The only reason she'd been able to let him go had been because she'd known she'd get him back. It had still been the hardest thing she'd ever done, made much harder almost immediately when she'd had a vision of his escape, his kill, the knowledge that he'd blame himself and his weakness for it. She'd accepted when Edward had offered to let her stay with them, it had always been a little easier having him around to see her visions almost at the same time she saw them herself. She never needed to explain herself to Edward. He was restful. And having Bella and Renesmee and Jacob around was enough of a distraction that she didn't sink into her thoughts too often.
She hadn't been intending to keep an eye on him, on them, but their decision had been so certain, the force of her vision had made her stop dead in the middle of the kitchen and lose her grip on the stack of books she'd been carrying: —the balcony outside the living room, Jasper standing stock-still but at ease, comfortable, Natasha standing impossibly close for a human but still perceptibly alive, touching his face, two bright smiles—
"It's working," she'd whispered, and Edward hadn't needed an explanation, just tossed her the keys to her car as he crossed to clean up the mess she'd left behind.
Driving makes her impatient. She's moving so slowly, she could run and be there so much faster, but she knows she shouldn't rush this. This is important. She wants to arrive when she knows Jasper will be gone. She wants to meet Natasha herself, before she's distracted by a reunion with her mate.
As she pulls up to the house and parks in the driveway, she can hear the faintest sound of a human heartbeat, almost faint enough to be her imagination if she didn't know for certain that Natasha was there. She's nervous, she thinks as she waits a moment behind the wheel before climbing out, she's nervous in just the same way she'd been when she'd gone to that Philadelphia diner to wait for Jasper to come inside. Just because she knows something will happen doesn't mean she's always confident about it. What if Natasha has already decided she doesn't want this? What if she doesn't like them?
But when the door opens and she catches sight of the woman with the red hair in person for the first time, Alice can't help the wide, delighted smile, and it takes effort not to rush up the steps and pull her into a hug. She won't like that, Alice reminds herself as she hops up the last few steps and comes to a halt only a few feet away, clearly wanting to close the distance, and compromises by reaching out to take Natasha's hand in hers. "I know," she says, her voice nearly bubbling over with happiness. "You came. I didn't know if you would."
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She hadn't been intending to keep an eye on him, on them, but their decision had been so certain, the force of her vision had made her stop dead in the middle of the kitchen and lose her grip on the stack of books she'd been carrying: —the balcony outside the living room, Jasper standing stock-still but at ease, comfortable, Natasha standing impossibly close for a human but still perceptibly alive, touching his face, two bright smiles—
"It's working," she'd whispered, and Edward hadn't needed an explanation, just tossed her the keys to her car as he crossed to clean up the mess she'd left behind.
Driving makes her impatient. She's moving so slowly, she could run and be there so much faster, but she knows she shouldn't rush this. This is important. She wants to arrive when she knows Jasper will be gone. She wants to meet Natasha herself, before she's distracted by a reunion with her mate.
As she pulls up to the house and parks in the driveway, she can hear the faintest sound of a human heartbeat, almost faint enough to be her imagination if she didn't know for certain that Natasha was there. She's nervous, she thinks as she waits a moment behind the wheel before climbing out, she's nervous in just the same way she'd been when she'd gone to that Philadelphia diner to wait for Jasper to come inside. Just because she knows something will happen doesn't mean she's always confident about it. What if Natasha has already decided she doesn't want this? What if she doesn't like them?
But when the door opens and she catches sight of the woman with the red hair in person for the first time, Alice can't help the wide, delighted smile, and it takes effort not to rush up the steps and pull her into a hug. She won't like that, Alice reminds herself as she hops up the last few steps and comes to a halt only a few feet away, clearly wanting to close the distance, and compromises by reaching out to take Natasha's hand in hers. "I know," she says, her voice nearly bubbling over with happiness. "You came. I didn't know if you would."