Fuil 'o mo chuislean Chapter 9, a twilight fanfic

Fuil 'o mo chuislean

Twilight characters and universe are not mine, but the original characters, storyline and wording are mine.

Thank you for the phenomenal response to the last chapter, and apologies for the delay in getting the next one out as always. But! I have some homework for you, kinda. To get more in the mood for all things Scottish (am assuming you're already in the mood for all things Alistair. lol), I task you with going to youtube and looking up "Runrig - Abhainn an t'sluiagh". Runrig are a Scottish rock band who sing in Gaelic as well as English. As well as being incredible musicians who've over the last forty years written some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard, I figure the haunting nature of this and some of their other songs might be a good companion to this story. It's not compulsory to go find the video, but I hope a few of you do, and enjoy the music.

Chapter Nine

'S an deid thu leam gu tir mo ghraidh
Seall na h-oin dhorchas dhona
Treabhadh speuran as ar cionn

(And you will come along with me my young girl)
(To see the dark menacing birds)
(Ploughing the skies above us)

Runrig - Tir an arim

Not-Alistair POV

I stood tall on the roof of the train, stretching my back until it creaked, arms out wide to catch the wind. Even someone standing fifteen feet away as the train went by wouldn't see me in the dark; the moon was but a sliver and illuminated nothing, to human eyes at least. My unwilling host was a vampire so technically I didn't need to stretch, but it felt wonderful all the same.

Ah but he was making a mess of things, confused creature that he is. Why was it always down to me to help things along? Because the stubborn git has never acknowledged that he is still a man as well as a vampire. He doesn't brood, but he doesn't thrive either.

I met young Bella for the first time forty years from now. She was a beautiful vampire, wild and compassionate, bluntly spoken and kind to a fault. Of course she still has that to look forward to. I remember the look on her face when I pinned her to the floor in confusion. Unfortunately, so do my nuts; now there is a lass who doesn't like surprises. My young friend will wonder why that particular area ached for hours afterwards, but as with most things, I find it more amusing to keep him in the dark.

I trudged along the roofs of the train cars until I reached the one that smelled of human food. Better I than Alistair; the odours would have made him green with nausea. Not that that also wouldn't have been amusing. Moving back and forth, feeling the subtle prod of sound waves through the soles of my feet, I finally stopped above a small and slightly racing heartbeat. This was hers. I waited until it was the only heartbeat in the car, other patrons having wandered back to their own parts of the train, before lowering myself over the edge to peer in the window. I rapped softly on the glass.

Bella POV

I can't remember how long it's been since I've eaten anything with a knife and fork. I caught the disapproving glance of an older woman as my hands struggled to regain their muscle memory, dropping the utensils several times in the process. My blushes were eventually lost in concentration as I cut a chunk of chicken far too big, stuffing it in my mouth anyway. It was all I could do to stop myself from bulldozing through the food on the plate, but I managed, wanting to savour every bite. There were tiny vegetables, some fancy potatoes and some kind of sauce that I wanted so badly to drink straight out of the small jug. If I'd had to do this with no pants on I probably would have done exactly that, but Bella-with-pants does not gargle with a fine velouté; Bella-with-pants takes her time to enjoy the meal that's been cooked for her.

That pretty little garnish had better not think it was going to escape; there wasn't a thing on this plate that wasn't going find its way into my poor deprived stomach.

I couldn't help but feel a little paranoia creeping in as the dining car emptied of the other diners. Generally speaking, being left alone sat in front of large windows didn't do much to shore up my sense of physical security. But my stomach was sovereign for now and while it didn't think it could manage dessert, it wasn't going to let me off that easily. I looked around furtively before raising the plate up to lick the last ribbons of creamy sauce from its surface. So maybe I was too hung up on the pants thing; I seemed to be perfectly capable of being uncouth when sauce was on the line and there was a plate to be cleaned. It was only when I was thoroughly immersed in the task that I heard a distinct tap tap tap on the window next to me. I froze, my tongue still plastered flat to the plate I held in midair.

You know that part in The Lion King where the little cub sees the wildebeest stampede thundering towards him? He kind of hunkers down, his ears going flat to his head in terrified anticipation. That was the image that came to mind right now, because I could feel my own body trying to ape that same stance. I could feel my shoulders wanting to hunch over, my whole being wanting to make itself as small and low a target as possible, vibrating dimly with the knowledge that it probably wasn't going to get out of this whole, or warm. I couldn't move.

Have you ever tried to engage your fight or flight response with a Wedgwood dining plate stuck to your face? Thought not. So quit judging.

I rolled a frightened eye sideways and let out a small squeak at the sight with which I was greeted. A large, upside down head smiled widely while an equally large hand waved happily at me. I looked at the plate then back at the…individual outside the window again before lowering the plate cautiously. He waved again, his grin widening, and I looked all around me in confusion, desperately hoping that he was waving at someone else.

That would be a no.

