I don't own these characters, regrettably. Jane, Alec, et al are Stephene Meyer's.
Read and review appreciated :)
"Alec," I called, "We have to finish getting dinner."
"Alright, Jane, alright." He grinned at me, flipping his dark hair out of his eyes. He smoothed his filthy shirt slightly, and I rolled my eyes. Constantly preening. I glanced at my skirt, covered in muck and dust. Ah well.
"C'mon," I said, grabbing his hand and towing him along. He stumbled after me, laughing in his recently deeper voice. We dashed along the streets of our London, the beautiful city that we loved. Despite its flaws. Despite the constantly higher prices, and the constantly sicker people. I shook my hair out of my face. Don't dwell on it, Janie, relax. I shivered, pulling my self-knit sweater closer.
"'Ello, darlings," Mrs. Burne, the baker, smiled to us as we entered. Simultaneously, Alec and I took a deep breath, savoring the floury, charred smell. Mrs. Burne chuckled at our usual double act, then took a fresh slice of bread from the cutting board.
"Here, you two," she said, passing it to us affectionately, "You two look half starved to death, poor chicks." I thanked her unconsciously, already concentrating on her gift. The bread was warm and earthy, soft under my fingers. Alec tore it in half, and attempted to give me the larger piece. I raised my eyebrows at him and took the other one, shrugging at him as he narrowed his eyes. We selected the bread Mama had asked for. In my hand, I held what I knew to be one of the last shillings to our name. The baker yawned daintily, trying to smother it behind her hand. I pursed my lips at Mrs. Burne, squinting at her for a moment. Then, I flashed her a dazzling smile.
"Mrs. Burne," I said in my most angelic voice, "Were you out late last night? You seem exausted, poor dear."
"I'm alright, darling," she said, glancing at me from the oven she was tending. "Thank you for your concern though," she said warily. "You're welcome," I smiled, "But I did see you ---" I broke off, turning to my twin. "Where was it, Alec?"
"I believe it was near the river, Jane," he said quietly. I grinned largely at him, then turned back to the anxious-looking baker.
"It was, thank you Alec. And I wondered to myself..." I slowed, looking at her with fake confusion, "Why would an upstanding woman like Mrs. Burne be doing by the boarding houses near the river?" I stared, politely puzzled, at the now glaring matron. Fool.
"Why don't I just wrap up your bread, and an extra loaf, for my favorite customers," she snapped. I smiled brightly.
"That would be splendid."
"Quite," Alec said, serene.
~~~*~~~
I walked close to Alec. He always had a higher body temperature than me, and my sweater was getting threadbare. My basket was hooked onto my elbow. It was looking shabby, too. My boots were falling apart, my gloves were nonexistant, and my socks were held together by spit and prayers. I snorted. Talent like mine, wasted. Alec rubbed my hair, distracting me from my rapidly worsening temper. "It's alright, Jay-Jay," he said, a very emotional sentiment for him. "You and I both know that you're the most brilliant criminal this side of the Atlantic." His lips twitched upward for a second.
"I know, Alec," I sighed, "And you're the most devious mastermind. But these people, they're just so..." I looked at him, gesturing at the street.
"Mortal," we said together.
"As opposed to gods like us," Alec said, raising his eyebrow slightly.
"We cahn't help that we were borhn for greatness," I murmured snobbishly, mocking the accent of a passing banker.
"Your reach is too short to fight with God, Jay. At this time, anyway." Alec narrowed his eyes, his lip curling at the improper way the man was staring at us. His eyes were strange...no, it was the light, and the shade from his hat, or the reflection off of his red cravat that made his eyes shine dark burgundy. The clouds left the light dim, anyway. He radiated confidence and beauty that any aristocrat would trade their souls for if given the chance. It was difficult to look away from his face, even as the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I wasn't the only one staring, but Alec and I were the only ones gripping our hands tighter in unconscious anxiety. Moronic aristocrat, too overdressed for this part of town. I tried to affect my normal indifference. His nostrils visibly flared as he sucked in a breath. My heart trembled slightly, and I grabbed Alec's hand and turned away. I pretended that I was unshaken, but Alec was glancing around, blinking rapidly.
