allow it to get to the point where you let your guard down... suddenly, instead of controlling what happens around you, you become a slave for your own instincts and lose that control you were supposed to have over yourself. And just because a moment earlier you foolishly believed to be strong and powerful enough to be the master of the situation."

"There's nothing wrong with it if you trust yourself," I noted. "You said it yourself – a certain amount of confidence is a good thing. Finding that confidence is something many people try to pursue throughout their lives without succeeding. And they don't even have the same issues to battle with like you do."

There was a small flicker in the gold of his eyes, but a veiled expression came over his face almost immediately as he shook his head. "It doesn't take away the danger."

"Maybe it doesn't," I agreed. "But life is full of dangers. No one can say for sure when one of them will cross paths with you. And if you go through your days fearing the possibility of it, and refrain from living just because you're afraid that something might happen..." I paused, shaking my head. "Life is too short for that. Even for you."

"There won't be nothing short about it if you have to live with the knowledge that you've taken someone's life."

I stayed silent. Because I really had no right to say anything about that. I knew very little about Jasper's past, but I had a feeling that his starting points someway differed from his siblings'. I knew Jasper hadn't had Carlisle to guide him and steer him away from mistakes.

Jasper looked away from me, and his golden eyes began to sweep the room. He studied the endless rows of books behind my back, and when he spoke again, he didn't meet my eyes.

"How many books do you think there are in this room?" he suddenly asked.

I glanced behind me, looking at the towering shelves filling the space. "Hundreds," I answered, quirking my brow at him. "Maybe thousands."

Finally Jasper met my gaze. Probably because he wanted to see my reaction. "So no less than the amount of lives I've taken during my life."

A flood of feelings washed over me. Shock, surprise, horror. But then I asked myself: what had I expected? And what was he expecting? Maybe he had thought that this was the point where I turned on my heel and ran away.

"Past shouldn't define who you are today," I said. Jasper shifted barely noticeably, almost like I had taken him by surprise. Maybe I had.

"It shouldn't," he agreed. "But the truth is that it does. Ignoring your past, the mistakes you've made, is unforgivable."

"I didn't mean that you should ignore your past," I explained calmly. "I only meant that you can learn from it. If you've made mistakes before, it doesn't mean that you're condemned to repeat them for the rest of your life. That's the thing about choices, you see. And I know you've made yours."

Jasper was silent for a long while. The hard expression he'd masked himself with during my words began to melt away.

"I have made my choice," he agreed quietly. "But sometimes sticking to it is difficult for me, as you know. And to know that someone is at the risk of getting hurt because of that difficulty... I detest the very existence of that possibility. Of another person dying because of my weakness."

"And that's what makes you you," I said, trying to get him to undertand. "They don't call it conscience for nothing."

Suddenly, he gave a dry laugh. The smile rising on his lips lighted up the atmosphere of the room significantly. "I suppose not," he agreed. He was silent for a moment again, gazing down at the floor before lifting his head to look at me. "For what it's worth," he sighed, suddenly sounding almost weary, "I am very sorry about what happened in Forks. I'm ashamed of my behaviour, and I promise you that it won't happen again. You probably think that I shouldn't tempt my fate by saying something like this, but... this is a promise I intend to keep."

"I believe you," I assured, smiling. "Sometimes fate is worth tempting."

For the rest of the evening, I felt oddly light. As Jasper accompanied me back downstairs, I idly thought that maybe the situation between us had bothered me more than I had even known. I remembered how nervous I had been about coming to see the house, and I felt some of that tension leave me as Jasper guided me into the huge dining room where Alice was dashing around.

The latter urged me to sit down before lowering a huge mug of steaming hot tea in front of me. Then she looked at me through her narrowed eyes as I took a sip, apparently observing my reaction.

"It's really good," I praised, and I had to chuckle quietly when I saw her relieved smile. She sunk into the chair across from me, looking both happy and smug.

"I haven't made tea in a really long time," she explained. "And I wanted it to be perfect."

"You're an overachiever," I stated, only half-serious.

"I am not," she disagreed, glaring at Jasper as he bent down to kiss her cheek tenderly, as if to agree with my words. "I just want things to be the way they're supposed to be. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

I smiled, shrugging. The earlier feeling of lightness I had experienced began to change into something else. Comfort. Contentment. I wrapped my fingers around the mug, feeling the warmth of it through my fingertips. It began to spread, that warmth, as I watched Jasper giving Alice a teasing comment, something about the small difference between perfectionism and obsessive behaviour. I observed their bantering with joy in my heart, and that's when I realized how much I had missed this, missed the presence of these creatures who weren't even supposed to exist in this world. But these mythical beings were real. More real than many other people who had stopped by in my life.

