AN: This idea has been gnawing on me for a month now. It feels SO GOOD to get it out. It's been five years since I've written any thing, so I hope this isn't too bad. It took me four or five versions to get it right! There was actually another one that I liked better, but the plot bunnies picked this one, and I am simply their slave. Hopefully you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and Bea.

Halfling

Nauseated. Lightheaded. Stomach clenched. I studied the wood grain of the door as I took another deep breath. Just ring the dang bell. I felt so melodramatic, standing here wallowing in my nervousness. Just go. GO! Why was my hand having such trouble with this command? It's just a doorbell. They're just vampires. Pretty good ones, compared to the ones I've spent my time with.

I sighed. I missed him. My pillar of strength. He was halfway across the world now. I closed my eyes, imagining his presence at my back. If I never rang the doorbell, I could never go in. If I couldn't go in, I could never get settled and call him. I sighed again and pushed the chime, relieved to get started on the chain of actions that would follow, whatever they were.

A young woman (Relatively, of course; There was no way to know how "young" she was for certain) answered the door. She had light brown hair and a confused look on her face.

"Yes? Can I help you somehow?" she asked. She sounded kind, but I could tell she was intentionally trying to give me a "go away" type of vibe. So she hadn't picked up on it yet.

I took a deep breath and nodded, "Yeah, actually." I paused, unsure how to continue. "Um, could I, uh, could I maybe come in?" Ooh. I winced. Probably too forward. Tact is important. Just because you're forcing yourself onto these people doesn't mean you shouldn't be polite.

The woman looked taken aback. "I'm sorry," she said, eyebrows furrowing elegantly. "If you're lost I can give you directions back to the highway-"

"No, no," I cut her off. "That's not it. I mean… I was sent here. I have a letter." Word jumble. I took a moment and composed my thoughts. "You're one of the Cullens, aren't you?"

Her eyebrows flew up and she took a closer look at me. I stared silently and mildly sullenly into space as she took me in, noticing the things I knew she would. The color of my eyes. My pale, shimmery skin. The things that she would notice that humans never would. I saw the confusion register in her eyes.

She stepped back and held the door open for me, a silent invitation.

I followed her to the left where she showed me to a couch. "I'll, uh, just be a minute. Going to get Carlisle. Please, make yourself comfortable." Her confusion was still evident.

I nodded my thanks and slung my heavy knapsack to the floor. Rubbing my shoulders where the straps cut into them, I debated whether I was clean enough to sit on the white couch, and whether I was tired enough to care.

The woman hadn't left yet. She was still staring at me. I looked at her and she turned to leave, walking a few steps before turning back to me.

"Oh, by the by, I'm Esme."

I gave a hesitant little smile and nodded. She turned and went up the stairs.

My feet won the battle. I brushed my bottom off and sat down almost at the edge of the seat. I told myself that it was because I didn't want to dirty the backrest, but really I was too tense to relax at all. I clasped and unclasped my hands, too nervous to do anything but stare at my knees. A strike of inspiration and I dug into my knapsack, reaching to the bottom of the thick manila folder for the wrinkled envelope. Best to be prepared. I didn't trust myself to really explain anything. I set the envelope in my lap and tried to straighten out the edges.

Footsteps on the stairs. I looked up and saw Esme returning, a handsome blonde man in tow. I stood hastily as they came into the room, nearly dropping my letter. They stopped and stood opposite me. I knew they could hear my heart pounding. I wondered if they could smell my nausea, too. The man started to speak.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen." He glanced at Esme. I knew he had questions for me. Probably he was just trying to word them so as to avoid awkward, blunt phrasing. Impossible. I saved him the trouble.

"Hi. I'm Beatrice. I'm here 'cause… Well, here." I handed him the letter. "It's all in there." Not strictly true.

He took the letter and sat down on the loveseat behind him to read it. I sat down again, too. I knew reading it wouldn't take long, but the questions probably would.

I was right. As soon as he had seen the watermark on the stationary, Dr. Cullen hadn't needed to pretend to read at a human pace. Seconds later, he had read through the whole letter. Probably twice. The thing was absurdly short, almost to the point of being rude. I knew, and I knew that he probably knew, too, that the writer was actually just rather absentminded and somewhat pretentious.

He looked up at me. "So…"

"Hi."

"The Volturi sent you."