19. PEACE
I SAT IN THE CRAMPED AIRPLANE SEAT WITH MY HANDS FOLDED ON MY
lap, staring dumbly down the aisle at the bathroom door. Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett were seated together six rows behind us. I was grateful to whatever Providence had allotted me even this small amount of solitude. I didn't know what to think, and I certainly didn't know what to say. Alice sat next to me with her hand on my forearm, but other than that our bodies did not touch. Somehow our pain was deeply personal, not something either of us was ready to share. Or, rather, not something we could bear sharing -- the combined pain would be unendurable. So we sat in aching silence, each of us lost in our own heads, lost in our own memories and painful regrets.
The ceremony had been during the morning. I had insisted. Anya kindly offered to hold it at night so Alice, Carlisle, Esme, and I could attend, but I couldn't stand the thought of the child being buried with that darkness. She had been so bright, so vivacious. Perhaps a few rays of sunlight would be trapped with her in that resting place, stay with her as she slept. We had watched from the trees a few meters away. I had heard every word, translating some of it for Alice, Carlisle, and Esme. The traditional,
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil..."
A prayer I had not heard before,
"We beseech Thee, O Lord,
in Thy mercy,
to have pity on the soul of Thy handmaid;
do Thou, Who hast freed her
from the perils of this mortal life,
restore to her the portion of everlasting salvation,
Through Christ our Lord,
Amen."
And a recitation from the man Sasha that was apparently traditional here, describing Heaven and God's throne and the angels that waited upon Him.
Anya couldn't do more than cry, though I wondered how there were physically any tears left in her. How strange this all was, a part of my mind mused through the numb, unthinking consciousness. To speak of "the perils of this mortal life," to describe the angels worlds away. Kristalene was not mortal, and yet, she was no more. Mortality had claimed her despite her immunity. Angels were not distant mythical creatures, for she had been one, here upon the earth, walking amongst us and lighting the darkness with her strength and kindness. I pressed my lips into a hard line -- I didn't like their chosen prayers. They didn't seem to fit, they didn't seem appropriate.
"Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithful departed
through the mercy of God rest in peace.
Amen." Carlisle had murmured, reciting a benediction from one of his centuries of existence. I wasn't sure which one -- it didn't sound like it was from seventeenth-century England, at any rate. I mulled that piece over. I liked it better. Perpetual light, rest in peace ... the angel child should sleep forever in the light, should exist forever in sun.
There were no tears in me anymore, pricking and fighting to be shed, no more dry sobs to rack my body and crumple me to the ground. The numbness that I had clung to so desperately two days before, that had slipped through my clutching hands like water through a sieve, only to be replaced by the icy steel vise of pain and loss, had finally returned. Now, when it would perhaps be more appropriate to cry, I could not. I felt very little. I felt Alice in my arms, small and forlorn, I felt the atmosphere of sadness and intense loss from every member of the tiny village, I felt Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett's borrowed grief, but for myself, I felt nothing. My mind thankfully blocked the memories, blocked the pictures that would have deepened the fault line in my fractured heart. By some blessed allowance from God or Fate or pure self-preservation, my mind focused only on what was going on around me now, only on the scene before me. I heard the words, I saw the tears, but it was as though I was watching someone else's mourning, a movie I was interested in, but that had no real impact on my life. I thanked whatever influence it was that spared me the torture now. I knew I would have to pay the piper later, knew the pain would crash back over me ten-fold, just as it had in the woods with Carlisle, but it was a bargain I was willing to make. Not only so I could stay strong for Alice and Anya, but just to have some peace, some freedom from the pain, even if just for an hour.
