CHAPTER TWO:
IN ANOTHER LIFETIME

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FORKS, WASHINGTON WAS JUST like Ofelia Torres thought it would be; cold, wet and gloomy. Granted, the lack of sun was a new experience for her, allowing her to roam free in the tiny town without worrying about sparkling like a disco ball, but the constant rain wasn’t exactly pleasant, to say the least. Ofelia, in a hurry after agreeing to witness for the Cullens, hadn’t thought to ask Alice where in Forks her family lived; before she knew it, she had packed up the few things she wanted to take with her and the two had gone their separate ways. Alice didn’t tell her where she was going, and Ofelia didn’t feel the need to ask.

Admittedly, that was a stupid decision on her end.

Setting out onto the streets, an umbrella over her head in a futile attempt to protect her dark hair from the drizzling rain, Ofelia wasn’t sure where to begin. The last human she’d properly spoken to, not counting her kills, was a drunken woman Ofelia had nursed back to sobriety in the 1970s. Alone out on the street at the mere age of eighteen, Ofelia had pitied the poor girl. However, thirty years had gone by since then, so with her general lack of social skills, she felt terribly out of place. Ofelia wasn’t used to uncertainty. Ever since her escape to freedom, Ofelia had existed with the confidence of a predator stalking its prey. She refused to ever bow down to anyone again, especially not over something as ridiculous as speaking to a lowly human.

With a frustrated sigh as the rain picked up, splattering the toe of her combat boots with mud, she entered the first shop she came across. She was relieved to feel the warmth of the heater rather than the startling icy touch of the wind, closing her umbrella and adjusting the sunglasses she wore to hide the startling hue of her eyes.

“Excuse me,” she cleared her throat hesitantly, watching the woman who sat behind a desk towards the back of the shop. Judging from the tall shelves housing books of all genres, Ofelia assumed she’d entered a book store. It had been a very long time since Ofelia read a book, so as she wandered up to the counter, she eyed the titles with great interest. Some she recognised, some she didn’t. The tragic beauty of time carrying on while she stayed frozen.

“Yes?” the lady looked up, pale blonde hair framing her ageing face. “What can I help you with, my dear?”

“Uh,” Ofelia stuttered over her words for a moment before forcefully coughing them out. Ofelia Torres did not stutter, she thought to herself with a mirthless chuckle. “I’m looking for the Cullen cov-family. Can you tell me where they live?”

“What do you want with the Cullens?” she asked curiously, continuously glancing at the glasses Ofelia kept firmly on the bridge of her nose. With no sun outside and the dim lighting within the shop, she had no reason to be wearing them, but Ofelia didn’t care what the lady thought of her as long as she got the damn address. 

“I’m a family friend,” she said simply, her patience already running thin. She always hated the curious nature of humans. One must always know everyone else’s business, especially in a small town such as this, where the most exciting news was the ‘oh-so ridiculous’ change of their garbage pick-up day. “If you could just point me in the right direction…”

Sweetness dripped off her words like honey. They were acidic on her tongue, burning holes through the marble, but sounded like heaven on earth. The woman instantly relaxed, smiling serenely, while reaching for a pen as she began to chat away to Ofelia like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Just a few minutes later, she had a slip of paper with an address on it and a poorly drawn map the woman had so kindly given to her. Making her way back outside, the umbrella back over her head, Ofelia went on her way. The closer she got to 420 Woodcroft Avenue, the more nervous she began to feel. It was a strange feeling, anxiety. With infrequent visits from Peter and Charlotte, Ofelia had no reason to be anxious on her lonesome, yet this was different. She was about to see him again, see his family, his friends. Ofelia was about to see what she could have had with Jasper Whitlock - now Hale - had she not decided freedom was worth more to her than solace. Some days, she regretted leaving him behind. Other days, she didn’t. Today happened to be one of the days where she yearned for him more than she longed for adventure.

As it so happened, the Cullens lived in a house in the woods. The moment she was out of eyesight, she discarded her glasses and umbrella into a nearby ditch and took off running through the trees. With the thick branches and leaves entangled above her head, she was shielded from most of the rain, free to dance about in the open air like a traveller returning home after a long time on the road. Ofelia could almost sense Jasper’s presence as she stepped up to the edge of what she assumed was the Cullen driveway, eyeing the intricate sight before her with interest.

420 Woodcroft Avenue was a two-storey building nestled into a clearing in the woods. Unlike Ofelia’s cottage, the walls were made of tinted glass and fine oak wood, a neatly cut lawn and a garden lining the gravel driveway where several fancy cars were parked. It was beautiful, but very attention-seeking. Not Ofelia’s cup of tea, but perhaps it was for them. If she listened closely, she could just hear the murmur of voices coming from inside and out in the backyard. They set her on edge, a vulnerable feeling she absolutely despised, but Ofelia did her best to brush it away as she held her head high and made her way up to the door. Just as her foot touched the first step of the front deck, the door snapped open and out stepped an unfamiliar bronze-haired man.

