Acceptance

Figuring out visions, sharing fountain pens, and being hopelessly in love. Poor Crispin. I struggled to capture Edward in this story, and I've had to accept that FanFic canon characters simply are not the same as actual canon characters, no matter how hard the author tries.

Crispin's stops at home at the end of each day were awkward. Edward was always staring at him, listening to his embarrassing thoughts. And Rosalie was always snarling, like a wolf with a stomach ache. She usually stalked out of the house when he entered, annoyed just to be in the room with him.

Crispin felt bad for Alice. Spending as much time as he was with Sera, he had neglected his tasks in searching for the cause of her red-fire-visions. He always told himself he was just trying to get the answers out of Sera, but it wasn't true. He should have been doing research. He should have found and interrogated the witness to Sera's accident. But he was too distracted. He hadn't found time for these vital things. It was stressing Alice out.

Carlisle and Esme were delighted every time Crispin came home. Esme, the sweet mother that she was, wanted him to be happy just as she did all her other adopted vampire children. His involvement with Sera had certainly improved his general mood, and Esme was ecstatic with joy. This made Crispin even happier. When gentle Esme was happy, the whole world was better for it. Carlisle seemed pleased, too. He patted Crispin's shoulder whenever they encountered each other in the hospital, and his shining grin was always obvious at home.

It was a little embarrassing. Crispin was never one to make his personal matters obvious at home. To have the family's parental figures so excited over his relationship with Sera was to bring the whole affair under the spotlight.

The only ones who didn't seem to care too much about it were Renesmee, Bella, and Jacob Black. Bella was too occupied with her daughter and soon-to-be-son-in-law to bother. Her whole world revolved around them. They were the pinnacle of her existence, next to her mate. And Renesmee and Jacob were so involved with each other that the whole world could have been invisible around them. They were going to be married, and that was all that mattered. The only notice Jacob took was to ask about Sera's Quileute ties. He stopped asking about it when Crispin confirmed—again—that she wasn't Native American. Crispin made it a point not to mention Sera's crispy, inhuman odor. He still hadn't worked out the nuances behind it, and he wanted to know more before he brought that particular card to the table.

Since settling into a routine of visiting Sera and taking snacks to feed her with, Crispin suddenly found himself busier and more energetic than he'd ever been. He'd always been interested in his books and his studies, but they hadn't had quite this kind of effect on him. It was new and strange, but pleasurable. He and Sera could sit and talk for hours. It never got boring. The only thing that stopped their conversations was Sera's human-ish need to sleep.

And sleep she did. And with sleep came healing. With healing came an even quicker, sharper, feistier spirit. Crispin loved it. He'd never paid much attention to the healing process before. Now that he was witnessing it up close and personal, recording every day in careful notes, it was fascinating to watch. She was like a flower opening in slow motion, all the strength and strange attractiveness blossoming as she healed.

Of course, the attractiveness was a little problematic. Crispin knew he shouldn't be feeling this way for a human. It wasn't safe for her. But he couldn't help himself, especially not with Carlisle encouraging it the way he was. Besides, it was easy for Crispin to justify himself with thoughts about Edward's relationship with Bella. It had happened before. Why not again? Granted, it wasn't a vampire-human pairing this time, but vampire-inhuman. Whatever exactly that inhuman part meant.

Still, it was dangerous and foolish. He couldn't pretend it wasn't. Even Bella had suffered from being with her vampire lover. It was an unsafe way to live. Crispin was guilty for dragging Sera into it, for encouraging her to like him. Stupid. Dangerous. But completely unavoidable. Crispin simply couldn't help himself. And neither, it seemed, could Sera.

