This is an O/S that's been floating around my head for a long time.

Charlie bugs me in Eclipse. I take issue with a lot of his behavior, but mostly how his feelings about Edward make him *congratulate* Jake for sexually assaulting Bella, then threaten Bella with charges. (W. T. F. Charlie?)

I've wanted a confrontation surrounding his behavior for forever. I decided to write it.

Canon compliant. Takes place after the first Jake/Bella forced kiss.

Esme's POV

Charlie Swan is nervous.

He bustles around his small, outdated kitchen, pouring tea that neither one of us will drink into fragile cups that his hands are not used to handling.

The cup and saucer clatter noisily when he sets them in front of me. He plops ungracefully into the chair across from me while I bring the drink to my lips, pretending to sip for only a moment.

"Thank you."

"Sure," he mumbles uncomfortably.

I've always liked Charlie Swan. He's a kind man, a strong man. Driven to pursue true justice no matter the consequences, which is a fairly unusual trait in a town as small as Forks. Police work often becomes very loose in little corners of the world like this. Own a prominent business, be the star of the basketball team, have grandparents who knew someone else's grandparents and suddenly, that crime you committed isn't quite so bad.

But Charlie did not care how many points you scored last week, or that your grandmother used to babysit him. He cared about fairness. Equity. People.

Maybe that's why I'm so disappointed to be sitting here at this table, having the conversation we're about to have.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."

He nods, not meeting my eyes. I count the number of times his leg bounces underneath the table, using the soft thump of denim against the wood as a guide. The cup in front of him lifts, tips into his mouth.

"You're mad at my son."

Charlie chokes on the tea he drank. Stares at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"You don't have to answer. It wasn't a question. You're mad at my son and I understand. He made a terrible choice and it hurt your daughter. It's hard to forgive people who hurt the things we hold most dear."

My words comfort him. He relaxes into his seat, expression smoothing, nodding along to the things I say.

"It almost killed her, Esme. Him leaving her," Charlie trails off, his voice breaking and his eyes seeing things I can only imagine.

I want to tell him of my son's pain. I want to tell him how it felt for me to watch my child, break and splinter into so many pieces I worried he would never be able to stitch himself back together. I want to tell him of the squalor my son lived in, of how he starved himself and ran away from everything he knew to try and save his daughter.

But I don't because Bella didn't leave Edward.

Edward left Bella.

This dance is delicate. I am not here to make excuses for Edward's choice or to shield him from the consequences.

I'm here because consequences have become punishment. This is an ongoing flogging with a whip that cracks wildly in the air on the back-swing, misdirecting the pain and ensuring everyone is hurt. I am here because if Charlie Swan is not careful, he is going to lose his daughter the way my mother lost me.

It was a mistake to bring up Edward. I see that clearly now. The anger Charlie feels is difficult to contain and it boils over the surface.

"He brings chaos. Always. She's up and she's down. She's here and then she's just gone, and I have no idea where she went or if she's ever coming back. I don't trust him and I don't like hi-,"

"Edward is still my son," I bite out, unable to modulate my tone properly. Very real fear begins to pour out of the man across from me, an instinctual response, his body acutely aware that I am not safe, even if his mind cannot comprehend that truth. Three deep breaths, tasting his fear in the air all the while, and I try again. "I understand your feelings and your concerns, but I am still his mother."

Charlie nods, truly contrite. "I'm sorry, Esme. That was out of line."

I have to remind myself that Edward is not the reason for my visit, Bella is. "I'm not here to convince you that Edward deserves forgiveness. That's yours to give freely. "

He nods cautiously. Silence lingers in the air for only a moment.

"Did you know that Carlisle was my second husband?"

"Uh, no," he grunts, awkward again. "No, I didn't know that."

"It's not something I talk about much," I acknowledge. I let my finger trace the rim of the cup in front of me, noting the high pitched sound only I can hear. "His name was Charles. But he was nothing like you, despite that commonality. He was a mean man. Angry. Beat me silly more times than I could count before I finally managed to get away from him."

