Altered Ego

a/n: Bless my beta's who must endure my inability to properly utilize a comma key: Wonderfully Bedazzled and mylittlebakersdozen. Thank you WoahNow for keeping the Brit in my British! Hugs to my partners in crime (aka pre-readers): KikiTheDreamer, Alice and Nikka (aka Muse2MyMojo). All these ladies are talented – go check them out!

A super special shout-out to my birthday girl Heidilynn Cullen – sorry I'm missing your special day but just one more month till we do tequila shots, m'kay? Happy Birthday!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing Twilight – the character's are all Stephanie's – but this story is mine.

Chapter Two: Another Day in Paradise

EPOV

The first few links on Alice's list were to fan sites. I was familiar with these, having done the occasional Comic-Con interview over the years. They contained the usual biography, press photos and media schedule. What struck me was the number of fan-taken photos and stories. It's not like I didn't know I had fans; which was the reason why I had security. I needed to maintain privacy for myself and my son.

What I didn't realize was how personally they took their perceived relationship with me. I made a mental note to take more time in the future for signing autographs and smiling for pictures. As Alice liked to remind me whenever I grumped about press junkets, the fans made me and the fans can break me. The producers take that shit seriously.

However, I take the paparazzi pictures seriously, and I take notes of the sites posting many of these stolen moments from my private life. Images that involve my son set my teeth on edge. With the beginning of a tension headache, I vowed to have Alice communicate my wishes somehow to these sites. There had to be a way to give my fans something without completely giving over my whole self as well as keeping my kid out of it.

After scanning over a few of the Edward Cullen fan sites, I moved on to blogs. These I found to land in two categories: blogs about myself and blogs for my character Garrett from Eternal Midnight, as well as sites for the book and/or movie.

I wasn't even into the second site on the list when I had to go and fetch myself a beer from the fridge. Standing by my fridge, I downed half the bottle before pressing my forehead against the cool stainless steel. Seeing those images for the second time around was no easier than the first time this morning. The churning in my gut, an indication of my anxiety, was starting to slip into outrage. How fucking dare they? Who the fuck are these people?

Turning back to the kitchen island, I sat back down on the stool and resting my elbow on the counter surface, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips. From this position, I gulped down another large swig, while eyeing the computer screen.

Wiping my mouth on my arm, I released a large burp, courtesy of my earlier rapid imbibing. I almost giggled to myself, wondering what these fans would think if they could see me barley belching in my worn-out t-shirt and sleep pants. Would I still be sexy, ladies?

The first site on the list was titled Sexward and only posted those images that Alice called photo manipulations. I will not lie; they made me more than a little uncomfortable. Inadequacy issues aside, the nude, partially nude and coitus images left me feeling exposed and, well, violated. I could only imagine what Angela would think of these pictures. Of course, knowing my co-star, she would think they were hilarious.

There were several more similar sites, the only differences being quality and the extent of the pornography. Some of the images were so well done that I was taken back and had to take a moment to convince myself that there was no way it could be authentic. I could only hope that my family had, and would never be, exposed to these. That would make for an interesting conversation.

I finished my beer and left to fetch another before moving on to the next website on the list. Rubbing the back of my neck, I stretched my legs out, sipping idly. The sites that seemed to focus more on the characters from the book and thus film – soon to be films, were less disturbing but got me wondering. Did these people, - fans-, whatever, even distinguish between me, or Angela and Ben, for that matter, and the characters we portrayed?

It brought back memories of the first couple years after the release of Eternal Midnight to the cinema. For a while I could go nowhere without having someone or many, many someones, yelling for my attention by calling out Garrett instead of Edward. Jesus, somewhere in those hazy drunken memories, I am pretty sure more than one chippy may have even called that name while I fucked her.

Fucking hell, didn't any of these people have better things to do than obsess over my coming and goings and my sex life – nonexistent as it is, in reality. The amount of time and effort that they put into these websites was stunning. Part of me knew I should feel flattered, but the churning in my guts overrode that rational thought.