She was like a sunbeam every time he entered her hospital room. The nurses liked him around, not only because of his vampiric attractiveness, but also because his presence seemed to tame the little tiger. She was much easier to work with when she was relaxed, and Crispin seemed to be the key to achieving this. They chatted for hours, peering through books, exploring each other's interests. Sera seemed to like Crispin's latest venom studies. She examined with great interest his explorations through the chemistry of a rattlesnake's venom, pleased at what he'd already learned and retained. She, in the meantime, was an astronomer, keenly aware of the sky and the celestial dance of the heavens. She saw different constellations from the ones Crispin was familiar with. He had no idea where she'd learned them all, but they were fascinating. He had no records of their existences, and he couldn't find them anywhere online. She might have even made them up herself. A great number of the animals she saw in the heavens were extinct megafauna.

By the end of the second week, Crispin's hands were tied. He'd found a friend. More than a friend, even. A kindred spirit. He'd never gotten along so well with another person. He'd never felt so animated and eager. This joyful attachment that he felt to the small young woman was completely unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He found himself wanting to do anything for her. Enough, even, that he found himself researching gifts for her. His initial mad idea to find her something shiny drove him to his laptop, where he started looking for jewelry, something he'd never imagined he would do in his lifetime.

He didn't have a very good idea of what he was doing, either. There were so many options, and Crispin was clueless as to what girls liked, especially ones as unique as Sera. He eventually plucked up the strength to ask Alice for some advice.

"She doesn't have any jewelry with her," he told the pixie-like vampire, hovering fretfully behind her chair as she examined what he'd found on his laptop up to the dinner table. "I don't know for sure if she even likes to wear necklaces. But it seemed appropriate … at the time that I thought of it, anyway … I don't know. What do you think?" He was so used to being certain of everything he ever did. This was entirely out of his comfort zone.

Alice scrutinized the screen closely. Crispin had selected several pieces of jewelry that he thought Sera might like, from necklaces to earrings to anklets. He'd selected things he thought would go well with her skin tone and shocking eyes, things with pure silver and gemstones of blue, green, or red. Alice looked a little doubtful. "It's hard to know, Crispin. Her taste won't be the same as mine. She's so unique as it is, I just don't think it's safe to get her stuff like this before you know what she wants. Haven't you talked to her about it?"

Crispin looked at the floor. He'd been too afraid to ask her. This, too, was a foreign thing. He was used to absolute confidence in everything he did. He wasn't sure why he felt such anxiety over the simple task. It seemed scary somehow. He kept making up excuses not to. Alice sighed, grinning. "Oh, Crispin. You'll have to ask her about it. I really mean it. You don't want to get her something she'll never wear. It's a girl's worst nightmare."

Crispin sighed, heavily. "I was … thinking I'd make it a surprise," he said, weakly. It was a lame excuse. Alice tsked.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you," she said, gently, tapping on the laptop with a manicured fingernail. "If you really want to get her a gift, maybe you could try something else? What things does she like?"

Crispin wriggled a little on the spot, embarrassed. "Books. Journals. Computers. But those can't be the only things, can they? We've merely used them often in our discussions."

Alice smiled. "Well, I know you like your pens. Does she like them?"

Crispin shuffled his feet and took a deep breath. "Yes, she does. But it seems so … too obvious, you see." His sister laughed at him.

"I don't think so, Crispin. I know how you get around your pens. If she likes them anywhere near as much as you do, I'd suggest giving her one of those as a gift. Heaven knows you get crazy over every pen Carlisle's ever put in a box for you."

Crispin grinned a little nervously. "You think so?"

"I definitely think so. You've got a lot of pretty ones in your collection. Maybe you could give her one of those or something. She likes shiny things, doesn't she? You've got a few lacquered ones."

Sera had more than once mentioned her love for shiny things. Her repeated comments about it were one of the reasons Crispin couldn't get this idea out of his head. He was embarrassed to think he'd told his family about her shiny-collecting hobby at any point. Maybe Edward had read it out of his head and told them behind his back. Annoying, but Crispin couldn't be upset about it now. Alice had given him a perfect idea, and he already knew exactly which pen he wanted to give to Sera. "Thanks, Alice. I owe you one."

