Only things I ever read anymore are JacobxOC fics; here's my version.

Chapter One: Back Again?

Returning to my childhood home was certainly not something I'd ever imagined myself doing, in fact I never imagined I'd ever see my mother again either. Today was full of new experiences, but also haunting memories.

My name is Darcy Walker, long lost daughter of Sara Walker, and apparently, estranged sister of Paul Walker, not that I had any idea I had a sibling. I'm a bit of a free spirit when it comes to personality, and I won't deny that I may have a slight temper sometimes, which may be an understatement. This being the main reason I am here, at my mother's house, for the first time since I was two years old. Fifteen years is a long time to be away, but the restrictions placed on my life by someone who should have loved me, meant that I had no communication, visits, or even past memories of my 'first' life. I call it this because it seems so separated from now, so normal, so much better.

I stared out of the window of the cab, watching the trees and shrubs blur past in a mix of greens and browns, seemingly never ending against the gloomy sky which never appeared to have deposited all of it's rain. My head was spinning at the thought of a new start, a new life almost. Almost being the operative word. I was almost out. My mother had no idea I was coming, and I guess it was better this way, because then I couldn't be found right up until the last moment, where I was more certain I would be safe. I spotted a signpost for Forks, Washington and knew I was near, I remembered Forks was only a couple of miles from the La Push reservation from the map I briefly looked over in the small airport of Port Angeles. Port Angeles was a fairly dull town from what I had seen, very mundane and grey, but at least it had some decent shops, which I had made mental note of.

As the greenery whizzed by, my mind kept going over what I thought my first meeting with my mother would be like. Would she like me? Would she let me stay? Would she even recognise me? All the questions were perfectly valid; I hadn't seen her since I was two, and had long since changed. My once short and bouncy black ringlets had transformed into sleek, long waves that hung halfway down my back and my eyes had gone from regular sea blue, to a lighter, almost icy blue colour, which could not be normal for the Quiluete child, not that I was one hundred percent sure I was full Quiluete as I was never allowed information like that.

Entering Forks dredged up some old, but very vague memories. My memory at age two was not brilliant, in fact it was hardly there, which explains why I never remembered I had a brother, something I only found out from numerous phone calls and internet searches about my background. I could remember walking down the short but very quaint high street once a week when my mother and I went shopping for food. I always used to go to the playground for half an hour afterwards, grinning and laughing with my mother as she pushed me on the swings. I smiled to myself at the thought of those memories and wondered where it had all gone wrong. We drove past the old playground and I was happy to see that most things were still there, if a bit dilapidated, and there was even a young child swinging on the rusted old swing set; her long, bronze curls flying out behind her as she waved at what I assumed to be her father, as he had the same bronze hair.

As we neared the end of Forks, I felt a wave of nervousness crash over me. I had never done anything like this before, not even close, and it was taking it's toll on me. A sudden thought entered my mind: would she even be home? I dismissed it quickly, reasoning that if she wasn't, I had all the time in the world to wait for her, or Paul, depending on who answered the door.

The La Push reservation entered my view and I sucked in a breath. It was exactly like I imagined, my imagination being helped by some old memories as well. We drove past the beach where the unruly waves were breaking against the soft sand and leaving trails of white foam as they retreated back into the pull of the tide. It was a truly beautiful place that was almost untouched by civilisation, excluding the few clusters of houses that were dotted in and around the tall trees. It was like the forest was the ruler and the people were living under its guidance, allowing the forest to expand until it was almost taking over the sea and falling off the cliff sides.

My anxiety was at an all time high as the cab pulled up outside the address I had given him. I had no idea what the house looked like, I had only known the address, and a wave of nostalgia hit me. My childhood home, after fifteen years, had not changed. It wasn't a big house, but was big enough to comfortably fit a family of four, although only two were living in it now. The house was on two floors and the front door was made of dark coloured wood with a silver door knocker of the front in the shape of what I assumed was a wolf's head. There was an old blue Ford pulled up in the drive and an even older looking bicycle resting against the wall of the house, obviously long since forgotten about.

I was knocked out of my thoughts when the cab driver started talking; "Here we are love, wasn't such a bad drive today," he remarked.

"Thankyou very much," I replied with a small smile and handed him the money I owed. I stepped out of the car and grabbed my trusted grey rucksack, the one carrying the entirety of my belongings.

"Thanks, see ya love," the driver said before putting the car in gear and pulling away, leaving me totally on my own to face my next hurdle.

I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my erratic breathing pattern and walked the few steps that would lead me to the front door. As I placed my hand on the cool metal of the door knocker, my stomach started churning, this was it, this was my mother. I lifted the knocker up and rapped it three times, hoping that would be enough to get somebody's attention. After a few seconds of tense waiting, I heard footsteps qucikly entering the hallway behind the door. It all seemed to happen in slow motion for me as I saw the door handle being pushed down and the door slowly opeing with a deep creaking sound coming from the old, overused hinges.

When fully open, I was faced with a beautiful lady. She was obviously older and some deep wrinkles criss-crossed her face but her eyes were a sparkling blue colour, like mine and her chin length, wavy black hair just fell short of her eyes, which were staring at me with a bewildered expression. I could see her confusion, of course she didn't recognise me, I was nothing like I was, but I couldn't help but see the obvious similarities between us.

I decided to banish her confusion using two words;

"Hi mom."

So do I carry on?