I looked up at the sun, considering Kristalene and where she might be now. Somewhere in my head I had the idea that I might catch a glimpse of Heaven up there, a glimpse of my angel child. Stupid, I rebuked myself -- I didn't even know if I believed in such things. I saw only the blinding orb, and, halfway across the sky, the thin white sliver of the new moon, intruding on the daylight again. Was that me, I wondered? Inching into the human sphere, unsure of my welcome, unsure of my place. Was I an intruder on this human mourning? Did those who would not die have any right to grieve over those that had? Was any claim I might have had negated by the fact that the one I grieved for was, in fact, lost because of me? Gone because I existed? A searing, icy pain shot through me, ripping the breath from my chest. For a split second of panic I feared that the numbness I clung to so desperately had finally left me, as I knew it must. I froze in terror, not knowing how I could possibly bear the pain I knew was coming. But as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone, leaving me empty and unfeeling once again.
A few of the villagers had come to the head of the grave and spoken, relaying memories of Kristalene's childhood or good deeds, some wishing her well in the next life, some talking of how she was where she belonged now, with the angels and her mother. My throat was tight and it was difficult to breath. I wasn't sure if I agreed. Assuming there was a Heaven, as Carlisle believed, it was a lovely thought that the child was free from guilt and violence, free from the pain of her last hour of life, reunited with the mother she loved. But it felt wrong, somehow. Somehow I could not feel that Kristalene belonged elsewhere, that her home was someplace other than this tiny forgotten village amongst the ancient trees and people that she loved. I could not feel that she belonged anywhere but with Anya. She did not belong anywhere but with me.
We had watched as the priest made the sign of the cross over the head of the casket, reciting another prayer as the pall bearers lowered the child into the ground. Every molecule of air was squeezed from my body, my chest and throat closed as though I were being crushed. But, gratefully -- I could not express how grateful I was -- I remained detached. I watched as the coffin was lowered slowly into the hole in the ground, into the darkness. I was right to insist on the daylight, I thought. If there had been nothing but night here, I didn't think I could have watched them put her down there. I think I might have grabbed the ropes and ripped her back out. She shouldn't be in the dark.
I closed my eyes and heard the first muted thud as the soil was shoveled onto the oaken coffin. Despite the miraculous numbness, I didn't think I could watch them bury her, watch as each ray of light was pushed out by dirt and blackness. I tried to concentrate on other sounds -- the breathing of my family, the birds, reserved and forlorn in the trees. Thud. The soft scurry and squeaking of rodents across the damp leaves. Thud. The wind through the thick branches, the wind across the wooden roof of the tiny church. Thud. The church where Kristalene had gone every Sunday, where she had prayed for forgiveness. Thud. Anya's sobs of absolute anguish, Alice's quick rasping gasps as she shuddered in my arms. Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Let's go. We'll come back tonight to say goodbye to Anya." Carlisle had said, placing his sturdy hand on my shoulder. I nodded stiffly, grateful that he had suggested it so I would not have to, and turned and walked back into the forest, the thuds echoing and fading behind us.
"Renesmee and Jacob are home," I heard Esme tell someone. "They had a wonderful time and no problems at all. Alice was right..." she trailed off.
Alice didn't respond to her name in any way. I glanced at her beautiful stone face out of the corner of my eye. Her expression was unreadable. Blank. I wondered what she was seeing now. The funeral? Our hunt? Those glimpses of the future that would never be now? Our last goodbye to Anya?
"We're so sorry for your loss," Esme had murmured as she hugged Anya goodbye. "If there's ever anything you need..."
"If you have any concerns about the Volturi, please let us know immediately," Carlisle had added. He had informed Anya about the others who would be coming, warned her that they were not like us. He didn't want to call Aro until Alice and I were safely out of the country, but he felt confident that the Volturi would mobilize immediately to track the wolves. He had told Anya that he would do everything in his power to ensure the town's safety, both from the werewolves and from the Volturi, but just in case he had given her his cell phone and charger so she could call us immediately if there were any danger. Carlisle's old "friend" -- if the word could be applied to him -- Allastair was not far from Viselkeizedevia, keeping under the radar in southern Lithuania, and he had reluctantly agreed to protect the woman and the village to the best of his ability should Carlisle call. At the very least I hoped he could get Anya out, take her somewhere safe.
