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Curse.
This gift of mine was often a curse, haunting me with the could-have-beens, the should-have-beens, the missed opportunities and the lost moments. But when it came to the boy with the green-turned-topaz eyes, and the girl with the heart-shaped face, there was only ever one outcome.
They met, time and time and time again, it was inevitable, and it always made worlds move when it did. I could always see the look of shock in his eyes as he took her in, sometimes because he had inhaled that mouth-watering freesia scent which was just so her, but more often because she gave him that full-hearted smile, the one that captured him. Every. Single. Time.
I had seen so many things, but my visions of this boy and girl were almost as powerful of those controlled by the brooding blonde-haired man – Jasper. He was coming for me, though he didn’t even know it yet, just like the bronze-haired boy searched for her, the girl with the intoxicating scent, the girl with the warm brown eyes and hair, the girl whose name, in every single universe, was always Bella Swan.
And she was destined to be my sister. Just as surely as the boy with the topaz eyes was to become my brother. It was fate. I had seen it, oh, so many times, that I did not doubt their arrival in my life, that I could not doubt their arrival in each others lives.
That arrival was always a moment of pure bliss, for both of them, a brief moment, less than a second, and it was always like coming home for them. There was nothing that could prevent Bella from finding her bronze-haired boy, her Edward. They were the one constant, the one love that was destined to happen in every single scenario. Not death, not life, not wives or husbands, not parents, nor sadness, nor any single one of the things which would usually divert the course of ones life could interfere with their love.
No matter what changed, whether she moved to a different country, whether he was alive or ‘dead’, they always managed to find each other. I watched the numerous changes in awe of the forces surrounding them. It was as though the universe itself wanted them, need them, to be together.
It was always destined.
And if there was one thing I was sure about, it was destiny.
1918
It was a dark day, a cold day, but otherwise a normal day for the middle of January. There was snow on, and beyond, the windows, and a large fire crackled from the fireplace, keeping the small room warm. The boy with the tousled hair sat at his battered upright piano, his fingers tracing the familiar keys. It was a hand-me-down, a present from an aunt who had hoped to encourage his musical skill. It was second-hand, not so much because his family was poor, which they were not, but because of the sentimental value. It did not matter that the F-sharp key, just above middle C, always stuck, holding the note for far too long and ruining the effect of the otherwise beautiful piece. Nor did it matter that the black vinyl was cracked and chipped. This was a remnant of his childhood and Edward Masen would not have traded it for the best piano in the world, though he did sometimes wonder what it would be like to play such a fine instrument.
A small smile traced his lips, tugging at the corners, begging to be released. But he had far too much control for it to be known that his greatest pleasure came from this simple piano. He knew that he would miss the comforting ebony and ivory keys if the politicians did as they were threatening and lowered the age of the draft to 18. He was not even seventeen yet, a few short months from the birthday which would bring him closer to his goal, but he would be proud to do his duty. To defend all they stood for against their enemy would be the greatest honour, he wanted to go and assist the Allied Forces. Edward knew his mother worried, though they had not discussed the possibility, he knew she was afraid of him going to war. Where he embraced it for the glory of war, she abhorred it – she could think of nothing worse than to lose her only son.
The sound of tinkling glass drew his attention to the kitchen, accompanied by swearing from the mouth of his usually decorous mother. Edward jumped from the stool and strode quickly down the hall, towards the sound, his gangly legs halting in the doorway, vivid green eyes assessing the destruction before him. That smile tugged at his lips again as he saw what had become of the final jar of sugar – it was scattered, the small crystals impossible to separate from the glittering shards of glass which were the remnants of the container. His mother glared down at the mess tainting her usually pristine tiled floor, two small hands clenched to her waist, a small frown creasing her forehead.
“Edward. Shop. Now,” Elizabeth Masen ordered her son, one slender finger pointing in the direction of the front door as though it would make her meaning clearer. She needn’t have bothered. He gave her a quirky smile as he strode forward and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, picking up a few coins on his way past.
“If you think that’s going to make me forget that you stayed up all night playing that wretched piano, you’d be sorely mistaken. Shop. Now.”
He was halfway down the second block, barely half a block from the store, when a strong wind tangled itself in his hair, obscuring his vision for the briefest moment. This brief moment was also enough for the impertinent wind to claim his poorly wrapped scarf. The streets were, understandably, empty, the freezing temperatures keeping the inhabitants of these luxurious homes within their brick walls, where they had strong fires to keep them warm. He watched helplessly for a moment as his scarf flew away from him on the strong breeze, before recovering his senses and bolting after it. The fabric took him on a three street chase before it alit on a wrought iron gate, weaving itself like a vice around the hand of a young girl and the latch she had just reached to open.
The wind had also claimed her long, unbound brown hair, curling it into its fingers, causing the tendrils to obscure her vision. She was unable to pull herself free from the rogue scarf, and Edward leapt forward to assist. His slender digits, inherited, like his eyes, from his mother, swiftly untangled the offending garment, freeing her hand once more. She drew the mass of her hair away from her face, tucking it beneath her own deep blue scarf, it’s colour made to match her long dress. The brunette smiled up at him with warm brown eyes and took on of his hands in two of hers.
“Thank you, so very much, sir. I was quite afraid that I would never get my hand free! I do suppose that the whole predicament was as much my own fault as the wind’s however – Mother did tell me to pin my hair up before going out, but I was in such haste…” her sincere voice trailed off, her hands falling to her waist, though she still continued to smile at him, rendered somewhat weak by the presence of this handsome man.
“It was my pleasure, after all it was my scarf which decided to secure you to this gate. Edward Masen, at your service,” he bowed as he had been taught, like the polite young man he was expected to be, before taking one of those warm hands in his own cold one, half frozen by the cold.
“Oh no, where are my manners? My name is Isabella Swan, my family and I live here.” She indicated the house beside us, whose gate and my scarf had left her in such a predicament. He kissed her hand and gave her a crooked smile, one which filled her simultaneously with happiness and fear.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Isabella Swan.”
She blushed, and it was all he could do not to kiss her there and then, impropriety be damned.
It was also the one time I did not see the blonde-haired Doctor, the man with the golden eyes, make him one of us. The one time, the one future, where I was left without a brother. The others of that reality would not know that we were missing one of our number, that was my curse to bear in that life, a side effect of this cursed gift. But that version of me felt their absence. I mourned as our futures diverged – all because his mother decided to let him leave this world peacefully, his fingers intertwined with those of his beloved fiancée. I watched them pass from this world to the next, and if I could have cried, I would have.
But that was only one of many possible futures, and it would not be the last I saw of the bronze haired boy and the blushing other half of his soul.
I doubt that any of you are still out there, I know I've been gone for quite some time now. This is my second Twilight fic, and it'll be a series of short one-shots told either from Alice's perspective, or told in first person. Its a plot bunny that won't leave me alone. I don't know how often I'll be able to update this, as I have my big exams in a few weeks. But after that, I'll be completely re-writing the first chapter of Inversion, and continuing it. Also I'll be doing the sequel to To Save Her (if any of you care anymore) and possibly a few others :) I can't wait to get back into it, so I'll see you all in 6 weeks or so (if this plot bunny leaves me alone, which I doubt it will)
xx Usa
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