Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters. No profit is being made from this story.


There's a girl in his room.

It irritates Edward that this is his first thought – this hasn't happened before, ever - but thankfully he's capable of tracking a multitude of concepts and designs at once. He's carefully considering the thoughts of his family below, three distinct voices explaining simultaneously and silently about the pair of vampires who had swept into their house, one mischief personified and the other danger. Mischief had greeted them all by name, known details that were frightening given the family's attempts at secrecy, and then asked when she could move in. Danger had not said a word.

Fragments of these memories flicker through the family's minds. They're explaining who the scarred man on the back porch is to a flexing Emmett, who was hunting with Edward when the pair arrived and is barely restraining his instincts now they're home. Edward fights to piece the shards together into one complete mirror as Mischief hums the song he was planning to play after he'd changed.

"Who are you?" Edward snaps, realising belatedly that she's emptying the last of his belongings from his drawers by the window into a crate at her feet.

The girl, seraphic in grace but imp-like in stature, spins perfectly on the toes of her left foot and leaps over the crate between them. She stills; she beams.

"You must be Edward," she says.

Edward growls.

"My name is Alice," she continues, unperturbed. "I hope you don't mind. Your room had the best view, and there's only one of you to move, and it seemed fairer to move just you than Carlisle and Esme or Emmett and Rosalie." She smiles. When he doesn't return the expression, she shrugs, unsurprised.

Alice sits on the bed. Edward growls again, louder. This is more of a snarl.

"Don't worry," she says. "You and I are going to be the best of friends. You'll forgive me for this soon enough. It won't even take a week."

Her smile is like a sunbeam, and the rays through the window on her skin cast rainbow designs across the walls. If this had been thirty years ago, he would have completely forgotten her presence, enraptured by the pattern. The fact that her honey eyes only consider the colors for a moment before returning to his tells him they must be a similar age.

"I have a gift too, Edward." She pats the bed beside her, inviting him to sit. He shakes his head and keeps his difference. She shrugs, again unsurprised. "Listen to me," she says with another sunshine smile.

"I am."

She rolls her eyes then closes them. "Not like that. You know, your kind of listening."

With a sigh, he focuses in on her mind, then reels back at the images launched at him. A patient grin is smeared across her face, and she is showing him things he cannot comprehend.

Edward squeezes his eyes shut too, in concentration. The colors inside his mind are far more intriguing than those on the wall.

They are images of the pair of them, clearly in different parts of the country, different seasons, with different members of the family, but in every one they are together, stood no further than a few yards apart, even when Jasper grasps Alice's hand or they are engaged in totally distinct activities.

"What is this?" Edward asks, eyes still closed, watching Alice watch him play the piano.

The images stop. Her eyes open and his follow. "Our future."

In his cloudy existence, spells of sunshine.


Thank you to Kyrene and telrracs for the beta. These are 28 vignettes, one for every day of February (yes, daily updates), all Alice/Edward canon moments over sixty years, and ostensibly for Shereebedee, because of the awesome surprises she made for the Rehabbers this Christmas.

This was cheaper than two dozen pizzas, Sheree. (: