Author's Note:

I started this back when I was a fresh faced teen on my college campus, studying at Royal Holloway! Years have passed, and I'm so sorry to those following me on my journey in writing this fic! I'm in the process of revamping Jacob and Renesmee's story. My writing style has changed a great deal and I wanted the chapters more manageable for those still wanting to read it.

There were lots of unanswered questions for me after reading and watching Breaking Dawn. This fic is my outlet in exploring some themes that I caught in the books. I would be delighted to hear your thoughts. :)

I warn you now: This fic is detailed, wordy, and probably not for readers who want 'I LOVE YOU JAKEY!' so soon into the story.

This story is intended to document Renesmee's journey and how she overcomes certain struggles, apprehensions, and eventually learns to acknowledge her own self-worth being surrounded by flawless family members her entire life. Finally she'll grow to understand herself, and realise Jacob's love for her is as real as day and isn't something to doubt. She's a fascinating blank canvas, living an extraordinary life, with very good looking, funny, immortal family members, and a hot bestfriend who worships the ground she walks on- surely that's enough to make a girl happy?

Its dark. It's twisty. It's probably going to be annoying.

Stephenie Meyer: Thanks for having such an immense wet dream. They're your characters and I have absolutely no claim to them. I own nothing.

Chapter tunes:

Sandi Thom- Lonely Girl

Michelle Branch- Everywhere

How much anger is set aside As each one of us cries Red light they come and they take him away In the thoughts, he'll be better, some day...
Tied tight, can't see out your eyes That he's sure to shine, sure to shine In this deep dark, played out, reality show So, who's the man, with the plan,
eating up all that he can?
Don't you see, don't you see...

Do you ever think that things are meant to be?
I know we all have our reasons why And now the power of one human being Has gone and changed so many lives...

One by One -The Calling

Remember simpler times? Times that made you think magic was real? Made you believe in fairy tales. That fantasy of what your life would be.

We've all dreamt about it. The white dress, the Prince, who'd carry you so effortlessly into his strong arms. Whisk you away to romantic castle, on a stone cobbled hill. You'd lie there in bed, your eyes closed and with complete and utter faith that that's real. You think that's how things will play out.

Those fairies at the bottom of your garden that you'd wait patiently to get a glimpse of with your dad… they were so real, you could practically feel them. It was a delicious warm, fuzzy feeling.

But then, without so much as a warning, the bubble pops and you grow up. One day you open your eyes, and the fairy tale disappears. Gone. It's then, that most people turn to the things and people they can trust.

Problem is, what happens when that trust is completely destroyed? When everything you knew, everything you were sure of, that you had complete faith in, were lies? There's no book helping me with the story anymore. No written ending telling me how it's all meant to end. What's terrifying is we're expected to go it alone and live it out…

I'm Renesmee Cullen, and I'm half vampire, half human. Well into my adulthood, I knew I was different. I was different from everyone around me- my mom, my dad, my family and especially Jacob Black.

Jacob Black.

I winced at the mere thought of his name and shuffled uncomfortably in my seat. I could feel that same anxiety, a deep sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach every time my thoughts slipped to him.

I found myself in a reflective mood pondering life's many mysteries. Why do we feel what we feel?

One of Buddha's noble truths proposes that life consists of pain. No one life can be completely without some form of pain. I guess then, how we manage our pain is up to us. I've learnt that with some truths, come pain. Pain. We try to anaesthetise… ride it out, embrace it, ignore it…

I've tried everything. But it's always ugly. And you always hurt. The best way to manage it, I've noticed, is to just to keep busy and push through it.

Another of his noble truths suggests that attachment is at the root of suffering. A rather cynical outlook on life I suppose, considering it's from the Enlightened One. But nonetheless, I thought he might have a point. The reasons for our suffering are our own desires, our love, and our craving for the things we're unwilling to let go completely.

I felt my chest constricting at the very thought of what I silently held onto so desperately. I shifted rather uncomfortably in my seat again, thinking of the one person I really didn't want to think about right now.

This is me riding through it. Because so painful was this need, this longing for him that it took me a a few days to get out of my hotel room when I arrived here in Brazil little over a month ago. And that was only because the maid forced herself in, thinking I wasn't eating. To the average human, it must look strange. To a half breed like me, I was taking a pause.

I shook my head, urgently trying to focus on this book I held in my hand: The cessation of suffering can only be attained when all forms of clinging and attachment are removed.

Simple enough, I thought to myself. I could completely remove myself from his life. But then there was the issue of mom removing herself from his life. Could I really ask that of her? To do something so drastic?

She would never forgive you.

I closed this boring book shut feeling frustrated. I was irritable for many reasons, but I was aware of one accuse reason I was highly strung. I hadn't fed since I left home. It had been the longest i'd gone without animal blood.

I scanned my surroundings, already aware I would be alone at my desk. I was the only one inside the Biblioteca Nacional in Rio. It was a beautiful majestic building and any other time, I would have really been in my element devouring the books. I got myself up to leave, my preternatural hearing could hear the muffled sounds of the busy, bustling streets of Rio in the background. It's carnival here. Lent would start in a few days.

While everyone else out there was having a good time, by contrast I was lost inside, having a quiet melt down. What do you do when you know your seemingly perfect life, your very existence, was ultimately founded on lies, each standing as an ivory domino waiting to fall? Seriously.