I grimaced and my hand raised in a sort of half-wave of its own before I knew what I was doing. My legs did a better job, though, and suddenly flung me out of my chair to hurtle me out of the dining car and back to my cabin. I leapt through the door, slamming it shut behind me, and stood there with my back pressed against the solid wood, which calmed me a little even though I watched the windows warily for any sign of my stalker. There was nothing to see or hear for several minutes except my racing heart, which thundered in my ears. I clutched my chest, trying to slow my breathing. Ragged gasps might be a perfectly normal response to being hunted like an animal but damnit did they have to be so loud?

tap tap tap

I squealed and flung myself away from the door. The three knocks had been purposeful, and I'd been able to tell from the vibration against my back exactly in which spot his knuckles had been hitting the wood. I heard a dull and muffled thump followed by a brief slapping noise. I could only picture that he had let his forehead fall against the door, slapping his palms against the wood as he leant towards me. I was thankful for the barrier between us but wasn't even going to try to kid myself that it would keep him out. He seemed to have the same idea. His deep, thunderclap of a voice came from the other side of the door.

"Sassenach, do ye want to let me in or do ye want to put all these nice people's lives at risk by making me break the door in?" I was silent for a moment, bouncing on the balls of my feet and screwing my fingers together in terrified indecision. His logic was annoyingly persuasive, even if it was evil. I opened the door warily, just enough of a chink to see a narrow view of his face. He scowled a little, maybe because he was bent almost double, his enormous frame filling the corridor to an uncomfortable degree.

"What's a sassywhatsit?"

"Sassenach. It means foreigner. Ye're no a Scot, so it fits."

"OK, Gigantor," I sighed, motioning him in. "You gonna kill me now or you want to chat first?" I was unprepared for the loud guffaw he let out. "Well I'm glad one of us finds this amusing."

"Always, Sassenach, always do ye make me laugh. I've known ye a long time and still yer strange sense of humour tickles me."

"I'm sorry…what? I think I'd remember meeting Shrek's paler but larger cousin." More laughter. Why do I get the feeling that being a source of amusement as well as dinner is the much less dignified way to go? He studied my blank face and decided I was being serious, scrubbing a hand (paw) across his broad face.

"Damnit. You linear beings confuse the hell out of me sometimes. How ye can exist on a straight line and still make sense of everything baffles me. To not know things until they happen…how do ye do it?" I figured this was a rhetorical question and focused on the point that stood out the most.

"What do you mean 'linear beings'?" He didn't seem to be about to tear me to pieces so I sank onto the sofa with what I hoped was well concealed exhaustion.

"Yer perception of time, it goes in a straight line, aye? With a beginning, a middle, and an end."

"Of course; how else would it go?" This also amused him greatly and one huge hand reached out to ruffle my hair almost affectionately. I say almost, because affection isn't supposed to be accompanied by the urge to empty your bladder and stomach simultaneously.

"I dinnae exist the same way you do. I exist in all time at once. I'll meet you for the first time in about four decades. Be gentle on me, by the way; I know ye dinnae like surprises but ye're a might rough."

"OK, you lost me at 'all time'." This was bad. I could feel myself relaxing the more he spoke, and a distant, tiny part of my brain was protesting, convinced that I was going to become mincemeat at any moment but unable to fight the fact that I found this terrifying person's presence calming in some way.

I studied him as he talked. He must have been a hair over seven feet tall, for he had to bend over to stand. He didn't look quite human, not the way vampires did anyway. He looked like a movie caricature, double or triple muscle mass covering his whole body, bulging and twisting around thick limbs that looked like they comprised steel rods instead of bones. His hair stood up in a spiky, shaggy mane, somewhere between long and short, the colour a black that seemed reddish or bluish depending on the angle at which the light caught it. The tendons in his arms and legs were the thickness of my wrists, and I felt an unsurprising calm as I realised that it would take two of his fingers at most to snap my neck, or any other part of me for that matter, like a twig.

I realised I'd zoned out a little when he snapped his fingers in front of my face. I looked up in startled apology and he just shook his head, smiled, and kept talking.

"Assuming you missed some of that, I'll repeat it. I exist everywhere, or rather everywhen, at the same time, and although I choose to experience moments only once, with very few exceptions, I dinnae do so in any particular order like ye would. What would be tomorrow or an hour away for me could be twenty years in the past or a hundred years in the future for yer kind, or even for a vampire. The best I can say it is that I skip around. I dinnae get to see the light of day ower much. The times when I escape or, even more rarely, when Alistair lets me out, are all mixed up, or they would be from your point of view."

"Wait…wait wait hold on. When Alistair lets you out? I thought you were Alistair. Isn't that what you told me your name was when you found me passed out in the public toilets?"

"Huh? Oh…hang on." He closed his eyes, looking inward for a moment before opening them again. "I see. That won't happen for me for another week or so, but I know that I'll tell ye that to be less confusing, as for you that will be your first meeting with either me or my host."

"Was, not will be, was." This guy was making my head hurt.

"For ye, yes, was would be correct. Think of me as...kind of an unwelcome passenger. Alistair and I, we share a body but not a consciousness. He's no here when I am, and vice versa." A thought struck me. Well, first it occurred to me that I'd have to get him to say 'vice versa' again at some point; I may be a danger magnet but damnit I'm a danger magnet that loves to hear a guy with a Scottish accent. Then a thought struck me.

