It was cold and rainy here, but that was supposedly the norm. She didn't mind entirely, her mood reflected the outside as she stared out the window somberly, wondering how it had all led her here, living with her uncle and his daughter. Deeply, she wanted to deny the sorrow that encumbered her, to believe that none of it had happened, but to deny would be to forget that the rest of her family had perished. She could still hear their screams as the fire enveloped the house, trapped behind a door where the handle was too hot, until their cries dissipated away and they slipped to the ground, unconscious from smoke inhalation.

Her room had been in the finished basement, so that she could practice her instrument in the evening and not bother anyone, as the rest of the rooms were on the 2nd floor. Once the smoke alarms had begun, she ran out through the bulkhead and called the fire department, having smelled the smoke from her room. She hadn't known how terrible the inferno was until she stepped out of her room and observed from the front. The entire first floor was engulfed in flames.

Arson. Someone did it to us, she recalled, huddled in a blanket in the back of an ambulance as she stared at the charred remains of her home. Body bags were being wheeled out with the corpses of her mother, father, dog, and brother. The police kept asking her if she'd seen anything, recalled if anyone had a vendetta against her family. She had no answers and with good reason. Her family's death had been a part of a series of arsons across the footprint of Massachusetts. They had been randomly selected and she cursed the fact that she had lived.

Maybe she should have been thankful that her uncle was willing to take her in, somewhere new and on the opposite side of the country, but more than anything she just wished her family was back.

Uncle Charlie wasn't very good at beginning conversations or knowing what to say to continue them. It had been a long time since she had seen him, more than ten years to be exact.

Now, completing the rest of her year of school in Forks was paramount and she wanted to do nothing but crawl into her bed and die.

"Kiera," her uncle finally entreated, the majority of the way into the drive back to his home. "I heard you were talented with some string instrument."

"Cello," she answered indifferently.

"Heard you practiced it night and day," he continued awkwardly, trying to further the conversation with someone who was clearly not interested. "Were you thinking of going to California to continue studying music?"

"Maybe," she had been taking lessons since she could walk and spent time in conservatories in Boston, sitting alongside college students and studying from the symphony musicians. This was a feat that wasn't just offered to highschoolers, Kiera had lived and breathed her cello before the accident. Now, she didn't have the motivation to even open the case. All those thousands of hours seemed worthless when there was no one to play for.

"Bella likes classical music," Charlie told her. "Maybe you could play for her," he was nervous when he mentioned this, as if the two would be kindred spirits. However, she gleaned that there was more to this than just an offer to become more acquainted with her cousin.

Staring at him with perceptively large and vibrant copper-brown eyes, she said, "Why is Bella feeling sad recently too?" she inquired.

Charlie flinched, tearing his eyes away from hers as if she'd just read his mind. Aside from music, Kiera had a knack for reading others. While she had immense talent in music, after the accident, she had considered going into a field that might help her join an organization like the FBI and their BAU sector. She wanted to know what kind of person would think to burn down her home like that, why her family? Had they not known that Kiera was on the basement floor? Why be so meticulous but mess that one factor up?

"Her boyfriend left Forks and she hasn't been the same since," Charlie informed her.

Kiera snorted, folding her arms and glaring out the window. "So your family perishing in an arson fire and losing your boyfriend are the same thing now, aren't they?"

"I didn't mean to make it sound like that, Kiera. I'm just saying that Bella isn't feeling her best either, maybe the two of you could… I don't know…" frustration crept into the edge of her uncle's voice. A ringing drew both of their attention as a flip phone buzzed on the dashboard. "Crap, it's work," he grumbled, reaching forward to grab it and clumsily turn it open. "Hello?"

Kiera leaned back against the window and watched the dreary scenery of Washington pass by. Massachusetts wasn't perfect, but there were four seasons with markedly better weather. During this cool season, there might be some snow coming down, but rarely any rain until spring. Rain was pelting against the windshield, streaking down the sides of the windows as the drear trees stood solemnly on the flanks of the hallway.

"We're going to have to make a stop at the station. Sorry Kiera, I know you probably want to get settled in," he sighed, snapping his phone shut.

"It's fine, I understand," she shrugged, partially curious to see what the station would be like in Forks.