I also had some concerns regarding their mental stability. How many lived in some delusional wonderland where there was little or no distinction between reality and fantasy? A shudder briefly ran through me at the implications of such thoughts. I was reconsidering my earlier decision to make myself more available to my fans.

I could, however, appreciate why the studio loved all this. It was basically free advertising. Between Twitter, social networks, blog sites and instant messaging, the studio could throw a bone for peanuts and reap the benefits of hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of advertising. I suppose this is what I get paid the big bucks for. I chuckled grimly at that, since that old contract didn't leave me much wiggle room for negotiations in the event of a sequel. Being the face of a franchise was really not what I wanted at this point in my career. I thought I was finally past the point of vampire teeth.

Closing the window I had been viewing, I rubbed my toes together and drained my beer. The last link Alice had written down for me had a star and a happy face annotated next to it. Checking the time, I saw that it was only a little past nine o'clock. With a heavy sigh, I stretched out my arms above my head and stretched out the stiffness in my back caused by hunching over my computer.

I rose and padded softly out of the kitchen, up the stairs and down the hall to my boy's room. Peering around his door, I could see Dominic dimly by the light of his Spiderman nightlight. I personally found the reddish glow it made creepy. but he would have no other, so I left it alone. He was snuggled in and sleeping soundly.

He may be the reason I will never again trust a condom that comes out of a woman's purse, but I wouldn't trade him for the world.

Making my way back to the kitchen, I flipped off lights as I went and checked the security alarm, ensuring that it was armed and functioning for the night. Back in the kitchen, I only left the one pot-light above the sink on, so it and the glow from the laptop screen were the only light in the otherwise darkened room.

Grabbing another beer from the fridge, I returned to my stool and typed in the Alice-starred address into the URL box. I twisted the cap off my bottle and flipped it onto the counter where it came to rest next to the other bottle caps and two empty beer bottles. Usually, this is when I would be falling asleep to the nightly news. Rarely could I last to the late shows.

Sipping from my bottle, I narrowed my eyes at the screen, taking in the words. It was one of those Fan Fiction sites that Alice had told me about. She had explained that the author of the books Eternal Midnight and Morning Dawn, Misty Mallone, had given her permission to an online fiction website to allow for the posting of fan fiction or stories based on the characters and plots from her books. Apparently it was huge and had blog sites and other networks dedicated just to discussing the fic and their authors.

I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. I clicked on the biography of the author that the link had taken me to. Eternally Beautiful was the author's name. I snorted, ri-ght, whatever. Apparently names chosen were plays off the title or characters from the franchise. The short bio read that she was female - no shit Sherlock. She's a stay-at-home-mom; who else would have the time to indulge in this nonsense, I snorted. And that she loved the Midnight genre and characters, especially Garrett, was no big surprise.

She was probably some bored, lonely housewife with a couch-potato husband with little to no sex-life and obviously no life in general. A little voice in the back of my head asked the pot to meet the kettle, but I shrugged it off, irritation taking precedence in my thoughts. Really, if she wanted to write fiction so badly, why didn't she just write for real?

There was also a link to her profile to some social networking site called the Nightwalkers. What the hell? I had heard of Facebook and MySpace, but never this. I clicked on the link, sliding my fingers across the touch pad and tapping it sharply. Unfortunately, the fecking thing just went to a log-in/account set-up screen. Annoyed, I snapped my fingers against the touchpad, again, taking me back to the fan fiction page.

Alice had made a big deal about this lady's stories, so I clicked on the first one from her story list. I slouched over the counter, resting my head on one hand, and taking slugs from my beer, held in the other. There was some disclaimer written above the title stating that it was a one-shot, whatever that was, and some warning about graphic-adult content.

It began with an innocent enough scene from the original book, one where Garrett and Kate were laying in Kate's bedroom talking about what it is to be a vampire. It then deviated from the book quickly. Talking morphed into snogging, which moved on into passionate lovemaking.

At the beginning, I scoffed and rolled my eyes. As I continued to read, my face grew hot and my breathing accelerated and I gulped down the last of my beer as I read the extensive and detailed descriptions of who licked, kissed and sucked what. Finally, as Garrett's and Kate's bodies plunged together, I was rubbing myself, absently, through my light flannel pants.

