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Crimson Time

Summary:
The Cullen family is separated. But this time is different. Renesmee is thrust into the arms of a family she knows, and yet doesn't. They are all sent into a world that is familiar, yet unfamiliar. The Cullen family has, before now, lived through every tragedy possible. But can they survive when they are thrown into their past?


Notes:
Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! Sadly, I do not own the Twilight Saga. The wonderful world of mythical Forks belongs to Stephenie Meyer.


3. Strangers

Rating 5/5   Word Count 744   Review this Chapter

Renesmee just stood there. How could he not recognize her? Was this an odd punishment for her? Had they thought she had just wandered off?

No. This was her family. They would never hurt her like this. They had to be joking.

Just a joke, she thought. Jokes don't hurt people.

But it was hurting her. There was no love in her father's gaze, and her mother was nowhere to be seen. She glance back at her grandfather, questioning him one more time.

“Just tell us your name, little one,” he whispered to her.

No. It wasn't true . . . it couldn't be.

“Renesmee,” she started. Carlisle nodded, thinking this to be the end of what she had to say.

“Carlie,” she added. Carlisle blinked, and the rest of her family advanced, too curious now to see from a distance.

“Masen . . . Cullen,” she finished. Gasps rang out, not one of them from her father. She heard him exhale sharply, breaking the silence that followed.

“Cullen?” Carlisle asked. Renesmee nodded, and her grandfather's brow furrowed.

“Masen Cullen,” he whispered. He turned to face her father, and she did the same. His shocked expression stabbed her like a knife, and she whimpered. Her fathers expression flickered to sadness for a moment, then to confusion. The thunder struck again, far away, but loud. It echoed in her ears.

This was all she could take. She broke down, landing on her knees, and burying her face in her hands.

“Mommy,” she cried, “Mommy!”

She heard the quick motion of feet, and suddenly she was being held. Small, cold, soft arms held her. Alice. Auntie Alice. She relaxed slightly.

She peeked up at her. Soft sympathy filled her aunt's eyes.

“You don't remember me either, do you?”” Nessie asked. Alice shook her head, just slightly. She hated hurting this poor innocent child. More tears came, but they were silent, she choked back the sounds.

“Who's your mommy, honey?” Alice asked her. The rest of the family surrounded them, Edward just to her left, watching her face, taking in every detail about her.

“Isabella Marie,” she started, but the choked sobs surfaced, once more, and she couldn't speak.

“Masen Cullen?” Alice questioned. Renesmee nodded. “And you don't know where she is?” Nessie almost screamed, and buried her face in her aunt's shoulder.

“No,” she finally said.

“And what is your father's name?” Alice asked, though she seemed to already know the answer. Nessie stopped crying.

“Edward Anthony Masen Cullen,” she answered clearly. She looked to her left, up at Edward. “You,” she added.

He dropped to his knees, now, unable to hold himself up. He shook his head at the girl.

“It's not possible,” he whispered.

“Close,” his daughter said back. It was her father's response to whoever said this to him. Her tears spilled over. She felt so very alone.

“This is . . . ,” Carlisle began, “quite the predicament.” He looked to Nessie. “Please come with us. We need to figure this out.” He smiled. “We'll help you find your family again.”

But Renesmee felt as if she already had. Her family stood in front of her, somehow so very different. She glanced towards her Aunt Rose.

Always, Nessie had known her to be shallow. She had analyzed her through the curious eyes of a child, with a mind of a scholar. She wasn't surprised when she saw such familiarity in her aunt's eyes. Still just as selfish, immediately becoming almost motherly with her gaze. Rose would always care about Renesmee for her own shallow reasons.

“Come on sweetie,”she whispered toward her, barely enough for her to hear. She held out her hand. Nessie stepped forward, meeting her halfway in her advancement. Rosalie was taken aback with this young child's sudden comfort in her presence.

Her fingers wrapped softly around this small girl's hand. Rose found it oddly warm, yet her skin strangely sturdy. What was this creature?

Renesmee could feel their eyes on her. She did not mind the attention, really. She never had, inheriting a nice trait from her father. But, exhibiting a trait from her mother, she bit her bottom lip nervously, her unknown verdict hidden in the minds of these sudden strangers she used to call family.