Every blissfully unaware moment in my life, every good memory I have, felt tainted. There seemed to be a looming dark cloud biding its time, hovering above me, only making its ugly presence known to me when it thought I was at my happiest.

Two months ago I found out the truth. The truth surrounding my very birth. My birth and everything that happened before…me.

What frustrates me the most is there's no one to blame for any of it.

Two months ago, I was still happy. I was so ignorant, but I was happy. I feel like a fool, but it was also the happiest I'd ever been. I fell in love. For the first time in my life, I felt things had fallen into place and it all made sense to me. I felt I belonged…

On impulse, I shut my eyes tightly, as if physically wanting to push the thoughts away from enveloping me. I knew where it was leading me, and I just wasn't prepared to go there again. Not again. The looming dark cloud always seeped in. The fairytale fantasy that I had so often heard as a kid would've been a nice form of escapism right about now. Instead, I kept thinking about the reality of my situation. My life I left behind…

Jacob. Mom. Dad. All the relationships I had. It felt like a lie. I felt like a lie.

You just have to ride it out, Renesmee. Ride it out. Hope it goes away on its own.

As I stood frozen in the plush, con-caved hall of a historical landmark, in a country that felt so foreign to me still, I concentrated on the momentary flashes of light from the streets outside, flitting behind my eyelids. The ones people get when their eyes are shut for a long moment. This was what I did when I refused to cry now. Because every time I let myself go there, I cried. And I was sick of crying. I was terrified of feeling my heart break all over again.

Not long ago, I realised the truth is an uncomfortable thing. It's overrated. It's there to ruin you from the inside. To taint the love you considered so right and pure. Because, like acid spilling itself on raw skin, it's harsh and abrasive and oh-so immediate in its urgency to destroy. There are no solutions. No easy answers. You just breathe deep and wait for it to subside.

Most of the time, pain can be managed. I read somewhere space is said to make things easier, just as time can apparently heal. I'm counting on that one.

I reluctantly opened my eyes, acutely aware of my wet lashes disentangling and separating from one another. So much for not wanting to cry…

I cleared my throat, swallowing back the pathetic, painful lump that was growing and attempted to blink away the shameless tears. It was never easy for me to hide my emotions. Not even from myself, let alone a house full of acutely perceptive vampires or even a natural empath like Jasper.

Uncle Jasper. Alice, Rosie…my grandparents. Everyone.

How I missed them. I couldn't help wondering what they were all doing right now. Were they still worried about me?

I fished out my phone from my jacket pocket to look at the build up of notifications on my screen. I felt awful for what I was putting my family through.

After two months away from everyone, I could only bring myself to read the last few messages.

Cullen Family Group Chat

Aunt Rosie: Ren, take all the time you need, honey. It's okay to want a break from everything. I think it's healthy. Why don't you explore the city? Tell us all about the Carnival when you come back X

Grandad: Renesmee, it's been a few months now. We understand how hurt and confused you must be feeling, but please remember you are not alone in this. Come home when you feel you can. We're always going to be here when you're ready to chat.

Grandma: We love and miss you. We just want you to be safe, Sweetheart.

Me: I'm fine, guys. I'm being safe. Staying invisible just like you taught me. Keeping to myself. Please stop worrying about me.

Dad: How can we not? Do you know when you're coming back?

Me: No

Mom: Are you eating okay? Are you feeding?

Me: I'm eating fine, not feeding. There isn't much opportunity to hunt in a bustling city.

Mom: Okay.. you're looking so thin in your photos Nessie, make sure you're eating your meats, and increase your amount.

Me: Sure.

Mom: Is Nahuel with you?

Me: Not yet.

Mom: I don't like you being on your own…

Me: I have a tour guide and I can take care of myself.

Mom: Okay sorry. I know you can.

I noticed Bella sent a separate text outside the group chat:

Mom: Jacob misses you. Will you text him? He's so upset about how things were left and he can't stop thinking about it. He's not coming over as much.. I think he thinks that'll upset you more. I get you're upset and need space, but I don't think it's fair to treat him like this, Renesmee.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket. I missed him too. I knew everything she was saying was right and it was making me feel awful about myself.

I missed them all. I knew I was being a complete brat when I decided to flee our home in Colwood, British Columbia, and I knew what I was putting them all through wasn't fair.

And yet there was sweet, quiet relief in the distance. Being so far from them. It afforded me space. I wasn't feeling suffocated.

I wanted to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone to quietly process things. Because that's all you can really do in this situation, right? Instead of hoping for the fantasy fairytale to come true, you just have to live with the reality. Ride it out. Because there's no point taking others down with you. And the truth is, even the best avoiders aren't fast enough. You can't outrun it.

I began flicking through the fatigued, old book I still held in my hands one last time, as if it still held interest to me.

…it is throughout our lives that we unavoidably endure physical sufferings such as sicknesses, injuries, fatigue, old age, and eventually death.

Yeah, for the average human maybe. I couldn't get sick, fatigued, or die of old age. I was born into an extraordinary world, half human half vampire and at the tender age of 15, I had stopped ageing roughly 7 years ago. My mother against all odds, carried me to full term while she was still human fighting almost everyone to have me.

And without realising until recently, I've been carrying that guilt unconsciously all my life.

So what do such enlightened masters say about the immortals? Creatures destined for a life of solitude? To roam and lurk in the shadows? To be inconspicuous predators? Undetectable and invisible. It wasn't really living. More liking spending forever running. Moving from place to place going unnoticed. From town to town. Desperately wishing for a good five, maybe six years of stability before people start noticing and talking.

I'm guessing they wouldn't know what to say, these enlightened ones. Assuming they had basic survival instincts, I'm guessing they'd scream and run probably.

I was in a state of depressing limbo and found myself thinking about God a lot. What must he think of me? I held no ties to the teachings of Christianity or the other mainstream stuff- much to my dad's quiet ambivalence, but what drew me was how they had such a hold on their believers. How they had a lot to offer those who could relate. I envied that.

Once I felt a belonging. Though I was transparently different, I felt loved and wanted by my family.
That wasn't true anymore. I just wanted to be left alone. A selfish thought for someone living a curious and charmed life, but it's a thought more real and honest than I've had in a long time.

The city of Rio or more specifically downtown, Cinlandia Square, offered a wide range of activities for wide-eyed tourists. Right now, I chose to snuggle myself between books all day to avoid the commotion outside. I should've picked somewhere quiet and isolated to brood in my quiet misery because Rio was lit up like a Christmas tree right now.

Since I landed in this colourful city, like all tourists here, I went to visit Cristo. He seemed nice. I luxuriated on Ipanema Beach and watched the surfers ride the waves- it reminded me of all those summers spent watching Jacob and his pack surfing back in La Push. I visited Lapa, the birthplace of samba. That too, entertained me for a couple of days. It was when my usually chirpy dance instructor started grumbling things in Portuguese that I was aware of how anti-social I was being. He kicked me out of his class.

Most people would be questioning why I would put myself through that if I wasn't in the mood. Frankly, I had one word: Vivi.

While being busy cooped up in my hotel room for a few days barely showering, I had been chatting online with a Brazilian tour guide I met on a traveller's website. It took quite a bit of convincing to get my now-personal tour guide, Vivi, to come out and show me around Rio through the eyes of a local. She was bright, endearing and funny. Sometimes she made me forget everything for a fleeting moment and I felt like I could breathe again. It was strange, but she made me feel normal. Maybe it was because she didn't really know me. She didn't know who I really was. What I really was.

Tonight would be my last night in Rio. I knew it was time for me to leave and head further south in search for some answers to new questions I was now asking myself… Only one person sprang to mind. One person who could possibly relate to my melt down. Who could perhaps have the answers I'm so desperately trying to figure out…

As I chewed over the prospect of meeting an old friend, I noticed again, the booming music and the roar of the crowds could be heard from outside. I had urged Vivi to let her hair down and enjoy tonight instead of joining me as I thoroughly immersed myself in the official depository of Brazil's heritage. I realised Edward would love this place. He'd be in his element too.

Closing my Macbook, I knew I needed to interact with actual people. I surveyed my surrounding one last time and took it all in. The air was thick with an aged musk that could only come from the pages of old literature. I took my time packing my things, smiling to myself as it made me think of Carlisle's study back in. How he'd let me stay in there for hours, letting me read to him…

I remember a brilliant mahogany panelled room, filled with hardbacks in our new home in British Columbia. We had just moved into this brilliant heritage building, and the potent smell of wood polish always made me think of home. It was always thick and heavy in the air and nearly always led me to Carlisle's study.

…'Did you know a war god from the earliest times, Odin, appeared in Scandinavian heroic literature as the protector of heroes?'

I looked to be about physically six in this recalling. My thick, curly hair draped down to my hips, at that age and was remarkably feral even for Alice to tame.

I remember him smiling in response to my questioning, a glitter of indulgence in his amber eyes. 'No, Darling,' he said softly, 'I didn't…'

Clearly that was a lie. Grandad knew everything.

At the time, I nodded along, enthused by this new world I found in Norse mythology. So stirred in fact, that I was completely oblivious as to where the smell of fried chicken wafting into the room, was coming from.

'Fallen warriors were believed to join him in Valhalla.' I read, pausing only to repeat the word 'Val-halla,' and emphasise the vowels slowly.

It was then that I acknowledged my mom, flitting into the room with a plate full of home made organic nuggets and steamed broccoli in her hand. That explained the smell.

'Fallen warriors…'

Carlisle chuckled to himself as he leafed through some paperwork on his desk. Meanwhile Bella was attempting to catch my attention: apparently my plate full of midday snacks was getting cold.

While grandad was arranging patient files, I sat quietly, ogling the weighty walls and daring to eat one of Bella's concoctions. Row after row of shelves were stacked meeting the high ceiling. 'How long did it take you to read all these books, Grandpa?'

Carlisle looked up, his eyes following mine, staring at the impressive wall of books. "Oh,' he breathed, briefly meeting my mother's amused eyes. 'A very long time, Sweetheart…'

'Doctors read a lot don't they?'

He nodded, 'We have to.'

'Do you think I'll be able to read them all someday?'

He chuckled softly. 'I'm counting on it…'

I remember smiling toothily at that before burying my face in the book I was holding. 'Is Valhalla real, or is it just a hopeful surrogate for the unknown?'

