moodshifter | Alice Cullen | Natasha Romanova

She has no idea who's room is who's and it doesn't matter in the end. Natasha realizes before she even gets to the top of the stairs that she doesn't want to ask Jasper for help. In fact, she wishes to do nothing more than to put as much space between the two of them as possible right now, and that means going through two rooms only to find that one of filled with only male clothing and the other doesn't have any that fit her. She moves into a third, finally finding comfortable clothes that look like they'll actually fit her, and she gathers them to get ready for the shower before she hears him moving up the stairs.

The way she falls silent seems a little pointless in retrospect, she knows that he could easily find her if he actually tries, but he seems content sitting in the hall and speaking to the upstairs in general, knowing that she'll hear him. And she does.

It takes her almost a full minute before she manages to slowly step back into the hall, the clothes she had chosen clutched in one fist at her side, and her eyes bore into him with a fire that she isn't even bothering to contain. Her walls are still up, thick and unmarred, but they seem to tremble now as if the anger on the other side is threatening to tear them open at any moment. She can let them down... and she's tempted. She knows that she can let them down and the sudden emotional assault will be enough to disorient him, make him leave... she's seen it almost happen before by accident, she can certainly do it on purpose. It's the only means of defense she has against him if she needed it, of course it's something she's noticed.

She doesn't do that though. Instead she hovers in the doorway and stares at him, and when her words come they're slow and precise. "You brought me out here because your wife had a vision that you were going to love me." It's not a question, but a clarification. She still hasn't moved. "You decide to tell me this now, after I used limited resources to get here, to bring me to a group of people who are going to struggle with the desire to eat me, because you were going to love me?" Her jaw tenses and her wall cracks, heat spitting out. "What if I don't fall in love, did you think about that?"

And she seals it up again, because it's not going to help her right now and she knows it. Natasha patches the wall before she presses forward. "And even if I did, how did you expect that to work? You can barely come near me without having to run away, is that your plan? I fall in love with a man who can't stand to be close to me?" If he were anybody else, she would have already left... after smashing a few things. Yet Natasha can't bring herself to do that, instead she wants to hear what he has to say, and a little part of her hates herself for even entertaining that idea. "Or a woman I don't know who also can't stand to be close to me, I'm assuming."

"I don't know." He'd turned when she'd approached him, still sitting on the step and looking up at her now, as open as he knows how to be, open and honest, and frankly feeling more than a little wretched about this new turn of events. It's his own fault for not being honest with her from the beginning, but he's been a selfish man before, and he knows it had been selfishness driving him to keep quiet about the whole truth.

"I don't know how I expected it to work," he continues, quiet and calm, still reaching out for every nuance of feeling he can get from her. She's angry, maybe angrier than he's seen her before, and he knows what Alice had meant now by sharp. "There wasn't time to go into the finer details. I didn't think about whether or not this mystery woman can fall in love, I didn't expect anything to work, I don't even know if she saw you as still human."

He stops, watches her unblinkingly for a moment. "Resources are not a problem, now we're here, and my family's thirst is something they've been managing well with for a very long time," and he sounds more terse now, the way he sounds when he's looking to solve a problem. "I brought you here because when I asked, you said yes, and beyond that, you felt hopeful at the idea. Alice has that effect on people," with a little smile that disappears again almost immediately, now isn't the time. "I don't expect a damn thing. I asked you to come and left it to you and you came, and if you want to go now, now that you have this whole truth...all right then. I'll accept that. Of course I will." He pauses, because it hurts to think about. "...in addition, you make it sound as if I don't want to be close to you. That Alice wouldn't want it. And maybe there's no distinction for you between can't and don't want to, but you're alone in that."

