Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters nor the story that is Twilight.

Chapter 10 - Fast Friends (Part 2)

A/n: I am back again! I apologize for the lateness (again) but Writer's Block was a pain until recently. I really did like writing out this chapter though because most of it had nothing to do with Twilight - not much research (Thank God!). My apologies that it isn't quite as exciting as the previous chapters but I promise a lot of stuff happens later on because it's one of those main scenes in the book/movie. We'll get a lot of Lena/Edward interaction. :D

Please, R&R! Thank you. :)

oOoOo

I was trapped alone in a forest, full of tall, ominous trees stretching out for what looked like miles and miles in every direction. I couldn't move or more exactly, I didn't want to move. No matter where I looked, it seemed impossible for me to find a way out.

It was dark.

I was lost.

And I was terribly, terrifyingly and truly alone.

It felt like I had been standing there forever but at the same time, it didn't seem like more than a second when I saw something in the gloomy distance, a dark, sinister-looking figure coming closer and closer. I couldn't see anything except the outline of his body - tall and foreboding. The shadow's presence was cold and icy like a strong north wind was blowing past me and I felt the air being knocked right out my lungs.

Frightened, I stepped back and bumped into something. My palm brushed against something rough but not like the bark of a tree but bristly like mangled fur. For a moment, I tore my eyes away from the presence and looked back. I would have screamed if I had the voice to. A large wolf was standing behind me and I could practically feel the low growl rumbling from within him. I was trapped, not knowing where to go.

My eyes wandered back towards the looming entity and then back at the wolf. For some reason, I made a step back and away from the shadow. My hand felt again the wolf's warm fur and by instinct grasped it tightly. He did nothing. He seemed bigger than I had first thought, in fact, he was larger than a horse. Our faces were on the same level and I stared into his eyes.

His eyes. Somehow I remembered looking into those same eyes before - a deep, dark brown almost black even like cherry wood - I just couldn't place my finger on it. He was staring back at me and for some reason I knew I could trust him. The wolf didn't seem as threatening now as the shadow figure creeping up on us.

He was getting closer and I could now see the color of his eyes. They were black, black as the night but there something hidden underneath it, something that sent chills down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. There was a feeling that I couldn't exactly place but I felt it. Oh, dear God, how I felt it and sunk to the pit of my stomach like a huge stone.

He never took his eyes of me, so purposeful and intent. There was something akin to hunger and desire in the way he stared at me but it felt like it was so much more than that. It seemed like his very existence would be jeopardized if he was unable to get me or have his way with me or I don't know…whatever it was he intended to do with me.

Suddenly, the wolf scooped me up onto his back and we leapt away, racing into the dark unknown. I held on tightly, my face against his rough fur, and my hair whipping all around me. I turned to look back and I could see the shadow was still coming for us. Even though we were running so fast, the trees zipping by us in a blur, I could feel him encroaching on us.

The wolf faltered slightly and before I knew it, the shadow man was upon us. I felt the cold crawling up my legs, then my torso, and then all the way up to my head. I was suffocating as if I was drowning or the air had been sucked right out of my body. I couldn't move either, encased in invisible ice. The wolf was trapped underneath me as well. I thought I heard him howl before hearing nothing but silence. I wanted to scream as I felt myself being knocked over to the side and I watched in silent horror as the wolf shattered into a million pieces like broken glass…

oOoOo

Do you know those dreams (well nightmares actually) that upon waking up, make you want to lock your door, shut all your windows, hide beneath the covers, and pull a pillow over your head even though you know it's silly to be so scared just because you had a bad dream?

Well here I was, doing just that. At the back of mind, I felt like I complete idiot. Hell, it was three o'clock in the morning and more than hour since I had that "silly dream". Despite telling myself that I should just go back to sleep, I could not. It was practically impossible. I was wide awake now (even though I was terribly exhausted) but every time I even closed my eyes for a moment, that image of those eyes staring back at me would appear in my mind and I just couldn't.

I had my table lamp switched on and the light was somewhat comforting. Its soft glow managed to creep up into every corner of the room and drove the shadows away. I was still hiding underneath my blanket though and was presently staring up at the light purple cloth that was mere inches from my face. My eyelids were heavy but my mind demanded that I stay awake. I dared to peek at the alarm clock sitting beside the lamp. It read, 3:10 AM. It was still pitch black outside and it felt like it was hours and hours away from daybreak. I sighed.

