Hey all. You know I've always said I loved Rosalie and Emmett in any scenario and any world and any AU? Well it turns out that means Eleanor too. I've borrowed her from Life and Death and given her to Rosalie, and for me the two of them really work...I hope you like them too.

So thanks to M who made me see it way back (this has been a SLOW write for me!). Happy pride people.

is being a bit capricious about sending me emails - so please don't think i'm ignoring you if you comment and i don't respond! It's crossposted at AO3, and you can always message me on tumblr, i'm staringatthesky11 there too.

Chapter 1 – Find My People

In the slanting afternoon sunlight, the flash of white cottontail against the green grass of the slope catches my eye. I waggle my fingers silently at Patrick, and both of us fit an arrow to the bow and creep closer. By mutual accord we pause at the edges of the shadow cast by an old oak. Oblivious to our presence the rabbits hop lazily, nibbling at the grass.

The bow strings twang almost simultaneously. Patrick curses as he misses, but my arrow flies true and hits home. I let out a triumphant whoop as I see that I've not only shot the one I was aiming for, but the arrow has gone straight into a second one concealed behind it.

"Double score!" I gloat, lifting the two furry little bodies. "Oh, who's the true champion now?"

My brother rolls his eyes and grins at me good naturedly as he yanks his arrow from the ground. "A total fluke."

"Guess you'll be thanking me when you eat tomorrow," I say airily, tugging my arrow free and wiping it clean on my overalls. "We'd all be in for a damned lean dinner if we had to rely on you to bring it home."

"Isn't it lucky we've got you then?" Patrick says dryly, slinging the two fresh kills in with the others we bagged earlier.

"Should we try again?" I ask. "There'll probably be more over on the slope near the river. Give you a chance to regain some honour?"

Patrick shakes his head. "I'm happy enough to bow down to your superior archery skills Lady Nell, if it means we can head back home now!"

I fall into step beside him. "All right then. Keep your eyes open though, I've been seeing some bear tracks around and I wouldn't mind getting a shot at that."

"You should watch yourself," Patrick warns. "A few people have seen that bear around and he's an aggressive bastard of a beast – don't you dare go near it with only the small bow!"

"I don't know, maybe I'd rather stay out and take my chances than go to this dance tonight," I say.

"Oh, it'll be fun!"

"Fun for you," I mutter. My brother, tall and good looking with his bright blue eyes and dimpled grin, never has any shortage of admiring female company thrilled to be asked to dance. "No one is giving you grief over what you wear or criticising you for not being agreeable enough and demanding to know when you're going to put in the effort to catch yourself a husband."

Patrick snorts. "Can't quite see you as the blushing bride."

"Definitely not," I agree. "I can't imagine anything worse. I'm quite happy to take on the role of spinster auntie – every family needs one."

"You can take over from Great Aunt Mary Grace," Patrick says with a wicked grin. "Taking nips of whisky and eating peppermints in church, and whacking errant little nephews across their backsides with your cane when they displease you."

I laugh. "I could do worse. It doesn't sound that bad to me."

As we climb over the railings that encircle the home yard we're greeted with shrill enthusiasm by six year old George, my brother Simon's oldest child.

"Uncle Patrick! And Auntie Nellie…did you get anything?" George leaps down from the porch.

"Some rabbits." Patrick slings the knapsack off his shoulder and thrusts it at me. "Dinner for tomorrow. You can help Auntie Nell do the skinning if you like." He hurries up onto the porch, no doubt keen to go and see Simon.

"Go ask Granny for an apron," I tell him, noting that he's wearing church clothes and knowing from experience that his mother Lydia will not be pleased with me if let him mess them up.

George runs inside and comes out a few moments later, tripping over the apron he's trying to wrap around himself. Mama follows him.

"We got four rabbits," I tell her, pulling the string of them out of the knapsack. "I shot two at one time."

"Well done," Mama says. She briskly knots the neck of George's apron and ties a fold at the waist to make it shorter. "Take care of them quickly, then you can come in and see Simon and Lyddie and the baby."

I just nod. I know my sisters will all be in there mooning over Lyddie's new baby, but I'm not that excited by her. I like the nieces and nephews much better once they're moving around on their own two legs and can talk. Like George, who crouches beside me and watches in fascination as I take the leather handled knife Poppa gave me and quickly skin, gut and joint the rabbits.