I was always a weird kid. An avid reader. Always have been. I spent much of my childhood immersed in the worlds only literature offered. Voraciously devouring libraries of poetry and fiction, science and the humanities. Lost in facts and figures- in theories and papers…

I chuckled to myself, remembering how unbelievably innocent I was back then. How simple things were. I was just a kid who wanted to follow in her grandad's footsteps. I wanted to, one day, grow up and help people the way he did.

And yet as I looked back at the doting affection that seemed to envelope my life, it felt like someone else's life. A former self who was completely ignorant and mind numbingly oblivious to everything around her. Who didn't think to question the limitless opportunities that were simply handed to her. Never questioning her lifestyle or the real reasons behind the random relationships I held.

Unreasonable as I knew it to be, I felt betrayed by everyone I loved. And the betrayal stung. It hurt so furiously to know they didn't trust me enough with the truth. As if I was some fragile thing…

Too weak and sensitive to comprehend the circumstances prior to my birth. Too self-absorbed and naïve to question any of it.

Swallowing back the painful lump that had now risen in my throat once again, I hadn't realised I had packed up my things and stepped out into the night, thanking the doorman on my way out.

The thought of wading through the crowd to the Candelaria Church a few streets down wasn't exactly screaming fun to me, but this was something I was curious to to try out. In every narrative I've read, Vampires are seen as the antagonists- these demonic like creatures, fresh out of hell.
I wanted to test a ridiculous theory, perhaps spurred on by my own low self-worth right now. I wanted to find out if an immortal like me, could dare step through a church's threshold and not burst into glorious flames.

That, and the church was now a makeshift home for street kids and I wanted to check it out.

I don't know why I chose South America. It was just the first flight I saw. A random place to simply get away. I left my old life in Seattle. My home. My job. My patients…

My first stop had been Mexico last month, but I soon grew tired of the feel-good parties and the amazing food. So with my massive sombrero in tow, I was lured to beach-clad, soccer-frenzied Brazil. This place is beautifully nestled between two dome-like mountains, which I've repeatedly climbed up. Mainly out of boredom during my morning runs.

The place shouldered platinum-white beaches and blanketed the world's largest urban forest. A place where samba, soccer, beach and barbeque are worshipped like a religion. The city had everything to offer someone who wanted to be occupied. Who wanted to be reckless…

I weaved through the packed streets, realising only now why I had fled so willingly into the library in the first place. After surrendering to Vivi's need to party, I found myself hiding like a recluse, after just an hour, using the library as a makeshift sanctuary.

Carnival in Rio is a week long celebration. And I am, in all honesty, not that excited about it. Mixes and explosion of vibrant colours, repetitive music, inexorable joy and costumes that barely covered the necessary were everywhere on the streets.

I really wasn't in the mood to walk down any swirling, black and white paved footpath on Ipanema Beach at sunset. I really wasn't in the mood to be handed an aqua de coco, and expect to dance in the streets, clapping as the sun sank into the sea.

I wasn't in the mood.

I took my polaroid out of my backpack and slung it over my head, desperately trying to keep myself occupied. I never wanted to be alone with my thoughts for too long. It seemed to always lead back to him. It was like he was everything I knew.

I bit my lip this time. As if it was a physical cue to not go there. I wouldn't go there.

It seemed to work most days. When I wasn't alone...

And as I took in the flurry of colours and sounds surrounding me, I thought it was a good time to capture the little moments. My mom wanted me to track my travels in a diary. She loved my collage of Mexico, with the screaming kids draping off me clothes, but wasn't so fond of my other altogether crazy leisure pursuits- sky diving into the sea, hang gliding, and my love for extreme sports. My newfound obsession for paragliding and cannoning for example, left a lasting impression in her emails.

She'd wrap me in bubble wrap if she could. I peered through the camera lens and couldn't help shaking my head thinking of Bella. All the worrying, despite her knowing of my added physical advantage…

I guess that's what moms are for, right? Certainly it was times like this, the guilt ate away at me and I wanted to go home. But then I would think about the reasons why I left in the first place. I'd stop short, unequivocally rooted to the spot.

It was here, in Rio, where the streets were full of people celebrating all across the country, the party was everywhere, in every city, in every region, that I needed to be.

I snapped a few kids playing with some streamers …sons sitting on their father's shoulders.. little girls cheering on the performers..

I couldn't help grinning at their infectious laughter. I snapped a little black-haired, bronze-skinned kid straddled on his dad's shoulder again. A huge, contagious grin was plastered on his face.

I started moving mechanically around the swaying bodies and wondered if Jacob ever thought about kids.

Mom never did. Things changed for her when against all odds, she knew I was a possibility. I remember I would cling to mom for dear life. Resting my head all too willingly against the crook of her neck and shoulder, I'd use her thick curtain of hair as a veil. I would plunge my senses, concentrating on her delicate and distinct scent. So comforting. My lips curled, remembering how her body was practically the perfect playground to hang like a monkey. Particularly useful when I wanted to hide. Because hiding myself from the world was perfect in Bella's arms. A place I always called home. Where I felt safe, loved and wanted.

