A/N: Yes, I am alive. Patience is such a wonderful virtue.

And, bro, I missed u guys so much. Here's an update for those who are still here!

Chapter XVII: Maybe Kismet (Rated PG)

LA BUONA ABITUDINE, OUTSKIRTS OF VOLTERRA. . .

"Well she walked past me, so I asked her, 'Jane, do you want to come have fun in town with us?'"

Altheia's jaw dropped.

A handsome portrait of frustration, Benjamin ran his fingers through disheveled, raven hair as he continued, "She bared her fangs at me! So I said, 'Why not? Ariana's paying!' I figured she may have thought I was goading her about being alone all the time... I wasn't, I swear!"

Ariana sputtered the remnants of her pre-game drink all over the bar table. Thumping her chest to clear her vocal pathway, she snarled at Benjamin, "You said what, punk? I'm definitely not paying for you!"

At the shamelessness of Volterra's latest guest, Altheia could only continue blinking in shock.

Benjamin put one cheek on a palm and sighed miserably. "The doors slammed so loud... She'll need to have those hinges replaced, I'm sure..."

"Gah!" Ariana scooted out of the only occupied booth at La Buona Abitudine with a disapproving shake of her head. "I need something stronger for this. Want any, Altheia?" she asked in a pointed tone. Benjamin's pout worsened.

"No thank you, I'm a lightweight."

"Why, I do know, that's why I asked," the off-duty secretary sing-songed as she adjusted her blouse and headed to the bartender's counter. The back of her kitten heels tapped to the slow, winded crooning of the woman on the antique radio, and she let the song change her mood from prickly and agitated to slackened and dreamy. With her hair down and – thanks to her pre-gaming – flamed cheeks, Ariana stopped in front of Sebastian with an effortlessly sultry look. She took an eyeful of his suntanned physique and smiled sweetly.

"A Garibaldi mix, if you could please, Bass."

High-browed at her, Bass abandoned his newspaper and began preparing her order. "Quite unusual for your type, but 'course I can." he said.

Ariana's right dimple surfaced as she squinted at him teasingly. "And what exactly is my type, hm?"

"Well—"

Bass' gaze lingered at the shape of Ariana's mouth after he made a show of looking her over. With her bold red lip color, button-up blouse, pencil skirt, and wild, wavy hair, she was a typical hardworking gal looking to destress. The angles of her cheekbones and nose – a true Italian.

"—Peach syrup, light wine, sparkling. No offense."

Ariana pursed her lip, biting back a laugh. "Not quite, and none taken," she told him. She hopped up a bar stool and leaned forward as she watched him blend her drink. "Actually, my type's dark syrup. A little zest. Aftertaste's preferred. Definitely not sparkling. As long as the Cognac fits, it's good."

Bass paused from reaching for a slice of lime. His eyes narrowed at her, "We're still talking about drinks, right?"

Ariana replied too fast, too innocent. "But of course, sir. What else possibly?"

Bass averted his gaze and chuckled. "Sir," he echoed under his breath. "I like that one. That's new."

Ariana grinned. Got you. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "So, free drink?"

Bass held her gaze with a coy, victorious smile of his own. "Hm. How about dinner instead?"

Ariana's eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"

"Nah. Right now."

The clerk sent over a wary look at the table her colleagues occupied. "Um, maybe... not..."

"Hmm?" Bass followed her gaze, then his voice suddenly rose over the counter. "Ahh, I see. Oi, Beneventi!"

Altheia and Benjamin paused mid-conversation. "Yes?" the brunette called back.

"S'alright if I steal little miss here for the night?" Ariana's cheeks flushed crimson as her colleagues exchanged knowing looks and raised their thumbs of approval at the same time. "Great, thanks for the cover. Come on, signorina, finish your drink and stroll with me."

Ariana hid her face in her hands as she sipped at her sunset-colored drink. "Oh dio. You're embarrassing."

"Well," Bass beamed when she followed him to the doors anyway. "You did ask for 'a little zest.'"

Yes, Ariana did, and she couldn't wait! Barely suppressing her giggle, "But who's going to attend to—"

"Altheia knows Wednesday nights are slow," he assured as he slung a toned arm over her shoulder. "She's practically family. My brother even says she's a better blend than me. Ah, what does she do at your company? I never really asked..."

