Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, I don't own the product known as 'Tattoo Goo" (yes, that actually is real), I don't own the brandname Roxy (but I do own a pair of Roxys). lol

Repercussions

Part One: Birthday Ink and A Call

Nearly one month has gone by. I've continued on with my life, and not much has happened since my crash-landing in Forks. Ever since then, I've kept in contact with the Cullens. They're a constant in my day-to-day life. Alice has planned a shopping trip for her, Rosalie, and I as a late birthday celebration—we're planning on going this weekend on the 17th. I'm bringing some of my own money I've earned from babysitting. I'm looking forward to it.

And Bella might be coming too, if Charlie lets her out of the house—he's repealed some of the consequences of her house-arrest sentence—and I hope she does come, I'd really like to get a chance to know her better.

My birthday was today; May 12, and now that I'm sixteen, I'm planning on getting something. A tattoo. My mom has to give me approval: sign some papers or something for me to legally get one, I'm just keeping my fingers crossed, though I'm pretty sure she'll let me.

My powers have subsided, as I predicted. I can still 'sense' and all that, and I still have my 'luck'—but no more telekinesis (darn!) due to my distance from strong sources of potential–kinetic energy; I doubt anything big would happen unless I went to the local electricity-relay station or something and try to 'use the force' (small note, Star Wars sucks).

Now, back to the present.

I walked up to the fridge, checking the calendar held to the door by a magnet. May 12, Monday afternoon, 6:15 pm. I pulled the piece of paper from my pocket; on it was my own, hand-sketched symbol. It doesn't mean anything, I just got this strange urge to draw it—it happened several day ago.

I was sitting on the couch, doing nothing in particular, when I got this idea for a drawing. I'd scrambled up and in mad dash, grabbed a pencil from the mug sitting on the coffee table and sat there, drawing and sketching and rubbing out and retracing fervently. What finally ended up on the paper was a sort of swirl with a tendril extending out from it. On the top edge was a first spike curling into itself and a second curling away from the symbol. On the bottom edge curled counter-clockwise into itself and a second spike curving away from that. The symbol ended with a hooked spike. All-in-all, I think it would make a decent tattoo.

I folded the piece of paper back up and slid it into my pocket. I strolled into the living room where my mother was reading a book, sitting in the armchair. I walked up to her, smiling innocently. Daphne closed her book, not even bothering to keep her place with a finger (she—and I—knew that she'd find the page easily; she never lost her place).

"You want to get a tattoo and you need my permission." My mother stated. It was creepy when she did that. I can see where I got my ability to predict a person's words from.

I nodded.

My mother smiled. "Well, you've got it. You're planning on going now? Get your shoes and coat, hon."

"Thanks, mom." I said, a tad surprised.

"You're welcome, and I knew you'd been planning on getting a tattoo for a while, now, so don't be so surprised." Daphne laughed.

"I just didn't think you'd agree so readily." I explained.

My mother laughed again, louder this time. She put down her book, rose from her chair and walked to the door—but not before mussing my hair affectionately. I grumbled half-heartedly as I combed through my hair with my fingers to fix it. She grabbed her coat from the rack and slipped her feet into her shoes. I joined her, grabbing my own jacket and stuffing my feet into my oversized, worn-out Roxy skater shoes. The both of us then loaded into the tiny car.

Within twenty minutes, I was sitting on a plastic-covered chair, with a burly, tattooed man hunched over my left shoulder, meticulously needling my skin full of body ink. It didn't really hurt, despite the fact that a needle was repeatedly poking me around twenty times a second—it was really more like a tickling–tingling sensation.

Afterwards, I paid the man—who was actually quite nice (go figure, eh?)—and left the shop with plastic wrap taped over my brand-new tattoo and a tin of stuff called 'Tattoo Goo' to help my skin heal. The tattoo 'guru' (hey, that rhymes, imagine that...) Said that it would take up to a month for my skin to completely heal. Needless to say, I had no intentions of waiting that long, after all, I didn't have to, so I planned on having it healed by Saturday. In time for the shopping trip.

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"Oh, your tattoo is healing up quickly," Daphne proclaimed, examining my tattoo Wednesday night.

"Yeah, thanks, I noticed that too." I said.

"Are you using that salve?" My mother asked.

"Mm-hm, it's working really well."

"So I see," she smiled. "Goodnight, honey."

"G' night, mom."

That night, I went to bed with the nagging suspicion something was going to happen, something big. I never ignored feelings like that; so, just as a...precaution—that word keeps coming up—I called Alice.

"I get this weird feeling," I told her, unsettled.

"I'll keep a look out for anything," Alice assured me.

"And, Alice, can you make sure to tell Carlisle?"

"Sure," Alice said, her voice comforting, yet serious, at the same time.

"I just get this feeling something is going to happen."

"I can feel it too," Alice affirmed, "don't worry, we'll keep sharp. And congratulations on getting your tattoo. "

Of course she would have seen me getting my tattoo.

"Thanks, Alice, on both accounts." I said.

"No problem. Get some sleep, okay?"

"M'kay. Bye, Alice."

"Goodnight."

I clicked the phone off and put it on my bedside table, drifting uneasily asleep.