Not for the first time today did I have to swallow back the painful lump that had risen in my throat. I missed my mother with an ache so acute, I was sure it was bordering onto some sad compromise for separation anxiety. It was pretty pathetic. She and my dad were currently residing in their own penthouse apartment, overlooking the iconic Space Needle and the rest of Seattle's skyline. Actually, dad bought the whole three-story complex. I didn't feel the need to ask why…

They followed me there when I decided to make the move two years ago and chase my dreams of becoming a fully fledged doctor. Mom decided it was finally the right time to focus on her own career in journalism too, so it worked out well. She had turned out job offers from the Seattle Times and another reputable news outlet, The Stranger, to instead become a formidable reporter for an popular, independent news blog.

Just before I left for Mexico, they had only just arrived back home from their second honeymoon. It was decidedly longer than their first one, because I wasn't there to gatecrash it.

I remember the day I went to pick them up from Seattle Tacoma. The clouds made way for the sun to peak out, which was a rarity in itself, but also a stark contrast to my emotional state that day. It was also the main reason why they wanted me to park at the front in a car with tinted windows. Just three days before collecting my parents, I was emergency tampon shopping on behalf of Claire in La Push's only pharmacy. I didn't expect to find Kim and Rachel sifting through pregnancy tests.

But they were.

And with my mouth gaping after I inadvertently overheard Kim talking to Rachel about Jake's history with the Cullens before me, before something called imprinting, I dropped a bewildered Claire off home and tracked down Jake. After that. Things are fuzzy. I think I just drove for a while, all the while, shaking. Having a weird, out of body experience.

After I calmed down and the initial shock wore off, in lieu of more sensible thoughts, I asked my family to kindly respect my decision to not call them up. I wasn't going to haul them back like I did the first time. It did mean however, that they were completely oblivious when they landed…

To say I was trying to shove my thoughts at the back of my mind as I leant against the car that day, was an understatement. I knew that before the plane hit the tarmac, Edward already knew everything that was swimming in my mind. Every furious outburst, every conflicting feelings of betrayal, of doubt in every relationship I ever had…

It took me three days to think straight. To think of exactly what I was going to say to them. How I was going to act... What I was going to do after I got everything off my chest… but I was still a mess.

Now, as I weaved through the throng, I sighed in frustration. Again, in an effort to forget the crap I left behind, I thought of anything but the unpleasant facts inadvertently dredged out by talk on the reservation. Like how claustrophobic I felt amongst the sweltering bodies. I could literally taste the sweat, the heat… the blood.

It was hard to ignore the fast-paced thumping of the samba as it continued to reverberate from the speakers situated on the heavily decorated floats passing through. Pounding so heavily against my cranium like a herd of stampeding elephants, that I felt like my ears would bleed.

Taking my camera once more, my enhanced vision scanned the multitude out of boredom this time before looking through my lens. Mom would've loved this. Sophisticated carriages… beautiful acrobats and dancers, unabashed in their dancing…fantasy costumes living up to any man's wet dream… people alleging songs containing political and social messages… a large, russet skinned, black haired man leaning against a wall- hands in his pockets, staring through the horde straight at me.

Wait. Jacob?

Straight away, like a knee-jerk reaction, I tore my eyes from the camera lens.

Russet-man staring straight at me. Staring straight through the crowd. At me.

In that split-second moment whoever this man was, rendered my thoughts unintelligible. It was as if time stood still and I stopped breathing. Things were in motion at a freakishly slow pace and it was as if my heart-rate jolted painfully before slumping completely. As if in sync with everything else that halted to a stop, my own body paused mid-step as I frantically tried to focus in finding this guy.

I forced myself to look closer, slower. My extrasensory gaze caught everything insignificant, but nothing substantial. Of course, it didn't really help that a nation brim with gym-built bodies surrounded me. That, and almost everyone had a natural tan here. It was ridiculous.

As I stood there in a sea of oblivious people, lost in my own thoughts, I failed to register what was happening to me- what was going on around me. It seemed as if my slow-paced surroundings appeared to reset itself, like a stopwatch resuming its counting.

And then I lost my footing and I tripped over myself. But for a moment, for a split second, it looked like I didn't care that I was being thrown by the mass in no visible direction. Like I didn't care about where I was going, or whose hands were groping me. I didn't care that I was falling through a crack; I knew was going to struggle get out of. But I managed to regain my footing and concerted on orienting myself past the swaying bodies I couldn't really see anymore. I was too engrossed on the spot next to the old man taking another long drag.

The spot where Jacob just stood.

Jacob.

Baffled, and rejecting the idea that he was here, my attention was briefly torn between looking for Jacob and being uncomfortable by the throng of idiots fumbling me. I shoved them off and swept over the crowd one more time, urgently looking for the russet-skinned man.

But he could've been anyone… a conscious, more rational side explained to me.

I didn't want to believe that. My hopes were already so high, it was pathetic. I dodged and weaved through the distracted bodies, frantically scanning the area i saw the man. I was torn as to how to really feel about the prospect of seeing Jake here. A small part of me was hoping it was him. i yearned for him. But the truth is, I wouldn't know what to say to him. I wouldn't know where to begin. I didn't trust myself to walk away from him for the second time. I didn't think I had the strength after so long.

As it turned out, I was having little luck locating him. And as the people around me continued to enjoy the festivities, I just stood there frozen like a statue, my eyes glazed over in a state of ambivalence and confusion.

My heart sank just that little bit further, painfully so, into my stomach.