The thought made my very core shake and shudder, and I didn't know if the feeling was positive or not. It could be positive – I knew that. If only I allowed it to be that. If only it was up to me. If only.

But the world didn't function that way. Rare things in this life were only up to you. Not every decision was yours to make.

"Bella?"

Quirking my brow, I looked up from the dark surface of the tea. "Sorry?" I asked, realizing I hadn't payed attention.

"Your tea is getting cold," Alice reminded with a smile. Jasper stood beside her, the look in his eyes suddenly observant. I hadn't been paying attention to my feelings, and I knew I had to be more careful around him from now on.

Apparently someone decided to put that small decision to test right away. Carlisle appeared from the hallway, holding a black cell phone in his hand. He gave me a warm smile as he entered, passing the phone to Alice.

"Rosalie called," he explained to me. "She wanted to know if we've heard from Edward."

I quirked my brow. "Is he missing?"

Carlisle shook his head. "He separated from Rosalie and Emmett a few days ago as I'm sure you remember," he began to explain, waiting until I nodded. "Rosalie wasn't able to contact him and got worried. But Alice confirmed he is well. He's only out of reach."

"I told him smartphones are useless in the wilderness," Alice muttered. "Their battery life is pathetic."

"Is he on his way to Alaska?" I queried, a little worried because he was on his own.

"He's thinking about going there," Alice admitted, frowning. "But he's hesitating. It seems that maybe he hasn't quite given up on Victoria. I see him entertaining the thought of going to Forks to search for clues in case she's been there recently. But he's only playing with the idea. I'm not sure whether or not he goes."

"He considers it out of frustration," Jasper said. "When I met him a few days ago, he agreed that our search for Victoria is probably useless. I don't think he really still believes she could have something to do with the situation. He just wants to do something."

Carlisle nodded. "I understand that feeling quite well."

I gave him a glance. He met my gaze, the serious expression on his face changing into a more serene one. He pulled himself a chair and sat down. "There is not much we can do at the moment," he told me. "The only thing we can do is to wait if Alice sees something and meanwhile keep a careful eye on you."

I gave him a rueful smile. "I'm sure Edward isn't the only one who's frustrated," I ventured to say. "It must frustrate all of you as well. To be stuck in here this way, just to keep me safe."

Carlisle opened his mouth to say something, but Alice was faster.

"We are doing it gladly," Alice said, her tone almost reproving. "The only thing that frustrates us is that we don't know what's going on. Every hour we have to spend doing nothing puts your life at risk."

The mug in my fingers was beginning to feel cooler. I lowered it on the table, and against all common sense I began to stir the remaining tea as if it were still hot. Jasper and Carlisle were talking again, filling the empty silence that had fallen after Alice's words. I tried to follow their conversation, but the images Alice's words had evoked prevented me from focusing. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the lurking, red eyes I saw in my mind's eye.

When the evening was turning into the night, Carlisle offered to drive me home. I thanked everyone for getting to spend time at their house, and Alice made me promise to come by later to admire the results of her work once she had finished restoring downstairs.

I knew it must have been already pretty late, but I was feeling surprisingly alert as Carlisle steered the car along the narrow dirt road. The headlights swept the darkness ahead of us, and only the soft humming of the engine could be heard. I was suddenly nervous, dreading for another lasting silence that had lingered between us on our way here. But fortunately, that fear was unfounded.

Carlisle drew in a quiet breath beside me. I heard the movement of his head as he turned to glance at me, the ends of his hair brushing softly against the collar of his coat.

"What you told Jasper this evening was wonderful," he said quietly.

I looked his way, my eyes abandoning the road ahead of us. I knew I shouldn't have been surprised that he had heard the discussion between me and Jasper. Alice had probably heard it, too. It didn't feel like eavesdropping, because there was little they could do about their sense of hearing that was almost ultra-accurate.

"I don't know," I murmured as an answer. "I wish there had been something more I could have said to him. Something that would've made him see beyond his uncertainties."

"What you said was just right," Carlisle assured. "The way he acted around you tonight proves it. I don't remember ever seeing him so... liberated around you before."

"Was he terribly nervous about me coming over?"

He hesitated for a short while, but nodded eventually. "He was feeling unsure about himself. He regretted his behaviour after he saw you in the park a few weeks ago. And his control over his thirst troubled him as well, though I assured him he had no reason to worry. His control has improved significantly over the years." Carlisle looked away from the road for a short moment to give me a glance. "The memory of what happened in Forks has been haunting him all this time. But that very same memory also urged him on and eventually helped him to improve his self-control."

I nodded, pondering. "I'm glad that something good came from that day. It's funny how an occurence like that can sometimes have a positive effect on something. Life is so unexpected."

"That is true. And I have to thank you for talking about this matter with him. What you said to him was very wise, and I could see that your words got him thinking."

His praise made me feel both confused and oddly content. "What was so wise about it?" I queried out of curiosity, idly wondering why my words to Jasper had sounded so special in Carlisle's ears.

He tilted his head slightly, pondering for a very short moment. "What you said about life, for instance," he answered, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him. "And how it's too short for being constantly afraid of something." He fell silent for a second or two, still staring at the road. I had a strange feeling he was trying to avoid looking at me. "And what you said about the past - that we should learn from it instead of ignoring it... it was very wise as well. Not to mention what you said about fate. That sometimes it is worth tempting."

A tender blush rose to my cheeks, and I was suddenly glad it was so dark in the car. But then I realized that the darkness probably didn't matter to him, thanks to his supernatural eyesight. I hoped he wouldn't look at me and see how his words had affected me.

But of course he did. Of course he had to know that apparently I couldn't have a normal conversation with him anymore without blushing like an idiot.

He turned to look at me slowly, gazing at me for a short while. Even though he wasn't paying attention to the road ahead of him and the car's speedometer showed a number much above the legal speed limit, I felt completely safe.

I drew in a breath to say something, to fill the silence between us. Because I couldn't stand that silence. Because I knew that if we were silent for too long, I might say something that could take me in a place where there was no return. Would he accompany me to that place? I did not know. And that's why I couldn't go there myself.

"Anyone could have said what I told Jasper," I stated softly, for some reason feeling the need to belittle my words. "There was nothing special about it."

Carlisle looked back at the road. "I disagree," he murmured softly. "Not many would say that fate is worth tempting."

I stared at the side profile of his face. The road we were now on was illuminated, and the street lights conquered the darkness of the car once in every few seconds. It allowed me to see the expression on his face. It was serious, maybe even a little cautious.

"Would you?" I queried, something about his face tempting me to ask.

The other side of Carlisle's mouth quirked. It was almost a smile, a very prudent one.

"Possibly," he answered, turning to look at me again. "Because if fate is not worth tempting, what is?"

I swallowed. For the millionth time, I was having a feeling there was a discussion behind our discussion. A discussion we should be having instead of this one. And we were having it, in a certain way. But it always stayed in the shadows, almost as if we weren't quite able to bring it out. And all that was left were the wavering pieces of acknowledgement, pieces I could not put together. Not without knowing what he thought, how he felt. Not without knowing how I felt.

Or did I already know? Was it the recognition, the acknowledgement, that was so difficult to overcome? Not to mention telling him about it, saying it out loud?

I watched the sleeping world outside, the darkness that swallowed the miles we left behind. It was a peculiar combination of light and dark; I saw the snow covering the sceneries where the street lights hit the ground. But beyond that, there was only the darkness. The snow might have existed there, but I couldn't know that for sure because I could not see it.

I leaned my head against the headrest and closed my eyes, listening to the steady running of the engine. After a while, maybe minutes, or maybe even hours later, the motions of the car ceased and the quiet humming quieted down. I opened my eyes again. The sight of my apartment greeted me, but I had no urge to go inside. I had no urge to open the door of the car and step outside and leave this evening behind, to pretend that the past hours had affected me in no way.

"Were you asleep?" Carlisle asked beside me. I shook my head, giving him a smile that reached my lips but not my heart.

Opening the door, I got out with a resigned sigh. Carlisle got out as well, and I looked at him over the roof of the car as he closed the door on his side. He met my eyes, sensing my searching gaze and quirking his brow in a questioning manner. I only shook my head, walking across the white yard to the door.