When I was little, when my father still lived with me and my mom, I would go up to his small study (which we now use as a closet to put random stuff in) and climb on his lap whenever I woke up from a bad dream. Many times, he'd come home quite late (or what I had thought was quite late, I was in bed by eight o'clock at the time) and he'd always know what to do. I never cried or I remembered I never did or more rightly, I never had to. Before I could even breathe a word to him or a tear would slip down my cheek, his arms were already around my small frame and rocking me gently back and forth. The next thing I knew, it was morning and I was back safely in my own bed were I belonged.

Funny that I thought of that now. Those types of memories were deliberately hidden away. Those were the few instances where my dad managed to actually live up to his role as a father. Not that I blamed him now. I used to. When the divorce was still fresh, I never understood how he couldn't be there for me or my mom even when he was living with us and then leave us entirely. It wasn't as dramatic as I made it appear when I was younger. Married people divorce practically everyday. It was just that simple. Mom and dad knew it was for the better and I think it ended pretty fine. I grew out of it and me and Mom moved on. And so did Dad, I guess, now that he had a new family and all.

My dad loved me in his own way, I knew that. Maybe that's why I could admit to myself that I needed him right now. I needed my father to hold me and keep me safe from all of things that were happening to me. I wanted to cry out and say, "Daddy!" and feel relieved when I could hear his heavy footsteps come down the hallway. I wanted that so very much. And I almost did just that but then I realized where I was. This wasn't just a dream and the man sleeping on the other end of the hall was not my father - not my real father anyway. I couldn't call out to him. It didn't seem right. And wouldn't that be embarrassing?

I turned to lie on my side, still staring at the ceiling through my blanket. I don't know when or how I managed to fall asleep. The next thing I knew was hearing birds chirping outside my window and that the blanket still over my head was suffocating me.

oOoOo

The following morning, I was standing beside Charlie, over the kitchen sink in relatively comfortable silence. He was humming an old Beatles tune that I couldn't quite seem to remember the name of. Something like..."I Love You" or "She Loves Me" or somewhere between the two with a rather overwhelming amount of "yeahs" being said over and over again. This I knew because every time it got to that part of the song, Charlie would actually sing the "yeah" part.

This was becoming a sort of ritual for the both of us now. Whenever we meet at the breakfast table, we'd eat together, then fix the table after, then wash the dishes and then dry them...together. We didn't spend much time with each other with me being in school most of the time and him at work. Lately, he hasn't been coming home unless it was somewhere around twelve midnight and two in the morning. So this was as much bonding time as we'd ever get. And yet despite that, I truly believed we were growing closer as friends. I mean, "father" and "daughter".

Charlie coughed and I was a bit startled by its forcefulness. I thought he was going to cough up a hair ball or something. I glanced at him worriedly, placing the clean mug upside down on the rack to dry. "Are you okay?"

He gave me one of those trademark embarrassed, shy smiles of his and he shook his head and cleared his throat for good measure. I watched patiently for him to say something but he didn't seem like he was going to but neither was he going back to washing the dishes (there were just three left mind you) and he was staring at me awkwardly as if there was something very important he wished to say but wasn't sure how to say it.

I sighed. This usual, standard Charlie Swan behavior - unable to have a comfortable conversation with his "daughter". Not that I blamed him. It was just that I thought that we had at least made some progress. Oh, well, he was trying and that's what counts, I suppose. I smiled at him encouragingly and said, "Spit it out, Dad."

He seemed startled out of his own thoughts, glancing everywhere except my face. I tried again, "Dad, come on."

He shook his head and waved a hand in the air, dismissively. "No, it's nothing really." And he went back to washing the last dirty plate.

"Dad, I'm going to hit you with this wet dish cloth if you don't tell me now," I warned. I was trying to sound as if I actually meant it but even I could hear the amusement laced in the sound of my voice. His eyes crinkled at the corners and he sighed...in relief? Why? Was he worried about me?

He shook his head again and flung the dish cloth over his shoulder, the excess water seeped into his white cotton shirt. "Really, it's nothing...now," he mumbled the last part, obviously he didn't mean for me to hear that but I had and I raised an eyebrow at him. He flushed a nice shade of red and stammered, "You seem perfectly fine after all." He patted my shoulder awkwardly with a wet hand.

