ALMUVIRA'S NOTE: Edward didn't come back in New Moon. Jacob and Bella didn't end up together after New Moon. Bella slowly tried to move on with her life. The rest will be unfolded in the story. I hope you like my first attempt at a multi-chaptered fanfiction. Please read and review :)
ALSO names that are or similar to those from Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series are owned by HER. She is the Queen, HOWEVER the Alice in the beginning is NOT Alice Cullen.

NOTE ON THE NAME: not sure if I'm 100% happy with it, but 'Blue Hour' (or l'heure bleu) is what photographers or artists refer to twilight as. So in a way this is like another 'Twilight'. Read it and you'll see what I mean.

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AN OCCASION

"Tell me the one about the mirrors!" I remembered demanding. The bedtime story my mother had only told me because I wouldn't stop demanding a new one had become one of my favourites. I knew that the one about the meadow or the beautiful white house would have been the more predictable favourite for a little girl, but the story my mother had told me about the mirror-room was my favourite. I was only eight so most nights my mum would be reluctant to tell me a story with that amount of action. That night she gave in and began telling me my favourite tale.

"His calm and polite voice surprised her when she picked up the phone expecting it to be her mother. 'Be very careful not to say anything until I tell you to.' He said, with the perfect articulation of an earlier century."

I remembered my mother's face as she told me the story. She told it as if she was speaking from her memories. One time I remember seeing her wince as she became a little too descriptive about the events that occurred in the mirror room. Usually she would have skipped over that part with minimal information and then would pick up with her usual detail when Anthony saved her. I remember wishing that some day I would be in a life threatening situation like Marie, in my mum's stories, and my soul mate would come and rescue me.

I looked down at my lap and studied the black lace gloves that enveloped my hands. It had become too painful to remember her again. I was told to think about her and not block out emotions, so that eventually I'd get used to it. I would never get used to it.

My mother and I had been so close, it always seemed as though we were on exactly the same wavelength. We knew what the other was thinking, feeling, talking about almost all the time. The only times were those nights on her birthdays. I tried not to think about those, especially not today.

I felt a warm arm around my shoulder. It helped even though I didn't think anything could today. He always had a connection with her, and today that connection was what I needed, something to tell me she wasn't gone. Uncle Jake kissed the top of my head and I saw a giant tear drop on my lap but it wasn't mine. I looked up at his face; it looked as though it had barely aged from the days when I was young. I put my head on his shoulder and my eyes seemed to follow his example. I felt new tears fall on my lap, and this time they were my own.

"It's okay Alice," he whispered into my hair, "You know that she'll always be with us."

And just like always his words were exactly what I needed. Uncle Jake wasn't really my uncle by blood, but he and my mother shared a very unique relationship, that even I never understood. 'Best friends' was a complete understatement to what they were, and they most certainly were not lovers. Perhaps you could call them soul mates, with no underlying romantic feelings. Before Uncle Jake met Aunt Louise, he and my mother were inseparable. And even after that they still saw each other often, and my mum would confide things in him that she couldn't confide in me. When they talked I could tell more was being said through their eye contact and old shared secrets, than through what was being said aloud. I wondered how Uncle Jake would live without my mom. I began to sob harder, trying my hardest to stay quite and not disrupt the ceremony.

"Alice," my birth father came up to me at the reception. He seemed uncomfortable about this being our first reunion in 3 years. I wasn't uncomfortable about this, today was no day for those kinds of petty emotions.

"Hi…. dad, how're you doing?" I wasn't really sure if a man who left us when I was seven could really count as a dad. But my mother had made us stay in touch and have as much of a father-daughter relationship as we could, up until I was seventeen and refused to see him anymore.

"I'm okay," He said, looking around, searching for what to say next "What about you?"

"I'm coping." And truly I was. Her death wasn't a shock anymore; I had had many months to prepare for it. And my mother made sure I did prepare for it, she would never want me to stop being happy because of her. When I had first found out me being happy at all seemed like an impossibility but soon I became less numb and more aware of the situation I began to see hope in the life I was soon going to have to live.

"Don't you dare ruin your life just because you won't be able to see me anymore." She said sternly, looking at me with an intense expression. "And just because you can't see me, it does not mean I won't be there watching your every move, guiding you, helping you and loving you from wherever it is I'll be."

I couldn't speak, I couldn't even breathe. We never purposely avoided the subject of the looming future ahead of her, but we also barely ever spoke about it. Today was the first time she had spoken to me like this. She found me crying in a fetal position in our large yard. When I saw her watching me in shock I saw an expression on her face that I couldn't identify, it was only there for a second but in that moment I knew that she was not only pained from my pain but from something else. However I didn't have time to interpret her facial expression because it soon turned to the worry I was so familiar with.

The awkward silence between my father and I continued until Uncle Jake joined us and put a protective arm around my shoulders.

"Hello Jacob." My father said, as politely as he could, though composure was never one of his strong points.

"Hello David." Uncle Jake said using the exact same tone as my father. There was another silence where no one knew what to say, but I felt safe under Uncle Jake's protective, russet-coloured arm. David never liked Uncle Jake, I think it was because he was jealous of the connection my mother and Jake had. The feeling between my birth father and uncle was mutual. Uncle Jake hated David. It was easy enough to understand that the main man in my mother's life for so many years would hate the one who took her away and then left her and her new daughter. But I always had a feeling that there was more to it than that. Once I remember Uncle Jake saying that David reminded him of somebody he once knew a long time ago but he never said anything on that topic again.

"I'm going to go get some food." And even though I had no actual intention of eating on this day, I knew I needed to same something to break the growing silence.

"I'll join you." Uncle Jake volunteered and we both walked away from David, all three of us feeling the same relief at the conclusion of the forced politeness.

Uncle Jake sighed loudly and I laughed at his visible relief of getting away.

"Sorry Alice," he said looking at me apologetically, "I've never really liked that man."

"Neither have I." I confessed quietly. It was sad to think that I didn't like the only birth family I had left but it was the truth, and the one thing I'd learnt in these past few months was to always tell the truth.

He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again, deciding against whatever he was about to say. And even though he didn't say anything, I could feel he was about to mention her and it made my throat begin to feel as if it was closing up. I could feel the tears beginning to well up. I knew that I needed to get away as quickly as I could.

"Sorry Uncle Jake." I said quickly before I rushed off to my car. I could feel the tears brimming over as I exited my grandfather's house. When I finally got to the privacy and safety of my car I quickly wiped underneath my eyes and turned on my engine. As much as I wanted to I couldn't let go of my emotions there, I had to be completely alone before I let the tears run.