The station was small and unremarkable. She had nearly thought it was a ranger station rather than police. There probably wasn't much going on in Forks in terms of criminal activity, despite how much larger the town was compared to her home across the country. Following her uncle into the station, she poked around, trying to spot anything exciting going on, but found nothing.

"Hey Chief, your daughter is on the phone," a deputy called over upon their entrance.

Charlie arched a brow, but mosied over to his office nonetheless, as if Bella calling him on duty was a typical occupational hazard. Stepping into his office, he left his niece to stand around in front of the deputy who was at the front desk and seemed to be the only other person in the station.

"What kind of guns do your officers carry?" Kiera asked him conversationally, observing the curious and suspicious look from the man when she asked. "The officers back home would carry Glock 22s, which is typical to most police, but maybe it's different here…"

The deputy relaxed at her friendly inquiring. "We don't carry glocks," he informed her with a gentle smile. "You're Charlie's niece from Boston, right?"

"Yeah, from Boston," she drawled, even though she lived more than an hour outside of Boston. For those not familiar with New England, it was easy enough to just say she was from Boston.

"We carry Smith & Wesson, model 10s," he stood, gesturing to his holster.

"Oh, a revolver then… I suppose you don't have to worry about jams as much as glocks. Do you carry the reloaders too to make change over quickly?"

The deputy chuckled at her. "Nothing so exciting here. We rarely need to pull these, nevermind shooting them. But you certainly seem to know a lot about firearms."

"My mom was in the military and my dad always thought having guns in the house was part of our rights as Americans. My brother and I grew up knowing how to use them, better to practice gun safety than to have children in the house who were ignorant on how to use them," Kiera nodded, recalling her father's workshop. Despite the fact that her family hadn't survived, the gun case had, which was fireproof to a certain point. The house hadn't burned hot enough, as the fire department had arrived on site to put it out. She had inherited the family's arsenal, which she knew her uncle wouldn't turn over until she was an adult.

"Your parents sound like they were good people," the deputy sympathized.

Were. The past tense made her stiffen, the splendor of the moment and ease of conversation evaporating completely.

"Sorry Kiera, Bells was just asking for some directions… I need to remember to give her my work phone-" her uncle reappeared to disperse the tension that had suddenly filled the lobby. "Have a good night Roger," he bid to the deputy before escorting his niece out.

Climbing back into his car, she suppressed a sigh, wondering why she was so easily ruffled. The deputy had been trying to be nice to her and yet she had gone and taken his words the wrong way. Her intention wasn't to be touchy about this subject of her family, but the wound was still too fresh and painful for her to cope properly.

"What's going to happen to all of the things my parents left to me?" she asked Charlie.

"Like the money from the insurance and remaining belongings?" Charlie retorted, glancing over slightly from the steering wheel.

"I know I won't inherit the money until I turn 18, but the firearms that my family had-"

"I have them for now," Uncle Charlie said sternly, as if he were suspicious of Kiera inquiring about them for other reasons.

"I only ask because going to the range was also one of my favorite things to do. I don't need them now, but maybe we could go to the range together?" There was something about having a gun in her hands that relaxed her more than her cello. When she was on the range she could focus on the target and forget everything around her. The noise canceling headphones worked to block out even the chaotic music in her head and she felt that going to range would be good for her now. However, as someone who had just lost their family, everyone else seemed to believe it an ill decision to put a gun in her hands.

"Maybe," Charlie answered simply, clearly still contemplating the idea of placing a gun in her hands so shortly after the death of her family. "Chris used to say you were a hell of a shot. You shot a TAC-50 when you were just 10 if I remember his call correctly."

"And nearly threw out my shoulder," she smirked, remembering when she had laid on the ground in the prone behind the weapon that had been longer than her. "They don't really warn you that the kick is worse than a shotgun."

".50 caliber always is worse than a shotgun if you're not expecting it," Charlie grinned, opening up slightly since she had gotten into the car since the airport.

"I like the standard AR-15 as well, kicks like a baby, but if I really want the distance then the TAC-50 is my choice. Mom knew all the right people to acquire one after she became a lawyer," she sighed wistfully, thinking of where the rifle was tucked away, and if the guns had arrived before her or if they were still in transit due to interstate laws with firearm transferral.