I made a face. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"I dunno, maybe I have some fatherly intuition after all," he joked.

I smiled. Now, there's the Charlie I know. "But it still sucks."

"I didn't say it was any good, you know," he teased right back.

It was becoming increasingly easier and easier for him to joke around me and we bantered a lot every time we spoke with one another. We didn't act like father and daughter at all which obviously would be highly unnatural since we weren't really even though Charlie didn't know that. And as much as I pretended that we were, it just wasn't the same. I couldn't see him as a father figure and I suppose, Charlie liked it this way anyway. He wasn't comfortable having to own up to his responsibility to Bella and I knew he was scared - scared that he'd screw up one of these days. And screwing up as a father was infinitely worse than screw up as a mere friend.

Charlie was humming again and apparently the conversation had ended or so I thought. I was picking up the last plate, ready to start cleaning again when he abruptly stopped humming once more and all I could hear was the irritating squeaking sound as I rubbed the soaped sponge against the plate's polished surface. I paused and looked at him. What was up with him today?

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing!" he said but his face was flushed with embarrassment and guilt.

"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?" I pressed him.

"It's just..." he trailed off and leaned in to tuck a stray hair that had come out of my haphazardly made ponytail. "I feel like there's something wrong. Is there? Give your old Pops a clue, will you?" It came out like a joke as if he was making light of the situation but his eyes were searching mine, trying to find the answer. The truth.

I sighed and decided to tell him what was on my mind. Well, maybe not exactly what was on my mind but just enough so he didn't have to worry anymore. I felt guilty that he had caught onto something that even though I wasn't really try hard to hide, I didn't want him to know about.

"Dad, it's nothing," I warned him again. "But if you really want to know, fine." I paused and trained my eyes at the tree that grew right outside the kitchen window not wanting to look at Charlie or his reaction to my admission. It seemed silly now that I was just about to say it. I laughed awkwardly to myself.

"Go ahead, kiddo," he prodded softly.

I smiled and bunched up the hand that was holding the sponge into a tight fist, willing myself not to cry. God, how I miss my parents. 'Yeah, even you, Dad,' I thought and waited a moment for the wave of emotion to subside so I could actually say want I wanted to say.

"I just had a bad dream that's all," I answered as calmly as I could. "I'm not sure what it was all about anymore," I lied, hoping to hide from him the specifics and freeing myself from answering any potentially dangerous questions he might ask. "All I can remember is that I woke up crying and I couldn't go back to sleep. That's all really." I peeked at him and gave him a rueful smile. "See? Nothing to worry about."

He came at me so fast that I barely registered his arms coming around me (wet plate, soapy sponge and all) that I gasped when I felt his warmth. Automatically, I closed my eyes and started to cry. I just couldn't take it anymore. The emotions that have been swirling inside of me had come to that point when there was no other choice but for them to come out. And now I was a blubbering, dithering fool in front of a man that claimed to be my father. In retrospect, I should be embarrassed like hell but right now, right this very moment, I just wanted him to hold me just like any normal father would and tell me all the sweet and assuring things that he could muster up the courage to say as he stroked my hair.

I clung to him for what seemed like a long while. My hands felt tired from holding his t-shirt. Somehow during this time, I or he had managed to take the items from hands and place them into the sink where they belonged. A big portion of his shirt front was wet both from my tears and the soap water. When my tears where all gone and I felt that my legs where just about to give way, he lead me over to the nearest chair and eased me onto it. He procured me a glass of water and I tried to gulp it down in one go but I choked on it because I was hiccupping so much.

"Easy now, Bells," Charlie said, still using that odd soothing voice that was so foreign coming from his lips. He pried my fingers away from the glass and placed it on the table beside me. I just watched him dumbly as he wiped my mouth like an invalid and took me into his arms again, rubbing my back. When the hiccups finally died down, he let go of me.

"I'm okay now," I told him softly, testing my voice. I mentally winced when I heard and felt how hoarse it was, just how it normally does when you've had a good cry. And it was a good cry. I felt like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders and I might as well be floating on air. It didn't escape my notice however, that this changed nothing about my predicament. But all that aside, it still felt damn good.