"No." Natasha responds flatly, and for the first time her eyes seem to darken with something that comes from within her seeping to the surface and changing her demeanor. Her body tenses, the walls that she's built around her heart and emotions strengthen in an almost strategic manner, and it's obvious now that he's sensing exactly what she wants him to and nothing more. The anger is on the surface now, thick and stubborn as it shields everything below in her depths, and it's veined with the sort of discomfort that can be construed as suspicion. "Don't say it like that, you didn't ask me to come and left it to me, you misled me, Hale." Her jaw sets firmly. "You sold this to me as a potential new safe group, a new team. Not love, you said nothing about love. Don't try to justify your actions to me, you can't lie to a liar."

She looks away from him, and Natasha takes a deep breath as she tries to calm herself. "I knew this was too good to be true." She says it more to herself than to him, and in reality that's what she's upset about. Natasha is angry at herself, because these things don't happen. New teams, new families... they don't just fall into your lap when you're Natasha Romanoff. They're calculated and forced upon you, and you pay the price with honor and blood. "You waited until you dragged me across half the country before telling me that I can 'go' if I want to, don't pat yourself on the back." She tries to sound cold and she does, but her emotions begin to betray her, disappointment and anxiety seeping in to chew away at the hot anger that fills her.

That's the worst part of it. She likes being around him, she's enjoyed these days driving with him, watching him attentively keep her warm and drive through the night. She liked watching the side of his face as she tried to sleep in the back seat, eyes flashing that beautiful shade of amber every time they drove past a street lamp. She liked hearing about his past and Thor help her, she liked sharing her own with him. She feels foolish, and raw. The realization comes with her wrapping her arms around herself, and her face saddens with a weary sort of dejection as she stares off at the wall.

"I understand the distinction," she manages after a prolonged stretch of silence, her voice softer now with a touch of dismayed hopelessness. "The distinction doesn't really matter though, does it? Results matter. The result is that I can barely touch your shoulder without you having to run ten miles away from me, that's what I'm alone in, Jasper. Not in distinction, in reality."

He can see the change in her, and he can feel it, and he doesn't like either one. He stays where he is, quiet and still, watching her, listening as she talks. Never interrupting, even when he wants to point out that he'd hardly dragged her anywhere, because it doesn't matter. She's still here, and it's because of him.

Now he does stand, slowly, too smoothly, although he stays at the top of the stairs as he unfolds to stand straight. "I lived off human blood for eighty-five years. I've survived off animal for sixty-six. Not without my lapses, one of which you had the misfortune of witnessing. You're right," he says, dipping his head in a brief nod. "It is a challenge. But I think it does matter that you know I do want to be close to you. And that it is...getting more difficult to keep my distance. Which seems to have very little to do with how good you smell to me."

He nods past her, to the master bedroom with the powerful shower attached, possibly the only human affectation they all used occasionally. "We can keep talking now, but we'll stop here for a time. At least for tonight. Go on and finish freshening up, I'll leave you to it, and I promise you we'll talk again after."

And when she gets out, he'll have something for her to eat. He knows the area, it's familiar enough that after he's fed himself, he'll be able to collect something from the outskirts of town. Send a pizza delivery boy into a peaceful sleep, and leave a twenty behind to cover the cost.

Sharp eyes move to him, narrowed with intensity as if she too holds the power to read through him in ways that could be violating if she wasn't as respectful as he also is. She wants to say something but she cant argue; she can relate to the feeling of being on the edge, always afraid to lose control and slip back into old ways that he's worked so hard to escape from. She can't hold that against him, nor can she hold his need to keep his distance against him, and she doesn't. It doesn't seem to solve the issue, however, and a part of her wishes that he just hadn't told her that he wants to get closer to her in the first place. Men say it all the time. This is the first time that Natasha has wanted it as well.

She lets him move past the conversation, already emotionally drained from keeping herself so guarded, and Natasha watches as he walks away before she turns and disappears into the bedroom to take a shower. She doesn't know who's clothes she has, but the pants are definitely women's and she's pretty sure that the shirt is for men. It doesn't matter, she gets dried off and dressed, her hair still wet and loose as she moves down the stairs at the smell of food.