Holy Shit!

Part of me was pleased that poor hundred-year-old virgin boy, Garret, finally got a good shag. Another part was turned on as all fuck by what can only be described as erotica. The last part, the strongest third, was completely and utterly mortified that I was attempting to rub one out to detailed images of myself and Angela.

Truly, the writer was not describing the characters from the book as much as she was giving the physical descriptions of my co-star Angela and myself. Honestly, that more than a little, creeped me out. When Angela and I had worked together on Eternal Midnight, she was just kid, not even eighteen. I have never seen her as anything other than a sister, or perhaps a cousin, or more truthfully, that awkward friend of your sister. Whatever, it still felt incestuous.

I raised my hands to face, roughly rubbing my eyes and cheeks and then raking my fingers through my hair. I was feeling more than slightly buzzed, as I picked up the empty bottles, taking them to the sink to rinse prior to pitching them into the recycle bin.

Leaning back against the counter, I gazed blindly at the dimly lit room. I became an actor because I liked to act. Fame was a necessary evil. Fame brought the pick of roles and a sense of control over my career. I had dealt with the fame and the fans, through strict privacy guidelines and my publicist, until today.

With a glare at the laptop I realized just how sheltered I had been. I was pissed. Well and truly pissed.

Returning to my seat in front of the laptop, I sat, one hand stuck under the opposite arm, the fingers of my other hand pulling and pinching my bottom lip. I hit the back button, taking me to the author page. Sucking my bottom lip in, I gnawed on it, rubbed my temples and scratched my brows. A plan percolated and I chuckled deep in my chest.

Turn around is fair play, right? I clicked on the Nightwalkers link. With a smug grin, I moved the cursor over the new account button. Maybe it was time for me to stalk my stalkers.

BPOV

The morning light shone dimly through the half-opened slats of the mini-blinds on the bedroom window. My eyes fluttered open minutely, long enough to catch the time on my digital alarm clock before closing again. Ten more minutes. I snuggled down under the comforter, my body heavy and relaxed.

A large heavy hand rested on my ribcage. It moved, sliding over and up my strangely unclothed skin, until it grasped my breast gently. I gasped as it squeezed my flesh, the thumb rubbing lazy circles over my pebbled and erect nipple. The sensation speared me hotly between my legs and I moaned, wanting more.

My hips began to rock by their own accord, responding to the continued deft ministration of the practiced hand on my breast. A deep appreciative hum left my lips as soft wet kisses travelled across my shoulders and an erection pressed against my bare behind. I rocked my buttocks against it in invitation, my thighs parting.

The hand complied, trailing down my belly, moving to where I ached and yearned to be touched. I snaked my arm out from under the covers, reaching back and ran my hand across a scruffy chin until I reached and fixed my fingers in silky strands. "Edward," I breathed out, half voice and half sigh.

I had just caught a glimpse of gold and red lit locks when my alarm went off. My hand smacked the snooze button automatically then I froze.

Shit, shit, and double-shit. I could feel the weight of Riley's body next to me through the mattress. I didn't move, I didn't dare breathe, my fingertips rested on the nightstand.

Riley rolled over, his body pressed up against mine, and he wrapped his arm around my middle. I started to panic, knowing my penchant for talking in my sleep. I silently begged whatever spirits that be, that I had not moaned Edward Cullen's name out loud while my boyfriend lay beside me.

Riley released a loud snort-snore and I relaxed immediately. He was still sleeping. I cuddled into his embrace, the residual sexual tension from my sexy, sleepy fantasy still coursing through me. Succinctly, I was feeling rather randy. I rubbed my bottom inquisitively against Riley's groin, seeking out morning wood. Finding none, I rocked and swivelled against him more purposefully.

"Babe," Riley croaked. "What are you doing? I was sleeping," he grumped then rolled over, making the bed rock. Rolling my eyes, I turned off the alarm and got out of bed. I stumbled my way to the bathroom, where my shower and hand-held shower head waited.

