Bricks and Feathers Chapter 1, a twilight fanfic

The story takes place around twelve-fifteen years after Breaking Dawn – I forgot my own timeline – and is set around the idea of what if Rachel hadn't come back to the Rez for Paul to imprint on her – until now.

Disclaimer: I own nothing - yada yada

Bricks or Feathers?
Chapter 1

Would you rather be hit with a ton of bricks or a ton of feathers? Trick question, right? Because a ton is a ton is a ton is a ton… Wrong, generally when a person says they just got hit like a ton of something it means they got shocking news. The tricky part comes in when you decide it's bad or good news. If your life is over and you want to die, you'd rather be hit with a ton of bricks so you can end it quickly. By the eighth brick, anyone would be unconscious if not dead. If it's good news or if you're still unsure about how you feel, go with the feathers. The bricks will be waiting if you change your mind.

Feathers are soft, lightweight, and floaty. I'm sure the floaty factor would vary in many ways but all of those feathers – a whole ton – are not going to fall right on top of you. They'll fall around you and I'm pretty sure you'll be able to run away or climb your way through them. But hey I could be wrong about the floaty factor – if only those Mythbuster people would accept my submission …

Back to the original question, would I rather be hit by a ton of bricks or a ton of feathers?

First I'd rather not be hit with anything unless it's a light breeze… Is it possible for the ton to be tossed or rolled toward me? Could I perhaps choose something like oxygen or cotton candy? Though the cotton candy maybe worse than the bricks…

I could answer (avoid) the question a million and two ways but…

My long time life partner has been cheating on me for who knows how long – BRICKS.

My father is on his deathbed – BRICKS.

I'm menstruating, just throwing it out there – BRICKS. Actually maybe FEATHERS. How many cycles have I gone through now 250 plus? I guess I could take a few more.

And I'd been cut off from my hometown for the last fifteen years and now was currently driving up the coast to the rez. My "home." – BRICKS.

I'll never date a construction worker. Not because I'd be dating below standards set by our ideological society but just because of context and association. Yeah I became one of those "liberals" when I got to college – part of the reason why I was kinda exiled… But yeah back to a construction worker boyfriend – I'd be waiting to be actually hit with a real brick. Or afraid he'd bring his work home and a pile of bricks would somehow fall on me. Or I'd ask him what did you do today? Oh lug bricks around? Me effing too. Yeah it's all unreasonable and illogical and whatever non-sensible word I can think of. So no construction workers, but I could deal with an architect – if they even exist. I've never actually met one before – I've met people who wanted to BE an architect, but they ended up changing their majors - and there was that one guy who was scamming people out of thousands of dollars… But they're myths – architects exist only in theory.

This is why I hated road trips or maybe I loved them – I can't decide. My mind wanders and goes on these tangents with more tangents until I can connect bricks with – a squirrel darting across the road! My foot slammed on the brake and I felt the jeep jerk off to the side. It slid a few more feet in the dirt and gravel, and I could tell by the uneven movement that I had a flat tire.

"Damn squirrel," I growled breathing hard from the adrenaline rush. "Damn that squirrel!" I groaned remembering that my spare had been stolen two weeks ago. LA is crazy and the inhabitants are no different. Someone had ripped off the spare tire on the back of the jeep with a crowbar or something – probably not even for their own flat tire.

I was tired. I was not clean. I wanted to go home, but I wasn't sure where that even was. LA had been my home for fifteen years and I'd lived in La Push for seventeen. LA – La Push… Maybe I could move to La La land and check into an asylum and avoid all of this. Somehow I had cell phone service, and I was thankful. I could have called Triple A or information for the closest towing service, but I was an hour away from the rez and hopefully someone at the house could come get me. Jacob probably – holy crow, Jake was thirty and I hadn't seen him since he was fourteen. Sixteen years I missed out on. At first, I had kept in touch with Jake but then he stopped calling and I was too afraid to call the house. I was the worst sister ever – worst daughter ever. The fight was stupid and Dad turned out to be right any way, and I don't think I'll mind the dumb smile on his face when he says that he was right.

I met Doug in my public speaking class freshman year. I fell in love with him and his liberal ways. He wanted to be a plastic surgeon and help burn victims and deformed infants. We participated in protests and political campaigns, and made love all the time. The idea of marriage was ideal and probable, but because our friends – our gay friends - couldn't legally marry we didn't want to be hypocrits or hurt their feelings. So our status had been engaged to be engaged… Dad didn't like it and I went out on him and unleashed everything that I had bottled up – blaming it all on him. Mom's death, La Push for being naive and its ignorance, for not being able to afford to go to Princeton, even my chance of getting diabetes. I was mean and stubborn and I thought that being in love was an excuse for it. Fighting for the one you loved was the right thing to do. It might have been the right thing to do at the time, but ultimately it wasn't.

I didn't even hesitate about the number as the phone rang. There wasn't even a slight chance that Dad had changed the number. I don't think he even knows how to do that – I mean, I don't but I could always google it. Dad googling something? That actually would be hilar-

"Hello?"

"Uh hello, is Jacob there?" My voice seemed screechy and I tensed at the sound of the deep unfamiliar voice.

"No." …

"Is Billy available?"

"No." …

"Is there someone else I can talk to who's a little more articulate?"

"No." …

"Look, can you just tell him his daughter is calling," I huffed, frustrated.

"You're not Rebecca."

"His other daughter," I rolled my eyes. Of course this stranger wouldn't know about me. Though he wasn't a stranger to the rest of the family if he could tell I wasn't Rachel. We're twins – we look the same, of course we sound similar.

"Oh…" The tone of his voice told me that he definitely knew about me.

"Look I need some help. My -" I stopped, hearing him scoff on the other end. "Who the hell is this?"

"Billy is resting. I'll tell him you called."

"No wait, I need- Hello?"

That little schmuck hung up on me.

I pushed open the door and walked around the jeep inspecting the flat tire and contemplating on what to do. I could wait for someone to drive by… I could call information or I could walk to Forks. Somehow I got a little piece of good fortune and blue lights flashed behind me.

Ah, hello FEATHERS.

AN: sooo yes this is a RachelxPaul story. I had started reading a lot of 'wolf' stories and a lot of them were the exact same thing so I wanted to try something different with this one.

Also you know how other authors are always recommending good stories to read? Well… I need you guys to do that for me, please? I haven't had much time or luck in finding something that was new and different. Could be anything - wolf, BxE, all human - just something you enjoy reading or writing if you're an author? pretty please?

Hopefully my ExB readers will give it a chance, and I'll try to post really soon. I plan on chapters being only 1200 words or so…

Thanks for Reading!