She can see the pizza on the kitchen table and Natasha feels a stab of guilt, recognizing the effort on his part to get it, but she shuts that down quickly with a reminder that she's going to have to stop feeling this way about him. Their conversation upstairs helped her get her head straight, he can't get near her, what the hell is she doing letting her heart loose with such carelessness? This isn't who she is, it's not who she was built to be.

She finds the plates and grabs a slice, leaning against the kitchen table instead of sitting as she eats, and after she finishes she grabs another piece before wandering around the house. It doesn't take her long to find him.

"Thank you..." Her voice breaks a silence that feels like it should have been left intact, and the air between them feels heavy now. Natasha swallows past a dry throat. "Did you feed?"

He's outside, watching the stars from the balcony off the living room. It's reassuring, the way they never really change. It's the same starfield he'd looked at in Mexico, the same one he'd stared at from rooftops in Philadelphia. He'd planned on hunting anyway, but as he'd run through the woods toward town the smell of animal blood had veered him off-course. He'd come across a fat rabbit in a snap-trap, illegal in the area, and after he'd quickly put it out of its misery and filled himself up, he'd dropped the trap off at Chief Swan's office on his way whipping through town. Can't have poachers that close to the house.

"I did," he says as she speaks, and he turns to lean back against the railing, hands resting against the wood at the small of his back. "Before I acquired something for you. I wouldn't have wanted it to get cold, waiting on me." His eyes burn a bright amber, the lightest color they get, and she may not be able to read him the way he can read her, but she'll see he's grown settled after hunting in this familiar place.

He can still smell her from here, the sharp, enticing scent that will send a little part of him howling every time he catches it on the air, but it's submerged now beneath her wet hair, Esme's shampoo, and that's Emmett's shirt if he isn't mistaken. There's no better time, he thinks. "I am not going to get close to you," he says slowly, and he isn't moving, not one bit, he's only taking a breath when he needs the air to speak. "You are. Come over here."

The way that his eyes seem to change in shade is something that she's noticed since she's started spending so much time around him; it's hard not to, when she finds herself looking at them as often as she does. They're lighter after he feeds, they were red after he killed that scientist, and it doesn't take one to put together exactly what that means. She leans in the open doorway as he speaks, studying the way that he seems to still himself, but the unexpected request has her brows rising a little to her hairline. "Jasper." The way she says it is almost scolding, but she stops herself before she continues. It isn't as if she has to tell him that he doesn't have to do this, he fully knows that. She hovers in the doorway for another moment before putting her empty plate down on a small table and finally stepping out into the night air.

She moves slowly for him, and a part of her is intently aware that she doesn't have to do this either. She shouldn't be, she's just feeding into something that she shouldn't be encouraging in the first place and Natasha barely recognizes herself as she moves, barefoot, across the balcony towards him. Maybe it's the fact that he's making the effort when she knows that he doesn't have to, even though all of this is insanity and he very well may be crazy to believe in his wife's 'visions'. However, this isn't just the first time that Natasha hasn't had a mission, it's also the first time that she's had a taste of what it means to be truly, completely, utterly alone. She always thought that she would be okay when that day came, and she's finding out that she's not the person she thought she was in that aspect. Or, at least, the person that she used to be.

So she'll try, too.

She manages to move up to him closer than she's ever been before, not touching but barely inches from him face to face, and at this short distance she can see details in his eyes that she's always wanted to study more clearly but was never able to. Her walls come down deliberately even though she's raw and nervous; and embarrassingly hopeful, despite her earlier claims. It'll be easier for him, she thinks, if she tries too. Removing her safety is the only way she can prove that she's doing that.

"Jasper," she says his name again softly as her gaze finally falls between them, knowing that this can't be easy for him. She's so close, she can touch him so easily if she wants to but Natasha isn't sure if she can handle him suddenly disappearing after she's gotten her hopes up that they can get past this wall. She wouldn't blame him, not in the least; but she'd blame herself, because she already knows she's being far too optimistic. "We don't have to do this..."