He was gone.

It was unbearable sometimes. But…

Jacob.

As my sight was clearly failing me, and against all my instincts, I took a deep breathe in an effort to locate any possibility of his distinctive and alluring scent- a technique I long since used in my hunts. My insides recoiled instantly, instinctively. Rio's humid, evening air tasted like a strange mix of sweet and sour. Blood and sweat.

I winced at the sharp pain stabbing at my throat. It felt like I had swallowed broken glass- hard for me to ignore. I had to get out of here soon. The heat made people sweaty. It raised the heart rate, pumping the sweet blood more quickly around the body. In huge groups of exposed, sweaty masses, completely unaware of what I am, it was difficult. Blood, sweat and alcohol coursed through their veins, and permeated the hot, humid air, assaulting my sensitive senses with a force so potent; I was in a swirling daze.

I found myself taking deliberate steps closer to where he stood, where I last saw him, and it was as if I could breathe again. It hit me like some much needed breath of fresh air. And it was as if I needed it- wanted to choke on it, like a long distance swimmer just out of the water and desperately needing to catch their breath.

I was confident it was his scent I picked up amid the ocean of humans filling the streets and my heart leapt into my mouth. As if physically trying to catch up to him all on its own. I didn't know what to do with this revelation. Should I follow it? Track him down? What then? Oh God. Did he want to see me?

A part of me wondered, why, after deliberately meeting my eyes, did he walk away? Deep down, I felt I already knew the answer. He was checking up on me, of course. The inevitable, unavoidable despotic force of the imprinting dictated him to do just that. He had absolutely no choice on the matter. It was a compulsive need for him. Like a drug. And there was absolutely nothing I could to do release him from that heavy responsibility. I felt like a liability in his life.

I couldn't contain the need to find him now. It felt wrong not to go looking, when I knew he might be a few blocks away... it almost felt like I had no choice on the matter either. But as quickly as that train of thought had entered my mind, I let it go. I didn't think the imprinting worked both ways, because I physically wouldn't've been able to walk away from him the day I left. That's not to say I didn't love him. Because I did. I loved him.

In the brief seconds it took me to figure out I wanted to follow the scent, regardless of not knowing where it would eventually lead me, it seemed it had already dissolved in the sultry, evening air. I must be losing my mind, because that wasn't possible. Losing a scent so quickly didn't just happen. Did I just imagine it all?

In a rare moment of clarity, I realised my camera still hung around my neck, resting on my chest. Desperately, I went to check the images I captured just a few moments ago, thinking I may have inadvertently taken a photo of whoever it was.

Leafing through at a speed I didn't think the camera could handle for long, I found nothing.

Nothing.

I must've forgotten to press the button when I took Jacob in.

That painful sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach was back. But the disappointment was overshadowed by confusion now. It all felt so real. His eyes. The intensity and longing in them… he held my gaze for a few seconds and everything I kept bottled up, the things that I wanted so desperately to forget, came rushing back to the surface like a volcanic eruption. It left me paralysed, with only my memories in its wake.

That cant've been my own doing…

I must be seeing things- a simple hallucination. My subconscious letting me know I was plainly suffering from withdrawals or something.

I didn't realise my face was wet until a kid started pointing at me and asking her mom if I was okay in Portuguese. In light of everything, crying was a waste of time. I had places to be. Things to do. This thing with Jacob right now seemed to undo all the hard work I did in the last two months. And I couldn't afford to have an emotional breakdown right now.

As the masses continued to watch the various performances, I took it upon myself to avoid getting engrossed in the infectious party vibe. I didn't deserve to enjoy it. Not when he was out there, suffering because of me. It was a part of me that wanted to run back to him. To be in his arms and not move. The part that felt like doing all this was making everyone miserable.

But things in life weren't that straightforward. Happily ever afters usually came after serious hardships… And right now, I wouldn't let myself hope, or fear that he had come for me. I wouldn't allow it. Remembering the reasons I left in the first place, I wouldn't go there. Our last exchange was one of anger and unforgivable things, things that weren't so easy to withdraw once they were out, were said that day.

I wouldn't let myself hope because I knew I wouldn't know how to take it all back. And I feared it because I wouldn't know if I had the strength to send him back to La Push. To let him live his life… without me.

Knifing through the crowd, I passed revellers dressed up in both exquisitely detailed and scantily clothed costumes. Some even put on outlandish hats and masks. I couldn't help smiling a small smile, as a small child perched on her father's shoulder danced off-beat to the music. I thought of Edward and how at one point he was persuading mom not to have me. The little girl noticed me taking a photo of her and waved.

I knew there was something else I missed. Kids. Looking into the little girls eyes, I was reminded of a former life, of things I'd left behind. My patients. I worked so hard on my paediatrics fellowship, but because I didn't know who I was anymore, it felt like some other Nessie belonged there. Not me. Not dark, twisty Nessie. It felt like I was letting it all go… letting myself go. I didn't know how long I'd be out here having living this life, in South America, so before I left, I'd let work know I was on a sabbatical.

Passing a couple who were undoubtedly on the verge of breaking the no-sex-rule in public, I had to stifle an urge to gag. Fortunately for me though, there's no sex during the parades. There is certainly no sex in public in general. There are, however, copious amounts of intoxicated men urinating in public I've noticed.