Charlie smiled at me and let out a relieved sigh. He looked up at the kitchen clock and I too noticed the time. He was late for work. I felt my cheeks grow warm and when he caught my eye, I cast my gaze downward, too embarrassed.

"It's okay, Bells. They can manage by themselves for a little while longer," he said, obviously understanding what I had realized. I shook my head but didn't say anything. I heard him sigh again. "Well, will you be okay until I come back?" I nodded this time. "You sure?" He tilted my chin up this time so he could stare into my eyes. He was looking at me intensely and I willed myself to stare confidently back at him.

'I don't want him to worry anymore,' I thought, promising to myself that this would be the last time I would heedlessly make this man worry about me. I wasn't his concern. I really wasn't. Not if he knew the truth. I was just some random girl not his precious daughter and he was putting too much needless energy into this little charade, this game, this lie we were playing. Maybe, I shouldn't be so attached to him as I was. Maybe I was better off closing him out.

'But that's not right either!' my mind screamed. 'You'll go insane!' I felt my shoulders slump forward in defeat and I knew it was right. There was no way in hell I was going to live through this ordeal alone. I might not have told anyone my predicament but I wasn't entirely alone, fending for myself. I had friends and I had this guy.

"You gotta go," I said, stating the obvious. He nodded and made his way to leave albeit somewhat hesitantly. He kept looking back at me still sitting on the chair as he holstered his gun and grabbed his things from the table. Before, he left though, he went up to me again and gave me a small, quick peck on the right side of my face. He gave a brief nod then disappeared out through the kitchen door.

oOoOo

I was exhausted. It was ten-thirty on a fairly warm, sunny day and everything signaled for me to be out and about and...happy. But I couldn't make myself get out of the darn chair. I leaned my head against the table top, feeling the coolness against my skin.

'Hmm, that feels nice,' I thought absentmindedly. It was like my whole body was burning up from some unknown fever that my body was creating on its own. I caressed the smooth surface, stroking it lightly with the tips of my fingers. I repeated this mindless action over and over again until the dull ache from arm brought me back to reality.

I couldn't stay here, I realized. Depression wasn't my thing. I hated to sulk by myself, locking myself away from the world, trying to numb away the pain by tuning out. No. If anything, I needed to be doing something to take my mind off what had just happened. Plus, I had that sick feeling in my gut that told me that staying in the house alone was not a good thing. I could never be too certain who might just pop up.

Somehow, I managed to get out of my seat and wobble my way back up the stairs and into my room. After picking out something halfway decent to wear, I jumped into the shower, welcoming the cold water striking my hot skin. I stayed there for awhile just standing under the water before quickly scrubbing my body clean.

With my hair still wet but brushed free of tangles, I was back downstairs and ready to get out of the house. But before I could, I scribbled a decent length note to Charlie saying where I was going and what time he should expecting me back while promising that I was going to be okay and that if I needed anything, I'd call on his cell. With that done, I stuck it on a free space on the refrigerator door and slipped out the kitchen just as Charlie had done maybe not an hour ago.

I had decided that a little "sight seeing" was in store. In the relatively short time I had been here there had been little or no chance at all for me to go around town either with my friends or by myself. Now that I had some free time, it seemed natural to check the place out although admittedly, there wasn't much to see. But I knew where I wanted to go. It had come to me while in the shower and the memory had given me an idea. That music shop. I had promised myself that I would go back again. The promise had been half meant at that time but there was nothing stopping me from doing it now.

I didn't take the truck this time. A brisk walk was just the thing I need to get my spirits up again. The sun was high up in the sky now and I noted that it was pretty close to lunch. I wasn't hungry just yet but I could always head over Al's diner once I was finished at the music shop. Despite the fine weather, I wasn't going to take my chances since, I had noticed, Forks weather was fickler than most, and had donned a faded blue hoodie just in case. I had my cell and my thin wad of cash in one jean pocket and my iPod (one of many parting gifts given to me by Renee and Phil that had come through the mail a week into my moving away) in the other. I placed the player on shuffle mode and sped up my walk into a jog, the upbeat tempo of the music driving me forward.