It's not easy for him. It's not easy to watch her approaching, predatory in her own way even when walking softly and carefully like this. His eyes close for a moment when she drops those well-crafted walls of hers and lets herself flow out ahead, washing over him like a tide: anxiety, nervousness, hope, the hope he'd known was still there even when he couldn't find it.

He opens his eyes again almost immediately and takes a slow breath through his mouth, which helps. She brings heat with her when she comes so close, he can feel it radiating from her in the chilly air. He's been out long enough to be the same temperature, and she's nearly glowing, and he's...

This close, his expression of surprise is unmistakeable. He's fine. The hunger is there, the hunter beneath the surface, but he has it reined in. They've been this close before, he realizes, dozens of times even in the short time they've been around each other. In the car, he'd spent hours suffused in the smell of her. Had he simply not noticed himself growing accustomed to it? Had he been too distracted by what they might find at the house, the next steps they'd take together to find the rest of the family?

He still doesn't move as he watches her, even as that little half-smile appears again. "Don't we? Yet, we're here, aren't we." And he isn't bolting. He isn't breathing, but he isn't bolting.

She looks up before he replies in just enough time to see that smile of his slowly rise to the surface. He seems fine, and Natasha is, admittedly, quite surprised herself by that fact. Apparently they have made progress, considering two weeks ago he could barely be in the same kitchen as her.

The smile that she gives him in return is a mirror of his own, crooked and a little more cheeky, and her eyes flicker down to his mouth once more before meeting his gaze. "Don't get too confident now, Jazz, my charm is still dialed down to a solid 1, right now." She wets her lips nervously before looking down at him again, making sure that he isn't fidgeting in his own way before she takes a deep breath to steel herself. She's putting a decent amount of effort into it as well; Natasha is hyper aware of her own heartbeat, keeping it steady the way she does when she has to lie. A quickened pulse probably wouldn't help him in this situation.

Her hand moves slowly, and at first she only touches his hair to brush it out of his bright eyes. Fingertips move against the skin of his forehead and she pulls them back quickly, looking at him in surprise. "You're cold." She blinks, and her eyes narrow a little with a dramatic sigh. "You have to warn a girl." There's still warmth in her voice, an obvious tease, and finally she places her hand on the side of his face to hold it there completely still.

"We still good, handsome?"

Her hand fits against his cheek like a brand he never wants to pull back from. He can almost hear the movement of blood beneath her skin, slow and steady, calm in a way at odds with the way she's feeling to him. He's unblinking as he watches her, still as stone, no fidgeting, but even his grip against the railing isn't too tight.

From what he'd gleaned from Edward whenever he'd been around Bella, back before they'd married and she'd turned, Jasper's having an easier time of it than his brother had. Natasha smells good, but she doesn't smell irresistible, just...good. Comfortable. Carlisle would be proud if he were here, he thinks. "Yes," he breathes. "No...more than this, right now, I don't want to need to run from you. But. Yes, Natalia, we are still good."

He's out of air from that and he doesn't want to risk breathing in again with her this close. He doesn't want to risk flinching, either forward or back. He wants her to be able to stay where she is. He falls silent, just watching, that same little smile still in place. He can only imagine what she'll be like when she dials up the charm. No one in his family will be able to resist liking her.

Despite the fact that she's moving so slowly and the fact that it's absolutely frustrating to be this close and yet not close enough, Natasha can't help but smile back at him when he admits that he can't do more than what they're doing right now. She feels like what she assumes a teenager would after first discovering their feelings for someone, as if she's courting him with innocent uncertainty. "You can't call me Natalia and then tell me that I can't touch you more, that's what we call mixed signals, we're I'm from." She's teasing again, keeping it as light as she can to keep his attention on her, and not his hunger.