"Thank you. I will." Anya had replied softly. I felt a strange new loss swelling in her, though she was trying to push it back inside, a new sadness and a yearning. I was puzzled what it meant.
"I'm so glad we got to meet you. Kris-- your sister loved you very much," Alice breathed in the woman's ear as she rose on her toes to hug her goodbye. There was no hint of a shiver, no trace of fear in Anya's emotions at this intimate embrace from a vampire. She truly was an amazing woman, I thought. So worth protecting.
I had been last to say my goodbyes. Emmett had returned to the inn during the service to retrieve mine and Alice's things, not really sure what to say to the human sister of the vampire he had never met. I knew he was waiting in the woods now, just past the treeline. I had meant to be strong and cordial, being polite without evoking renewed grief, but I found myself holding the human woman around the shoulders, touching her hair where it ran down her back -- the same shade and thickness and weighted curl as Kristalene's...
"I'm so sorry," I choked. What else was there to say? "You'll never know how sorry I am."
"Don't be sorry," Anya had answered, shaking her head as she pulled away from me so she could address us all. "Kristalene was so happy when she met you. She told me how good you were, how fine and noble. She told me how you," she looked at me, "were a soldier, but you gave up your life of blood for love and to protect humans. She told me how you both taught her to hunt animals, so she would never have to harm another person again. She was so happy ... So ... hopeful..." she looked at the ground.
I swallowed at the memory -- it was difficult with my throat so tight -- and clutched at the arm rest a little tighter.
As we had left I had seen Sasha knocking tentatively on the door, apparently waiting down the road for Anya to be alone. The sight had eased my mind a little. Persistent Sasha. I wondered fleetingly why he had never courted Anya, why he hadn't married her years ago. Maybe he didn't think she needed him, with Kristalene around. Maybe Anya's life was perfectly adequate with her sister, contented and happy, with no need for a husband, no desire to alter the comfortable bubble in which she lived. I had been seriously concerned how Anya would ... not survive, for I could tell she was a fighter -- but live, from day to day, without Kristalene. They were the world to each other, soul mates in a very real sense. I had even considered asking Anya to move back to Washington with us. But I knew, when I saw Sasha, that she would be all right. A part of her would always be missing, just like a part of me and Alice would always be missing, but Sasha would help to fill the void, help to keep her in the light. I hoped that Anya was not like Bella, hoped she was like most humans. Bella had never healed from the loss of her soul mate, Edward, when he had left her so many years ago, but most humans healed, didn't they? Most of them grew better with time, the pain was eased and the hole inside them closed. Of course, most humans ran away from vampires. Most humans were appalled and horrified by our very existence. Bella had not been. She had seemed ... intrigued. I hoped the similarities between her and Anya stopped there.
"Yeah, Rose is furious," Emmett was grinning -- I could hear it in his voice, "She had this whole 'Welcome Home' excursion planned for Ness. But when Edward heard it was skydiving--" he laughed his booming laugh. I could see the three or four passengers and two stewardesses who were still awake turn to look at him in surprise and disapproval.
"Well, she shouldn't be surprised," Esme sighed, and I could picture her shaking her head. "What did she expect?"
"I told her he'd never go for it. She thought since he'd given into the motorcycle and Mexico that maybe he was finally letting go, finally admitting that Renesmee's an adult. Ha!" he snorted, "That kid will always be the two-foot long baby with the bronze curls and silent commands to him. He'll never admit she's grown up."
"What did he say to Rosalie?" Carlisle asked, trying to keep the smile from his voice.
