A/N: Short chapter, not beta-ed, blah blah.

We're heading into the final stretch and honestly. I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye yet.

If any of y'all want to recommend scenarios for Twilight-themed one-shots, I'd be happy to get on them!


With Bella's permission, the Cullen family spent hours poring over the journals while the girl slept, looking for any clues that might help; any sort of information about the shifter's lineage that hadn't been shared with her aunt and uncle. Char had left one box upstairs with Jasper to read over while Emmett ran boxes back and forth after the contents of each were explored, trading out so that everyone could read each one.

Browsing the stacks, one sage-colored, canvas bound volume piqued Jasper's interest. Labeled in a careful, looping script on the soft, smooth-with-age cover were the words: Houston, TX, 1840-1855.

Home.

Jasper was unable to keep his hands from shaking as he flipped through the pages. The beginning outlined Renee, her mother, and her grandmother's road to Houston, and what they hoped to find. Apparently, the women had been looking for more of their kind, following legends from the East Coast, down into the Southwest. One entry caught his attention:


April 10th, 1841

The farmstead is quite lovely, and we are fortunate enough to afford the hired help, for we certainly won't keep slaves. We are unfortunate enough, however, to not have the connections necessary to find farmworkers to employ.

Upon meeting the family nearest us, thankfully many miles from our home, we received an offer of assistance in our search. I do so hope the Whitlock family has the reach we so desperately need.


November 20th, 1841

We have settled quite nicely into the new home, and have experienced no difficulty in keeping our secret. We keep mainly to the household chores, while our farm is tended to by hired workers. The Whitlocks' have proven to be kind neighbors and we are delighted to have them so near to us.


He read slowly, burning each word into his memory, learning about his parents and grandparents, proud of where he came from. Finally, finally, he found the entry he had been most curious to read.


April 4th, 1844

Mrs. Whitlock finally bore her first son near noon. I have never seen a babe with such a full head of hair – sandy blonde, with green eyes that crackle when they catch your own. I am already taken with the boy and look forward to watching him grow into a young man.

I can admit that it's a little difficult to keep my jealousy at bay. It isn't my time, but I oft wonder when that day might come. How long must I wait for a sweet babe of my own?


Jasper felt the ghosts of pain left behind in her words and was heartbroken to know it would be over one-hundred years until it would be the woman's time. Though, it was fortunate for Jasper, as it so happened. He finished the last of the journals in his box around the time Bella needed to be roused for school.

Running his hand gently along her cheek until she began to respond, he lowered his lips to her forehead and worked his way down and along her cheekbone and jawline to her lips. She whined softly, being pulled slowly from her dreaming state and finally opened tired eyes to examine her mate's face.

"You look soft."

Jasper grinned at her observation. "I feel soft," he whispered and pressed his lips to hers once more.

The quiet of the morning helped ease Bella into wakefulness and she listened joyfully as her mate shared the contents of Renee's Houston journal.


"Don't you think it's a little weird?" Emmett asked from a stool at the breakfast bar where he was keeping an eye on the newborn.

"What?" Jessica asked absent-mindedly, watching the peach and apple pies finishing up in the oven, entranced by the subtle changes occurring before her eyes. "Baking pies?"

"Baking pies for your own funeral."

"Oh," Jessica muttered and pulled away from the glass door, no longer able to enjoy the magic happening on the other side of it. "My mom likes pie," she offered quietly. "Least I could do, I guess."

"That's really nice of you," her brother answered as he leaned forward onto his elbows, propping his face in his hands. "You doing okay?"

She leaned back against the counter and ran her hands along the raw edge of the kitchen island. The tactile stimulus calmed her immensely.

"No, I'm not. But yes, I am."

Emmett didn't push her and just nodded. "It's a lot to adjust to."

"It is," she said as the timer went off. Jessica placed a pair of oven mitts on her hands and pulled the pies from the oven. She was momentarily intrigued by the smells coming from the pies. "It's so weird that I can smell them, and even think the components smell okay, or good, but totally don't want to eat it. Like, I miss sweets, but I don't and it's very difficult for me to adjust to new things."