She almost lets go of him and tells him that it's enough for tonight, that the effort means more than the actual action, but she can't find it in herself to pull back. His skin is almost hard beneath her touch, cold like stone and yet somehow not unpleasant. He's not breathing and she can see that, but for now she finds comfort in holding his face and looking at all the little features she wasn't able to see before. "You're obnoxiously attractive." Blunt. Almost annoyed. She says it factually, not even flirtatiously, as if it's something that he should apologize for and the funny part about it is that Natasha wouldn't be surprised if he did.

She can't stop smiling now, a relaxed one that warms her eyes as she looks up at him. "Vy sil'neye, chem vy dayete sebe kredit."

The last little breath he has escapes in a huffed laugh, his smile growing boyish for a moment, and if color could still rise to his cheeks, it might have. He wants to answer, and he's going to, he's no stranger to discipline or to endurance. His hands tighten dangerously on the wood as he closes his eyes for a moment and parts his lips and breathes in, shallowly at first, and the thirst is there, it's burning in his throat, but when he opens his eyes again, they're just as pale as before.

"Must be difficult for you, finding someone nearly as appealing as yourself," he murmurs, keeping still for her scrutiny. He wants to nudge at her hand, turn his head into it, he would if it were Alice, but he's still cautious. He's the greatest risk for her if she does agree to stay, he'll do what he needs to do to train himself out of it. Part of that is going to be patience.

But he finally does tip his head just a little at the soft Russian that comes so naturally from her. "Ja dumaju, chto Vy bolee hrabry, chem Vy znaete. I don't know that I ever thanked you properly."

She waits patiently for him to breathe in and she can see the effect she has on him, that boyish smile that rises in that moment for her alone. The satisfaction she feels is different from what she's used to; usually when she gets a man in her grasp it means she's won, and she supposes it still means the same thing in this situation but in a very different way.

His reply gets a sheepish grin out of her, one that makes her eyes fall between them before returning just as quickly with a mockery of her normal tone. "It is, it's actually quite a struggle. I've been working with coping mechanisms, they haven't been nearly as effective as I'd like but I think I'll survive."

Her smile softens into something rare and affectionate when he just barely tilts his head into her touch, and Natasha can't help but close her eyes when she hears him speak in her language with that soft southern drawl that she's grown to enjoy so much.

"Je ne pouvais pas vous laisser là. Tu mérites mieux." French this time, just to keep him distracted and thinking as she gently brushes her thumb against his cheekbone in response to the tilt of his head. "You have no reason to thank me."

"I'm so pleased to hear that," he murmurs, and the breath he'd needed to take for that next set of words hadn't driven the burning thirst into his throat quite so sharply. The motion of her thumb is distracting, verging on dangerous, but not there quite yet. He wouldn't go so far as to call it safe—he isn't certain he'd ever classify himself as 'safe' in any regard—but it's not crossing any lines that shouldn't be crossed either.

Switching up her languages, when discussing something as serious as this, it's working to keep his mind on that and not on anything that could lead to his becoming distracted, and his concentration slipping. "Begging your pardon, Natalia, but I believe I have every reason. Vous êtes venus pour moi, oui, mais alors vous êtes restés."

His eyes rest so easily on hers, it's so rare in any human that they can meet a vampire's too-steady gaze with such comfort. "Come with me to meet my family," he whispers. "Come with me to meet Alice."

That feeling, the fluttering in her stomach, it can all be explained with science, and that's what she tells herself. She's just a victim of serotonin being released into her system, giving her the impression of a lighter heart and a dizzy head, and yet knowing that doesn't seem to make it any easier... nor any less wonderful. She wants to believe that a little part of her hates him for making her feel this way, so unlike herself, but she doesn't. She simply can't.

"You shouldn't argue with a lady, Jasper." Her eyes move back up to his face now, and her thumb falls still as she holds him and moves just a centimeter closer, very aware of the lack of distance between them and how hard she needs to try to maintain the remainder. "
Nessuno voleva che restassi prima di voi."

His request leaves her staring at him, the thoughts turning around in her head over and over again, and she wants to say it aloud just so he can hear how absurd it sounds. Walking into a home of vampires to meet his psychic wife as she stands here on the balcony, experiencing such childish emotions from simply touching his face. Yet after a lingering moment, she finds herself nodding.

