A/N: This is just an idea I've been carrying around for a while, but as I had no idea where exactly I wanted to got with it, I didn't start writing until yesterday. Alice and Rosalie have whisked Bella away to New York—to try on wedding dresses, among other things, never mind that Bella already has a dress. Things don't go quite the way Alice has planned and when they take a short trip to the bank they find themselves in more trouble than they could have imagined.

It's already half finished. I hope you enjoy reading it; I certainly enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga is property of Stephenie Meyer; I'm only borrowing.

New York, New York

First Chapter…

…where Bella Swan finds herself in her personal nightmare

"Gorgeous!" the sales assistant, a lanky, blond creature with so much make-up that it was hard to see what she really looked like, gushed, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

Bella Swan gave her a sweet smile, but the look she shot over her shoulder at her soon-to-be sister-in-law wasn't quite so sweet. Unfazed, Alice smiled back at her, then turned to the sales assistant to issue yet another set of orders before she shooed Bella back into the dressing room.

"You're impossible," Bella hissed as she struggled to slip out of the wedding dress that was monstrous in every sense of the word, a heap of white satin and lace. Alice gave no answer; she probably wasn't even listening, but then she hadn't been listening to a word of what Bella had said all morning, so she wasn't too surprised. Annoyed, maybe. Yes, definitely annoyed, but there was only so much she could do about it and she'd long since realised that things were easier if she simply went along with what Alice wanted. Bella had sworn herself that this would change as soon as she was married and changed, when Alice was no longer able to throw her over her shoulder and all but drag her on a plane.

Not that she'd—quite—done that, but the iron grip she'd held Bella's arm in had been close enough. Bella had been tempted; the security guards at the airport would certainly have rushed to her aid if she claimed she was being kidnapped, but the warning glare Alice had shot her had kept her from acting on her idea. She wondered briefly if Edward had known what his sister intended. If he had, they'd have words as soon as she got back to Forks. Bella's nerves were strained as it was; the wedding was only a few weeks away and Alice was pestering her with details almost every day now. These days she preferred to be alone. In fact, everyone except Alice gave her as much space as she wanted because everyone—including Carlisle, who had nothing to do with the wedding preparations at all—had found themselves on the receiving end of Bella's temper at one point. She wasn't one to throw a tantrum, but Alice just didn't seem to know—or care; you never knew with her—when to give it a rest. The first time she'd snapped she'd thrown a book at Alice, knowing full well that Alice would probably catch it before it hit her (and regretting that fact just a little). Alice had plucked it out of the air rather neatly; she'd seen it coming of course. Bella had found herself wishing, just for the fraction of a second, that Alice would take it personal, but she hadn't. That evening she'd hissed and snarled at Edward, complaining about his pushy, obtrusive sister, then thrown him out when he failed to be as sympathetic as Bella had thought he should be.

Since then he'd made sure that someone was always there when Alice was with Bella to act as a buffer (that someone never being him—coward), which was why she couldn't even fathom why he'd sent her off to New York with Alice—and Rosalie, of all people.

He'd had to have known they'd be at each other's throats.

New York had been Alice's idea. She'd let Esme present it to Bella though, knowing she'd find the right words to convince Bella to go. A few days away from everything would be good for you, she'd said, smiling kindly. Only Bella hadn't gotten away from anything. Rotten liars, all of them, she thought uncharacteristically uncharitably.

They'd been in New York for two days now. The weather was rainy, the sky grey and opaque; perfect for a vampire. Bella wished for at least half a day of sun with all her heart; that would give her the chance to get away from Rosalie and Alice for a few hours, but she had no such luck. Alice had planned carefully. The weather forecast promised even more rain, quite unusual for New York in July, and Alice made ruthless use of that.

Today had turned out to be Bella's personal nightmare. Given that she'd found herself in all kinds of nightmarish situations over the past year, this was no small feat to achieve, but Alice wouldn't be Alice if she hadn't. Of course, Alice probably didn't see it that way. She was in Alice-Disneyland as far as Bella could tell, swooning over the dresses the sales assistant had laid out for them like other women swooned over men of the variety 'dark, tall and handsome'.

Bella failed to see the point of trying on wedding dresses. She already had a dress after all. Alice had her forced into it several times already to make alterations. Bella was quite happy with that—not with the being forced into it part, but with the already having a dress part. The thought of going shopping for a wedding dress and spending all day locked up in a store with pink-and-white wallpaper that made you nauseous just by looking at it had filled her with dread.

And yet here she was, trying on one wedding dress after another while Alice and Rosalie looked on, pretending to sip expensive champagne. Alice wisely kept the bottle out of Bella's reach because her mindset was such that she'd have emptied it, given the chance. Bella's tolerance for alcohol was so low it almost didn't exist, but she knew from the one time she'd gotten completely and totally drunk (during those dark times when Edward had been away) that she'd simply fall asleep and stay all but comatose for a few hours. That was a pleasant notion, but Alice must have seen as much because she'd practically yanked the glass out of the sales assistant's hand when she'd offered it to Bella.

"Beast," Bella grumbled quietly.

Alice responded by thrusting yet another dress into Bella's arms, this once with tacky white roses on the skirt which fanned out around Bella like a puddle. She stumbled over it twice on her way to the wood block in the centre of the room. Alice was at her side in a flash—the sales assistant's attention must have been otherwise occupied—to steady her, then lifted her onto the block to keep her from tripping yet again, which was only too likely a possibility. Bella didn't think—much—about her wedding day and the moment she'd descend the Cullen's stairs on her father's arm, but when she did she generally saw herself tumble down rather than walk.

"I'm not sure," Rosalie said, frowning as she put her champagne flute back on the small round table—which, like so many other things in the dressing area, was adorned with a god-awful pink bow—beside her. Bella hated pink, even more so since Alice had begun buying her clothes in that colour because they made her look cute. 'Cute' wasn't exactly how Bella wanted to look these days. She was getting married, for crying out loud, and as her future husband wasn't Ken—who'd want that, anyway?—there was absolutely no need to dress her like Barbie.

Alice begged to differ.

"It's too… white?"

Bella stared at her in disbelief. "Too white?" she demanded, for only one of the eleven dresses she'd tried on so far hadn't been white. Apparently Rosalie and Alice were running out of things to say to the poor sales assistant, who'd been dragging out dress after dress to make Alice happy. She couldn't know that they were only here because Alice firmly believed that trying on wedding dresses was an experience Bella just mustn't miss out on and not because they were actually looking for a dress.

They both ignored her question, walking around Bella like potential buyers around a horse at an auction. Bella gave a small, resigned sigh. Just one more hour, she promised herself, and then Alice will take you to lunch. You'll survive one more hour.

If Bella had known what unfortunate turn their lunch break would take, then maybe she wouldn't have been looking forward to it quite so eagerly. Then again, maybe she would have. As far as she was concerned—and after what she'd been through—there were only very few things worse than shopping for clothes.

xxx

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