It wasn't only until I had gotten inside, taken off my coat and tossed it on the back of the couch when I finally turned to him. Carlisle had closed the door behind him and was standing close to it. For some reason, I didn't know why, it caught my attention that he had stayed by the door instead of stepping in any further.

He met my gaze as I looked at him. Then I answered the question that had lingered in my mind for the past few moments.

"Nothing," I said.

His brow rose, the look in his eyes both questioning and confused.

"Nothing," I repeated, smiling almost playfully. It felt out of place, that smile; the topic seemed too serious for it. "Earlier you asked: if fate is not worth tempting, what is? That's my answer. Nothing."

A look of understanding came over Carlisle's face. He gave me a small smile, but didn't comment on my words right away. Instead, he lowered his eyes to the floor as if he were deep in thought. Maybe he was, but to me it looked like he tried to choose his next words carefully.

"I wouldn't have thought you believe in fate, Bella," he said, raising his gaze from the floor. His words were something between a question and a statement; I felt a compelling need to answer. My name, as he spoke it, was something between a quiet sigh and an invitation; I felt a compelling need to move closer.

"What would make you think I don't?" I asked.

Carlisle gave a soft laugh, a very quiet one. "You just seem too sensible for it."

"Are you saying that if you believe in fate, it makes you a fool?" I asked jestingly.

He smiled. "No. Perhaps... perhaps sometimes it makes you a fool not to." He fell silent. The intensity of his gaze made me warm, and I shifted, unable to stay still. I felt the need to move, and at the same time, I felt the need to stay still. Very still.

His golden eyes lingered on me. His honest, ingenuous eyes. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. The playful smile died on my lips, and something else came in its place; a welling feeling of wonderment as I realized that he was still looking at me. Almost like he didn't dare to turn away, almost like something compelled him to keep his eyes open.

Something also compelled him to stay there, across the room. And if he felt like he didn't dare to look away from me, he also didn't dare to come any closer. Because it might tip the balance. It might make the air we breathed somehow different. Maybe he didn't want that. Maybe he wanted to keep the balance as it was. Maybe he wanted the air between us to be just air.

The thought saddened me more than I could have expected.

He blinked his eyes, then. The intensity of his gaze melted away with that one blink, with that small, simple motion of his eyelids. His eyes were still honest, ingenuous. Friendly. But nothing more, nothing less.

"I am sure you're tired," he said then, very quietly. "It's been a long night."

I found myself wanting to disagree, because a momentary weariness seemed suddenly very insignificant to me. But I stayed silent, not saying a thing. Because I realized that while Carlisle's words had been spoken out of kindness, there was something else behind those words. I nearly felt like I had just been dismissed, very subtly and discreetly.

"Yeah, it has," I agreed somewhat reluctantly. I felt oddly heavy as I grabbed my coat from the back of the couch, but that heaviness didn't come from fatigue or the long hours passed in the beautiful house surrounded by trees. I felt heavy because I didn't want to leave the room. I felt heavy because I didn't want to acknowledge the silent message in Carlisle's words. I felt heavy because I didn't want him to send me off. I felt heavy because suddenly I realized; what if he knew? What if he had become aware of what I thought of him, how I had come to feel about him?

When I was turning away, Carlisle suddenly began to cross the small living room with soundless, calm steps. The heaviness abandoned me for a short second, but it kept lingering on the background, even as he reached out to touch my elbow. The coolness of his fingers seeped through the sleeve of my shirt. The scar from my eighteenth birthday began to tingle; even my scars remembered his touch.

I met his gaze, feeling shaky and steady at the same time.

"I wanted to thank you for this evening," he said quietly, his touch lingering. "Your visit meant a lot to us."

Nodding, I felt my fingers wrapping around the fabric of my coat. It felt good to hold something – otherwise I wouldn't have known where to keep my hands. "It meant a lot to me, too," I said quietly. Meeting his eyes was suddenly difficult, but when I eventually managed to lift my gaze from the floor, I saw something in his expression that chased away the remnants of that earlier feeling of heaviness.

There was delight in his eyes, apparently born from my small confession. "Truly?" he asked, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe my words. His hand left my arm, dropping to his side and looking like it didn't belong there.

"Truly," I assured. I started to make a move to leave the room, because the air between us was just air and nothing more, and it was slowly suffocating me. But before I could turn around and make my legs move, I noticed it was Carlisle who was inching away towards the front door.

"Aren't you staying?" The words escaped before I had the chance to stop them. My voice was oddly serene.