"That's dinner for tomorrow," I say in satisfaction, carefully cleaning my knife. "Your Granny does a great rabbit stew."

Patrick touches my bow with a reverent finger. "Can I try?"

"I'll take you out for rabbits one day, but you can take a few shots at the targets by the barn now if you want to." The bow is the smaller one I use for rabbit hunting, and George should be able to manage it. "Come on."

I get so absorbed in shooting arrows at the targets with George that I forget all about what I'm supposed to be doing. I correct his technique until he's at least hitting the target more times than not, and then I fetch the bigger bow and show George the range on that, moving further back through the yard and watching in satisfaction as my arrows hit the centre of the target.

"Eleanor!" I look up as Mama leans over the porch railing and shakes her head at me. "What are you doing? Put that bow away and come in and get washed up like you're supposed to!"

"Oops." I grin ruefully down at George. "Enough for now. Keep practising at home, and then I'll be able to take you out for rabbits."

I return the bows to the barn and bolt inside, squeezing past the crowd in the kitchen. "Hi everyone, hi…hi Simon…George is doing great with the bow…oh Pa, did Patrick tell you about my double shot today? Two rabbits in one, while he missed everything he shot at…oh Lyddie, the baby…congratulations. She's a doll."

This is true enough. The baby is a typical McCarty baby, plump and dimpled, placidly blinking sooty lashes over blue eyes as she's passed from one set of arms to the next and fussed and cooed over.

"Thanks Nell, do you want…oh no." Lyddie goes to put the baby in my arms and then hesitates as she takes in my rough jacket and dirty overalls.

I laugh, unoffended. "Oh no, I won't take her! I have to go and wash up…excuse me."

I hurry through the house and out to the lean-to, stripping out of my dirty, blood-stained clothing and down to my unders. It's too much trouble to go and heat some water, so I grit my teeth and scrub ruthlessly at the dirt with a bucket of cold and the soap. When I'm respectably clean I dash back into house and into the bedroom I share with my three sisters, all of whom are already in there dressing and fussing in front of the mirror.

"Oh Nell, you're not wearing that, surely!" Scarlett looks up from the mirror in despair.

I pause in buttoning up my shirt. "Indeed I am."

"But that shirt was Campbell's! Why won't you wear your dress? And if you insist on wearing that terrible old-lady corset you could at least use it to give you a figure instead of just flattening everything down!"

I don't tell her that that's the point. I'm taller and broader than most men as it is, wearing underwear that only emphasises my breasts is the last thing I want. I much prefer Mama's old corset, laced loose enough to fit but tight enough to hold everything in, to the bras my sisters like to wear.

I go back to buttoning my shirt, and then reach for my skirt. "It doesn't matter that it's a man's shirt. It fits, it's clean, and has all its buttons, even if they're on the wrong side. Surely that's good enough? I'm hardly going to disgrace you all. And the dress doesn't fit anymore– you can have it if you want."

"Oh, you're hopeless," Scarlett says, but I see her eyes go to the closet. The outgrown dress isn't anything special, but Scarlett never thinks she has enough clothes. "You could make over Nell's dress for me, couldn't you Cat?"

Catriona grins wickedly. "I could. Or I could make it over for myself? You had the last new dress." She winks at me.

"Oh no, Nell gave it to me!" Scarlett protests. "Didn't you? Come on Cat, your blue one is fine on you but mine came from Aunt Frances and you know I hate yellow! Please Kitty Cat, pretty please…"

"Will you lot give it a rest?" Evie says. "It's not as though anyone can do anything with the dress right now." She pins up the last curl of her hair and contemplates where to place her gilt hair combs.

I hook myself into my skirt, and rummage through the bureau for a pair of stockings. I've been putting off the darning and everything's all over holes, but eventually I find one intact stocking and one with a hole in the toes that can be covered by my boot. Good enough. I yank them on and tie my boots, then wait impatiently as Scarlett brushes her hair and gazes dreamily at her reflection in the mirror.

"Clara's cousins from Memphis are going to be there tonight," she tells us. "Memphis boys! She says they're gorgeous, and she's told them about me and they've promised to dance…"

Fed up with waiting I snatch the hairbrush out of her hand and brush my curls, feeling them crackling with electricity as Scarlett squawks in protest.

