Author's Note: Ahhh! I'm finally doing it! I'm finally writing a Twilight fanfiction!

I've been wanting to do this since I was like, 10, and now I finally have not only an extended vocabulary sufficient enough to do it, but the muse, the willpower, and an actual idea! Needless to say, I'm very excited.

Let me clarify somethings real quick: this is set after Eclipse and before Breaking Dawn. For the purposes of this story, anything after Breaking Dawn is subject to some "tweaks", but I will try and include as much as the original story line as possible while extending and/or adjusting it to fit this. Also, I'll be basing this mainly off of the books, but of course, elements such as casting and environment are based on the movies.

This chapter is mainly used for exposition, but I promise, the action is going to pick up real quick.

Well, I think that's pretty much it! Please feel free to leave me some reviews, suggestions, comments and concerns! It is all greatly appreciated!

Enjoy. :)


"You're sending me away?"

My mother sighed, running a ringed hand through her golden curls. "Veronica, please. It's only for-what, a few months?"

"Four months isn't just 'a few' months, Mom." I fell back on our leather sofa, letting my head fall back like an agitated toddler. I couldn't believe it. My parents had taken all my hopes, dreams, dare I say, aspirations for the summer before my senior year, and basically ripped it apart into shreds. I prided myself on not being 'angsty', but damn, my parents were making it pretty hard to maintain any sense of dignity. "Four months is, like, forever in my time. That's my whole summer, down the drain."

My silver-haired father, always cool and collected, lowered himself next to me on the sofa and placed a hand on my knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "Darling, we aren't asking you to throw yourself onto a pyre. Think of it as...as a vacation!"

"A wonderful vacation in the most desolate area of the continental U.S.," I murmured, covering my face with a pillow.

"To be fair, Ronnie, we aren't sending you to Alaska." My mother corrected, floating over to join her husband in comforting me. "It's Washington! It's beautiful out there. The cliffs, the trees, the...rain…!"

My father nodded hurriedly, feigning excitement. "Yes! I heard the coast is quite beautiful at this time of the year. Wouldn't be nice to have a change of scenery for once? To get out of the hustle and bustle?"

I lowered the pillow and fixed my gaze to the giant, floor-to-ceiling window on the east end of our living room. Our apartment had an almost picturesque view of Chicago's skyline. The lights of the city twinkled softly in the purple evening sky, illuminating themselves in the gentle lapping waves of Lake Michigan. Sounds of car horns and general nightlife chatter could always be heard, even from way up in my family's home, if you held your breath and pressed your ear against the window's cool glass. It was hard to feel bored with my city's "hustle and bustle" when it looked so beautiful.

"You know," I slyly retorted, breaking my gaze away from the window and towards my parents' awaiting faces, "maybe you're right. Maybe I do need a break…" My parents breathed a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing at my words. Then, I hit them with a verbal uppercut: "Maybe I should just join you!"

My mother rolled her eyes, obviously discontent with my tease. "Veronica, we've gone over this a dozen times…"

"We'll be too busy in Italy." My father finished her sentence. "The Demos Corporation has been dealing with some very difficult foreign ambassadors...something tells me we won't have much time to-"

I held my hand up, stopping him. "Babysit me?"

"I-Veronica, of course not!" He stammered, his creased, light blue eyes flickering to my mother, begging for some sort of backup.

She nodded. "That's not what Peter-I mean, your father, meant. It's just that...it's not safe for a girl like you to be wandering the streets of Italy alone all day. Besides, your father and I will be in and out of meetings every day for the next four months. I doubt we will have any time to go sightseeing, or do anything vaguely exciting for that matter."

"Then why can't I just stay here?" I entreated. I was seventeen years old, goddammit. In my young, naive eyes, I was practically a woman. I lived in Chicago, one of America's most thronged cities. I had been taking the subway to school since I was eight. I could practically map out every route in the city with my eyes closed. Safety or traveling was not a concern for me, and my parents knew that very well.

"You know why." My father retorted crossly. "With your grandmother not here anymore, it's just…" The room fell silent, my father's words lingering in the air. I took a sharp intake of air, and diverted my eyes from my father.

He didn't need to explain any further; I knew what he was going to say.

Wait.

This is getting really melodramatic, oops. Let me backup; I realize I should explain some things.

My parents are board members of the Demos Corporation, one the world's largest foreign relations management organizations. Therefore, the fact of them leaving home for business wasn't anything new. In fact, ever since I was a baby, they would often travel for work, maybe five to eight times a year. Sometimes they would bring me with them, especially if they were staying within North America. But more often than not, they would be flying overseas. So they would leave me with my grandma, or as I fondly called her, Nonna.

Despite the age gap, Nonna and I were like sisters; we were joined at the hip, always laughing, gossiping, teasing each other. Nonna lived with my parents and I in our spacious apartment. She practically raised me, considering my parents often leave-of-absences. Of course, said absences were never a problem, as my Nonna would watch over me, make sure I was fed and not dying, you know, the usual.

But that Christmas, the inevitable happened. I don't want to make it a sob story; I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times before. Nonna started getting sick, couldn't keep down her food, and turns out, she had a grapefruit-sized tumor in her brain. I used to comfort myself by remembering what the doctors had said: the tumor grew so rapidly that she didn't suffer too long. She was diagnosed with cancer in October, and in her grave by December.