"So, do you have a name?"

"I'm not-Alistair." He smirked and shrugged, a gesture that looked surprisingly elegant on so large a frame.

"Yes, I know you're not, but do you have a name of your own?"

"That's no what I meant. I'm no saying that I'm no Alistair, I'm saying that I am not-Alistair."

"Oooooh. You mean like...unAlistair or nonAlistair or antiAlistair."

"Or Uncle Alistair, yes."

"But that's not what…you're joking." I slapped my hand to my face. "So, judging by the fact that I'm not dead yet and the amusement you get a great deal of at my expense, can I assume…I mean can I ask…are we friends, you and I, at some point in time?" He suddenly looked serious, his eyes searching mine hopefully.

"Ye are my best…friend." And only. My heart clenched as I understood the two words he left out as clearly as if he'd spoken them. And in a way he had; his expression was an open book, even as alien as his face was. I decided to proceed with caution.

"OK then, friend. Do you have a name aside from not-Alistair?"

"Well my physical state isnae unlike the fabled warrior Cuchulain. You could call me Cuch."

"What?! I'm not calling you that!" I could feel my jaw hanging open.

"Why in damnation not?" he growled. Oh crap, now I've pissed him off. Best friend best friend he won't kill his best friend.

"Because…" I spluttered, embarrassed. "Because…" I continued in a pseudo whisper. "because where I'm from cooch is a euphemism for vagina." His eyes flew open in surprise and I cringed, waiting for his reaction.

"Did ye…did ye just call me a pussy?" He doubled over with laughter, clutching at his ribcage as he howled. Eventually he had to lower himself to sit on the floor because he couldn't laugh this hard at the same time.

"Oh…ooooh, Sassenach, yer killing me." I'd have to stop making him laugh; I don't want to start getting complaints about loud bass music from the other passengers.

"Well that's better than the other way around," I muttered. That just set him off again.

"Call me Colin, then," he said through fading chuckles. "It's close enough, aye?"

"What? No, that's…no." He raised a bushy black eyebrow at me. I caved. "Fine, I'll try Cuch. I'll try," I emphasised. "But don't hold it against me if I get the giggles from time to time."

"I'll try not to. But maybe if…Sassenach? What's wrong? Ye've gone awful pale."

"From time to time. I just said from time to time. Like I'm making plans. What the fuck is wrong with me?" I sniffed urgently, demanding that my stupid human body not give way to tears.

"Plenty, but nothing obviously extra right now," he pondered. "Ye dinnae want to make plans?" He sounded a little hurt. Imagine, a creature this size being hurt because I didn't want to make plans to see him again. But that made me think of Emmett and my heart started doing a painful two-step in my chest.

"I…it's just…you exist inside someone who's trying to kill me. I might not have much of a sense of self preservation but even I can see the flaws in the logic here."

"Everything is no what it seems." He reached out one of his giant hands as if to touch me, then thought better of it and tucked it back by his side. He'd remained sitting on the floor, for which I was thankful. He was still taller than me but it didn't feel so much like he was towering over me. Not that it diminished my inner panic by much.

"Not as it seems?! He's hunting me!" I felt sick. The reality of the situation had come back with a vengeance.

"Aye. But that willnae turn out the way he expects." He looked sad. What was I missing here?

"I don't understand. Hey…are you…are you shrinking?" I suddenly became aware that his gaze was closer to my eye level than it had been moments ago. His hair seemed a little different, too.

"Hmm?" he said absently, looking down at his hands. As he stared I saw the muscles in forearms diminish noticeably in size.

"Alis-I mean Cuch, what's going on?" This was new, and scary.

"Oh…shit." His face contorted, as if in pain, as his body grew shorter and less broad, his muscles starting to smooth out and his hair grow and lighten in colour. He looked at me in horror. "Run! Bella run!"

I wanted to. God knows I wanted to. But I was utterly unable to move. All I could do was stare in horror as his body shrank and the planes of his face refined, becoming less broad and rugged. He still looked startlingly masculine, but less alien, more man. Eyes that had been a surreal green transitioned through a murky brown to a deep, bright red. My heart all but stopped as I realised they were observing me with a totally foreign regard. I instinctively pulled back as far as I could, my back meeting sofa. Having nowhere to go, my eyes darted sideways, judging the path I would have to take to rush past him to escape through the door.

"Ye ken that's no going to work, little human." His gravelly voice made me shiver and my eyes met his again. He had the ghost of a smile on his lips and I could see his nostrils flaring as they took in great lungfuls of my scent.

"I…"

"Time to go," he said, his voice a knell of finality.

With a whoosh of long limbed agility, the real Alistair swept me up in his arms and threw the both of us backwards through the window, broken glass forming a halo around us for a split second before my captor landed on his feet and took off at a run that surpassed even Edward for speed. I had a sinking feeling that my internal compass was correct in the assumption it made. He was taking me back.