"Well, it was hard to tell. You know how Rose likes to ... ah, embellish. I got the impression there were some attacks on her vanity, though, and something about her 'being so shallow you'd think some intelligence could shine through...' "
"That's not nice," Esme reproved. I had the feeling she would chastise Edward when she got back. I might have been entertained by this prospect on another day -- Esme scolding know-it-all Edward as though he were a misbehaving schoolboy pulling the girls' pigtails, and Rosalie being put in her place by anyone -- but today I felt ... nothing. Just numb. I wasn't amused, I wasn't annoyed, I wasn't even interested. I was glad to know Renesmee and Jacob were home safely, but my concern ended there.
"Jasper," Alice whispered. Her voice was so full of pain that I couldn't help tensing. I didn't know if I was ready for this. I didn't know if I could handle it yet.
"Yes, love?" I leaned my face down and kissed the top of her head.
"I love you," she breathed.
"I love you too, my angel. More than heaven and earth. You are everything."
"Not everything," she said in a voice so low I could hardly be sure she spoke at all. Her eyes were on her porcelain hand where it rested on my forearm, and I felt a slight unease that I couldn't look into them, that I couldn't see into her soul now to try to judge how badly she was hurting. If her pain were anything close to mine... I swallowed. No, she wasn't everything. But she was the most I would ever have, and she was certainly enough.
"Jasper?" she repeated, leaning her head against my shoulder.
"Yes, love?"
"I -- I don't want children anymore. I don't want to adopt."
I hesitated, not knowing how to answer her. What did she want me to say? She turned her exquisite angel's face to look at me, her onyx eyes so deep with a silent, heart-rending plea that I could hardly stand it. I would take the venom fire a hundred times in place of this torture. I would suffer for myself -- endure only my own agony -- a million times over rather than bear Alice's anguish for another second.
"Is that all right? Would you understand?"
I blinked, taken aback. What was she talking about? Would I understand what? Why would we adopt now? We had already had our child. There was no need -- no desire -- for another.
"You'd -- you'd forgive me that? I could be enough, even if I'm not everything you want?"
"Oh, Alice!" I cried, throwing my arms around her and pressing her tightly to my chest as understanding dawned. The woman across the aisle from us tossed a little in her sleep, but no one else seemed to notice the sound, "God, Alice, of course you're enough! You are everything I want! More -- so much more -- than I could ever hope to deserve, so much more than I could ever have dreamt up in a thousand lifetimes! What are you talking about? Of course, my love! I couldn't exist without you, you know that."
"But we won't ever be a family," she continued, apparently intent on finishing her ridiculous argument, "we wouldn't ever have a child of our own. You wouldn't -- you wouldn't resent me, in time, if I couldn't give you that? If I wasn't strong enough to -- to -- to take ... another one..."
"I don't want another one," I snapped, annoyed at the intensity of her conviction. She honestly feared that I would leave her because she didn't want another child than Kristalene? As if I could leave her? As if it were possible? "We had our family," I added, softer this time, "maybe for just moments, but we had it. You, me, Kristalene. We had our hunt, we had our talk in the inn, on the bank of the river. Maybe it was just for a second, but we had it. I don't want anyone else, either. She ..." I swallowed, looking down the aisle again, "she was our child, if just for a day. She will always be ours."
"But--"
"Alice," I glared down at her, "What do you think I am? You are my family. You are my only reason for being. I could no more leave you than I could leave ... well, I was going to say my heart, but I suppose I could go on without my heart. Without my soul too. But I cannot exist without you! After all these years, how can you not know that?"
"It's different now," she insisted, burying her face in my chest, unable to meet my gaze. I thought she feared she might lose her nerve to offer to "set me free" if our eyes met, "We didn't know something was missing before. We didn't know we weren't completely happy. But now we do. Now we'll always know there's something gone, we'll know we're not whole. It's only natural to want to fill that void, to try to be happy again--"
"Do you really think I could ever be happy without you? I have never in my existence -- not when I was human, not when I was with Maria, never -- been happy without you. Happiness doesn't exist for me without you. Nothing exists for me without you."