"Not tonight," he answered. The small smile on his lips didn't reach his eyes. "I intend to check the nearby areas and make sure no one has been here while we were gone."

Something told me that maybe he wasn't completely honest. That maybe his routine check-up round was just an excuse to leave the house. I didn't know where the thought came from, but somehow I knew I was right.

But I wasn't going to poke holes to his story. Again I felt like he had given me a very subtle message, a message that told me that keeping a certain distance was better, that keeping the balance between us was better. That the air between us should be just air. Nothing more, nothing less. It almost felt like a rejection, but not quite.

Because to be rejected, you had to put something on the line first. I hadn't done that.

"I won't be far," Carlisle said. He was across the room again, his hand already on the doorhandle. One foot out of the door, so to speak. I wondered if that was still the case with them, and I wondered if I should feel disappointed because of it.

"I know," I answered, almost whispering.

After giving me one more smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Carlisle stepped through the door and closed it behind him. He did it very quietly, as though he didn't want to hear the sound of the door clicking shut and locking him outside.

Later that night, as the dreams eluded me and I lay in bed fully awake, I wondered which was worse; to lock yourself outside out of your own will, or to have someone else lock you out, not willing to invite you in.

Both had happened tonight. Someone had locked himself out, and that same someone had locked me out as well.


I cussed quietly as I scanned the store with my eyes for the tenth time, trying to locate one of my red mittens. I was practically forced to wear those now – the temperature outside had dropped below zero and seemed to stay there. The days had grown shorter and the nights darker, and the world outside seemed to change nearly imperceptibly day by day, as if trying not to alert us about the nearing winter. It arrived with soft and quiet steps, leaving behind downy snowflakes and icy works of art on the surface of the bookstore window.

I crouched down under the counter to see if the mitten was there, but all I found was the small calculator I'd lost two weeks ago. I let out an exasperated sigh, deciding to quit my search. My fingers probably wouldn't freeze and fall off during the walk home. I had three extra pairs at my apartment – Renée had taken it as her responsibility to send me warm clothing every year. Scarves, mittens, hats. She had even learned how to knit herself instead of bying anything. Apparently she worried that I might freeze to death, and I was more or less amused by the thought – it wasn't that cold in Buffalo.

And image of her sitting under a palm tree with a ball of knitting yars and needles made me chuckle.

After rising from my crouch and hitting the back of my head against the edge of the counter, I wasted a moment or two on mumbling profanities under my breath. I imagined Jasper lurking somewhere outside the store, hiding in the shadows of the streets and laughing his head off at my clumsiness. Or at least I presumed it was Jasper who was watching over me right now. I'd seen him early in the afternoon, sitting in front of the small café opposite of the bookstore. I'd peeked outside to see if the paving in front of the door wasn't slippery, wanting to make sure that none of the customers would crack their skull when they stepped out, and that's when I'd spotted him. He had winked at me behind his newspaper, and then gone back to drinking his coffee – or pretending to drink it. It had almost surprised me that he hadn't cut eyeholes to his newspaper like a proper stalker.

I shook my head at the memory, chuckling. While I was relieved and happy to see that Jasper no longer shied away from my company like before, it'd have been nice if he had ventured to come inside the store instead of staying out. But when I thought about it, he probably had better chances to observe his surroundings from outside.

After giving one more bitter glance at the red mitten whose pair was still missing, I put out the lights and headed outside into the cold December evening. I noticed that the streets were more busy than usually at this time of day. The nearing Christmas had driven many people out of their warm homes. After dodging dozens of elbows and people with too many shopping bags, crossing the street and nearly falling on my butt, I let out a long breath, thinking to myself that luckily Christmas was only once a year.

Jasper was waiting for me as I got to the park. To my surprise, he was holding a pair of brown mittens in his hand. He nodded at me as I neared, offering them to me. I remembered that Renée had sent that pair to me two years ago.

"Alice," Jasper explained with a lopsided smile. "She informed me that you lost something today."

"Thanks. I should have known she'd see it," I chuckled, shaking my head as I slipped my ice cold fingers inside the warm mittens.

The park was mostly deserted as Jasper and I made our way along the curving path. I enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded us. The noises of the city slowly dissipated, and eventually only the sound of the snow crunching under our feet could be heard. I could see my breaths as I walked – it was a cold evening.