“Can I help you?” he asked, eyeing her curiously but cautiously. Ofelia looked him over for a moment. His eyes were a bright gold, even lighter than Alice’s. His hair was a messy array of bronze locks that contrasted his neatly pressed button-up and jeans. Unfamiliar, yes, but not entirely unrecognisable. He was just like Alice described him to be.

“You must be Edward, the father of the child,” she declared. Judging by his raised eyebrow, she was correct. “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into trouble with the Volturi.”

At that, his expression hardened, jaw locked defensively. “And who did you hear that from?” 

“News travels fast.” Alice’s face appeared in her head, warm and soft. At the image of his sister, his eyes grew wide with shock, the tension fell from his shoulders. Ofelia smiled in delight, not quite pretty and not quite malicious either. “So, may I come in or shall I just wait out here?”

“Of course you can come in,” he cleared his throat with a cough, opening the door completely and stepping aside. “Everyone’s in the living room.”

The inside of the house was just as nice as the outside. Soft cream walls peaked out behind stunning pieces of art, some historic and some modern to match the theme of the furniture littered about. Edward appeared by her side once he had locked the door, gesturing her over to a flight of clear glass stairs, pausing for a moment as she gaped at the large frame housing over a hundred graduation caps. 

‘That’s one thing I don’t regret about leaving,’ she thought to herself. 

Edward shot her a confused frown as they continued on their way to the living room, but he didn’t question her as they made their way through the door. It seemed to make sense to him then, the puzzle pieces falling into place. Several pairs of eyes had glanced over at her curiously, but Ofelia Torres only paid attention to one of them. He was just as she remembered him to be, Edward noted with a frown. Curls the colour of honey framed the sides of his face, falling soft in contrast to his sharp jawline. Familiar scars littered his arms in the shape of ruthless teeth (Ofelia felt the familiar piercing ache in her own arms) peeking out from where he had rolled up the sleeves of his navy sweater knitted by Alice during her knitting phase. The only difference, Ofelia realised, was the colour of his eyes. Ofelia had stayed motionless in time since that fateful night in 1863, but Jasper Hale had bravely ventured into the unknown, eventually coming out on the other side with eyes to match his hair. They were no longer one whole, rather two halves of the same soul, only jarred out of place by different desires.

"Ofelia?" Jasper frowned in disbelief, rising to his feet in an instant as she stepped further into the room. Hair swept wild by the wind, clothes torn by wildlife, she looked severely out of place amongst the carefully placed Cullens she got closer and closer to with each slow step. The foot between her and him felt like a mile and then some, a centimetre or less. "Is that really you?"

Another smile graced her lips as the rest of the Cullens looked on in realisation rather than their previous confusion. A tiny child with a strange heartbeat poked her head around Bella Cullen's legs, but Renesmee Cullen was the last thing on Ofelia's mind in that moment. He had spoken about her, she thought with a pang of satisfaction that greatly amused the bronze-haired boy lingering behind her. Her grin danced like the devil on her lips and Jasper was mesmerised by it, blinking like a man who had never seen a woman before. How unlike Jasper Whitlock. "Do you seriously not recognise me, Whitlock? I have to say, I'm disappointed in you."

"Ofelia," he repeated in subtle wonder, a huff to his voice that said 'Seriously, Ofelia Torres? As if I don't recognise you?'

"We have a lot to talk about," she said after a moment of silence, her eyes locked solely on where he stood with taut shoulders. They were in a room full of people, strangers and family alike, but all they were able to see and sense was each other, Edward noticed wryly. How strange it was to meet the woman his brother boasted about, thought so strongly for.

"We do," Jasper agreed slowly as a dose of realisation and reality set in once more. The who, what, when, where and why were more important than the familiar thrum of life growing in his chest, even if he didn't want them to be.

They had so much to talk about, about fifty years to catch up on, and very little time left in the hourglass.

How very Jasper and Ofelia of them, she noted, to meet again at the end of the world.

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A/N: Omg look at me go with the double update. I honestly can't remember the last time I was this productive lol, so go take the opportunity to check out the recently published chapters for my Embry Call fic 'Pretty Ordinary' and one of my two George Weasley fics 'Bleed Out.' At this point, I'm just trying to distract myself from the fact I get my HSC results and my ATAR in a little under twelve hours. So yeah, while this chapter might be a bit shorter, I'd still love to hear what you think! Thank you so much for reading, I'm trying my best to get back into my Twilight fics as the new year comes around so hopefully you guys will be getting more of Ofelia and co in the coming months <3