"Okay." She finally agrees, and the smile that moves to the surface is bright and genuine. "Alright. Bring me to your family."

"Only in the direst of circumstances would I ever dream of arguing with a lady, ma'am," he says with an innocent blink, and then she moves just that fraction of an inch closer and he goes still again. She says yes and it makes him smile, but he's very abruptly come up against the wall of his endurance.

He's just glad there's still breath enough to say, "Enough. Please." He knows she'll understand, there's a sharp enough plea in his eyes as he watches her. If she doesn't step back, several steps back, he'll need to leave, just what he'd been wanting to avoid. She'll forgive him, but he still doesn't want this moment to end like that, with him hopping the balcony and racing into the forest and running until the thirst falls away.

"Oh right, because you're a gentleman, I keep forgetting." She replies with the same tease in her voice and his smile only makes her shine that much brighter, unfaltering when he finally announces that he's hit his wall of tolerance. There's no hesitation in how she moves, graceful in the way her hand falls away from him and she takes several steps back as if floating centimeters above the balcony instead of walking against it. A second later she's back to leaning in the doorway, giving him space in the open air so the slight breeze can bring him new scents that aren't her own.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Her smile returns, arms wrapped around herself to keep warm against the slightly cool air, and she gives somewhat of a facial shrug paired with a shoulder to match. "That's a lot more control than I've seen in most mortal men, let alone someone like you." Her gaze softens into something kind and honest in a way she would usually keep to herself. "I'm proud of you." The swell of hesitant optimism in her matches her words, as if confirming for him that she means it. "Your family, you said that they're probably not going to have as much of a struggle with it? Being around me?"

The decreased proximity helps immediately, which is significant in and of itself to Jasper. Generally he needs to remove himself from the situation when he comes up against his limits. He can still remember how difficult it had been to be around Bella before she'd been turned. His horrific lapse at her birthday party. It had taken him weeks to forgive himself for that, in no small part due to Bella's immediate forgiveness, even in the moment.

It's easier with Natasha, it's been easier from the beginning, and he isn't certain if that isn't because she really is meant to be with them. Edward had grown accustomed to Bella so quickly, despite how enticing she'd smelled, more so than most humans. Is that happening to him? The compliment makes him duck his head and smile, before he looks up at her again, watching with a lopsided smile.

He can take a breath now and almost ignore entirely the burning thirst. "I can guarantee that. This isn't the first time we've experienced something like this...someone like you. Edward's wife Bella, she was human when they first met," he says, relaxing some now, the line of his shoulders loosens. "I had the most difficulty then too. Nearly killed her at her own birthday party once, just from a paper cut."

At the mention of Bella's birthday party Natasha gives him a sympathetic look, but it doesn't take long for her crooked smile to curl one side of her mouth once more. "But you didn't kill her," she points out, eyes moving up in thought. "Which, technically, is probably the best birthday gift someone could get, so. You know. Good job." By the time she looks back at him she's giving a full smile once more, but its obvious that she's slipping back into thought when it starts to slowly fade. Natasha likes being happy, whether she'll allow it, even subconsciously, is a different story.

"That's the second time you've mentioned that, now." She says it passively as her eyes fall back onto him. "The concept of someone being turned in the family. Earlier, when we were talking about Alice's vision you said that you didn't know if I was 'still human' when she saw me." It's something that Natasha had caught but filed away, knowing that bringing it up at that time wouldn't have gone well given the temper she was in. "I'm not going to make that promise to you." She's blunt about it, but she's never been one to dance around when she has a point to make. "I'm not saying that it won't happen either, one thing I've learned is that the future is always uncertain no matter how many psychics you have on your side, but I need to make that clear. That I'm not promising that."