Emmett laughed, surprised by her analysis. "I don't know that I've ever thought of it that way, but that isn't what I meant."

"Oh, I know," Jessica said with a smile. "It was just an observation." She removed the oven mitts and flopped them in her hands. "Yes, it's a lot that my mom lost the only person she had in the world, and that while she's out there burying an empty casket, I'll just be sitting around a few miles away waiting for my new family to come home."

Emmett wasn't totally sure what to say and decided to offer his own brand of catharsis. "Wanna go kill stuff?"


The Dragon gripped the final journal in her hand, watching and waiting for a window of opportunity; a tiny sliver of a chance. Even with her gift, she needed to be careful. It took two days of non-stop observing while being perched in her tree for her chance to come along: Charlotte was tailing the chief, and Peter was supposed to be guarding the home but heard the doctor arriving to relieve him and took off milliseconds before Carlisle was in of the trees on the side of the house.

She dove soundlessly to the roof and entered Charlie's bedroom window in a flash.

Of course, Charlie wouldn't think to lock his.

Sprinting to the girl's bedroom, placing the journal upon her bedside table, and passing through Charlie's window once more and closing it behind her took less than one second of her time. The Dragon could not, however, risk returning to the trees until the doctor had circled around to the front of the house.

She studied his slow, calculated appraisal of the home, every detail analyzed with exactly the kind thoroughness you'd hope a physician or surgeon would with you. His face was taut, a frown dragging at the corners of his lips.

Well, someone isn't happy.


Having never been, in all of her very long life, she returned to her childhood home; her final stop along the way. Biloxi wasn't what she had imagined it would be; it was quite small, caught somewhere between a large town and a small city. The street she had supposedly grown up on was easily found, though, the house had long since been torn down to make way for condominiums and little restaurants.

She made her way to the nursing home and surveyed the inside. Sniffing with disgust at the decor, Alice found the room she sought rather quickly but was surprised to find that a couple was visiting her. They both looked to be in their fifties or so. The woman had wavy medium length auburn hair and clear blue eyes soft crinkles lining her eyes; the man, dark brown shot through with darts of silver, his brown eyes crackling with annoyance and pain. They were decently dressed, but certainly hadn't come from a family of money.

The man shifted in his seat and reached for the elderly woman's hand. "It'll be okay, ma. Please, let us take care of it; let us take care of you for a change."

"Come now, Thomas. You both have lives to live."

"But, mom-," the unidentified woman tried to speak but was promptly cut off.

"No," the bed-bound woman asserted. "Now, go away. I have a meeting with the accountant in a few minutes and we're going to figure something out. No need for either of you to drop everything to take me in."

"I just don't understand why you-."

"Go," the woman asserted firmly to her daughter, her voice lined with steel.

Knowing the battle would have to be placed on hold, her children sighed with exasperation and promised they'd be back tomorrow.

Alice grabbed a plain yellow folder from a cart nearby and busied herself in the hallway, making a show of trying to find the right room number. She allowed the two to wander down the hallway before slipping into the room announcing, "Hello, Mrs. Jackson!" and closed the door behind her.

"You're not a nurse, so who are you?" the woman asked, not entirely thrilled by the vampire's sudden presence.

"I'm your accountant, obviously," Alice answered with a playful smile. "You did just tell your children you had an appointment, didn't you?"

The woman sat silently, eyeing the door, waiting for her children to re-appear and call her out on the lie.

"They're gone," she reassured her.

"Well, you're not my accountant, seeing as how I don't have one. What do you want, then?"

Alice couldn't stop a grin from pulling at her lips, instantly pleased with the woman's blunt, downright sassy disposition. "I want to help you."

"Why?" the woman asked, suddenly suspicious.

"The truth?" Alice asked, feeling emboldened.