The Charlie Swan I recognize burns beneath the dark brown eyes he gave to his daughter. They rage with injustice.
"I'm so sorry, Esme. He's not- he's not bothering you again, is he? I can file a restraining order, call in a few favors and-,"

"He's dead, Charlie. He died years ago."

"Good," he responds bluntly. I smile.

"It is good. And I'm good. I have a wonderful life now, a good husband and children to love and care for. But still. I wondered for years how I didn't see him for who he was long before he ever put a hand on me. I'm a smart woman. Intuitive. Until I realized I did see the warning signs, Charlie. I saw them and everyone around me convinced me I was overreacting. That he was just passionate. Or that he loved me so much it made him crazy."

I have to pause to collect myself. I look down at my hands- strong, impenetrable- and remember that this trauma is over and done. I have survived it and it will never again be my reality, but it may very well be Bella's if I can't accomplish what I need to do.

He puts his warm hand on mine, empathy overwhelming his bone-deep survival instincts for just a moment, then rests it back in his lap.

"We see that a lot. In the force. People are good at putting up faces for others. It's hard to believe that the nice guy who jumped your car is smacking his wife and kids around behind closed doors. That's why when people like that," Charlie spits angrily "slip up and accidentally let their true colors show, others look away. They convince themselves that everything is okay, even when their gut tells them to look further. I'm sorry no one looked further for you, Esme."

I look up and see his earnest face full of compassion and truth and I think maybe he can hear what I'm trying to tell him now. The intrinsic discomfort my otherness brings him has been an aid to me so far, keeping him from questioning the erraticism of the conversation we've had today. I cross my fingers that it holds up, and I tell him my story.

The same story Bella Swan told Alice last night.

"He was my friend before he was anything else. A nice boy, a family friend. Good reputation. He asked me out a dozen times, but he never seemed too put out by my rejections. Until one day I told him no and he didn't accept it. He told me he knew I cared for him, even if I couldn't see it. And then he kissed me. He didn't ask- he just did it. And he didn't stop when I pushed or tried to fight him off. He decided to kiss me and he decided when it was over."

Charlie Swan is a good man and Charlie Swan is a man of the law, so this story is one he has heard before. "But when you told people, they made excuses for him."

I feel victory coursing through my veins.

"Exactly. And not just people. My mother."

He is aghast. Training has made him an expert at keeping his face neutral, but his heart pounds angrily inside his chest and as I watch the way his hands closed into fists, I know that he has not drawn the parallel I hoped he would.

Annoyance burns through me. His anger makes me angry. His indignant expression turns my stomach and I quell a shockingly strong impulse to slap him across the mouth for the sheer amount of hypocrisy seeping from him.

I keep talking.

"She wanted us to be together so badly… she stopped caring about how it happened. Just that it did. And she was my mother. She was supposed to keep me safe. So when she acted like it didn't matter, I believed her. When she told me to marry him, I did. When she told me not to show people the bruises, I didn't. Because she was my mother and she was supposed to keep me safe."

Venom that won't ever spill brims in my eyes. I want to weep; for myself, for my baby, for Charlie Swan's baby. But I can't and the it recedes, leaving no outward trace of the wreckage inside of me.

Minutes pass. He sits beside me, a supportive, strong presence and I feel locked in limbo, unsure of how to proceed, and preparing for a potentially volatile reaction.

"Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"Bella- she means so much to our entire family. Truly. I love her like she was my very own. You know that, don't you?"

"I do, Esme." A bewildered look has overtaken his face and I know I need to get on with it.

"That's why I'm here. Because I love your daughter and I know you do, too. But, Charlie- you're letting my story become her's."

"Excuse me?" His voice drips with outrage and it lights a rage so deep in me I think I may burn from the inside out.