She hesitates, and after the words leave her Natasha looks down at her feet. "I think that's something you should consider, both you and Alice. If I'm going to be a part of your life in some way..." she huffs a quiet laugh, but it's lacks amusement and it's mostly self depreciating. "I never really expected myself to see the age of forty in the first place, but even if I do make it, it's going to be hard to watch you stay young. And to know that you're going to lose me, if that's how this all works out."

It's only then that she manages to look up again, this time with a sheepish visage of uncertainty. "I don't live a safe life. Even if I did, I need to know that you're aware you're willing to get involved in this even if it means that you may end up watching me die, from either age or...something else."

It's a challenge sometimes to let her go on until she's finished and not to interject, but it's important to whatever this is going to be that they start out as they intend to continue, and Jasper isn't in the habit of interrupting. Everything she's saying matches up with everything she's feeling, and although it's a roiling tangle as it always is, he's relieved that they seem to have made up the ground he'd lost them by not being truthful.

There's a sharp yank of a hook in his heart at the idea of losing her when he's hardly even adjusted to the idea that they might have her in the first place, but when she's finished, he stirs, turning around again to look up at the stars, wishing again that Alice was there. They should be talking about this, the three of them, not just him muddling through on the brief understanding of Alice's vision, a vision which may not even be true anymore, for all he knows.

"Being turned is not something we would ever insist upon," he says quietly, staring out into the woods. "Not ever. We...none of us had the choice, except Bella. Alice was turned because it was the only way to protect her against being murdered by a vampire who had his sights on her. I was turned to be a part of Maria's army. Carlisle saved Edward and Esme and Rosalie and Emmett from their certain deaths. That's how it usually happens, when there's no other option. Even Bella waited to be turned until she was nearly gone, and she'd wanted it."

But that isn't what really needs addressing. "I can't say how this is going to work," he continues at last, sounding somehow weary even if he doesn't get tired anymore. "I don't know. I truly do not. But thus far, the only agreement you've made is to come meet Alice. I think leaving it at that for now is enough."

Although she hates that she feels the need to bring things like death and the future up, Natasha doesn't feel guilty for doing so even when Jasper seems to take it harder than she had originally expected. Death is something that she was raised with; sometimes framed as the enemy, others a friend and ally that helped her achieve an ultimate goal. She knows it intimately, perhaps more intimately than any person that's ever walked into her life, and one thing she's learned from such a close relationship with it is that avoiding it in any way, is absolutely useless.

"I know you wouldn't insist upon it." Partially because she can't see Jasper doing something like that, but partially because she feels as if he knows her well enough by now. Forcing something like immortality upon her unless the situation was dire would be an ultimate betrayal of her trust, and the end result would be a very angry, very violent newborn. "Let's leave it at that, then." She finishes with a slight nod. "But it's something to keep in the back of our minds. I just want you to know that I'm thinking about it, it's something that should play into whatever decisions we make."

He doesn't want to speak about it, that part is obvious. She trails off, instead watching him intently from her doorway, and after another passing moment she picks up again. "I'm going to get some sleep. We should keep moving tomorrow, every night we spend stationary because of me is a night that we fall behind." She's chewing the corner of her lip once more, deep in thought, but after she says it she stands straight and turns to walk back into the house. Natasha's voice floats over her shoulder with a softer tone. "Goodnight, Jasper."

He knows it's important. It's vital, if they're to have any future at all, to decide how to bring that about. But all of this, everything they've discussed, it all feels as though it's missing something, and it is, it's missing Alice. Maybe it's the familiarity of the house and the area, maybe it's growing closer to Natasha, but Alice's absence aches now inside him in a way it hadn't done at the cabin. He misses her, and he only thinks he's doing the right thing, he doesn't know. She'd always been good at being the one who knew.

"I understand," he says with a nod, half-turning his head to watch her out of the corner of his eye, silhouetted in the doorway. "It won't be dismissed or forgotten. Spokoynoi nochi, Natalia."

He'll spend the night looking through the house, seeing if he can find any clues to where they may have gone next, if Carlisle had wanted to return to an old haunt again or if they'd blazed a new path. In the morning, he'll hunt again. Then they'll plan their next move.