Eleanor Jackson took a long moment to really look at the girl. Intelligent, glittering brown eyes explored Alice's face, trying to place her. Something clicked, and the woman's pursed lips loosened into a relaxed "o" with shock.

"You look-, you look so much like my mother when she was young. Are you related to Cynthia- to me?" She could scarcely breathe as she put the pieces together.

Alice smiled in satisfaction at the woman's quickness. "Yes."

The two sat in complete and utter silence for minutes, studying one another, until finally, Alice relaxed into a chair at her bedside, satisfied the woman wasn't going to start screaming.

"It would be an honor to make sure that you and your children are well taken care of, Eleanor. You're all I have left."

They lapsed into silence once more, until the woman answered, "she never stopped missing you, Mary Alice."


Jasper ran his tongue up and along his mate's neck, thrilling her each and every nerve. She gasped softly and leaned back against her pillows.

"You aren't doing a very good job of leaving to go hunting," Bella pointed out with a quirk of her lips.

He lowered himself more fully onto her, tucking his face into the crook of Bella's neck to revel in the smell of her. "Would you believe me if I told you that as far as instinctual urges go, being with you right now is definitely in the lead?"

The shifter snorted but was quickly left gasping once more as Jasper's lips trailed down her chest, one hand sliding down along the soft fabric of her leggings to rub between her thighs.

A dish clattering onto the table below broke them from the heat of the moment.

"Yeah, yeah," Bella muttered darkly, knowing that either Peter or Charlotte was oh so subtly reminding the couple that they weren't alone in the house.

Jasper sighed and pulled away to glance at the window. "Guess it's time."

"I guess so," Bella answered with a huff of mock disapproval and roll of her eyes. "Probably best you feed before the funeral, I suppose. Will you need to feed again before the weekend?"

Their eyes met, and both acknowledge the feeling of something coming, and the need to prepare.

"Absolutely."

But will Bambi cut it?

Bella tapped her neck, indicating she was willing to offer him something a little more amped.

Jasper's lips were suddenly on hers, fingers twisting into her hair to pull her closer to him. He slowly released his grip and allowed his hands to cup his mate's face, taking the comfort her body offered to ease the stress and anxiety he felt.

"I love you," he whispered gruffly.

"I love you too," she answered as a single tear rolled down her cheek.


Bella rode with her father to the funeral and met Emmett and Rosalie, Carlisle and Esme, and Jasper at the church.

The women made a beeline for Mrs. Stanley and Esme assisted her with the final set-up and testing the podium microphone. Bella and Rosalie made sure that the printed programs were handed out with each arrival, thanking the townspeople for coming.

Bella's eyes scanned the back of the church where she stood and landed on a poster stand and collage of Jessica and her friends and family pictured in events over the years. The vampire had even included silly pictures of the girl, taken at a holiday, likely Christmas, where she was holding a knife menacingly over a large, cooked turkey, not quite able to keep the laughter from her face.

"It's beautiful, Rose," she murmured her approval. "I didn't know you were going to do a big one."

"I wanted people to know her like we do," Rosalie whispered back with a smile.

Everyone was seated relatively quickly, the church somehow large enough to accommodate what amounted to the entire town of Forks, and then some. Charlie had a place among the police officers in the second row, a nod of respect from Mrs. Stanley for their efforts in searching for her daughter. Bella, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie took their seats in the pew parallel from Charlie's with a tense but somewhat less furious looking Angela at the other end.

The service was beautiful, followed by speeches from more people Bella would have thought, including a very crushing looking Mr. Murdoch who admitted he had very much missed telling Jessica to hush during the morning news and way with school posters.

Angela's turn finally came. "It'll sound like a cliché, but bear with me here, and I'll elaborate," her announcement was followed by smiles, Jessica's friends and family familiar with the clarifying tendency that Angela had picked up on over the years spent with her friend. "There will never be anyone quite like Jess," her voice wavered with emotion. "We've heard that said about a great many people, and I used to think that was such a sad thing, that everyone saying it was in pain to think they might never be reminded of that person again. I've realized, though, that it's a good thing; it's a great thing." Her voice grew stronger as she reminded herself by explaining it to others. "There will never be anyone else like her, and I'm glad for that, because no one else could ever do Jess like she did; no one else could ever take her place. The memories we have of the unique and wonderful person she was are our own and can never be muddied by someone else's efforts. Jess was the only Jessica Stanley, and for that, I am grateful."