With that in mind, I crossed the road, careful to avoid touching anyone. Growing up, my family were fascinated with my telepathic gifts. There would be times when I was so consumed in my own thoughts, that I would on the rare occasion, allow people in without realising it. Jacob loved that…

I had to stop that. I had to shove all thoughts of Jake in a safe place. It went against everything I wanted, everything I needed and I hated it. Not thinking about him was like trying to get myself to ignore the thirst I craved almost every night. I shoved my hands in my pockets, not wanting to think about my vices, and how long I hadn't gone hunting or the last time I saw Jake.

It was then that I grew aware of a bunch of thoroughly inebriated eyes deliberately examining my slouching form. I didn't like how fascinated they looked. Like they were set on pursuing their next prey.

Great. Just what I need right now...

"Ei, bebê..." One guy clumsily blurted, in Portuguese "..Damn, so sexy!"

I cringed. Something they didn't like. I decided to pick up my pace.

"Ah, don't go…" he continued, his friends obnoxiously egging him on. He took deliberate steps to follow me.

"What are you doing on your own?"

I'm not naïve. You get some guys that are more susceptible to the allure of female vampires. Self preservation is out the window when they try and pursue a natural born predator. I wasn't as impervious to it tonight and wore my irritation like a mask though.

"Hey! Wait, Miss!" The man continued. The others sat watching from under a veranda of a bar overlooking the bloco. "Please, Miss! Why not stop, eh? You're so beautiful. Let us buy you a drink?"

I turned to face my pursuer, it gave me a chance to really look at him. The guy was young, well built and good looking. There was a smugness colouring his features when I stared him down. There must have been something naturally menacing growing in my eyes, because the young guy took a hesitant step back, all smugness wiped off his face as his instincts were finally telling him I was the wrong girl to pursue tonight.

I sighed looking up at the night sky. Where were the stars tonight? Perhaps it was Rio's omission of light into the atmosphere that was causing even my enhanced vision to be blinded and robbed of the luminary suns above us…
Not for the first time, had my thoughts ventured unknowingly at the possibility of what Jacob was doing right now. I didn't like the idea of him all alone. Was he searching for the stars like me tonight, I wondered…

"Stupid stuck-up bitch." One of the lads form the group spat, drawing me back to the guy backing away. "Thinks she owns the place 'cause she's a tourist. C'mon, Estefan," he ushered the guy, Estefan, who ventured through the crowd to get to me. "This bitch isn't worth it. She's American… high maintenance."

I wry laugh escaped my lips. People here speaking English, are regularly assumed to be American. I guess I fit the stereotype. I gritted my teeth though, visualising the various ways I could easily make this donkey cry.

Walk away, Nessie.

In that moment where I only saw red, a random memory floated to the forefront of my mind:

My father had told me of stories before he met Mom. That his presence naturally scared human women as well as intriguing them. Though I'll reluctantly admit, he still had that affect on women, and received a great deal of interest from them. Ladies of all shapes and sizes. Of all ages. Housewives. Mothers. Teachers. My teachers. My friends.

It was a concept that, to this day, made me want to hurl. Reverting back to my initial point, to the obscure, human eye, there was always something there that made them aware. That would make them see what he really was: a killer. Preventing them from ever coming near. I always joked that this proved mom had absolutely no instinct of self-preservation. Dad didn't think that was funny.

When he met my mother, his guard was almost completely down in that respect- he became a protector rather than upholding his natural instincts as the world's most powerful predator. Much to Uncle Emmett's obscene pleasure, dad effectively lost his edge. This apparently meant he was 'sexy' and approachable for women now, whilst Jasper and Emmett retained whatever it was dad had.

We were sat in Esme's fully integrated, top-of-the-range kitchen back in British Columbia. Esme's taste had a high focus on expertly handcrafted cabinetry. There was a darker grey kitchen island that added extra storage and work surface space and served as the main focal point for us all to sit around watching me eat most days.

"You see Ness.." Emmet began, slinging one large, heavy arm flamboyantly around my shoulders, forcing me to slouch, "You're old man used to be fierce..terrifying.. He pretty much repelled women like it was a sport."

"Don't deflect your insecurities onto me, Em.." Edward casually said, pretending to focus on a search from his iPad.
I remember sitting on the kitchen island trying to eat my cereal when this conversation was going down and my uncles were baiting him.

"And in comes Bella, all clumsy, innocent and human AND BAMN!" Emmett screamed suddenly. His booming voice made me jump out of my skin and spill some cereal on the marble worktop, "…all instincts slip away..." He continued, ignoring my little accident. "He's all warm and fuzzy now… I bet he couldn't scare a flea if he wanted to now.."

"Maybe that's a good thing?" I said sheepishly, wiping the mess he made me make. "Why would you want to scare people subconsciously?" Or consciously for that matter..

Emmett turned to me dramatically, his face inches from my own. "Oh my poor, sweet, darling, Renesmee…"

"You're invading my personal space."

He ignored me. "My young padawan. We're natural born predators! Placed on God's green earth to scare the living shit out of people."

Dad and I exchanged looks.

"It's self preservation, Nessie. For us, and for them." Jasper piped in, looking up from his phone. "Why, I don't believe my little brother has that edge anymore, do you Ed?" He grinned.