By the time Natasha wakes up the next morning, Jasper is already preparing to go out to hunt. She manages to find a washing machine, and she cleans the clothes that she brought with her just to have something to wear after eating a slice of pizza cold out of the box. He's gone, and because of that Natasha is hyper aware of the unfamiliar space around her. She spends the morning out on the balcony, staring out at the trees and listening to the silence in the air until it's suddenly gone, ripped into by the sound of an approaching engine.

She can't see anything yet and that doesn't matter. Natasha is immediately back inside, moving through the house to get into the garage, and she pops open the trunk of their car to grab her glock and a knife she can hide up the sleeve of her jacket. She closes it halfway before pausing, and Natasha goes back a second time to grab the Widow's Bite that Stark had perfected for her. She doesn't know if the approaching car is from HYDRA or from Jasper's past, but she knows two things for certain; she can shoot a HYDRA agent, and if vampires still have functioning muscles and tendons, she can probably electrocute them long enough to get some distance. However, that would require her to catch them unaware, and because of that Natasha hovers beside the front door away from the windows, listening intently.

Car stops. Door opens, door closes. Natasha stands there, holding her gun close, and she flicks off the safety as she risks glancing through the edge of the window to catch a glimpse of whoever the unexpected visitor is. She recognizes her immediately as she approaches the front door, probably because she knows that the garage is full.

It's Alice.

Natasha would be lying if she said that she hadn't been curious as to what the woman looked like, and she didn't have to wonder long with the amount of pictures that were hanging on the walls. She gives a sigh, falling back into position against the wall, but this time she closes her eyes and winces at the ceiling before turning the safety back on and slipping her gun into the back of her jeans. Of course it's Alice, with the way Jasper speaks of her Natasha's surprised she hadn't expected the second vampire to come and find them herself, and she realizes in that moment that she's not ready. She's not ready for this, meeting the woman who's been married to the man that Natasha is far too attached to; the one who apparently believes Natasha to be a future love, which sounds absurdly juvenile when she thinks it.

It isn't like she can avoid her, and Natasha doesn't run away from confrontation. Instead she opens the front door, leaning in the doorway to watch Alice climb up the stairs, and when she's close enough to see clearly the redhead gives a smile that she truly means to be genuine, but doesn't quite meet her eyes. "He's going to be thrilled when he gets back."

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."

"You know a lot, from what I hear." Natasha holds her smile as she shakes Alice's hand, and she suddenly feels so remarkably out of place. Jasper isn't like her, he has a life and a family that worries about him, a wife who's willing to follow the visions in her head to hunt him down and meet him as soon as he's close enough to do so. Simply standing there across from the petite woman and her warm smile is enough to make Natasha doubt every decision she's made in the past two weeks, because really, what the hell is she doing here? There are more than enough holes in her life for Jasper to fill, but she has nothing to offer him in return. Everything he needs, he has right in the woman standing before her, and Alice has just as much as he does. Natasha is nothing more than icing, something enjoyable but not necessary.

"My schedule has suddenly opened up, it's not like I had a lot of other things to concentrate on." She lets her hand fall away, and despite how nervous and uncertain she is, Natasha refuses to let any of it show on the surface. Instead she's collected, her walls up even though Jasper isn't here to feel her emotions, because they were never there to keep him out. They exist to keep everyone out.

Natasha moves aside to let Alice in, not wanting to get in the way considering it's much more hers than Natasha's. "Jasper told me that you had a vision of me coming with him and I didn't really see why not. I would still be in the cabin if I didn't." She pauses for a moment, watching the other woman intensely as if trying to pick up on something that she can't see upon first glance. "He told me the truth last night, about what you saw. Would have been nice if he shared with the class before we drove halfway across the country but like I said... I don't have much to lose. You saw us here? Is that how you found us?" Because if they were tracked, then Natasha is a lot rustier than she thought she was.

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