In a casual manner that would have made Heidi proud, Ariana's training kicked in. "We're secretaries. Paperwork, filing, all that dull stuff. Imagine serving lemon drinks to guests and popping soda cans all afternoon," she shuddered animatedly. "That's why when I have spare time, I like to do things that make me forget, or," she caught his gaze meaningfully, "Excite me."

The way Bass' eyes glinted in the night, Ariana was sure her deflection worked. Satisfied, she tipped her head back, closer to Bass' chest and savored the citrus scent of his aftershave.

»»—- ❈ —-««

Back in the booth, pulling their attention back from Ariana and Bass' unexpected departure, Altheia patted Benjamins hand consolingly and said, "There, there. It's not that Jane didn't want to join any of us here. It's just – Jane doesn't go anywhere without Alec."

With the human clerk gone, it seemed that Amun's silence and moodiness had lessened. Now joining the conversation, Amun murmured, "The bonds between biological siblings are strong, but the bond of the witch twins? Indissoluble." Altheia glowered at him but Amun remained unapologetic. "You'd best befriend a rabid aardwolf, Benjamin."

"Anyway. It was thoughtful of you to ask her." Altheia insisted. "Not everyone has the... guts for that."

"She looked like she was going to set me aflame herself." Benjamin hung his head and lamented as he turned to Amun, "Daaad, why is it so difficult to make friends my age?"

"Do not call me dad." The gray-haired vampire bristled. "Never call me that."

Benjamin pretended to coddle his unbeating heart. "Are you disowning me? Really, really? In front of my long lost sister that I just met? This is the start of my teenage angst, I just know it, father. What's a hexacon-teen need to do around here to feel wanted, pop? To be accepted? I cannot believe this. I will set fire to the holy temple to feel the warmth of your love. I swear it." Benjamin sounded truly wronged.

Altheia cackled, barely restraining herself from reaching across the table to squeeze the boyish charm out of the sixty-year-long nineteen-year-old. "Now I definitely believe Kebi raised you!" she exclaimed with another hooting laugh.

Benjamin nodded sagely. The old woman's comedic repertoire consisted largely of melodramatic dialogue from noontime telenovela. "Sixty years of watching Rosalinda and Marimar... Tell me who wouldn't go insane, sis..."

Despite his extensive academic background, Amun found himself incapable of verbally formulating his great fondness and irritation for the two next to him. Indeed, they were his most prized scholars – shaped to excellence through years and years of patient scouting and devoted mentorship – but from the depths of his mind he had no inkling as to how they managed to retain their obnoxious, easy-going personalities despite his disciplinarian pedagogy. Their innate talents held high, unmatched promise – Benjamin with his elemental influence and Altheia with her mirroring – and yet their personal dispositions were anything but terrifying. How would they achieve greatness with that?

Aren't you thankful? His mate Kebi queried him once, when they had been teaching decade-old, newborn Benjamin how uproot a plant without snapping it in two. Despite the vices of the world, they gaze at it with light and humor. If what you say is true, then Altheia is kind-hearted. And, as you can see, Benjamin is generous. Every time Benjamin broke a sapling he planted an entire forest of seeds. Those are not faults, Amun. Wisdom breeds power, yes, but our found family proves that only in its true form can we perceive true goodness.

If only Kebi were present to rationalize their shenanigans to him now. Modern remakes of classic telenovela were obviously capitalist ploys to preserve exclusive copyright ownership of such films and yet it was most apparent that corporate tactics such as these did not matter to his wife. She would spend her infinite years of existence re-watching her favorite shows, subscribed to and swooning heavily at the on-screen fate of the same characters in the same, predictable, emotional tornado of a plot – just like the version before it.

Stubborn women.

Exasperated with his students' inane banter, Amun glared at Altheia and Benjamin.

Stubborn children.

Minutes passed as his students exchanged reflections on moden television, and strange, fluttery sensations crept into his chest. Amun found strange ease in their wide smiles and spirited conversation. Startled, he caught himself, thumped his fist on the booth table, and snarled.

Emotions! How disgusting! "Nonsense! I refuse to believe there is a philosophical undertone to Betty La Fea!" he cried strongly.

The hilarity of the situation only worsened in his expense when his old, gravel voice croaked halfway.

