Alice and I had run tirelessly during the night. She wasn't able to match my top speed with her short legs, but we still made good progress, passing through New York, Vermont, and Maine under the cover of darkness before eventually crossing into Canada just before twilight. She was determined to head farther north. Away from humans, where I could try this whole animal blood thing without temptation. And I couldn't find a reason to object.

Running felt strange at first. I hadn't travelled far during the last years, never having a particular destination in mind. Thirst and death were the same everywhere, burning my throat and mangling my brain. There was no point in running away or towards anything.

Alice, however, knew exactly where she was going. She hadn't shared it with me but then, I hadn't asked. I wondered if she'd planned this. If she'd seen all of this. The diner, our meeting, the wolf. Did she know I would agree to go along? Had she picked out exactly where she would lead me years ago, when I hadn't even considered that leaving the war was a possibility yet?

The thought of just how easy it would be for her to lead me into a trap chased a shiver down my back. I stopped myself from turning my head towards her. Instead, I concentrated on my gift for a moment.

The ball of emotions swirling around us hit me like the stuffy diner air. Filled with endless different scents, overwhelming at first. I hadn't cared much about it before but ever since meeting Alice 51 hours ago, I regretted having neglected my talent. I missed the preciseness with which I was able to determine the smallest changes in Maria's emotional compass, the ease with which I had been able to soothe our newborns and encourage in-fighting among our opponents.

The emotional dexterity I possessed back then would have come in handy now. But despite my best efforts, I couldn't detangle my emotions from hers nor get a strong enough grip on a single one of the sentiments to test them. I had to rely on her lack of hostility and my fighting skills to assume that she was not a threat for me. Her height and delicate build helped with that as well.

I no longer doubted that she could reach my neck if she wanted to. There was a good amount of spring in her steps, and I suspected that she would feel very comfortable lunging at me. But her stride wasn't aggressive. This was not her demonstrating how powerful she was. This was her trying to keep up with me while at the same time almost exploding from joy. A joy that made it almost impossible to think rationally for more than a few seconds.

I had to work on shielding myself from her influence if I truly were to stay with her.

xxxx

The air grew colder and the blanket of snow thicker the farther north we got. When Alice finally slowed down, the cold mass reached well over my knee, soaking the fabric of my trousers.

"We're here," she announced, pointing towards the clifftop in the distance. Night had fallen again, and it took me a moment to discern a geometric shape between the trees. A cabin, well-hidden underneath a thick layer of snow. Shut off from humanity by the forces of winter, probably lacking all amenities. But we didn't need them anyway.

I followed a few feet behind her, suppressing an eye roll at how her bag scraped across the snow as she approached the wooden build. She had stubbornly turned down all my offers to carry it. I had no idea why.

When I finally entered the cabin, after doing my best to leave most of the snow and ice that had set on my clothes and in my hair outside, she was rummaging through its contents and eventually produced a candle and a box of matches. It was unnecessary, vampires could see in the dark. But Alice apparently didn't care.

It took my eyes a second to adjust to the sudden flare of light. The candle threw shadows on the walls and made the small ice crystals in her hair sparkle, bathing her face in a warm glow that perfectly reflected her vibrant joy.

Even a monster like me could appreciate the stunning picture the flame painted.

I let my eyes wander through the room. A thin layer of dust covered everything, a nod to the fact that its owners probably hadn't been here for a while. There was a chimney to our right, facing it stood a solitary rocking chair. I was naturally drawn to it. For a flash, the piece of furniture no longer gathered dust in an abandoned cabin in the middle of the Canadian wilderness but stood on a big veranda instead. The familiar heat of the Texan sun was burning down on my shoulders. Home, I recalled. There was a chair just like it in front of the house I'd grown up in.

Alice placed herself in my line of sight, quickly returning me to reality and dissipating the memory. She was holding another neatly folded stack of clothing. Male clothing.

"You should change. I was hoping to get a fire going and you'll drip—"

"No fire," I interrupted her. It was rude, I knew. But I was already putting too much trust into her based on nothing but my currently very unreliable gift. I couldn't allow her to start a fire too.

Disappointment nagged at me. Hers, not mine. However, Alice didn't object. "Fine. You should still change."

