Author: Samantha Minuet PM
This is my version of Twilight told from Alice's point of view. Many characters have different back-stories, because Bella was the first vampire Carlisle turned. AU Story, non-canon relationships. Alice/BellaRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Angst - Alice & Bella - Chapters: 12 - Words: 39,190 - Reviews: 72 - Favs: 101 - Follows: 183 - Updated: 01-03-13 - Published: 10-04-11 - id: 7436523
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Hello all, this was a story I originally wrote under the FanFic pen name Reflections of a Curious Mind. This is an Alternate Universe story that is basically my version of Twilight with Alice as the main protagonist. Expect a lot of changes, including a couple of new characters and villains.
Stephanie Meyer penned the story that I'm basing this on, and I'm blatantly using those characters and settings without her permission. Still no copyright infringement is intended!
Chapter One: A New Home
She was holding me tightly, far more closely then I had ever been held before. Well, in a way that I had never been held. It felt familiar, and loving; yet somehow vaguely sensual and possessive. I loved that feeling, the security and sense of family. I was aching for it, and she knew how I felt intimately. Her long hair whipped around us in the strong winds of the rain swept night, and I was aware that we were surrounded by trees. Not small trees either, but the massive stalks of a nearly untouched forest.
I looked up into her silvery face, skin so flawless, smooth, and white that it looked like porcelain. But hazy, as if I had just opened my eyes from a long sleep. Then she meet my gaze with a pair of eyes so intense, and so beautiful that I shivered involuntarily. The molten gold orbs seemed wickedly unnatural, but they beamed compassion and utter trust at me. I wanted to look away, afraid of the fire in those eyes. But I was compelled to search them, in an attempt to try and find something elusive.
I couldn't remember what I was looking for, even as the closeness I felt with her began to fade into a normal dream. Then at the last second I realized I wanted to see her face, fully so I could remember every line. My goddess, my love, the creature that would steal my soul, and claim my heart as hers. But the fleeting dream flitted away before I could get a solid look. I rolled myself awake in frustration, and stared at the ceiling for a long time, before the pillow started to make me sneeze.
I covered my nose quickly, and ran to the tiny bathroom, because the last thing I wanted to do was wake Cyn. It was the first time I had seen her get to sleep since... I closed my eyes tightly to stop the grief from flowing up into my throat. I looked around the closet pretending to be a motel bathroom, and sat deflated on the toilet seat. Since I couldn't stop myself from wanting to go home and curl up in my soft bed. Except I couldn't ever return to either, my bed was being shipped across the country. And my home was in the same kind of transition. Except it was an emotional one, since my idea of home was gone forever.
I gave up and let in the flood of emotions, and just tried to ride the wave of memories. I still felt shock that close to three weeks had passed, since every second felt like an eternity. The call was impossible to handle, but even harder was telling my sister. The woman on the other end of the phone was polite and sympathetic. She broke the torturous news to me as softly as she could. But no amount of softening could stop the dagger of pain from piercing my heart.
She didn't go into specifics, but said enough to get my imagination going wildly. A unknown assailant, apparently a mugger, held up and shot my parents at point blank range. My mother was intensive care for almost three days before her heart gave out. But my dad had died quickly, and painfully. He bled out from a wound to the chest, before the ambulance arrived. I imagined him calling out to me and Cyn before he died. Sometimes it was horrible to have a creative mind.
I forced the emotions down into my gut, and I almost had to claw my way back up to my feet. I stumbled out into the cramped motel room, just large enough for two double sized beds and a few pieces of furniture. The ancient television flickered with snow, and I nearly shut it off until I looked at it fully. Outlined in the random geometric shapes, her face began to form little by little. After images from a powerful dream, or perhaps a prophetic one.
Not that prophetic dreams were unusual for me, they came thickly and often. Mostly resulting in moments of absolute deja vu, a sensation that was akin to living in a dream. Still I couldn't imagine this one becoming reality. Because the woman whose face I couldn't see, was beyond human. To me she seemed more like an angel, or goddess, waiting for me in some future after my life was over. I wondered when that would be. Was I going to be around for a long time, or I was destined to die young. I laid back down, pondering the vicious cycle of answerless questions, wincing at the squeak produced by the bed's over used springs. Then I forced myself back into a dreamless sleep.
My sister got me up too early, and I had to wipe away the grit from my eyes. It was an after effect of the tears I must've cried in my sleep. I felt puffy and drained, but I had to shrug it off and pretend to be the old Alice. The bright girl that saw only the brightness of the future, instead of the cold bitterness of reality. But I couldn't really lie to her, she knew I was only faking it. My sister was far to intuitive to be fooled by my charade. Still, it was a game that I had to play, for her sake.
