"Volterra will burn," Alice said again. Her voice was almost robotic; her eyes flicked to my face. "And it will be because of you."

Christopher stiffened beside me. "She isn't going back to Volterra."

I shot Christopher a sideways glance before looking back to Alice. "What do you mean, because of me?"

Alice blinked, and her delicate features softened. "I can't see everything. We're all involved somehow — I'm sure of that. There are too many decisions that haven't been made yet." She rubbed her temple as if her head hurt. "I can't say when or exactly what happens. I don't think it's soon, but it will happen. The middle bits aren't defined yet."

"She's not going back there," Christopher declared again. "Problem solved."

Alice shook her head. "That's not how it works, Christopher."

Christopher's fists balled tightly in his lap. I slipped my right hand under his right, easing his fingers apart far enough to weave mine between them. I squeezed his hand gently.

"I don't think this would be a situation in which I…voluntarily went back to Volterra, love." He growled, pulling his hand away and jumping to his feet, pacing anxiously.

"That won't happen," he snapped. "I won't let it."

I watched him helplessly. It wouldn't do to remind him that I had predicted that we could one day be separated because of my family ties. Still, I couldn't lie to him and tell him that he would always be able to protect me. Alice opened her mouth to say something, but Christopher turned on his heel to face her.

"Tell me what to do to keep her out of this."

Edward cleared his throat, shifting Renesmee from where she'd positioned herself in his lap to sit beside her mother instead.

"Christopher," he said calmly, standing and crossing the room. "I can speak with some experience on this. Trying to change the future — especially when you have no idea what has set events in motion — is entirely futile." He glanced back at Bella for a moment. "Maddeningly so, in fact. I have seen what Alice has described. I agree with her — there's no immediate danger to Ellie. There may be no danger at all. Even if she is involved."

This was enough to make Christopher pause his manic stride. I stood up and walked around the coffee table, positioning myself between Edward and Christopher. I slid my arms around his waist, waiting for his eyes to meet mine. He took a deep breath and circled his arms around me as well.

"You aren't going to Volterra." His eyes bore into mine, searching for certainty or assurance I couldn't give.

"I have no intention of ever going back to Volterra." I knew this was all I could promise. I could only hope it would be enough for now.

It was Renesmee that had broken the tension in the room. She'd sat quietly on Bella's lap for several moments before jumping to her feet and coming to stand beside her father. She touched his hand and wordlessly made a request through her gift or his. Edward chuckled.

"Perhaps," Edward said, addressing the room, "we should pause this conversation for now. At least until there is more information to base any decisions upon. Renesmee was wondering, Christopher, if you'd be up for another guitar lesson." I eyed Christopher, and eventually, his shoulders relaxed. "Another guitar lesson?" My eyebrows raised in surprise. He winked and kissed my hair before looking at Renesmee from over my head.

"Sure thing, kiddo."

"Come in."

I laughed as I turned the door handle to Carlisle's study. "I hadn't even knocked yet."

Carlisle closed the journal before him, placing his pen on the desk. "Sorry," he said with a chuckle. "Force of habit." He stood, gesturing for me to sit on the large leather sofa positioned against the center wall of the room. He took a seat on the opposite end.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know I told you I came here to talk about Renesmee and then…." I trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

Carlisle nodded, smiling with what I was already coming to recognize as his trademark expression of understanding.

"No apologies necessary." His lips twitched. "You've had quite an interesting couple of days." I laughed, looking at the ceiling as a wave of emotions suddenly hit me.

"It's a little overwhelming if I'm to be honest."

"I'm sure." Carlisle crossed one leg over the other, folding his hands over his knee and leaning forward slightly. "Ellie, I wonder if I could offer a little," he paused, as if considering his words carefully, "unsolicited advice?"

A nervous laugh escaped my mouth, which I awkwardly tried to cover with a cough as I shifted in my seat. "Of course."

Carlisle's fatherly smile appeared once again. "Alice tends to be right, downright prophetically so at times." I swallowed, wondering if this was the kind of advice meant to make me feel better or worse as I waited for him to continue. "But, the tricky part is that what she sees is the result of a thousand other decisions that occur over time: one month, one year — decades, perhaps. What often matters most is what happens to get to that point."

I'd been staring at my hand in my lap. When Carlisle paused, I felt he was waiting for me to look up before he spoke again. Reluctantly, I met his serene gaze.

"What I'm trying to say, Ellie is this: don't spend your life worrying about the future that might occur — one day. Alice herself will tell you the future is never set in stone. You have the chance to be happy." He leaned forward to place a hand on my shoulder. "Take it. Be happy."

My teeth pressed into my bottom lip so hard I was afraid I might draw blood as I struggled to keep from crying, but I was losing the struggle. Carlisle gently squeezed my shoulder before standing and quickly walking over to his antique wooden desk. He opened a drawer, withdrew something, and closed it again. Before I could say anything, he had retaken his seat on the couch, holding out a neatly folded handkerchief.

"It's clean, I promise."

I laughed, accepting the cotton napkin and dabbing my eyes. "It's no wonder my father thought you were dangerous," I quipped, laughing as I quickly wiped a few rogue tears that still managed to escape my attempt to fight them. "How the hell do you do that? I'm older than you, yet here you are, in full benevolent dad mode, making me cry."