So, yeah.

Sorry. I probably came across as blunt, but trust me, it still hurts. But, my parents have always had this whole 'stay strong or you'll break' thing, so I try not to let myself get too overly dramatic about the situation. Besides, death is something that's bound to happen to us at one point or another. At least Nonna had a good, long, crazy run on this earth before she goes to...well, somewhere.

Anyways, my point is this: my parents' absence this summer was an unusual problem to us because Nonna was not there to watch over me. So, instead of trusting me to be a good girl and keep myself alive, my parents decided that they would send me to…

"Neah Bay, Washington!" My mother clapped her hands together, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Oh, Ronnie, trust me, you'll love it. The Youngs are wonderful people..."

"And cultured, too." My father chimed in.

My mother nodded in agreement. "Yes, so cultured. They have an older daughter, too. Her name is Emily, I think. She's a bit older than you, and I think she even got engaged a while back. Emily told us that she would love to house you this summer. Wouldn't it be fun to have an 'older sister' to hang out with?"

"Mom," I began to whine, sinking further back into the sofa, "I haven't even met these people. What if they're serial killers? What if they kidnap me? What if they sell my organs?"

My father tutted, rising from the sofa and moving behind it to squeeze my shoulders. "Darling, do you really think we would send you to strangers to harvest your organs? It'd be cheaper to do it ourselves."

"Peter!"

My father chuckled at his own amusement, ignoring my mother swatting him. "I'm joking, I'm joking. But you have met the Youngs before. Remember? At me and your mother's college reunion?"

I pursed my lips. "Dad, I was only five."

"The point is, your father and I trust the Youngs very much." My mother proclaimed. She took my hand in hers and squeezed, leaning in closer. "I know things have been...hard, since Nonna passed. But this might be a chance for your to decompress, to start anew and leave the past behind."

"And, a chance for you to work on your photography portfolio," my father suggested.

Damn. He was right.

I had begun working on piecing together my best works of art for a portfolio to send to colleges. I had always been a photographer; I loved having the ability to freeze a moment and capture it forever. A single photograph could tell a whole story with absolutely no words. I was blessed enough to have a family that encouraged my pursuing of the arts as an actual occupation, which meant that I needed to work real hard to prove to them that their support was justified.

At that point, my photographs were pretty much the same thing: urban landscape, urban landscape, urban landscape. I craved something with more meat to it, you know? I wanted to see real beauty, and while I had no hesitation that Chicago was amazing, it was manmade. It would be beneficial to have something more natural, more diverse, more of-the-earth.

I threw my hands up in defeat. "Okay, maybe you're right. I'll go to Washington, I just…" I faltered, staring at my parents. I just wish I could be with you guys. I wish I didn't have to be alone all the time. I wish we could talk about Nonna. I wish Nonna was still here.

"What is it, Ronnie?"

I blinked, clearing the fog from my eyes. "Oh, I, uh...I meant...I just need to get all my things packed."

My mother's face broke out into a smile, her seaweed-green eyes shining. "I knew you'd come around, Ronnie. I promise, you'll have a wonderful time with Emily." After giving me a quick embrace, she trotted out of the living room, mumbling something about finding my suitcase.

My father turned to face me once the click of her heels had silenced. "Ronnie, I know we're gone a lot, and I'm sorry."

"Dad, really, it's okay-"

"I wish I could explain to you...everything," he interrupted, his eyes flickering away from mine and out towards the skyline. "This job, it's...important. Crucial, I should say."

"Crucial to my spending habits, you mean?" I snorted.

He grinned, but is smile dissolved quickly. "More than that. But I promise, even when we're gone, we're always thinking about you. Your wellbeing, your education, your safety. I mean, safety is our number one priority, and that's why we don't want you to be alone. Your mother, she trusts the Youngs, and I do too, but…" My dad faltered, chewing on his lip. After a few seconds, he shoved his hand into the pocket of his corduroys, fumbling around. Finally, he extended his hand and uncurled to reveal an ancient-looking locket. "It's silver. And, it'll keep you safe. You never know."

I raised an eyebrow at the necklace. Let's get one thing straight: my parents were scientific, logic-based, successful business people who made it clear that they didn't believe in anything 'mumbo-jumbo', like astrology, palm-reading, or mood rings. So, needless to say, I was little befuddled as to why my father thought a cheap necklace would protect me from serial killers or the plague.

"Oh…thanks, Dad." I pocketed the necklace, deciding to avoid a confrontation. My father smiled, obviously pleased with himself.

"You're welcome. Well," he huffed, patting me on the shoulder. "I guess you better get packing. Your mother and I already got you a flight ticket to Port Angeles; you leave tomorrow at six in the morning."

"You're that eager to get rid of me, aren't you?" I joked.

And so my fate was sealed. I was to be spending four months in Washington with a woman who I barely knew, who was engaged to someone I'd never met, who were both living a life unbeknownst to me.

I didn't used to believe in fate. I believed in coincidence. It was a coincidence my parents were called to Italy. It was a coincidence they decided to send me to Washington. It was a coincidence that they chose Emily Young to become my caretaker.

But, I realized quickly, so quickly, that none of that was coincidence.

It was all fate.

And it could never be undone.