"Edward's too damn sexy now." Emmett mused in a sober tone. "How does that make you feel Ness? Your dad's fluffy."

"Okay, lets leave my kid alone," Edward said rolling his eyes, "Ignore them."

The memory seemed to occupy me long enough to notice I was well away from the morons. It was when I started taking note of where I was, that I realised I was here. Where I needed to be…

Under the watchful gaze of O Cristo Redentor, situated over the city, I stood before one of the city's archaic landmarks. The Candelária Church. I took another photo, knowing Esme would appreciate the early Renaissance work on the exterior.

Considered one of the "Belle Époque" attractions of the city, the fervently described colonial Catedral Candelária was simply beautiful in its entirety. I watched, completely mesmerised by the sculpted, bronze doors. They really gave me a sense that I was about to enter a sacred place…

I just stared up at the imposing landmark stood before me. Apparently it's dedicated to the Blessed Virgin who lights the way to heaven with her candles for those who have trouble finding their way…
I was intrigued by the ornate carvings on the stairs leading to the elevated pulpits. They had lush designs depicting fat cupids frolicking over roses. The oddness of the grisly scenes of suffering amid romantic globe lights and fanciful patterns seemed emblematic.

I noticed street kids sitting on steps and bathing in the charming fountain at the front of the entrance. I took another snap, capturing the scene for my mom.

In the month I was here, this was the only place I had yet to visit. Like I was avoiding it for reasons I didn't quite understand. A part of me felt ashamed, because despite it's tragic past, a lot of good was being done here. Indeed, in the recent decade, the church had become a gathering point for protesters and parents looking for long-lost children. After the massacre a few decades ago, scraps of clothes from victims of the Candelaria shootings, hung from a line around the square. A sombre scene amidst street celebrations.

I was planning on making a large donation to the Candelaria Church on behalf of Dr Cullen and his wife. I had- for the first time since I left- planned on dipping into my much avoided trust fund to do so. It meant I would have to leave Rio sharpish which was fine with me.

I considered this would be the last straw for Edward. This would draw too much attention to us. The possibility that dad, despite my telling him not to, would make it his mission to locate and bring me home, was always a possibility. He'd be tracking my financial transactions, believing me to be his fiscal responsibility despite me being financially independent for over two years now.

I would need to leave the city quickly. I fished for my phone inside my pocket and was wrestling with the idea of calling a number I hadn't called in a long time. I knew Jacob would hate me- if, remarkably, he didn't already. He'd hate the idea of me calling this person.

But I knew only one person in this world who could have some of the answers I so desperately sought after. The guilt was eating away at me as I began punching the numbers in. It was irrational, but it honestly felt like I was somehow betraying Jake by doing this.

You are. That annoying, gnawing voice in my head retorted.

Not even bothering to ignore myself, I was almost crippled by that very sad fact. In fact, in that moment, my thoughts, like always, were back on Jake. My Jacob. I couldn't even call him that anymore, for he no longer was. Mine, I mean. I saw to that…

With my heart physically aching to be in his arms again, it took everything in me to shove him once more in a safe place at the back of my mind. To not think about the one man I left my heart to. To not think about the possibility of him being here. To not hope that he might be aching for me too. Following me… if that's what he was doing. Did he not realise it took everything in me to walk away? Did he not realise it took everything out of me to tell him that giving him my heart was the biggest mistake of my life?

I watched as his expression changed. All the blood draining from his face. He was broken, believing it all to be true- that that was actually possible. And that image broke me. It haunted me in my sleep. It haunted me every time I dared to close my eyes.

As if I could ever regret being with Jacob…

But I was convincing enough. Even my family seemed to believe me…

It was why he let me go.

I broke both our hearts that day. I loved him with every fibre of my being and if he were truly here, then he wasn't doing what I had pleaded him to do…

I needed him to forget about me. I needed him to refuse the natural order of things. I needed him to stop looking at me like I was everything he lived for. I just needed it all to stop.

And I needed him to live.

I held my cell phone like it was about to attack me, and inhaled a lungful before concentrating on what I was about to do. I needed to see some familiar faces. Faces I knew I could unearth answers from. At the back of my mind, I think it was always the reason I flew in my hurry, to South America. Because these questions that I was only now conscious of could only be answered by the oldest of my kind. Because everything I knew about myself seemed like a lie.

And now, I wanted to know what I was. Who I was…

Who I could be. I needed faith in myself again.

Swallowing hard, I nervously held my phone to my ear and waited as the connection continued to ring. So the castle… isn't a castle. And, the Prince had to be set free for his own good. To live a better life, to find a real Princess…

"Hello?" A man's voice finally greeted me, stirring my eyes away from a stray dog humping a streetlamp. I was silently thankful for the interruption, but equally surprised at the lack of words coming out of my mouth. What do I say? "Anyone there?" he continued. It was deep, and heavily accented. So familiar.

Quickly, I realised I still hadn't said anything.

I know it's long. I know it's wordy… but I like pacing myself. Sometimes people think this makes it all boring, but personally, I'm a fan. I like detailed fics that take their time and make the reader think.

FYIs: VO from Grey's Anatomy: Episode Eight: Save Me May 15, 2005 & Episode Five: Bring the Pain October 23, 2005

Ta for your time and stay tuned for more, kids! X