"I do admit, your family has the most extensive collection I've ever seen, especially for a state as strict with gun laws as Massachusetts," her uncle commented, shaking his head.

"It's all about who you know in New England," Kiera harped.

"Maybe in a couple of weeks I'll take you to the police range we've got. I know in La Push, my friend Billy knows the owner of an extensive outdoor range. Maybe we could take out the TAC-50…" Charlie suggested, already leaning in her direction despite being worried about her mental state.

"Do you think Bella would want to come?" she inquired, wondering what kind of young woman her cousin was growing to be. They were the same age and if Bella liked classical music, perhaps there was more hope that she might also enjoy shooting since her father was law enforcement.

Charlie shifted immediately, his excitement simpering away into worry once again. "Bells doesn't really shoot, her mother has always been more… Conversative with gun laws. She's never asked me about it, so aside from basic gun safety, Bells hasn't much experience."

Your dad is the chief of police in your town and you don't shoot? Kiera thought curiously before breaking an even smile at Charlie. "Maybe we can convince her. Never too late to learn."

"Maybe," but he was still disconcerted. Perhaps the darkness in Bella was worse than in Kiera.

Kiera was grieving, but she knew that the world would go onward and so would she. Maybe Bella was so attached to her boyfriend, that his leaving seemed like the end of the world. Even as Kiera contemplated it and tried to empathize, she felt it was extremely trivial. How could anyone be so caught up with their boyfriend that it destroyed their entire life when they left? Kiera's entire family was dead and even if she felt lackluster in some departments, she knew there were things that would still make her excited, like looking down the scope of the familiar TAC-50 in her family's arsenal.

It's not like her boyfriend is dead. At least he's still out there somewhere, she thought tartly.

They arrived at the house, which was situated in the deep woods of Washington's temperate rainforest. It was strange to think that there was such a brilliantly verdant place so north. While snow did encumber some of the branches, the cold rain was quickly dampening it, trying to make it vanish like a cleaner sweeping dirt beneath a rug in a hasty manner to prepare a house for welcoming. Kiera drew her L.L. Bean coat in more and stepped out of the car and looked up at the house that was to be her home.

It wasn't like the large colonial situated on a pristine green lawn, the treeline set back against the house, but not closing in to form a shadow. Her uncle's home belonged to the woods, the tall pine trees glaring down at Kiera as if to tell her that she was an outsider and unwelcome in these parts. Forks was rural compared to her previous home. She had gone to a prestigious prep school, uniforms and all, now she was to finish her senior year in the public system in Forks. It felt odd not having the structure of her prestigious prep school to guide her, nor the uniforms or schedule focusing on orchestra.

"Kiera?" her uncle called, drawing her attention back to him. He was standing in the rain holding her suitcases.

"Sorry, just taking in the scenery. It's… different from what I'm accustomed to," she apologized, following him up the stairs onto the porch and into the slight bit of shelter it gave from the weather.

"It's a bit smaller than you're used to too," Charlie puffed, almost embarrassed by his humble abode. After unlocking the door, he let her in first to the homely farmer styled home.

"A house's value is not in the size," Kiera told him, finding the inside remarkably cozy despite his doubt.

"Kiera…" he shook his head and sighed. "Your life is going to be different from how it was in Massachusetts. A culture shock almost. I mean, if it were possible, I would have sent you to somewhere like Beverly Hills, Cali where it'd be more like where you lived-"

"Uncle, I had nice things, but I wasn't a spoiled rich kid. Sure, I went to a private prep school, but my parents didn't give my Burberry and Gucci clothes to strut around in my off time. I was well off, but I doubt I would have fit in with the kids in Beverly Hills. Massachusetts and California are not synonymous."

Charlie snorted at her. "Just the way you talk Kiera…"

"I'll try to be… Less proper I suppose."

"Be yourself, kiddo, I just want the best for you and to make you as comfortable as possible during your transition here, but it's going to be different from what you're used to," he warned.

What does he think I've left behind? My school was overly competitive and cutthroat. I didn't have time for proper friends, just academic rivals and those who wanted to point out that their families (who had old money) were better than mine (who had worked hard for their money). "I think I'll be alright," she shrugged.

