A/N: Aaaaaaah first story!

Ok, now that I have that out of my system, I'd like to thank anybody who's reading this : ) you guys are teh awesome sauce. Gracias also go out to Project Team Beta for having your lovely ladies take a look at this.

So….I don't own jack shit, except for an overactive imagination and waaaay too much time on my hands.

First Love

A fist of red fire, a flower

Opening in the sun. A kind of peace

Taking over at last, and then the quick release.

-Elizabeth Jennings

"You have your tickets? Your passport? A toothbrush?" my mother questioned with a worried look on her face.

"Yes, Mamma. Don't worry, I have everything." I put my arms around her shoulders and hugged her fiercely. As I started to untangle myself, she squeezed tighter. Nothing I did had any effect on loosening her grip. I looked at my father over the top of her head, pleading with my eyes. He smiled and pried my mom away.

"C'mon, Renee, give the girl some air. She's just going to London, not Mars." He chuckled at what he thought was a very amusing joke. My mom, never one to put up with Charlie's bad jokes, swatted him on the arm, chastising all the way. "Charlie Swan, you take that back! My only child is going 5,000 miles away! I am allowed to be clingy, and nothing either of you say will get me to do otherwise." She huffed and turned away. I glanced at Charlie, only to see a bemused look on his face as he ambled towards her, hands in his pockets and looking suitably abashed. They might have been married twenty-two years, but they loved each other even more now than they had on their wedding day.

"What did Charlie do now?" a deep voice rumbled in my ear. I felt arms like steel bands wrap around my waist, and leaned into Jake's chest as he pulled me into him. As I took in his scent, all pine forest and male, I realized leaving Jake would be hardest of all.

"He made a joke about me only being in London, not Mars so that Mom would let go. She read him a stern lecture on why she can do exactly as she wants, thank you very much, and here we are." I turned in his embrace and looked him in the eye, my arms entwining around his neck. Jake had the most beautiful I eyes I had ever seen. They were such a dark brown that they looked black, except when you got close. When you got as close as you can, you could see the gold that flecks his iris. Set against his russet skin, obsidian silk hair and dashing smile, Jake is one handsome man.

And yet, here I was, doubting everything. Everything about my life felt different, for some reason. Maybe it was just the thought of a new adventure; maybe it was the idea of making new friends and experiencing something on my own, away from all immediate support. Maybe that was the reason that ever since I had gotten my acceptance letter to the exchange program at Seattle Pacific University, everything had started to itch. Not literally itch, of course, but just feel…uncomfortable. All of my classes, my routines, the school, and all of my relationships had felt like healing skin stretched tightly over a wound. There was nothing wrong with it, and yet I felt a slight tugging at the edges, as if something was trying to remove the fabric of my comfortable little life and shake things up. I wasn't sure if that bothered me or not.

"British Airways Flight 567 for London now boarding at Gate three. This is the first call for all passengers of British Airways flight number 567, now boarding at Gate three." The announcement seemed to echo around us, despite the noise of the crowded airport. I looked around, memorizing the faces of the people who were most important to me. My dad, his arm linked with my mom's, was looking at me with the look that meant he was seeing me as his little girl who'd used to dress up as a vampire instead of a ballerina, much to Renee's eternal shame. Charlie had always just laughed, and would run around with me after Mom saying "I vant to suck your blaahd!" until we'd all collapsed on the couch. Renee would giggle and say that as long as I was such a cute vampire, it wouldn't be such a loss that I wasn't a ballerina. Given my natural talent of tripping on flat surfaces, this was a good idea.

Renee opened and closed her mouth numerous times as she tried to come up with something to say that couldn't be construed as nagging. She nags when she's nervous. Strange habit, yes, but that's Renee. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I love you. Always and always."

"Forever and ever," I finished. I gave her a big hug, and one for Charlie, before they backed away, leaving Jake and me alone to say goodbye.

"Well, Bells..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say now that it was time. We looked at each other a moment longer before he spoke. "You know I want this for you, right? Even though I made a big deal about not seeing you for like six fucking months?" He looked down sheepishly. "Are you sure you can't come for Thanksgiving? I don't know if I can survive until Christmas." Jake gave me his best puppy dog eyes, but coming from his six-foot seven-inch frame, it looked a little ridiculous, which was the point, of course. I smiled, smoothing back the hair that had fallen onto his face. I took my time, mapping every inch of his face with my hands, making the best memory I could of him. Although we had said a very thorough goodbye the night before, I'd always known that leaving Jake would be the hardest.