"It's all right, don't carry on, I'll do your hair," Evie says hastily, pushing in behind Scarlett with the comb. "I'll do yours too, Nell."

"No, it's all right, I'm good." It takes two hands to gather my hair up and bundle it together at the back of my head, and multitudes of hairpins stabbed in to even have a chance at containing it. Not much of a chance – even as I return the hairbrush to the dresser top a stubborn curl over my forehead works its way out and bounces free.

"You are hopeless," Scarlett says again, but she giggles at me in the mirror. "At least I don't have to worry that you're any competition for Clara's cousins."

"Leave Nell alone, I think she looks beautiful." Catriona comes over to me with a length of ribbon in her hand. "But I'm just going to pin this at your neck…no!" She shakes her head at me, forestalling any objections. "It's not frills and fussiness Nell! It's practically a man's tie…just a wee something to complete your outfit."

Resigned to my fate I stand sill while Cat reaches up and ties a ribbon bow under the collar of my shirt, arranging it neatly.

"There," she says in satisfaction, stepping back to admire her work. "Much better."

"Thank you, dearest sister." I roll my eyes and go back out to the kitchen, giving Mama and Lyddie a wide berth as they finish icing cakes over an in-depth conversation on the baby's feeding and bowel habits, and join Patrick and Simon and Pa. We talk hunting until the cakes are done and my sisters are finally ready, and then we all walk into town in a big, noisy bunch. George begs until I agree to give him a piggyback, and then laughs hysterically and hits me with a stick as I pretend to be a horse and buck and shy along the road.

"Eleanor, can you stop?" Scarlett cries as we make our way through the edge of town. "Stop acting the fool before someone sees!"

I snort and whinny at her, much to George's delight, but then see Mama raising an eyebrow in my direction and I meekly slide him off my back and straighten up. Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm George has pulled half my hair free, and as the wind blows the curls about my head I try in vain to tame it back down.

"Never mind, let me." Evie grabs my arm to hold me still, and I can't do anything but stand there as she whips extra hairpins out of her purse and tidies me up again. "All sorted. Come on." Linking her arm through mine, we walk together down the road and into the hall for the community supper dance.

Despite my earlier complaints to Patrick, I manage to have quite a good time. It's a family-oriented affair, at least early on in the evening, so I don't stick out as a giant wallflower as I wander around the hall talking to people instead of dancing.

Not that I don't like dancing. I think it's fun, and I'm not bad at it when given the chance. But it turns out boys don't really like to ask someone to dance when they have to look up to do it, so mostly I'm a spectator. And tonight that's just fine, as I find plenty of good conversation and then take a plate of supper and sit down to eat and watch what's going on.

The rest of my family are scattered throughout the hall. Mama and Pa are eating supper with Simon and Lyddie and their little ones, along with my oldest brother Campbell and his wife Florence and their brood. Patrick isn't anywhere to be seen, and I suspect he's out back with some friends drinking something a lot stronger than the punch Mrs Cooper is ladling out at the supper table. Evie is in a dim corner with Leonard, the man she's been seeing, and as she bats her eyelashes and he leans closer I wonder how long it'll be before an engagement announcement. Catriona is chatting with a bunch of her friends up by the band and Scarlett, evidently having made a favourable impression on Clara's Memphis cousins, is dancing with an unfamiliar man. I can't help but grin as I watch her bat her eyelashes and simper in a way that is utterly at odds with the usual nature of my strong-willed sister.

Scarlett's conquest isn't the only unfamiliar face. As Patrick and his friends come back into the hall my attention is caught by the unknown girl hanging off my brother's arm, tossing her blonde hair and smiling flirtatiously up at him. They take to the dancefloor, and I find myself noticing the way her hair swings and her hips move as they dance. I watch and wonder what it would feel like to be Patrick, holding this girl in my arms while we dance, and feel my face grow hot.

"I'll be thanking you for fetching me a cup of tea." I jump as Aunt Mary Grace sits heavily down in the seat beside me and pokes me in the arm with the head of her cane. "Nice and strong mind you!"

I get to my feet and head for the supper table, pouring out the requested strong cup of tea and filling a plate with cake and sandwiches, before carrying them both back to my great aunt. I give her the cup and then sit down beside her, holding the plate where she can easily reach it.