"Well… This is your room," Charlie told her, pausing to open the door to the first floor room which looked as if it might have been a disused office before. A twin bed with a homely quilt and pillows was kiddie cornered. There were a few boxes that had arrived before her, but they were very few, as most things had been destroyed by the fire and smoke. "I'll leave you to unpack. Give me a shout if you need anything."

Her uncle couldn't have been more eager to scoot out of the room to give her some privacy. She actually snorted at his unwillingness to continue the conversations they had begun and set down her cello case beside her bed. Plopping down on it, Kiera let out a long and wistful sigh, gazing between the slip curtains and out into the murky woods. Somehow she was reminded of the visit to Ireland and Scotland, as her mother had extended family in the country. It was why her name was Kiera; her mother always had a deep connection with her Celtic roots and Kiera had often drawn upon it in the repertoire she played on cello.

She thumbed the necklace around her neck, a gift from her great aunt Glenys. It was a triskele in the form of eagles made of celtic knots. The small silver pendant hung from a dainty chain, long enough to easily tuck into a blouse. "Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine," she mumbled, a proverb she'd heard often from her mother; "Under the shelter of each other, people survive."

Kiera didn't get to see Bella until the next morning. What she had been doing out so long was beyond both her and Charlie, but he didn't encroach on Bella's getting out of the house as she seemed to have been lifeless for the past few months. Honestly, Kiera didn't know what to make of her cousin, they hadn't met each other in a long time, seeing that Bella's mother had basically estranged her from her father. Summers where Bella might have visited, Kiera was in Ireland. She wore muted clothes, her chocolate curls tumbling down her shoulders and back. The only features that Kiera and Bella shared was their fair skin and doe brown eyes. Otherwise, Kiera took after her mother with bright copper red hair, a small upturned nose, soft bubble gum pink lips, and a heart shaped face. Her Irish blood was louder than that of the Swans.

Again, the two were in contrast. Bella wore a pair of beat up jeans and a too big leather jacket, her hair pushed back by a headband.

Kiera, dressed immaculately in a loose, knee high black skirt, stockings, mary-jane shoes, and a black blouse tucked into the skirt with a soft white tie of chiffon ribbon underneath the collar, and had pinned her bright hair back in a high ponytail. Her fair skin beamed in the attire, her eyes accentuated by dark swipes of liquid liner and her lips popping with a scarlet lipstick. The look was professional, timeless, and classic. Kiera dressed as she wanted to be perceived; sophisticated. Her mother had always told her to dress as she wanted to be regarded and even in her childhood had always worn dresses and business attire. Her school had a uniform, so it was odd to be able to choose her own attire now.

Bella seemed almost disinterested as she prepared breakfast for the house. Charlie wandered out into the kitchen and paused to observe his niece, brows furrowing. However, he didn't voice his opinion on how she was dressed other than suppressing a sigh.

Looking over the music to Brahms' Cello Sonata No. 1 she accepted some of the toast that had been laid in front of her. Careful not to smudge butter on the yellow pages of the original she had, she could envision the swells and crescendos in her head, her fingers subconsciously plunking against the table where they might fall on the frets of her instrument.

"There's no orchestra at Forks High School," Bella told her, noticing the pages on the table as she set down the eggs and bacon.

"I figured," Kiera shrugged, the music in her head shattering at the interruption. She raised her eyes, wondering why Bella had chosen those words at the first to break the ice between them. Rather than break it, Kiera felt as if there was even more trepidation between them.

Great and I have to ride to school with her everyday? She thought tartly, wishing now that she hadn't turned down Charlie's offer to find her a car. The funds would have come out of her inheritance and Kiera had seen little need for it. She had no idea where anything was nor did she see herself becoming particularly adventurous aside from an occasional run in the woods around the house.

Charlie, noticing the strange bit of tension between them, loudly chomped on his toast before picking up conversation. "How was hanging out with Jake yesterday, Bells?" he shifted the subject and Kiera dropped her eyes back down to her sheet music. Right. Bella had been depressed, it would be good to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Her boyfriend left, he didn't die, she reminded herself, bristling at the idea that Bella thought herself off worse than Kiera who had lost everything. Just the thought of it made her tempers flare, something she had noticed becoming worse as of late. Typically, Kiera was composed, calculating, and in total control. Now, her grasp on her emotions and tongue were slipping and she would often say tart remarks she never intended to let out of her mouth. Bottle it up and put a cork on it.