She placed the pile of garments into my arms and turned back to her bag. I hesitated for a moment before leaving her to it and searching the back of the cabin for some privacy. There was a small storage room filled with firewood, two bedrooms and a sparsely equipped bathroom. I chose the latter since it was the only one whose door would reliably close.

Changing into new clothes already felt like a waste and I promised myself not to let Alice get her hands on the discarded pile like she had previously. They were barely worn and still more or less clean. Definitely not ready for the trash can.

I had just finished buttoning up the earth-toned cotton shirt when I caught a glimpse of myself in the slightly distorted mirror on the wall. It was strange to see my hair soft like that again; no knots, leaves or dirt left. Just a few stray ice crystals. But the honey-blond locks weren't my primary interest.

My eyes were still red. And I was simultaneously relieved—and slightly disappointed?

The liquid gold of her eyes had been one of the first things I noticed about Alice. They felt natural on her, perfectly fitting in with the warm personality and soft glow of happiness she carried around so effortlessly. They wouldn't suit me, I had no doubt about that. And still, there was a part of me that craved them. That longed for the peaceful ease that surrounded the golden-eyed rendition of myself I had seen in her drawing.

"It's going to take a while for them to change."

I turned around to find Alice in the door that apparently wasn't as reliable as I had thought. Who could blame it? The wood was old, warped by the harsh changing of seasons up here.

"How long?" I asked.

"A few months, I think. There's a lot of factors but I've had some visions of you with golden eyes in spring."

I tried my best to hide my bewilderment, knowing very well that she had probably felt it at the same time I did. But there was still a chance, she hadn't noticed.

Alice blinked, then held out her hand towards me. A comb rested on her alabaster palm. "I wanted to bring you this. After all, we don't want my work to go to waste. Even though I enjoyed it."

I took it hesitantly, ducking my head. "Thank you."

Her smile grew wider. "You're welcome, Jasper." And with these words, she turned around and left me.

Confused, I followed her with my eyes until she disappeared behind the corner. And when I turned back to the mirror, the pile of worn clothes, I had placed on the dresser beside it, was gone.

Damn, I really need to get myself together. I was already missing her movements even though she had just talked about starting a fire a few minutes earlier. That was unacceptable.

xxxx

Alice had complied with my request—more or less, at least. There was no fire burning in the chimney when I returned to the main room. However, there were candles everywhere, painting the interior in a warm golden shine, occasionally flickering when a gust of wind found its way through the old wooden front. Alice was sitting on a chair behind the dining table, sketching eagerly on the paper in front of her. Shapes and faces. The Cullens again, I guessed.

I waited for a moment, silently watching her work, but eventually crossed the room and sat down in the rocking chair when she didn't react to my presence. From here, I could see that her eyes were half-shut and her face was motionless like a porcelain doll's.

The emotions that filled the room, however, were constantly changing. I felt comparably calm, the dulling remnants of my kill weighing on my already lethargic brain. It had to be her. Was this what it was like when she was having a vision?

I tried to recall the few instances in which her talent had shown earlier. They had just been short flashes, coming out of nowhere and disappearing before I could pick up on any emotional fluctuations.

This was different, but a good kind of different. She was distracted, so into whatever she was doing, that she seemed even less threatening. And this meant that I could allow myself to focus on something else for a moment.

I didn't take my eyes off her yet but shifted most of my attention back to the ever-changing emotional climate in the room. If there ever existed a perfect exercise for recognizing and separating different sentiments, this was it. And I was in dire need of some training.

xxxx

The constant scratching of her pen on paper, accompanied by the smell of worn wood and burning candles became the backdrop of my next days. And as the hours flew by, my initial doubts about her posing a threat dissipated and eventually completely vanished. I still had no idea what to make of her and the intense emotions she was exhibiting whenever her eyes rested on me, but at least she wasn't dangerous. I felt comfortable enough to leave it at that. For now.

Alice brought me outside to hunt twice. The first endeavour ended with me spitting out more hair and blood than actually made it down my throat. She was still proud. And her unstoppable sense of accomplishment transferred to me, strong enough to make me agree to the second trip. It was a disaster as well. And the foul stench just wouldn't disappear, even hours later, when we were back at the cabin.

I let myself sink into the rocking chair, swallowing dryly for what felt like the hundredth time. It didn't help. I could smell it every time I opened my mouth. And I needed to open it if I ever wanted to stop the endless stream of Cullen tales she was reciting as if she was holding a Sunday mass.