"A nice boy with a good reputation put his hands on your daughter. He didn't ask what she wanted and he didn't stop when she said no." A chair scrapes loudly against the linoleum as he stands, indignant, but I press on. "And you congratulated him and you threatened her for defending hersel-,"

Veins pulse angrily across his forehead. His voice is ice when he cuts me off. "Jacob would never hurt Bella. Never. He has been there for her through her worst times, which is more than I can say for your son, and-,"

Charlie Swan is standing in front of me but the only thing I see is my mother. Her voice, her words, her denial, her failures. I have to rein in my anger, swallow back the venom that fills my mouth. "My son is not the one who assaulted your daughter. My son would throw himself in front of a train before he ever laid a finger on that girl. My son is not the issue here-,"

"I think he is," Charlie thunders, "I think that, despite what you said, you're here for your kid, not mine. And I think it's time for you to go, Mrs. Cullen."

He moves towards the door but I stay rooted in my seat, anger fading to desperation.

Maybe I could leave, write off Charlie and let him face the consequences of his actions if I knew for sure, with 100% certainty, that Bella's choice was Edward.

But I don't know that. I know she loves him, but I think she loves another, too. And as much as it guts me to watch my boy, my sweet, lovely boy, watch her love Jacob Black, as much as I believe the choice is clear… it is not mine to make.

Bella Swan may choose Jacob Black and her story may be mine.

"What if it was Edward?"

He stops in his tracks, head turning to look at me again.

"What if Bella showed up here yesterday with a broken hand because Edward kissed her without asking? Because Edward didn't stop when she tried to push him off? Because Edward wouldn't take no for an answer, even though her choice was someone else? Would you stand here and defend him?"

The steadfast resolve in his eyes clears for just a moment, replaced by uncertainty, and I slip through the crack in the armor.

"You're angry at Edward. You want him to hurt the way she did. But someone else hurt Bella last night and you don't seem to care at all. Does her pain not matter if it comes from a source you approve of?"

"Of course it matters," he sputters, stomping closer, back into the kitchen. "But Jacob is a good-,"

"A good kid. Yes, I've heard. And maybe he is." The words taste like acid in my mouth, despite their objective truth.

I'm aware of all the things at play here that Charlie is blind to. I know that Bella is racing towards a choice she can never take back. I know that my own son once made a horrible mistake to try and save a girl he loved so much it hurt. I know that Jacob is young, scared, and burdened with responsibility that no child should bear.

But I also know that none of these things make what he did okay.

"Maybe he is a good kid," I repeat, "Maybe he made a terrible mistake, one that he'll grow from. But Charlie… how is he going to grow from that mistake if no one tells him it was a mistake to begin with?" I ask beseechingly, nearly frantic with the desire to make him see. "You told him that what he did was fine, better than fine. Good. Worthy of praise. Jacob Black assaulted your daughter and you praised him. And then you told your daughter she was wrong to defend herself."

Just like that, the final piece fits perfectly into place.

Charlie Swan plops ungraceful, stunned, into the chair across from me, and for the first time in a long time, I see who he was, not who he has become.

I stand from the table, my work almost done.

"I love Bella. I want her to be safe and happy, even if it's not with my son or my family. Truly. I hope you can see that."

Charlie says nothing. I don't expect him to.

Before I leave the kitchen, my mother's heart begs me to say just one final thing.

"Edward is a good man. I know in your story, he's the bad guy, but he's a good man. He'll take your hatred for as long as you harbor it because he believes he deserves it for the mistakes he's made. He's trying so hard, so hard to be better, to make up for what he did. He's a good man, Charlie. And I hope that one day, you can see that, too."

My drive home is restless. I thought maybe I'd find peace in my own past talking to Charlie, but I feel more unsettled, angrier than ever.

Edward is waiting for me when I get home and I know immediately that he has found out what I have done. I expect disapproval or anger.

So I'm surprised when he wraps his arms around me tightly, laying his head down to rest on my shoulder.

When he speaks, he sounds small and fragile.

"Thank you, Momma."

And I find peace.