Oh no. If Alec was nervous, there was something serious happening. My breath started coming in gasps as I panicked, automatically breaking into a run, Alec loping by my side. Meanwhile, something was happening to me. The sight of the cranberry-eyed, alabaster statue was framed in my mind. I was terrified, understandably, but I wasn't unobservant. Everyone else seemed to be drawn to the pale face, while Alec and I felt repelled by some evil force. He looked irresistable, yet there had been a cushion of space around him despite the crush of peasants. So something kept people close enough to touch, but instinct kept them slightly out of his way. Instinctual fear? Wariness? What kept them close? The beauty, obviously, and the air of command he radiated...but instinct kept them away...
"Paradoxical," Alec muttered to me.
I rolled my eyes at him.
"You're in my head again." We were in each other's heads all of the time anyway, I shouldn't be surprised. What that aristocratic bastar was was power incarnate. Everything I lacked, and deserved, given to this insignificant stranger.
Someone stepped out of an alleyway and we both startled like skittish yearlings. I grimaced at my behavior. I was the cleverest girl in Britain and the Continent, and I was running from shadows of idiotic aristocrats. My lip twitched as Alec and I ripped open the gate to Hyde Park. We'd gone pretty far from our neck of the metaphorical woods, and were again among the snobbish rich bastards. We collapsed together beneath a tree, out of breath. I looked around, almost hoping for any sign of the red-eyed man, wanting to prove my worthiness to join his cause, no matter what it was --- Stop it, Jane. You can outsmart him by a long shot, you know how to do things no one else has ever dreamed of.
"Alec?" I said, a new resolve formed in my voice. He glanced at me, his face still off, nervous instead of apathetic. That alone almost scared me out of my strong mood, but I pressed on.
"He's nothing," I said, "You can distract him, I can make him bleed." The last word was filled with a strange glee that scared me, but I knew was true. I laughed lightly, gaining a glance from the nearby bourgeoise. One muttered behind her fan, a flash of red rouge, speaking quickly in French. I wanted to scream at her. "One day I'll know more French than you, you self centered society bitch. You'll be poor and dead and I'll be young and beautiful. And more powerful than any monarch you pretend to know." My voice got louder, shriller; I bared my teeth at her briefly, then shook my head in shock.
"Jay-Jay," Alec said, his eyes guarded, "I know what you're talking about, but please keep it quiet." He helped me up. "Only fools wear their hearts on their sleeves."
"Then call me a fool," I said, intoxicated by the flood of something larger than myself that swept me along. My sight colored over a brilliant crimson for a second, then faded back to its normal drab city dirt. I sulked; the color was so much more...alive. "I'm ready, Alec. Let's go to the house." I never called it home.
I half expected things to have changed, I was so charged with energy. But when I opened the door, my sister was by the hearth, knitting; my mother stewing cabbage over a tiny fire that didn't warm the room; my father gone, presumably at the pub and not expected for another several hours. I shivered angrily, and threw my basket onto the table. I wouldn't get thanked for the extra bread, and woudn't get asked about it. Nothing. Typical. Mary threw down the lumpy gray thing she was making and lunged toward the bread. Her knitting was dangerously close to the fire, stupid girl, and was smoking in seconds. Mother scooped the wool away with the spoon she was using to stir the soup, stamping on it to eliminate the threads that were threatening to smolder.
"Mary, you dozy thing, watch what you're doing." My mother scolded her with affection; Mary had always been her favorite, even though she was fat, lazy, and piggish. She got new dresses whenever she whined, but I was forced into her oversize cast-offs. I spared a loathing glance at my greedy, idiotic sister, then bolted to Alec's corner room. It was cleaner than the one I regrettably shared with Mary, and roomier, too. Alec did clean it constantly. I sat primly on his pallet, across from the small mirror I'd filched from a stand that sold fripperies to the lazy upper class. I looked at the pale, thin girl in the silvery glass. My long brown hair was hopelessly tangled at the ends, giving me the look of having been dragged through briar thickets for the past fourteen years of my life. I had been, even if they were metaphorical thickets. I looked like a drowned rat, or a kicked dog. I glared at that loathesome little girl.
"Alec?" I called softly.
"Yes?" He glanced in the door.
"It's time for a change," I said, stroking my hair.