"When Edward returned–"

"Alice," I interrupted her.

She looked up without stopping to rummage through the stack of papers on the table.

"Hearing about how easily these people I don't—" care about. I stopped myself and quickly reconsidered my words, "—know about, adapted isn't helping."

I had been too slow, but the frown on her face was nothing more than a flash. It seemed to be almost impossible to darken her sunny composure for long.

"I'm sorry. I'll tell you something else instead," she apologised and pulled a paper from the pile. "Oh, I know! So, do you remember how I told you about the house Esme has been restoring? It's finished now and buyers are coming to look at it. She's so excited! Rosalie agreed to show them around and…"

My thoughts scattered as the familiar sound of scraping pencil lead and her voice filled the room. However, they didn't wander too far, still revolving around her small head and enormous heart, when it suddenly occurred to me that due to her tales, I now knew more about a group of random golden-eyed vampires somewhere on the West-Coast than the peculiar companion I had found myself with.

"Tell me about yourself," I interrupted her mid-flow again.

Her hand froze and an eerie silence suddenly filled the cabin. I shivered—not at the temperature, but at the shadows which were suddenly growing longer, throwing distorted shapes onto the walls. The room seemed to expand, the chimney and Alice getting farther and farther away every second as the floor beneath my feet darkened. The wind picked up and—

Fear.

I gasped, pulling myself behind the small emotional shield I had started to build. It was tiny, not strong enough to keep her feelings from influencing me or from me affecting her. But at least solid enough to help me determine that this was not me. She was the one being anxious. And my question had caused her to be this way.

Alice composed herself quickly as she noticed me staring at her and lowered her eyes to the paper. She tried to play it off, a fake smile on her lips. But I could still feel the fear seething just beneath her skin.

"W-why?" she asked. "Believe me, the way Rosalie told that poor man off for having the audacity to comment on Esme's design is much more entertaining than—"

"You seem to know everything about me. It's only fair for you to share something about yourself as well."

She halted again as the fear crept back in. It didn't come as a tidal wave like before. More like a slow drizzle, emanating from somewhere deep within the core of her being and greedily clinging to whatever it could get its claws on.

"There isn't much to tell. You already know that I remember nothing of my human life."

I turned the chair away from the empty chimney so I could face her. "I know. But that was 28 years ago. What happened after you woke up? After I told you your name?" It was strange to mention something I had never done as if I had. As if it was a fact. But it was to her, and so I just went with it.

"I waited." Her voice had grown softer, colder. It was brittle, like ice crystals shattering on the frozen ground. "But the thirst eventually drew me away. I-I killed an elderly couple on their stroll through the countryside."

She paused again and the air in the room just grew gloomier.

"I saw Carlisle for the first time after that. My visions were very confusing back then, always coming out of nowhere. I thought I was going crazy, I-I tried asking for help but— Everyone was afraid of me. And those that didn't run immediately… I couldn't stop myself."

It was as if a hole had opened in her chest, exuding an emotional composition so much darker than what I expected from her. She had been a constant ray of sunshine ever since I met her, but seeing her like this now, I had no doubts that somewhere deep down there was something broken inside of her. Maybe even as broken as me.

"I went back to the shed I had woken up in eventually, hoping that whoever left me there would come back. But they never did…" She swallowed dryly and I suspected that she was trying to keep herself from sobbing.

I wanted to run away, escape the thick, horrible cloud of negativity that slowly floated over the floor in my direction. But I couldn't. Feeling what she did and knowing how hard such emotions could weigh on someone, I felt responsible to help her. Console her. She had been good to me, pulled me from one of my blackest pits. I at least had to try to do the same for her.

My gift wouldn't be of any help. All the sentiments flooding the room were too much, I could barely keep myself from falling into the darkness with her. But luckily, that wasn't the only way. She had saved me with a single touch. Who said I couldn't do the same?

Alice didn't react as I got closer, completely lost in her memories. Her trembling hand was aimlessly drawing jagged lines. I carefully wrapped my scarred fingers around it.

She blinked as I called her name, her big golden eyes suddenly staring straight into mine.

"You're not alone anymore."

Relief washed over me as the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. I wasn't sure if it originated from me or her, but I honestly didn't care.

"No," she affirmed. "I'm not."