I noticed there was no white vapor ecaping Jasper's lips. He either wasn't breathing, or then his body didn't produce any moisture as he inhaled and exhaled. I didn't know which it was, and that's when I realized how little I actually knew about their physiology. There were so many details, small and big ones, that I hadn't come to know during my short time in Forks.

Jasper sensed my stare, his golden eyes turning to study me. The park around us was lit, but poorly; the lanterns didn't manage to shed enough light to the path. For some reason, the meager light made his features sharpen, become more defined. The Cullens always looked so different in the dark. I wondered if it was their nature that caused it. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

"What's in your mind?" Jasper asked, his voice friendly and curious.

I gave a quiet laugh; the sound escaped into the air as a white, quickly dissolving cloud.

"I just wondered why I become a steam engine when it's cold and you don't," I answered.

Jasper gave a quiet chuckle. "My body doesn't produce water vapor like yours," he explained.

"Oh." I studied him, noticing the even movement of his shoulders as he breathed in and out. During my visit at their house, I had noticed that he had held his breath in my company at first. It relieved me to see him so relaxed in my company now and know that he felt confident enough to breathe. I knew that my scent still was probably more than alluring to him, but it felt good to see that he trusted himself to keep his thirst in check in spite of the temptation.

He noticed my scrutiny, quirking his other eyebrow. "Any more questions about our physiology? I'm more than happy to answer if you have something to ask."

The observation I had made about his breathing had actually evoked a question.

"Why do vampires breathe?" I asked. "Edward once told me that you don't need to. He said that it's just a habit."

Jasper nodded. "That's right. It is a habit more than anything, but a learned one at that. Whenever we need to be near humans for long periods of time, they would kind of start wondering why we don't breathe. There have been times in the past when I haven't felt confident enough to actually breathe in the company of humans, and when that has happened, I have usually just moved my shoulders as if I were breathing." He paused, shrugging. "Even though breathing isn't a necessity, going long periods of time without it begins to feel uncomfortable. And besides, breathing is very useful in hunting and tracking."

I realized there were many things about their physiology I didn't know about, things I hadn't even considered. There was a lot more going on than I even knew. And it was strange because I couldn't even count how many times Edward had expressed his somewhat black-and-white opinion about their nature. He'd kept chanting about how their bodies were dead, unable to alter and age. It was almost like he had thought little of himself, of all of them. It was almost like he'd thought that because of their appearance and certain vampire attributes, they had no reason or right to exist.

I had never been able to see it that way. I had never been able to think that the Cullens weren't alive. Just because their hearts were silent and there was no blood coursing through their veins didn't mean that they were somehow less alive than I was. As silent as their hearts were, I knew they were there. They didn't need to make a sound in order to beat.

With these thoughts accompanying me, Jasper and I walked in silence, and soon we turned to the tree alley leading to my apartment. I saw lights coming out of the window of my living room, and I smiled at the thought of Alice hustling inside, lighting up candles and preparing tea for me. That was her new everyday ritual, one that I had begun to grow a liking to.

As we entered my apartment, I was still so lost in my thoughts that I almost missed the sight on the wall of the living room. Something was different than in the morning.

"Oh my God," I said. "Alice, please tell me that's not a garland."

"What?" she asked, feigning confusion. "What do you have against Christmas decorations?"

"It's too early to decorate," I protested feebly. "Christmas is still... days away," I stared at the garland, already driving myself crazy as I tried to imagine what kind of a circus Alice had planned for the holidays.

"Bella, Christmas is next week. Some people put up their lights before Thanksgiving," Alice pointed out, apparently trying to remind me that she was being rather reasonable about this – that she hadn't gone as far as she could have.

I sighed quietly. "Fine," I consented, idly thinking that she could be a lot worse. "Just as long as my house won't resemble a lamp shop when you're done."

"Excuse me," Alice grinned, bringing me a mug that was full of hot tea. "I happen to have taste. You should have more trust in me by now."

"I have," I assured. "I'm just very lazy when it comes to decorating. Everything ends up looking silly if I venture to try."

"That's why you have me."

I smiled to myself – it was something between a pleased smile and a sad one. I was torn between those two emotions as I watched Alice skittering around my apartment, and I wished I could take a mental picture of her, just to return to this moment next year during Christmas time. Because I couldn't know if that was the only thing I got to keep with me; the only thing I got to hide somewhere in the corners of my heart. Just a fraction of time, a small, everyday moment among dozens of others.