"It's a gift, I suppose," he laughed. "And after all, age is nothing but a number."

We spent the next few hours discussing what I remembered of my childhood and adolescence, comparing my recollections with Carlisle's notes of Renesmee's growth thus far. As a physician and someone with the equivalent genetic makeup as the Cullen child, I found his journal entries fascinating. Every day, he recorded more questions spurred by new measurements and observations.

"Er, Ellie," Carlisle said, his finger underlining his elegant scrawl as he re-read one of the pages. He glanced up at me hesitantly, and I knew what question was coming next. "You mentioned something to Christopher the other night." I tried to keep a straight face, even as I could feel the blush warming my cheeks. "You said you wouldn't get pregnant from intercourse."

I cleared my throat and nodded, mentally reminding myself this was a clinical discussion.

"I'm sorry," Carlisle said. "I promise no one was intentionally listening, but I will confess I did make a mental note to ask you about that." He handed me his journal, where he'd written thoughts on what could be expected for Renesmee as she went through puberty and into adulthood. "You seemed certain. Can you describe your experience?"

"Of course." I paused for a second, glancing out the expansive windows. I studied the way the late-afternoon sun streamed in between barren trees like a portal into my memories from four-hundred years prior. "With our rapid physical changes and mental advancement," I began slowly, "it is difficult to properly compare to the growth expectations for human children."

Carlisle nodded his pen at the ready to jot down notes.

"But, for the sake of argument, I have always marked my transition through puberty beginning around age four. At that stage, I was of similar height and build as girls around twelve or thirteen in the village." I closed my eyes, and it was like I was standing on the dirt road in Volterra, chattering with human friends. "I was allowed out of the castle quite a lot by that age. Invisible, always, even in plain sight. My father employed a sect of Catholic nuns — yes, really," I said with a laugh when Carlisle's eyebrows nearly raised right off of his forehead.

"Remember, we're talking about the early 17th century — there was no education for girls outside of a convent. And surely, I was taught many things by Aro and Marcus especially. Still, it was important to my father from the beginning that I blended in with humans easily. That meant immersion with other local children when I was old enough that my growth was less noticeable. Several village girls attended lessons with me during those years."

"You were close to Marcus?"

I smiled. I could tell that this detail had caught Carlisle by surprise.

"Funnily enough, yes." Closing my eyes again, I remembered the little hand signal he would use during gatherings in the great hall; it meant I should come to his study when things quieted down. "He took a liking to me very early — he had a very grandfatherly way about him. He would tell me stories from his human years in that slow, raspy tone, and he even told me about Didyme occasionally. Marcus impressed on me the importance of following the rules that Aro set for me within the Guard. He told me never to put a foot wrong, and I could more or less live as I pleased."

Looking back at Carlisle, I shrugged. "So that's what I did." I shook my head clear of the memory, refocusing on the task at hand. "Anyway, over the next year or two, I did experience an occasional menstrual cycle. It was never regular - only a few times a year did I notice anything." My eyes refocused on the window; the sun had drifted lower behind the trees, and Carlisle's pen scratched delicately against the pages.

"By the time I was fully grown — around seven years old, as Nahuel had stated — the cycles stopped occurring. I have a theory about that."

"Go on," Carlisle said.

"I think the end of our maturation — for females at least — might be akin to menopause in human women." Carlisle nodded slowly.

"Have you ever done an ultrasound or any blood tests?"

"Yes. I got curious when ultrasounds became commonplace in the hospital. We were training residents on how to use them, and at the time, there weren't many female doctors around, so I decided to let them practice on me." I giggled at the memory. "They were shocked to find that my ovaries weren't functional — as young as I appear — but I was not."

I explained how I'd also run blood tests as reproductive care evolved, all of which supported my theory. Carlisle took notes and returned to questions about experiences from my childhood. I recalled how I'd never been ill to any remarkable degree - no colds, influenza, or other infections had afflicted me. When the sun disappeared from view — and I was apparently visibly exhausted from answering questions — Carlisle suggested we take a break.

When I excused myself from Carlisle's office, I headed upstairs, having heard Christopher's lesson with Renesmee end not long before. When I peeked into the bedroom, he was reading a book on the bed. I shut the door behind me, and he set the book aside.

"You look better," I said, kicking off my shoes. I started to undo the button of my jeans, pulling down the zipper and tugging them off, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

"Do I?" He smiled, holding his hand out to me as I walked across the room. Placing my palm against his, I climbed over him, straddling his lap. He sat up straighter, placing one hand on my ass, as I grabbed the back of his neck with one hand. Pulling my other hand from his, I reached for his collar, my mouth covering his as I opened a few buttons on his shirt.

"Mm," I murmured against his lips as he willingly opened up to me, letting my tongue push past his teeth and twist itself around his. "You do." I pulled his lower lip between my teeth; his hands slipped underneath my shirt; his fingernails dragged lightly across my back. I leaned back, letting my hips press against him, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and spreading my hands over his chest. "Tell me more about you."

I leaned down, kissing the skin beneath his ear and dragging my tongue along his jaw.

"Tell you what, love?"

"Anything." I bit his shoulder playfully. "I'm tired of talking about me."