"Very thoughtful of you," she says, taking a ham and pickle sandwich. "Although these look like Alma Hyrum made them, and she's always stingy with the relish. Still, beggars can't be choosers and it's a blessing not to have to make my own supper for once."

I hide my grin and look back out at the dancefloor. Scarlett is dancing nearby, and she catches my eye behind her partner's back and makes kissy faces at me.

"That one will wind up in trouble if she's not careful," Aunt Mary Grace says disapprovingly. "Far too much of a flirt, and you know McCarty girls only have to look at a man to find themselves in the family way."

"Scarlett's smarter than that," I say.

"Hmmm." Aunt Mary Grace stares out at the dancefloor and then her voice drops as she says, "And you might find yourself in a whole different kind of trouble if you don't learn to watch your face, young Eleanor. Casting sheep's eyes at that girl out there…"

I startle hard enough that two sandwich triangles tumble from the plate to the floor. I bend to pick them up as the heat sweeps my cheeks and my heart thumps uncomfortably. But when I sit back up and risk a glance at Aunt Mary Grace, she meets my eyes without judgement. "Don't fret too badly. I doubt anyone else would have noticed anything amiss, but it's something you need to keep in mind."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," I say, flustered.

"Oh, don't try it on," Aunt Mary Grace snorts. "I've been around long enough to recognise one of our own when she's showing her heart on her face as she watches a pretty girl on the dancefloor."

I can do nothing but stare at her in goggle-eyed astonishment. All those secret feelings, all the things I think about, the half-formed wishes and hopes…Great Aunt Mary Grace?!

"Surprised you, have I?" she cackles. "I wasn't born an old woman!"

"I don't…I…" I'm groping for words, as I'm suddenly filled with a million questions. "I just wouldn't have thought…"

"Of course you didn't. But I've lived a life, young Eleanor, indeed I have." She grins at me in amusement. "You might do the same. There's a very big world out there beyond this town, and you'll meet all sorts. But as long as you are here," and she fixes me with a beady stare, "You want to be careful. People don't always take kindly to those who are different, you surely know that by now."

I nod ruefully. In my twenty years of pushing the boundaries of what's expected of a girl, I've definitely learned that.

"But there are more of us about than you'd think at first," Aunt Mary Grace says. "You'll find your people in time, Eleanor, I'm sure of it."

More of us than you'd think. I've always known I couldn't be the only one to feel this way, not when it has always been such a natural and innate part of me. And even though I know it's not the normal way of things, I've never been able to understand the hate. How could loving anyone, when that loving is honest and kind and good, be wrong no matter who it is? But even believing this, I've never known anyone who felt the same, and now my heart beats fast as I steal quick glances at my aunt and try and absorb this feeling of not being alone.

How did you know? How did you find anyone? Did anyone ever know about you? How did you know about me? You said I'll find my people…how? When?

"It's not the place to talk," Aunt Mary Grace says as I open my mouth, forestalling questions. "Haven't I just been telling you about taking more care? There is nothing wrong with you, Eleanor, but there are many out there who believe otherwise. You and I will talk, but not tonight."

It's the end of the conversation. One of her cronies, another distant aunt, comes along and takes the chair on her other side and the two of them immediately start tearing shreds off everyone they know. I take the empty teacup and plate and head towards the hall kitchen. Something I regret a moment later, as my aunt Edith sees me and immediately declares that since I'm not out there dancing I ought to make myself useful, and the next thing I know I'm in suds up to my elbows washing up hundreds of teacups.

When I finally manage to escape the kitchen, it's nearly the end of the evening. There are babies and toddlers sleeping on chairs and under coats around the edges of the hall, and most of the couples are taking advantage of a last slow song to get close or even slipping outside for a private moment. I catch a glimpse of Patrick disappearing out the side door with the pretty blonde girl, and my stomach twists with what can only be described as jealousy. Pushing the thought away I head over to Lyddie and offer to hold the baby so she and Simon can dance. She happily pushes baby Maisie at me, and Simon gives me a quick kiss and a grateful wink.

"Owe you one, Nell."

Maisie cries as soon as she realises I'm not her mother, but I pat her back and rock her in time to the music and she soon settles back down. I watch the dancers, and wonder if Aunt Mary Grace can possibly be right and one day I'll find my people.