Feeling much more relaxed after my shower, I shook Riley awake and made my way to Elizabeth's room. Opening the blinds, I used the light from the window to search out clothes for her day. Laying out her outfit at the end of the bed, I gently shook my baby girl awake.

"Hey Pumpkin, its morning, time to get ready for school," I told her, brushing her hair back from her forehead. Elizabeth grumbled, rolling away from me and clutching her monkey stuffy closer to her chest. She is so much like her father in the morning.

"George will meet you at the table for breakfast," I told her, gently detangling the toy from her embrace. I turned and left the room, stopping once at the door. Reassured by the sight of my little girl sitting up and rubbing her eyes, I continued to the kitchen.

With George ensconced on his seat at the table, I put on the coffee and set out the cereal and milk. Riley walked into the kitchen as I pulled the bowls out of the cupboard. He greeted me with a jaw-cracking yawn and a nod, taking the bowls from my hands on his way to the table.

Riley set the bowls on the table and took a seat. Elizabeth ambled in, still half asleep, and took the chair beside her stuffed-monkey friend. Riley filled two bowls with cereal as I placed spoons down on the table before returning to the kitchen to fetch Riley and I each a cup of coffee.

While Elizabeth ate her cereal, and I took sporadic sips of my coffee, I brushed, parted, and plaited her long brown hair into two side-braids. With her hair and her cereal done, I sent her to brush her teeth and returned to the kitchen.

Placing my mug on the counter, I started slicing up an apple and an orange for Elizabeth's lunch. Riley finished his cereal and coffee and then came to stand behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to kiss my cheek.

"Cutting here," I said, as his movements jostled me.

"Sorry, Babe," Riley responded, moving away to lean on the opposite counter.

"Have fun last night?" I asked, placing the cut fruit into plastic baggies.

"Yep," he shuffled slightly, crossing his arms. "Sorry I got in so late."

I simply shrugged, popping the bags of snacks into Elizabeth's lunch bag.

"Well, I should go shower and head to the station, I love you, Babe," he said before brushing past me. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes faintly stung the air in his wake. I only hummed in response, continuing to pack up Elizabeth's school bag.

The day was cool and rainy, though not bad for January, both Elizabeth and I were wearing our hooded, winter coats. Elizabeth had protested, wanting to wear her new raincoat, but the wind was up today bringing with it the cold-damp ocean air. One could almost smell the salt tang mixed in with the musty earth smell of the forest around Forks.

We both had new wool socks on our feet inside our rubber rain boots and new wool mitts on our hands, courtesy of 'Uncle' Jake. Seriously, Jacob Black was the last person I would have taken as a knitter, but he said that it gives his hands something to do while keeping his mind focused and his eyes free. Apparently, all important tasks since he started working with Sam Uley at a security company in Los Angeles a few years back.

In less than ten minutes we were at the Fork's Elementary School. I knelt down after we had stopped, adjusted Elizabeth's pack on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"I love you baby girl, have a good day," I told her, rising and backing up one step.

"Okay, Mommy, bye," Elizabeth responded as she bound away, her braids bouncing against the pack on her back. She stopped after several steps, spun around and waved with a grin plastered to her face, then spun again and continued on. Once I saw her joining her classmates on the playground, I turned and walked away.

The rest of the morning was spent with me slogging through the rain to the grocery store and back home. Riley had already left for work, driving our only vehicle, a Ford Focus. Once inside and the foodstuff put away, I put on a load of laundry, washed up the breakfast dishes and made the beds, until finally, I was able to sit down with a fresh cup of coffee.

Booting up my computer, I logged into my email. There was the usual notifications and spam, which I quickly deleted, a mail from my mom, Renee, which could wait, and one from my old friend from high school, Jessica Stanley.

I clicked and began to read through the letter from Jess. She wrote to me about once every month or two. Jessica is one of the few friends I made during my short time at Forks high who had really stuck. Well, stuck to a degree. I think she mostly liked having someone to write home to, to regal with her tales of living the single, LA life.