There were almost no dry eyes in the church as people nodded along, agreeing with the kind words, and soon, the service had concluded.


Bella was exhausted by the time she arrived home with her father, greeted by the heavenly aroma of a freshly cooked roast and vegetables.

"You are an angel," Charlie called out as he walked through the door.

"I do what I can," Charlotte called back, a smile in her voice.

"Not so sure that's what I'd call you," Peter muttered.

Bella heard the sound of a playful smack and rolled her eyes. She entered the kitchen and grabbed plates for herself and Charlie.

"You guys eat?" she asked with a teasing grin.

Charlotte stuck her tongue out at her niece and gestured to the two clean plates and forks in the dish rack, a clear display to mislead Charlie. "Obviously."

"Oh, obviously," Bella repeated back, bursting into a fit of giggles that wracked her body so hard that she slid to the floor. Her sides ached, and tears burned in her eyes, and suddenly, the girl was crying.

Charlotte was at her side instantly and wrapped her arms tightly around Bella, cradling her body against her side. "I know, Sweetpea, I know."

Charlie tore around the corner, gun drawn, his eyes sweeping the room for a threat.

"Easy there, Chief," Peter directly calmly. "I think we're all a little stressed."

Charlie heaved a sigh and lowered his weapon to the counter as he took in the scene. "I'm so sorry, Bells."

Bella, however, hadn't even looked up. "It's just so much," she mumbled into her knees. "I just want everything to stop."

Charlie sat down next to his daughter and rubbed her back while Charlotte got up to get Bella tissue.

"It's hard saying goodbye to a friend, Bells," Charlie started, clearly unsure how to best help her. "All I can say is that we'll all be here for you, no matter what happens."

She didn't answer and her family allowed the girl to cry herself out. Bella wiped her face with the tissues and stared ahead, eyes finally dry.

Empty. Numb.

She nodded slowly and moved to stand before helping her father to do so. Bella handed Charlie his plate to dish up and reached to put hers back and pulled down a glass instead. She opened another cupboard and pulled out and a protein bar. Filling the cup with water, she explained, "I don't think I can actually eat right now, but I'll take this up in case I get hungry, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, she made her way up the stairs and to her bedroom so she could change out of her funeral attire and into some pajamas. Bella set her glass on the bedside table as she did, her eyes falling onto a black journal, slightly askew as though set aside in a hurry.

Jasper must have been in the middle of it.

Without much else to do, Bella flipped it open and read.

Had she not been so detached already, her blood would have been roaring in her ears, the rush of air in her lungs beyond hyperventilation: as it was, however, she simply sat, unable to think, to feel, to do.

Finally, she looked at the last page and came to a decision.

Listening for the murmur of conversation below, she noted that her aunt and uncle were both occupied with Charlie. Bella stood slowly and grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from her drawer and fumbled for a zip-tie to hold them together. She stripped off her lacey black dress and under garments then raised one hand to rest against the wall.

I have to meet her.

"I need to shift," Bella whispered flatly as an explanation, knowing her aunt and uncle would hear the sound of her window easing up.

She didn't wait for their approval or acknowledgment and flew off into the night, bundle of clothes held tightly by the overly large hawk.


Penelope studied the ancient hands of the crone she was embodying for a moment.

They're empty. They're empty. They're empty. It's done.


A/N #2: Don't hate me for soft Alice, okay? She had a shitty life, a really shitty afterlife, was manipulated by a brother that she essentially tasked herself with taking care of over the years, and never really able to live her life and feel. But here she is, ready to die, and finally letting herself feel. She's growing, y'all.