Cynthia was a lot of things, compassionate, empathic, ambitious, curious, kind, but ultimately fragile. She cried herself to sleep every night, and tried to hide how broken she was. We had our roles, and we acted them out for each other, and maybe a little for ourselves. I hoped that one day in the near future, we wouldn't need to act anymore. Even in this pit of grief, a part of me felt that was true. But it was a vague hope, like the delusions of childhood dreams.
We packed up our bags and hit the road again, my dad's canary yellow Porsche 911 turbo was thankfully untouched. I caressed my hand across the top of the hood, and felt myself smile in spite of my melancholy mood. I was still in love with the car, and I was still bitterly happy about getting to keep it. But dad made it very clear in the will that it was mine, and it was fully paid for. At least we didn't want for anything, our trust funds would keep us going for a long time. It was our family legacy, but it was a small concession to the loss.
Thankfully I was eighteen, which made this road trip viable. It was a long way from Manhattan to Forks Washington, but at least we were doing it in style. I had to smirk at that, I still had my sense of identity and fashion sense. The last leg of the trip was uneventful, but seemed a little surreal. Washington state was beautiful, and I was awed by the landscape. But I had this eerie sense of foreboding, like I was driving straight into a hurricane.
It didn't help that we didn't see the sun once, and it only stopped raining for like twenty minutes until we pulled into the absurdly small town. At least we didn't have gawkers staring at my overly ostentatious car, which suddenly felt utterly out of place, as we made our way through downtown Forks. Aunt Celia's directions were pretty good, but I spent close to ten minutes trying to find the right turn off. When I finally did find a driveway, which was almost invisible from the road, I had to cut hard to make the turn. If I was driving a lesser car, I would've missed it.
The long stretch of driveway started to make me nervous, unsure if we had just taken a random back road leading to some nature preserve, or some hunter's hideaway. I really didn't want to offend some random men sitting around in camouflage, drinking beers, and brandishing large guns meant to kill even larger animals. Then the forest opened up into a massive open area, with a palatial white plantation house nestled perfectly in the center of the clearing.
The classic lines, and wraparound porch were stunning. I knew our family had money, but this was beyond anything I could've imagined. One side of the large set of double doors, which served as the front entrance, opened quickly. A striking teenage boy around my age poked his head out, and I immediately knew I was in the wrong place. I winced as he casually walked down the stairs towards my car. He did pause to admire it, and then leaned down once he got to the driver's side window. I glanced at Cynthia who was still napping, and rolled down the window quickly so he wouldn't have to knock.
"Hey, I think I made a wrong turn." I spoke softly so I wouldn't wake my sister. He chuckled and nodded, his deep green eyes glinting brightly with mirth. He took the time to examine both of us, and nodded once.
"You could say that again, where you looking to go?" His voice was very pleasant, and his measured tone was incredibly soothing. Still he was considerate of my sleeping sister, by keeping his voice to a low volume.
"The turn is supposed to be near mile marker 17? At least that's what my Aunt said." I grimaced, and shrugged. He creased his eyebrows for a moment, then the left side of his mouth curled into a lopsided smirk. I took the time to examine his features, and they were simply stunning. If I were in to boys, he would be everything I would want. I really wanted to keep my sister asleep now, since I knew she would go nuts over this boy. Or at least she would've before the incident.
"Yeah you're about a mile off, you should go back out the way you came and turn right. The turn should be on the left about a mile up the road. You visiting?" I shook my head at his question, but didn't feel compelled to explain myself.
"Nope, here to stay. Thanks for the directions, I'm really sorry for trespassing." He shook his head at me, and smiled brightly.
"Not at all, I'm Zach by the way, Zachary Cullen." I smiled at him and thought about how to respond. He already knew where I was going to live, and he would be a neighbor. So I thought I should start off right. But this time I wouldn't be labeled with my hated first name, and I would finally be rid of Mary.
"Alice. It's nice to meet you. You go to school here?" He nodded and rolled his eyes in mock excitement.
"That much fun huh?" I asked warily.
"You have no idea. I'll see you around Alice. It was nice to meet you." He smiled and nodded goodbye. Then he turned, and ran back into the house. Just as the rain began to pick back up again. I quickly rolled my window up, gave once last glance at the gorgeous house, then turned back towards the road.
The house at the end of my journey wasn't anything like I imagined. And it was completely opposite from the simple yet massive house I had just left. In a way it looked like an overgrown art project, and the oppressively tree shaded property seemed strangely ominous. Still it was beautiful in its own way, the modern architecture was striking and elaborate.
