A/N: I don't speak Italian (I really want to learn, just haven't had the opportunity yet) so I got all of the translations from Google Translate, sorry if they aren't accurate. And this was going to be a one shot, but when I got to about 10,000 words I just said fuck it, and here we are. Don't know how long it will be yet, I'm just going to write until it's finished. No set updating schedule because my motivation is unreliable.

Read and enjoy! Maybe review?

-Alice

Chapter One: Luck or Fate?

Flying over the Atlantic to Italy was spent asleep for the most part. Luckily seated without anyone next to me, I put in headphones and was out before the first 20 minutes was up. My attire, suited for the Italian summer and not rainy Seattle where I boarded, was a simple white sundress with pale blue Keds. The dress was something that I got myself especially for this trip and it's perfect for a summer in Italy; simple it was, but it had a tighter, structured top with a little padding so I didn't have to worry about a bra, Thank God. Any opportunity to not wear a bra or pants, I'm all over it.

Stepping out of the airport I was welcomed by bright sun and a light breeze so I took a few moments taking deep breaths with an upturned face, just enjoying the change of climate. Looking around there were plenty of cabs along the curb and a few shops and cafes across the street. Everything had a warm hue, most of the buildings were a creamy white color that absorbed the orange of the sun. People sat outside at covered tables enjoying pastries and coffee, locals that probably frequented the area living their everyday life. And here I was, stepping into a new country with an English-Italian dictionary in my hand and a duffle over my shoulder. And absolutely no idea where I was going to go first.

I chose to plan only my flight into the country and nothing else. I hadn't chose a particular city to stay in or a hotel. I had the couple thousand dollars I'd saved for the trip and the intent to spend just as much time as I wanted in the country I'd always been drawn to. Whenever my mother, Reneé, would take me to a flea market or yard sale, I'd always find myself flipping through any of the artwork they had looking for something. When I came across an Italian landscape or a cityscape with cafes and that foreign tongue on the windows and shop signs, I would beg my mother to buy it. Soon, my room was filled with countless prints and artworks featuring grape vineyards, ancient Roman architecture, and the Italian countryside. The summer I was 15 though, we were at a giant antique market in northern Florida when I came across the tiny painting I've cherished ever since.

It was a night scape with cluttered rooftops in the foreground and endless trees behind them. Along the right side was a tall clock tower that was alive with the detail of the stonework; lit from glowing moon that seemed to be framed by the distant land in the background and the tall frame of the tower. The moon, though, was the centerpiece. It was full and bright and you could almost see the individual craters. It gave off such a light that the detail of the painting was not masked at all by the cover of the night.

I have spent hours staring at the endless detail. The artist did their utmost to capture the light of the moon and the colors it washed over everything it touched. I could almost imagine looking at the exact view, sitting where the painter sat; seeing every tile on the roofs below, every carved piece of stone decorating the clock tower.

It was what tipped the scales on my decision to make this trip, this tiny little painting.

So that was my goal of this whole endeavor; to find the place the painting depicted and, hopefully, who the artist was.

I found my right hand moving to where the painting was nestled in my bag, feeling for the frame, making sure it was still where I put it. I let out a sigh finding it in its place and shook myself from my thoughts.

"Need a taxi, mio caro?" (my dear) Came an accented voice from my left. I looked over to find an older man with dark hair and a kind face leaning out of the driver window of a taxi. His hand was shielding his eyes from the sun, so I could see the deep green surrounded by laugh lines and age.

"Yes, thank you" I smiled walking the few feet to the back door, opening it and sliding across the cool leather, putting my bag on the seat next to me. "I have a question for you, actually." Leaning to unzip my bag, I brought the painting out. "Do you know where I could find this place?"

He turned in his seat, bringing a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket to rest on his nose, "Let's see…" he gently took it from my waiting hand moving it closer to him. His face was pensive for just a moment then a bright smile broke across it like a sure wave. "Cosa sai! (What do you know!) This is Volterra! My mamma (mother) grew up here! It's a small city about 40 kilometers south of here," he exclaimed.

No fucking way, the first person I ask? "Are you sure?" I ask exhaling, a little reluctant to believe my luck.

"Sì, sì, I would recognize this clock tower anywhere! (Yes, yes,…) Such detail in this painting, buon Dio!" (…good God!) He goes in to study it a little further and I fall back against the seat, a hand over my heart. This is to good to be true. My pulse had picked up in pure surprise and happiness, and a smile so wide my cheeks hurt broke across on my face.

I lean quickly forward again, "Can you take me there?"

He gives a noise of surprise, taking off his glasses as he turns back to look at me. "That's a long drive, mio caro, you want to pay that much?"

"Yes, whatever it takes. Can you take me there?" I must seem a little desperate now because he gives a little hum and purses his lips, giving me a calculating look. He slowly hands my painting back to me and I pull it to my chest, clutching it there, waiting for his answer. "Please."

"This is important to you, I see," he pauses, pulling on his seatbelt and starting the car, "I will take you there and you will tell me why you go, eh?" I let out the most obnoxious noise I've ever made, somewhere between a squeal and a laugh, and reach up to put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, trying to convey my gratefulness.

"Thank you so much!" He pats my hand with a warm smile and I sit back and buckle up after putting my painting back in my bag. I take a few seconds, letting my head fall back against the head rest, and give a disbelieving laugh.

First day in Italy, right after stepping out of the airport, I meet someone who can take me exactly where I want to go. If this isn't Fate I don't know what is. I send a 'Thank you' to whatever force was watching over me, and let out a happy sigh. This is where my life starts.

A/N:Translations:

mio caro - my dear

Cosa sai - What do you know, exclamation

mamma - mother

sì - yes

buon dio - good God, exclamation