Just trying to refrain her emotions made her feel hot to the touch. She picked up her glass of orange juice and tried to wash down her feelings and the warmth she felt.

"It was… fun," Bella told her father awkwardly.

"Good, I'm glad to hear," Charlie smiled into his cup of coffee, unfurling the morning paper.

Kiera scrutinized Bella and the flakey answer she had given Charlie. Her father might not have noticed it, but Bella was hiding something. Why Kiera could tell this from just having met her cousin for a few brief moments, she wasn't certain, it was just an adept feeling in her gut.

The rest of breakfast was rather quiet as Charlie didn't continue to prod Bella, clearly satisfied that Bella was not confining herself to the house anymore. When the time came, Kiera picked up her black tote and followed Bella to her beat up Chevy. There was a rustic charm about the truck and it was actually in good condition. Somehow, Kiera thought she liked it as she climbed into the passenger seat.

"It's probably nothing remarkable like you're used to, but it's mine," Bella admitted, turning the key in the ignition, the truck puffing to life.

"Why do you and Charlie keep saying that?" Kiera sniffed tartly, her fury threatening to boil over at this point. "My first car was a 1998 Toyota Camry in the ugliest shade of gold."

Bella blinked slowly, taken aback by the harshness in Kiera's voice. "I only assumed because Uncle Chris was well off that you grew up with nice things."

"I did grow up around them, but I didn't get them unless I deserved them. My parents drove premier cars, but they weren't going to buy their 16 year old daughter a BMW so she could go and crash $60,000 into a tree or another car. Sure, I went to a prep school, sure I had nice clothes, but I don't understand why the both of you think I'm materialistic," Kiera snapped, tapping her perfectly manicured fingers against her arm. "Is it the way I dress? The way I talk? I can't help how I was raised, but I certainly wasn't raised a spoiled brat. I understand the value in things, my parents worked from bottom to get where they were before they died. I was actually going to compliment your truck. It's a classic. Needs a bit of work, but if properly cleaned up and the engine overhauled it would be gorgeous."

Bella flinched at her words, pulling away from the house, considering what words she might exchange with Kiera.

Kiera glared out the window, wondering if it would be like this at school too. Her cheeks were flushed, her heart thumping rapidly. Closing her eyes she tried to compose herself; she imagined the cold air in her face, it rushing past her as she gazed down at the tops of the trees.

"I'm sorry Kiera, it wasn't right of me to assume," Bella sighed. "I've just been going through a lot…" she reconsidered her words and added hastily, "But not as much as you."

Kiera slumped back into the seat and pressed her forehead against the cool glass window. "It's fine, I'm sorry for getting angry with you. I just… I haven't been my usual self. I guess the redhead temper is finally starting to affect me, pent up from all of the years passed."

Bella chuckled at her poor attempt at a joke. "I understand," and despite the fact that their situations were so different, Kiera felt that Bella did understand. The earnesty of her words took away some of the edge of fury that Kiera had been consumed by.

"Is there anything exciting to look forward to at Forks High School?"

"Aside from the obnoxiously tight knit friend circles and cliches, not much."

Kiera groaned. "Thank God senior year is halfway through." She didn't need to make friends. She could keep her head down and continue her school work, finish up her senior year and then take a year off to collect herself before applying for college. Who knew what would happen in that time, which was why she had allocated the time to get herself together instead of putting her head down and trying to weasel through school with that much baggage.

Either way, it began with finishing senior year, and as Forks High School loomed into view, Kiera felt a bit of despair, knowing she would not fit in a small town public school.

Hello! Thank you for reading. I had an immense urge to write this fic. There will be a bit of original content and speculating with the idea that there are more clans of shifters outside of La Push.

Kiera is the same age as Bella (although her birthday is in May, so she hasn't turned 18 yet). For the sake of there being adults, Jacob has also been aged up in this series and is the same age as Bella and Kiers, also a senior at his according high school.