Jasper turned to look at me. He narrowed his eyes, tasting the sudden melancholy in the air. Trying to banish the sadness and uncertainty, I toed the shoes off my feet and sunk to the couch, enjoying the warmth of the tea mug in my hands. Making a feeble attempt to fool Jasper, I pretended to be studying the row of photographs on the table under the window. Maybe to justify the grey thoughts full of longing. Maybe to see the faces of those who I rarely saw anymore, the faces of those who had once stopped by in my life and eventually left. Maybe to prove to myself that I was alive and breathing despite their departure, to prove that the longing didn't destroy me. That I learned to live with it if I tried hard enough.

"There's something comforting about stability."

Carlisle's words from weeks ago came back to me. They echoed in the folds my mind, roaming and seeking until forming a feeling of understanding. My mind reshaped them, and my ears heard them the way Carlisle had meant them to be heard; the way he himself had heard them.

"To know that there's something constant in this world... I suppose it can have a calming effect on you."

It was then and there when I completely understood what he had been saying. Sometimes it happened that you couldn't appreciate something until it was suddenly gone. I was usually all about living in the moment and not worrying about tomorrow, but that particular inclination to enjoy the present had a fault, a small fracture that was deep enough to scatter the wholeness. And I knew it, then. You couldn't live in the moment thoroughly and fully without recognizing what you had to lose. Sometimes you had to stop for a second or two to look around you and acknowledge, appreciate, everything you had, because the next time when you blinked, all that might be gone. You shouldn't live in the moment at the expense of the future. The world was full of things that were self-evident, things you could take for granted. But then there were things you should never overlook. I suppose life was divided to those two. To things that mattered, and to things that mattered even more.

I watched behind my tea mug as Jasper gave Alice a swift kiss. The look in his eyes was tender; the gold of his eyes melted as he looked at her. A soft sigh left my lips as I turned away. My feet worked on their own accord as I rose fom the couch and walked to the dark window. It drew me in. Not the window, but the darkness beyond it. The faint glow of the yard lights played upon the thin veil of snow, daringly defying the winter and the darkness it had brought with it. I didn't even realize that I was almost unintentionally looking for movement amongst the trees until Alice's voice crept to my consciousness.

"If you're waiting for Carlisle, don't bother," she said behind me. "He's currently at our house and might be gone for a few hours."

Clearing my throat, I turned to her and shrugged. "I wasn't waiting for him," I lied smoothly. "I just wondered if the sky is clear tonight. It'd be nice to see the stars."

The corner of Alice's lip edged up a bit. "There are no stars in the trees," she pointed out, sounding amused.

I rolled my eyes and ignored her comment, careful not to look at Jasper.

My evening passed by routinely. I'd brought some paperwork with me from the bookstore, and I finished it after writing myself a note about a few book orders I should take care of before closing the store for Christmas. At the same time I distractedly listened to Jasper's and Alice's playful bantering. It took me a while to realize that I was functioning on autopilot. My eyes were on the papers scattered in front of me, and my ears listened to the words that passed back and forth between Alice and Jasper. I gave a small laugh or a soft murmur at right places, but truthfully, my mind wasn't on the conversation or the words and numbers dancing on the papers. My mind was on the absence of something, someone, in the room.

I tried not to look too much into it. Alice had said that Carlisle was at their house in Ithaca. There was nothing strange about it. There was no reason for me to jump to conclusions and immediately think that he was avoiding me.

Any other night, I might have believed my own reassurances. In fact, if tonight had differed from the other evenings of the past two weeks, I would have believed my own words. But it didn't. Today seemed to pass exactly the same way like several previous days had.

Since my visit to the Cullens' house nearly two weeks ago, I'd barely caught a glimpse of Carlisle. The memory of his departure that evening, of the smile that hadn't reached his eyes, of the quiet sound when the door had clicked shut behind him... All those things still stung like acid. I'd begun to see a new pattern in my days; I'd wake up in the morning, walk to the bookstore with Alice, and in the afternoon I'd come back home again usually with Jasper. It's not that I minded their company, because I didn't. I enjoyed every moment I spent with them. But I had also enjoyed the quiet company of the man with golden hair and gentle eyes. Now I began to wonder if the feeling had been one-sided. Why else would he suddenly stay away?