Friday was thankfully a PA day. I woke up that morning, and saw that my tattoo was almost completely healed. Just about one more day, or so. I stepped into the shower, having already turned on the water. But the water wasn't hot enough, I continually kept turning the knob, but the water was never hot enough—there was a certain chill to it—so I cranked the dial all the way to the left til it wouldn't turn anymore. Finally, the water reached the right temperature. I sighed.

Soon, the air was thick with steam and suddenly, the smoke alarm shrieked, startling me. I yelped, dropping the soap in my hands, slipping and landing on my back painfully, hitting my head on the bottom of the bathtub. 'Ow' didn't even begin to cover it.

My mother rushed in, fanning away the steam from the smoke alarm outside the door with a towel. When she saw me, she raced to the bathtub. She wrapped a towel around me and helped me out of the tub.

"Are you okay, Hannah?" Daphne asked me frantically.

I nodded quickly. "Yeah."

My mother went over to shut off the water. She stuck her hand into the stream of water to test how hot it was. She quickly withdrew her hand and shut off the tap, stopping the steaming water abruptly.

"Honey, how could you possibly stand that water? It was boiling!" Daphne exclaimed, looking worriedly at me. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I assured her. "Really, it felt fine to me."

My mother looked curiously at me, but let it go. "Just make sure you don't set off the smoke alarm again." She warned with a small laugh, walking out of the bathroom.

"Gotcha, mom."

I sighed and decided it would be good to blow-dry my hair and get dressed.

'Now what was going on? I've seem to have built up a resistance to heat. Now well that's strange... What if it has something to do with my feeling?'

This may not bode well for the near future. But just to be sure, I decided to see how resistant to heat I was.

I dug out a pack of matches from the back of the cupboard. I pulled a match from the packet and brushed it across the ignition strip. It burst into a small flame. Tentatively, I passed my hand over the flame quickly. I could hardly feel the heat at all. Next, I passed my hand slowly through the heart of the flame itself. All I could feel was a slight warm spot on my hand where the flame rested. I pulled my hand from the fire and examined my palm. There were black patches and streaks; I rubbed at them and saw that it was merely soot, and my skin was undamaged.

This wasn't just a case of numbed nerves, it was like I was actually fire-proof. This was new.

'I wonder if my hair will still burn." I thought. Not wanting to risk losing my entire head of hair, I plucked out a single strand of my hair and held it to the flame.

Suddenly, the hair burst into flames, burning away the end. I blinked at the hair.

'So, my hair still is able to burst into flames...Daaaamn, that wouldn't be good...'

I had to tell Alice about this—heck, I had to tell them all about this—I was FIRE-PROOF now all of a sudden.

"You're fire-proof?" Alice repeated when I called her a few minutes later.

"Yep."

"That's new." Now Emmet had the phone.

I'd called their home phone and now they were playing 'hotpotato' with the phone.

"When did this first start happening?" Carlisle asked.

"About fifteen, twenty minutes ago, when I was having a shower." I responded. I recounted the incident—turning the heat full-blast, the smoke alarm, the falling, what my mother had said.

"Do you know of anything that could have caused this?" Still Carlisle.

"No, I've gotten a tattoo just recently, but that couldn't have accounted for this."

"You got a tattoo?" Edward asked, slight disapproval coloring his voice. "Are you sure you should have?"

"Edward, tattoos aren't just for felons, these days anymore, you know." I informed him.

"What did you get?" Emmet asked me, sounding a tad excited. "A skull?"

"I hope not." Came Edward's voice from the background.

"No, I got a symbol that I drew myself." I explained.

"What does it look like?" Surprisingly, it was Jasper.

"It's like a swirl with a spiky tail-thing trailing behind it."

"Sounds interesting," Jasper commented.

"Well, just make sure you tell us if anything else happens." Carlisle instructed me.

"Right." I nodded, although they couldn't see.

"I'm keeping an eye out, I hope we'll still be able to go shopping Saturday." Alice said.

"In any case, it would be nice to see you, dear." Esme's voice suddenly came through the receiver.

"I hope you aren't squeamish about shopping, 'cause we're going to shop til you drop." Rosalie said.

"I'd be the only one of the three of us who actually would." I laughed.

"Keep in touch, Hannah." Carlisle.

"See ya, Squirt." (You know who).

"Til Saturday!" Alice and Rosalie declared.

"Bye, dear." Esme.

"Come visit us soon." Jasper.

"Goodbye." Edward said shortly. (Grr... annoying prudish vampire.)

"Bye, everyone." I said. The line went dead and I clicked off the phone.

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Saturday morning, and I was awoken by the sound of my cell phone buzzing irritatingly. With a annoyed, exasperated sigh, I reached over and clicked my phone on, holding it to my ear.

"Hello?" I croaked.

"Hannah," It was Alice, she sounded rushed, urgent.

"What is it?" I asked, instantly more alert.

"It's the Volturi. They found out about you." There was a deathly pause. "They know."

Well, how was that for part one of "Repercussions", my sequel to "Wish"? I apologize for the length, though. But hey, you know the drill: R&R, PLZ!