Alice chuckled. "As often as I see the future, I never thought I'd be helping you with this kind of stuff. I never thought you'd run into somebody you liked this much, either. She's a special one."

Crispin rolled his eyes, still smiling. Well, it was true that this circumstance had been entirely unforeseen. If someone had told him last month that he'd find his best friend in a small human woman with a fiery temper, he'd have told them to eat a sock. But the impossible and incredible had happened. Now he had a friend. And he also had the perfect gift for her. Crispin moved forward to close his laptop, giving his sister a squeeze around the shoulders. "Thanks. See you later."

"Wait, Crispin."

Crispin hesitated at the tone of her voice. Alice sounded very serious, and her eyes were a little worried. "Yes?"

"You … haven't learned anything else about the red fire, have you?"

Guilt sank through Crispin's gut. He hadn't. He probably ought to have been spending his time with research, with making progress toward discovering what the fire meant, why Alice was seeing it with her precognitive eye. He'd been so excitedly involved with Sera that he hadn't put himself together enough to do real work. "I—I'm very sorry. I've been meaning to, but …"

Alice took a deep breath. "I understand. It's okay. This is good for you, anyway. But you should know: I've seen some more visions."

Ah. This was important. Crispin immediately took a seat at the little-used dinner table beside his sister, setting down his laptop. "Tell me."

"There's more to the vision of fire. It was … odd. It was like the flames were … attacking. Or chasing. They were like … alive. And I heard cries."

Crispin's jaw tightened. "Who?"

"I didn't recognize any of them. I don't … I'm not sure they were from our family."

"I see. And the fire? What do you mean by 'chasing?'"

"I don't know. The fire was alive, like it was trying to get something. And there was a huge thundering noise in the distance. It was like listening to a volcano."

Crispin considered all this for a minute, sitting very, very still, mulling it all over. His heart was low and felt small. This was much, much bigger than he had imagined. Fires of great sizes made huge amounts of noise. And what Alice saw as "living" was probably the movement of flame raging across a surface. A pyroclastic flow, or rushing lava. Her comparison to a volcano sounded perfectly on-point. Uncannily on-point.

"That sounds like a volcanic eruption to me."

"You think so?"

"I do." Crispin sat back and took a deep, slow breath. "I think you've seen the eruption of a volcano which will claim a lot of human lives. I don't know where this will happen or how far into the future, but it's going to be a big event."

Alice seemed to droop on her seat. She looked sorrowful. Crispin's heart went out to her. This was the unsung nasty part of being psychic. Most of Alice's visions pertained to those she knew. This was why Crispin had assumed the fire would one day impact their family. Others concerned important events like this, ones that wouldn't immediately affect friends or family but that would change the world. Sometimes these things were good. Usually they were not. This was not the first of strangers' deaths that she had foreseen. She'd watched catastrophic earthquakes and destructive city fires, and tsunamis were a regular nightmare. She'd also witnessed several school shootings. Crispin and the Cullen Coven had successfully prevented three of them. These things were not always set in stone. But the eruption of a volcano … no power on Earth could stop that.

"I'm sorry, Alice," Crispin murmured, reaching out a hand to touch her arm. He hated seeing his sister suffer through the curse of her vampiric gift.

Alice smiled slightly. "Well, at least we're going to be okay."

"Yes, at least we're safe." Crispin was relieved to have worked out Alice's vision of fire. What had hung over their heads for weeks had now been made clear. Alice sighed, putting her head into her hands for a minute to pull herself back together. Then she murmured,

"My other vision was … completely weird. You'd think I was nuts."

Crispin raised an eyebrow. Alice was quiet for a moment, her head still in her hands. Then she chuckled. She didn't look at him. "I saw you. In the sky. Flying." Crispin quirked the eyebrow higher. Alice snorted. "You were sitting on something, almost laying on it, holding on. It must have been moving fast. It was huge; I couldn't see very much of it. Just this great black mass. Black as a void, except … it was shiny. I could see your reflection in it." Crispin stared at his sister. Alice sat up straight, taking her head out of her hands, shaking her head. "If I could dream, I would have called it nonsense."