"You think that --" she started. She heard me growl as I was about to interrupt her again and changed her approach, "You deserve so much, Jasper. You have so much to offer. I could never forgive myself if I kept you from that, if I kept you from what you really wanted--"
"Damnit, Alice!" I kept my voice low, though the tone was a roar, "You are what I really want! What don't you understand? I am nothing without you! I would quite literally die without you -- not just if you were dead, but if I was not with you! There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, nothing I wouldn't sacrifice or give up, even if that's what I was doing. But I'm not giving anything up. I wanted a child, yes. I wanted a little girl with dark hair and thick lashes, with deep eyes with that let you see all the way to her soul. I wanted a little girl who was kind and brave and smart and good. And I found her. I had her. And now she's gone. I don't want another one! She not a puppy, for God's sake! I can't just replace her because she -- because she was taken from me! And now, now when I'm hanging on by a thread, when all I have left in the world is you, you tell me you want to leave me? For my own goddamned good? Are you kidding?"
Alice didn't answer. She looked at me for a long moment, waited while my breathing calmed and my fuming died down.
"Don't yell again," she ordered, though technically I hadn't raised my voice. She placed her satin hand on my cheek, "I promise I will only ask this once and then I'll drop it."
I waited, clenching my jaw, preparing for another of her asinine convictions.
"You do not want another child. Ever. And you are ... okay staying with me even though we will never have more than the two of us? I'm not going to argue with you anymore, but I want you to know I would understand if you said no. I wouldn't hold it against you."
I met her gaze, waiting while she finished. Might as well let her get it all out. Even after she had finished I waited another entire minute before speaking, so she'd know -- though I didn't know how she couldn't know -- that I meant what I said.
"Alice, I love you. I do not want another child. I do not want to be without you. Ever. I am giving nothing up for you, here. We feel the same way. I may always be in pain because of Kristalene, but it is a pain that cannot be healed; not by time, not by another child, and certainly not by your absence. I do not want anything more than you ever again. If the world imploded tomorrow and all that was left in the universe was you, my life would go on with perfect fulfillment. I can't believe I have to explain this, but you are my life. You are my world. What would there be for me without you?"
She stared into my eyes and I thought she was deciding whether or not I really meant what I said. I didn't comprehend how she could doubt me. How could she possibly not know how I felt? Did she really think Kristalene had changed even that? Changed everything? Although I could be altered, could be chipped and chiseled with great effort, there were some parts of me that were permanent. My love for Alice simply could not change. It was everlasting, indestructible. The very core of my marble being. It could not be destroyed without destroying me. The only way my love for Alice would cease to exist was if I ceased to exist. Even then, I thought it might go on. Even when I were no more I thought my feelings for Alice would remain, somehow; an energy, a force, too powerful to be erased, no matter what had happened to the body that had encased it.
I tried to relay to her everything I felt for her, every truth that was in my soul -- if I had a soul -- through my eyes. I wasn't sure I managed it -- my eyes were not the fathomless wells Alice's were. Finally, though, she seemed to accept what I had said. She nodded a fraction of a millimeter, almost to herself, and rested her head upon my chest. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her tightly to my body, whispering into her ebony hair.
"I don't know what to say besides, I love you. My darling, wonderful, incredible, beautiful, ridiculous angel, I love you. And I am nothing without you here."
"I love you, too," she breathed back, closing her eyes and letting her lips brush against my chest.
I stroked her locks with my free hand and kissed the top of her head again and again, murmuring, "My angel. My love," into her hair. The black sky was dark and clear out the window, and I saw, as I clutched my tiny ballerina in my arms, the lopsided curve of the moon shining brightly in the distance, golden and luminescent. It seemed to glow with it's own light tonight -- not a reflection of the sun, but a celestial beacon shimmering with a glory all its own. Brilliant and dancing across the sky, alive and vital it hung there, lighting the skyway back, lighting the way home.