»»—- ❈ —-««

NORTH WING, VOLTERRA CASTLE. . .

Sneaking back into the north wing on her tiptoes, Altheia cringed hard when her best attempt at stealthiness ended at the presence of one stern-faced Marcus Volturi right across her room door. Leaned against the corridor wall, his gaze raked over rosy, glowing skin, then his expression turned chastising.

"I'm an adult!" Altheia said defensively before he could speak. "I can drink alcohol when I want to."

"While that is true," Marcus replied evenly, "We both know that this is not about you drinking alcohol, or coming home late."

Home! Altheia couldn't help the grin taking over her face. Marcus cracked a knowing smile for a split second.

"Well then. I don't know what you're frowning at me about." The brunette sniffed once and announced, "I'm going to bed!"

Narrowing his eyes at Altheia's innocent tone, Marcus asked, "What's behind you?"

"Whaaat? Nothing."

Altheia kept her arms behind her as she scooted to the safety of the opposite wall. Slinking sideways towards one of the rooms designated for her private use, she obscured her loot and shook her head at him.

"Signore, I've got no idea what you mean."

Altheia's hand reached behind her and felt for the doorknob. When the tips of her fingers felt cold copper, she turned the knob quickly and stepped backwards into her room.

"Right, well, nice seeing you—"

Swapping her hands from the terracotta jar's neck to the lock as she pushed the wooden door, the inebriated woman cursed when it jammed between its frame and a gentleman's polished leather shoe.

Damn it all! She'd even waited until Demetri's shift ended!

"No! Go away!"

Marcus clicked his tongue thrice. "A bad liar and a bad thief makes a jailbird overnight," he told her.

Altheia slumped against the door. Under her breath, "...I just wanted a little taste..."

"That is not yours, Altheia. That has been fermenting in peace since the twenties." Marcus admonished lightly.

Oh? Hazy eyes gleamed. "I see..." she licked her lips. "...but... you see... I found it."

"In the locked, topmost shelf in the convening chambers? Where it rightfully belongs?" Marcus answered dryly. "Did you find the key or have you picked the locks yourself? Shall I take a quick look in the studies to see what has been disturbed, hmm?"

"Marcus..." she whined, trying a different approach this time. Honesty was the best policy after all. "...May I pretty please have this sad, lonely, neglected jar of Etruscan wine that I have had my eye on since I noticed it on the display cabinet four months ago?"

"You drunk, Italian menace." Marcus stared at her bottom lip, plump and pouting. "No."

"Please? Please? With whipped cream and cherries on top? Pleeaassee."

Marcus shoved the perverted image out of his mind. Pursing his lips and, with a single finger, he pushed the door open effortlessly.

"Ack!" Altheia yelped as she stumbled back and adjusted her hold on the terracotta jar.

With a cursing harrumph, she trudged to the bed and hugged the wine pot to her chest. "So unfair! A complete waste. None of you even drink alcohol..." she grumbled under her breath. A thought settled in her compromised brain and she whirled around to stare at Marcus, unabashed. "Unless... you do?"

Marcus sauntered to the bed. It dipped as he sat across her.

Still unblinking, "Do you?" Altheia asked again.

Marcus' mouth fought against the challenge of smirk.

"No, there's no way," Altheia said breathily. Could vampires get drunk? "No way!"

"Hmm..." Marcus easily took the clay jar from her loosened grip. With a resounding pop, he uncorked the jar with a flick of his thumb. "...Yes way."

Altheia's excitement grew as Marcus poured a small amount in his left palm. A trivial squeal escaped from her as he brought his curved hand to his mouth, tilted his palm upward and allowed the liquid past his lips.

Marcus savored the icy chill in his throat as he swallowed. With a smirk, he took another mouthful, smirking at Altheia's awed look.

The strong scent of hard liquor hovered in the air. On her knees, Altheia's hands dipped into the bed cushions as she slowly made her way closer to Marcus. "Can... Can I taste? Please?"

"Ha! Absolutely not."

Altheia paused mid-crawl and her hopeful gaze turned into a harsh, scathing glare. "Sei proprio uno stronzo!" she cursed at her man. You are such an asshole.

"What a dirty mouth!" Marcus laughed. "I'd rather not poison you with highly concentrated alcohol, caretta."