"What … happened in it?"

"Nothing happened. It was one of those snapshot visions. Just a picture."

Crispin worked his fingers into his hair. He tried to see it in his head as Alice had described it. "Was I sitting on … a flying car?"

Alice burst into laughter. Crispin smiled, glad to hear her laugh, although the question had been legitimate. She shook her head, bemused. "No, it was too big. Just a big field of smooth, shiny, black … obsidian, maybe. It was weird."

Crispin tightened his lips and shook his head, shrugging. "I have no idea."

"Me, neither. I hate it when I see random stuff like this. It just doesn't make any sense."

"Well, at least I have something to work on now that we've cleared up your other vision."

Alice laughed again. "If you can find the time!" She stood up and gave Crispin a hug where he sat up to the table. "Thanks, Crispin. Now you go study your books so Carlisle can see you're making yourself useful before you go back to Sera."

In the third week of Sera's stay in the hospital, one of Crispin's routine visits to home was made especially awkward thanks to Edward, who cornered him in his room when he went to fill Sera's new pen for the first time. It had just arrived in the mail: the remarkable and rare Edison Nouveau Premiere in Neptune's Pearl. A glossy, gleaming thing shaded a glistening ocean blue mixed with white. The resin caught the light just the way Sera had once said she liked, dazzling with shimmering sparkles. Perfect for someone who made it a point to collect shiny things. Crispin didn't notice Edward following him up the stairs, too occupied with thoughts about which ink would pair with the color. He realized too late that he was caught when he turned with ink and pen in hand to find Edward leaning on the doorframe of his room with his arms folded. Crispin groaned inwardly, his mind instinctively flitting over all the things he didn't want Edward to know … which, of course, made them known to him at once. Edward smirked.

"Liking the new girl a lot, I see."

Crispin glared. Edward held up his hands, innocently. "Hey, I'm not judging, you know."

"Oh?" Crispin growled, doubting it. He set his ink on his smooth, dark desktop, pointedly avoiding getting too close to his precious computers, and unscrewed the lid on the bottle. Getting so attracted to this woman when I've practically just met her. You must think I'm a complete fool.

"Actually, I don't." Edward slid into the room and dropped into one of the desk chairs at Crispin's second desk, scooting away from the computers to make Crispin feel better. "You forget I fell madly in love with a human girl, too."

Crispin's hands paused in their work halfway through unscrewing the body of the pen. He tightened his lips slightly. There was that other uncomfortable part of the story. I'm quite sure she's not human at this point.

"Really?" Edward sounded genuine. Crispin was surprised that the old eavesdropper hadn't picked that out of his head, yet. He automatically tried to clarify his own reasoning to himself. Edward heard the rapid-fire train of thought from his younger brother and put a hand over his face. "I hate it when you go a thousand miles an hour like that. Why isn't she human? Tell me again."

Crispin sighed through his nose and stuck the silver nib of Sera's new pen into the ink. I still think she's like the Quileute shapeshifters somehow, although she's not related to them. Her lineage is ancient enough to easily hide something, and she's resistant to both yours and Alice's powers. And there's something off about her scent, though only slightly. There's a certain … tang to it. He pulled up the minuscule plunger in the pen's ink reservoir, filling it with dark liquid. He'd chosen a deep royal blue to go with the glossy pen. It was a perfect match for the blue parts of the chatoyant resin. No mistakes.

Edward seemed to consider for a moment, and then he grinned and shook his head. "This is exactly how it happened with Bella."

Crispin despaired, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. Carlisle told me about your involvement in Bella's vehicular accident. I pray the past does not repeat itself in the same way. Heaven knows Bella nearly lost her life too many times. I don't want to see that happen again to another breakable mortal.