Jessica got a scholarship to UCLA, graduated with honours in education, and even completed her Masters. She works now as a teacher at a posh private school in Los Angeles. Jess always seemed like a self-absorbed airhead but appearances were deceiving. Jessica was smart, determined and had a plan. We both did. She was living her dream.

Not everyone from school moved away from Forks for good. Mike returned after finishing his business degree at Washington State, combining that with a minor in recreational tourism. He had plans for his parents' outfitters store. Lauren also left Forks for a few years, teaching English as a second language in Japan, before returning home. She had no plans to stay, just had no new plans period.

As I scanned through Jess's mail, I saw that it was mostly the same, talk about the beautiful weather, the clubs and her job. Then I saw it. "I even got to meet Edward Cullen, during parent-teacher interviews. He is such a good dad. Isn't he that actor you like?"

My next action registered only after I heard the crash of the mug splitting apart as it collided with the kitchen cabinet, my arm still in downswing. Fuck. My. Life. Why am I here? Was it ever my grand fucking plan to be basically an indentured servant?

With a great sucking breath I allowed myself the luxury of self-pity. Laying my arms on the table, I bowed my head and just sobbed. I cried for my lost years being young, studious and even stupid in university. I cried for the tedium and boredom of my domesticated existence. I cried because I was just plain lonely.

After a time my self-indulgent cries morphed to snuffles and I rose from my seat, making my way into the kitchen. I blew my nose with some paper towel and then quickly rinsed away my tears at the sink. With a sigh, I surveyed the mess I made with my tantrum, and gathered more paper towel from the yellow plastic holder attached under the cupboard.

Still sniffing slightly, and feeling foolish, I wiped up the coffee splatters and collected the remnants of the ceramic mug, throwing the whole mess into the trash. I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. Slipping down until I was sitting on the floor, my back against the cabinet, and my knees hugged to my chest.

What an utterly ridiculous display. What right do I have to feel sorry for myself? I have a roof over my head, a man who adores me and our daughter and I have Elizabeth. No matter how concerned or disappointed my parents were when I finally broke the news of my unplanned pregnancy, it all was resolved with the arrival of my beautiful baby girl.

She may be the reason that I will never again trust a condom stored in a guy's wallet, but I wouldn't trade her for the world.

Riley and I were living the American dream, were we not? We may not be married, but that was not because he didn't propose. It was enough that I was already following in my parent's footsteps getting pregnant in my first year in college. I was not going to add a shot-gun wedding to the mix. After the initial rejection, marriage just never came up again.

We were good - Riley and I, my mom and I, and Charlie and I. We have a good, safe, quiet life here in Forks. It was the perfect place to raise a small child.

It's not enough.

With an annoyed snort and a final wipe to my now dry cheeks, I got up off the floor. I made my bed, now it was time to do what my Nana always said and just pull myself up by my bootstraps and get on with it. No point looking back on the paths not taken.

Sitting back down in front of my computer, I closed out my email and opened up the Nightwalkers network site, and quickly updated my status. "Just another day in paradise, what are all my loves doing today?"

Fresh coffee in hand, I spent the next hour fielding responses to my status, commenting on discussion threads in groups and chatted with a few individuals. Over the years I have met people all over the world, establishing relationships based on more than just fantasy, though that is the core starting point. No judgements, no recriminations. My online world allowed me to be just me. Yes, I had a pseudonym, yet this was more the real me than the one that walked my daughter to school or served Sunday night dinner to Riley and Charlie. This was my social life. It was enough.

Draining my second cup of java, my eye wandered over my friend list to the side of the screen, spying the new name on the list. I clicked on the link to Midnight Solitude and opened a message box.

Hey Midnight Solitude,

Thank you for the friend request and the compliment. Which story of mine did you read? Have you read much fanfiction. I have many other stories and authors I could recommend. Are you new to the fandom? Your name sounds lonely. Are you interested in meeting others? There are lots of groups where we meet to discuss fic, the books, the movies and well, just life in general.

If you are interested, let me know, I am more than happy to guide your way! :)

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