Altheia would have swatted his face in annoyance if not for the easy grin that she so seldomly saw from him. Altheia kept silent and her gaze affixed. With his wide smile... Marcus had never been more handsome than now, and like this he looked even more carefree.

Wow. If she prayed hard enough, could this moment never end? Could she keep him, this moment, like this, forever?

She was so defenselessly in love with him.

Before she could think, she spoke.

"Marcus, I love you."

Altheia's soft voice pummeled the breath from Marcus' lungs. The noise of his laughter disappeared and silence hung in the air of the room. Just the two of them, staring, starry-eyed... In love.

Marcus was dead. He had long been dead. He'd died on cold rubblestone flooring eons ago, weakened to a state of deliriousness from the venom ravaging his insides, bony fingers grasping at bloodied straws. He remembered his death very well. The last drip of his blood. The septic, unyielding torture of it.

In his undeath he endured even more loss, even more tragedy; a picture he could never unpaint and yet...

This woman, his woman, just an arm's length away... In her flawless, fragile, simple self, so undoubtedly beloved by him... He was more alive than he had ever been.

"I know. And I'm nothing if not yours, Altheia."

Could a single second be so perfect? If he prayed hard enough, could he keep her, like this, forever? Unhurt, unchanged, alive?

Marcus swallowed back thick venom and wished, wished, wished.

"Altheia. I love you."

In the tranquil tragedy of his thoughts, Marcus prayed that gods existed.

"Marcus, I... I want this to last." Altheia clenched her fingers into the fabric of his dress shirt, no doubt crumpling it. "I want us forever."

After adjusting himself properly with his back against the headboard of the bed, Marcus took a deep breath and reached for Altheia, guiding her carefully onto his lap. "So do I."

Could she keep her beating heart, and him his healed soul, together? Wind back the gears of time, could they forego the curse of teeth and venom? Discard all the saints and glories, shame befall them from the heavens and hells of earth; oh, god, what they wouldn't give, when even just the prospect of it made their affliction divine.

Could a moment become infinite?

Even just this once?

Someday... Someday Altheia would have to change. She would have to die, and Marcus would have to lose her as she was now. The blush of her skin would lose its living glow, her eyes no longer brown but a bizarre cerise hue.

But tonight. Tonight was theirs – there were no gods to be found, no answered prayers – just a woman and a man, no judgment befalling upon two so honestly in love. And if that wasn't what mattered in the end then Marcus couldn't be bothered to give a damn.

»»—- ❈ —-««

"...Jane?"

After a trial, Caius Volturi blinked in disbelief at the figure he found waiting along the corridors of his study. The petite blonde seemed pained, standing rigidly in middle of the hallway as he neared.

"It is nearly morning, Jane. Perhaps this can wait for tonight."

"Perhaps not." Despite her smallness, Jane's strong tone disallowed her intentions from being overlooked. "May I talk to you?"

Because Jane looked like she would explode any second, Caius pushed the doors open wide and tilted his head to permit her in. "Of course. Now, what's this about?"

Once he had settled on his chair, Jane began.

"We received two private correspondences. According to Mele, the eradication of rabid newborns in Washington didn't happen as planned, but it's done. Sulpicia and Mele will not be returning, however." Jane's lips pursed. "Charlie Swan had to be changed. They will stay far."

"Hm. Have you informed Demetri?"

"Yes, I've contacted him. We didn't lose anyone. They'll sweep the continent once more, then return."

"Good. And... your brother?"

Jane's childlike gaze drops the floor. "He says they're nearing the north Atlantic. A day's trip or two to go. The Cullens didn't contest at all when he took her. Isabella Swan is ours."

"We'll deal with her after a decade or so." Caring after newborns and teaching them discipline posed a lot of work. Alec would have his hands full with even just one. But given Jane's expression... "This bothers you?"

Jane's mouth twisted. She unpocketed Alec's letter and placed it flat on Caius' desk.

Dearest Jane,

I found it difficult to ask you this in person before I left, and I apologize if this takes you by surprise.

When Bella and I return to Volterra, could you welcome her as a sister? Just as I have treated you?

Now, before you send heaps of letters of contempt and fury my way, please accept that she is most precious to me. I can only hope that I deserve to keep you both in my life.