Edward was quiet for a moment longer than Crispin expected. He glanced at his elder brother. Edward's grin was overflowing with mirth. It seemed he was making an effort not to laugh.

Crispin scowled. What?

"You seem to be thinking of your new friend in the long term … like you'll be together for a while. After the hospital."

Crispin was furious at himself for letting that slip. He took a deep breath, ignoring Edward, and dabbed the extra ink off the nib with a paper towel, soaking it in luscious blue. With deft, lightning-speed vampire movements, he screwed the body and cap back onto the pen and held the gleaming little instrument in his hand for a minute, watching the fluorescent light sparkle and diffract over the polished surface.

He didn't want to admit his own ridiculous feelings. It was embarrassing. But Edward would hear them no matter what Crispin did. He'd been hearing them for weeks.

"Look," said Edward, gently. "It's okay. I was going to say: my love for Bella started out this way. I was just curious at first, and it became … more … over time."

Curious because you couldn't hear her, Crispin remembered. And annoyed, because of how she tempted you. You had to win the fight against yourself—against the monster that is vampirism. And you had to know why she was silent. So you pursued.

Edward sighed. "So I did."

Crispin considered. You're comparing your curiosity about Bella to my own interest in Sera?

"Yes," said Edward, simply. "And that's why I'm not judging you. I was just the same."

Crispin pulled in a deep breath, closing his eyes. He wanted to refute such a comparison, deny any kind of similarity between their situations. Unfortunately, Edward had a point. Crispin was curious. And it was that strange fascination that drew him back toward the hospital bedside where Sera was fast asleep even now. He grimaced.

This is dangerous for her, as it was for Bella. And it's not me that poses the greatest risk to her. Rosalie is crueler than I, and then there's the Volturi … other vampires who don't adhere to our dietary restrictions …

"That is the problem," said Edward, quietly. "The Volturi, especially. When they learned that Bella knew about us, they wanted to kill her. She was breaking the vampire law. No human is supposed to live with the knowledge of what we are."

Crispin despaired. And Sera may already know. Her contact with me could bring that fact to unwanted ears.

"Hmm …" Edward leaned back in the chair. Crispin glanced at him again. Now he looked worried. "How likely is it that she knows?"

Crispin's ever-active mind could not lie. Edward's eyebrows shot up.

"You seem almost certain."

She always teases me about my vampiric traits, Crispin admitted, grudgingly and helplessly. I hope it's only because she's observant and is curious, but … it may easily be her way of telling me that she knows the truth.

Edward growled, frustrated. "I wish I could have heard her mind."

Crispin rolled his eyes again. I will not pretend to be upset that you can't hear her. But it does complicate matters. I'm considering asking her upfront … somehow. I might have to wait until I can be sure that she knows so that I don't accidentally reveal us. Which … entirely defeats the purpose of asking to begin with. He sighed, shaking his head, and finally replaced the lid on his ink bottle. A few more days. I just need time to work with her. I need to grin and bear down. No more waiting. I just have to … break down and do it.

"Well … you're our last hope," said Edward, shrugging. "As much as I didn't want you to before, I guess you'd better head on back and keep talking to her."

Crispin put his ink bottle back in the drawer with all his others. He paused, examining his forty-plus other bottles, wondering if he should take one or two other colors back with him back to the hospital. Edward snorted at the thoughts he heard.

"She likes your inky obsession, eh?"

Crispin would have blushed if his body were not undead. He could not, so he growled, defensively. She knows fountain pens better than you do. Shut it.

Edward snickered. "How'd she like your little offspring?"

Crispin tried not to think about how happy Sera had been with his perfectly matched white-and-gold Pelikan. He tried to distract his mind with other thoughts, scrambling to keep the memory off the forefront of his mind so Edward wouldn't see it. Unfortunately …

Edward burst into laughter.

He'd seen it.

Crispin stalked out of his room, firmly sticking Sera's shimmering pen into his pocket so he wouldn't accidentally crush the resin in his fist. Oh … bother!