"I don't know, Jakers. I'm gonna try, but it all depends on me getting a good job and a less shitty apartment. I want to. I hope I can." I paused slightly before throwing my arms around him and holding on tightly. His arms came around my waist and pulled me to him, my face tucked awkwardly into his chest as always, because he was just so fucking tall. "I'm going to miss you," I said, sniffing to keep the sudden wetness in my eyes where it was.

"Aw, Bella, hon, I'm gonna miss you so much," he said, holding me even tighter. He crushed me to him, but in the incredibly gentle way that only very big men seem to be capable of doing. I felt so breakable with Jacob sometimes. He was just so huge, and it was hugs like this that reminded you.

"Final call for all passengers flying with British Airways flight 567, now boarding at Gate 3. This is the final call for all passengers flying British Airways flight 567 to London."

I looked Jake right in the eyes, memorizing his every feature. I could tell by the way his eyes moved methodically over my face that he was doing the same. He finally leaned in until his nose was touching mine.

"I love you, Bella Swan," he breathed.

"I love you, Jacob Black," I whispered.

Our goodbye kiss was a simple one, his lips lingering gently on mine. There was no urgency, no frantic pace. We wouldn't see each other for at least six months, but his kiss bespoke of not wanting me to remember some overeager boy, frantic and frenzied like he'd used to be. He wanted me to remember the man he was now, the man he'd become, the man who would wait for me until the end of the world. The ultimate devotion. As he gently pulled away, he lingered, his forehead touching mine.

"Call me when you land. Go. I love you." He kissed me on the forehead and pushed me towards the gate. I called back to him over my shoulder, telling him I loved him one last time as I ran for the gate, stumbling slightly but managing to keep my balance. I felt detached, vaguely noting unimportant things: my Chucks were ratty, barely holding together. The lady to my left was reading a fashion magazine with the tagline: "Chanel's prodigy intern, A-" Her hand was covering the name, and I wondered who it was. The newsstand on my right had a car magazine on the front, a beautiful woman on the cover, the headline "All Hale! Ferrari's new golden girl." Rolling Stone was next to it, and one of the cover stories said something about "New Rock Royalty, Ed-" and my brain instantly went "Eddie Van Halen?" before I got hold of it again. The TVs in the lounge had someone named Dr. Jasper Whitlock on it, and I vaguely noted that he was much too young and attractive for the History Channel. I thought he was talking about the Civil War, because I was pretty damn sure he'd said the War of Northern Aggression. I felt my backpack straps slip a little father off my shoulders, and when I was focused on adjusting them, I ran straight into the check-in counter. As I gripped desperately at the counter, I finally came out of my daze enough to hand the woman my ticket and passport. She gave me a sympathetic look. Part of me wondered how many tearful goodbyes she had witnessed over the years, and how many she had been a part of. She handed me back my ticket, and I stumbled down the hall towards the plane. They welcomed me aboard, and I found my seat, realizing that saving for first class had been an excellent idea. Now I had all the room in the world to fall apart. I wouldn't bother anyone, and no one would bother me. I looked out the window, the tears silently streaming down my face. I tried to focus on the rain that had begun to splatter the runway, instead of the burning pain that had started in my chest. I stared the grey Seattle skies, instead of the old writing on the rubber toe of my Chucks: "J.B. + B.S." Jake had written it there during my sophomore year in high school, when he'd first let me know he was interested. It was faded and old, but it was a reminder of what I was leaving, and what I wasn't sure about coming home to. With Jake, he was so sure of what he wanted, and not to be egotistical or anything, but it all had mainly revolved around marrying me when we finished college. That sounded all well and good at seventeen, but looking at it from the ripe old age of twenty-one, I wasn't sure anymore. Jake was all I had ever known, and that used to be alright. But for some reason I just felt that there was something else out there for me. Something more than a small town in Washington, more than marrying my high school sweetheart. Just…more. I was planning on using the six months apart to do some soul searching, and to figure my shit out. I realized that I was crying again, and I hastily looked around for a distraction.

There was a sports magazine in the pocket in front of me, with a huge man on the front. The title read "McCarty--England's American Rugby Star." I reached for it, thinking that sports was certainly a good subject change, but there was suddenly a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around, trying to surreptitiously wipe my eyes. Standing in front of me was a small girl about my age, dressed impeccably in what looked to be very expensive clothing. Her short dark hair was styled just enough to look natural, and she had the most beautiful dove grey eyes.

She took in my puffy eyes and streaming nose with a quick glance before finally speaking.

"Hi! I'm Alice, Alice Cullen. It looks like we'll be sitting with each other."

A/N: So yes? You like? I hope so, cause I'm having lots of fun writing it : ) I have no idea how long it's going to be, but it will be as long as necessary for these crazy kids to do what they need to do, dig? Show me some sugar, friends, and hit that review button : )