There were several roofs, all at different angles. The supporting building was broken up into three distinct structures. The center was one massive square that was obviously the main hub. It had a fairly traditional tapered angular roof, but it was covered in a richly dark shingle laid in an a-symmetrical pattern. Each wing off of that main square was different. The left was curved into the forest behind it, appearing to almost disappear towards the back. Also the clay tile on that roof was laid out in geometric mosaic, that sat about five feet lower than the center.
The right side was another departure from tradition, appearing to be almost entirely glass, albeit mirrored glass. The exposed frame between each pane of glass seemed be a heavily stained redwood, or faux wood grain. It also had a flat roof, and huge balcony that seemed to hover over a large ditch with a tiny creek running along the bottom of it. The only binding thing running through the design, that made any sort of sense to me, was the darkly stained horizontal redwood siding that seemed to be trying to camouflage the house with the surrounding wilderness. I nudged Cynthia awake and she blinked at the schizophrenichouse. Her face shifted quickly to confusion, and then finally she settled on an incredulous expression.
"You've got to be kidding me. I knew pops was a nut, but this is just weird." She sounded amused and slightly horrified. So I nodded in agreement, she was right on too many levels. Our grandfather was brilliant, and insane. He was an architect by trade, and spent his entire life creating things that people paid a lot of money for. I turned back to the house, after examining my sister's face. Then I really tried to absorb what he had created. It was beautiful in an odd sort of way, and it fit our family. Only somehow it seemed like more of a tribute to styles, then a coherent design. I had to smile at that, my own fashion took from a lot of places to achieve a desired look. I guess I didn't get it from anyone strange.
"I don't know, I think I like it. I wonder what it's like on the inside. Still I can't believe Celia lives here, it is so not her style." Cyn chuckled at me, and I looked over giggling with her. We both looked back at the house, and then took a deep breath in nearly unison as I turned off the engine. Then we both got out, and ran through the rain as quickly as we could. The slate stone driveway was rough under my heels, but at least I was wearing something moderately sensible for long distance driving.
Just as we got within range to reach for the doorbell, the surprisingly normal sized redwood front door swung inward. My chest paused all motion for a moment, as my heart jumped into my throat. I forgot how much they looked alike. I wasn't sure how I could deal with living with the identical twin of my dead mother. But it was only a short pause, because in every way she was like my mom, there were a dozen ways she wasn't.
Cynthia held up better than I thought she would, and just rushed into a tight hug. I joined them a few seconds later, and we lingered in that embrace for longer then we would've normally. Aunt Celia eventually pushed us away but kept a hand on each of our shoulders. Then she looked between us closely, trying to get a good look at both of us at the same time.
"I'm so glad you're here. Come in. Make yourselves comfortable." We moved into the front room. Which had a vaulted ceiling, and a huge grand staircase leading to a second floor balcony. The interior design was tasteful and eclectic, ranging in tastes from the ultra modern, to slightly Asian inspired themes. Artwork and photographs hung from the walls, and the furniture was simple and situated perfectly. I sat on a very comfortable plush suede couch and kicked off my shoes so I could pull my feet under me.
"So how was the trip?" She continued as we got settled. Cyn took the other side of the couch. She slipped off her hideous sandals, and curled into as small a ball as she could manage without falling over.
"It was long, and the motels sucked. Alice kept going too long and we got stuck in small towns with crappy choices." I frowned at my sister, but shrugged. She was right, I got so into driving that I often forgot to stop in the bigger cities.
"Yeah, I got too into driving." I added sourly. Aunt Celia looked at me for a moment, then sighed softly.
"Ok, you guys hungry?" She asked in a fairly motherly tone. We both nodded, and she got up immediately.
"I'll go fix an early dinner, and try to make yourselves feel like home. I know this will be hard, but I'm convinced we can make this work. Why don't you explore, and pick out your new rooms."
"Sure. But first, do you have a clicker for the garage. I hate to leave my baby out in the rain." She almost snorted at me, but pointed to a small table by the front door. I jumped up and pulled my shoes back on. Then I made my way over to the table. On it were two sets of keys, and an expensive looking garage door opener. I grabbed one set and the clicker, and then ran out to my car. As soon as I sat down and closed the door, I realized that she was right. We had to try and make this feel like home. I had a year of school left, but I had to make sure Cynthia adjusted. She was only fifteen, and this was going to be our house for the foreseeable future.
"Welcome home Alice." I whispered to myself, not sure if I really wanted to accept the truth of my new life.