I began to replay our conversations in my mind, wondering if I had inadvertently said something to make him feel uncomfortable. But eventually I came to conclusion that while our conversations were sometimes far from casual and ordinary, I didn't believe I'd said something that might have given him a reason to stay away. In fact, I thought I'd been particularly careful not to say or do anything that might make him feel discomfort in my presence.

"I wouldn't have thought you believe in fate, Bella."

"Beauty does have a tendency to capture one's attention."

"You are not like most people."

"If fate is not worth tempting, what is?"

"Are you ever lonely, Bella?"

A flicker of an inkling stirred somewhere within me. It made me wonder if it wasn't something I had said to him, but something he might have said to me that now made him want to stay away.

I was so lost in my ponderings that it took a while for me to notice the sudden silence that had fallen into the room. Alice's and Jasper's playful banter had ceased, and I glanced up from my papers, frowning.

Alice was sitting on the couch across the room. On the coffee table, there was a pile of pine twigs and pieces of red ribbon in front of her; it looked like she was in the middle of making a wreath. But something had made her abandon the task, and she was now staring at the floor with blank eyes.

Holding my breath, I met Jasper's gaze, and he lifted his finger to his lips. I sat still, watching Alice and waiting for her to come out of her trance-like state.

"Edward," she murmured. Her voice was confused, the name slipping from her lips sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Is he in trouble?" Jasper asked. His voice was calm, meant to reassure. But I saw the tenseness of his muscles. It looked like he was ready to spring into action immediately if the situation demanded it.

Alice shook her head, closing her eyes. She stayed that way a few seconds more. Her fingers rose to her temples, and she opened her eyes, looking like she was suffering from a terrible headache.

"That was odd," she murmured, locking her gaze with Jasper's.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Is something going on with Edward?"

Alice turned to me after exchanging one more confused glance with Jasper.

"I don't know," she answered, looking helpless. The sight made me troubled – Alice rarely looked so lost.

"I saw that unknown vampire again. The same one I saw a few weeks ago," she explained. "I still couldn't make out her face. And suddenly I saw Edward – a quick flash of his face."

"In the same vision?" Jasper asked. He had risen from the couch, holding his hand on Alice's shoulder.

Alice shook her head, frowning. "Not exactly. It was a different vision, but I saw it simultaneously. It was almost like two different frames on top of each other."

"Will he come across that woman? Is that why you saw him?" I asked.

She shook her head again. "I can't be sure, but I don't think so. I'd have seen it more accurately if he was going to run into her."

Jasper began to pace. I watched him mutely, studying the agitated expression on his face. His reaction to Alice's vision was uncommonly strong, and it confused me somewhat to see him so troubled. Because the vision hadn't been threatening, only obscure. That's why it surprised me to see him get so tensed up about it.

"He has a very tactical mind."

Carlisle's words from days ago came back to me. They made me realize that Jasper might have a good reason to be so restless. Maybe he had figured something out – something Alice and I hadn't.

Jasper stopped his pacing, running a hand through his hair. Alice looked up at him, rising from the couch with one fluid motion.

"We have to find a way to contact Edward," he said. "We should warn him, just in case. It can't be a coincidence that you saw him simultaneously when you had the vision of that unknown female again. We still don't know who she is and what she's got to do with the situation."

"He's still out of reach," Alice said quietly. "I tried to call him this afternoon."

"Then I'll find him," Jasper stated, not at all disheartened after hearing Alice's words. "If you can tell me where he is – "

"I'm not sure about his current location. He keeps changing his mind," Alice informed, sounding annoyed. "Yesterday he was somewhere near Seattle."

"That's enough information," Jasper nodded. "It's easy to track him once I get close enough."

She nodded. They just stood there then, gazing into each other's eyes for a moment. They didn't kiss or embrace or anything like that, but the connection between their eyes was so intimate that it made me feel uncomfortable. It was like I was witnessing a moment that wasn't meant for my eyes.

"I'll inform Carlisle," Jasper said to Alice as he turned to leave. "Keep me posted."

"Be careful," I heard myself say, feeling a compelling need to say something. I was still trying to get a grip of the situation. Everything had happened so quickly – one minute they'd been sitting on the couch and joking with each other, free from any tension, and now Jasper was suddenly leaving in a hurry.

The last mentioned gave me a nod as he opened the door. The sudden draft caused some of the papers on the kitchen counter to swirl in the air and fly to the floor, but I ignored them.

When Alice and I got to the door, Jasper had already disappeared into the darkness.