The trip to town was shorter than expected and I had to slow down again once I was coming to a busy area. The shop in particular was only a few blocks away but there was a mad crush of people all around me as they made there way off to somewhere - maybe home or to a place to eat. It was almost noon after all.

By the time I was standing in front of the shop, I wondered if the old man would be behind the counter at all. I checked my watch and it slowly ticked towards the 12 o' clock mark. Maybe it was for the better, come to think of it, since the last time I had met him it was a bit awkward to say the least. I looked through the glass pane and saw no one inside and before I could change my mind, I pulled the door open and went inside.

oOoOo

The bell gave a resounding tinkle as the door slammed behind me. I was right, there was no one in here. No one that I could see, of course. The old man could be in the backroom or crouched behind the counter for all I knew. Although, imagining a man of his age, it didn't seem likely that he was crouching around anywhere. But he could be hiding somewhere ready to "pounce" on me unexpectedly again.

'He could just be out,' I thought which was the most reasonable conclusion. 'Silly to leave the place unattended though.'

I wove my way around the many displays and examined each one. Most of them where music books for beginners, intermediate and advanced learners in violin, guitar, flute, trumpet, and numerous other instruments. Two rows of violins were hanging across the wall at the back of the shop in what looked like no particular order. There were open cases of guitars on display in one small nook and beautiful black flute resting on a pedestal on top of a small round table. I was baffled by how the owner had managed to cram so many of these things in here.

I spun around and saw two drum sets were pushed back into a large corner at the very front of the shop and there was the old piano just where it must have probably always been. From where I stood, it was half hidden away behind a tall stack of unopened boxes. Taking a surreptitious glance back at the door, I made a step towards it and then another and another until I was in front of it.

'Kate's piano,' I told myself, surprised that that piece of information had come so quickly to mind. I hadn't really thought of what he had said at that time as I was so flustered, trying to get out of the shop but apparently it had stuck.

Kate's piano was a lovely instrument albeit small and simple but beautifully crafted. I touched the ivory keys to test them and they were tuned to perfection like I knew they would be, just like the first time I had tested them. I wondered why it was here, relegated to a dark spot, simply to be forgotten? It didn't seem fair. And where was Kate? Why wasn't it with her if it was truly hers?

At that time, I had thought that this Kate must be the old man's wife but now that I think about it, Kate could be a number of females in his life - a daughter, a niece, maybe even his sister! But somehow, I couldn't make myself believe it. For some reason, when I had seen the look on his face as he laid eyes on the piano for that brief second, I knew it was his wife's. And then it struck me.

'She's dead, isn't she?' A pang of regret hit me suddenly and I touched the top of the piano as if that would assuage the rising mount of emotions hitting me. It was so romantic in a bittersweet way. I tentatively started to press the keys but not at random this time but in order of a piece that I usually played whenever I could.

When I was younger, before my parents divorce, I had played constantly but when it had ended, my mother had asked my father to take the piano with him since it took up most of the space in the small living room of our house. Now said piano sits in another living room, in another home belong to my father's other family. Whenever I am there, I try to play it at least once for old times' sake but the memory of how it got there was always still so very fresh in my mind that I couldn't make myself play more than handful of tunes before I had to stop or I'd cry. Now my half-sister, Lily keeps it company as she's learning how to play the piano for the first time.

oOoOo

I hear the door bell chime, signaling someone had entered the shop and I instinctively tried to shut close the top except I had almost smashed my fingers in the process. I let out yelp, letting go of the cover which slammed hard against the wood. I winced not from pain but from the noise I had made. I hope I hadn't ruined anything.

"What happened?" a scared, frazzled voice from behind me demanded. I whirled around and found the owner of the shop standing a few feet away, wide eyed in fear. I was guessing he was referring more about what I had done to his beloved wife's piano than any harm I might have inflicted on myself. But I was beyond surprised when he went up to me and took the hand I was cradling (although I wasn't really hurt) and examined it intently. After a moment or two, he let go, sighing in relief.

"I'm so sorry," was the only thing I could manage to say. I wasn't really sure what I was being sorry about - the fact that I had entered his shop as if I was trespassing, playing the piano without permission, or the fact I could very well have destroyed it. Maybe it was everything.

He was tall man for his age although he was stooped over probably from arthritis and I had to look up at him. His expression was mixed with concern and what? Amusement? How odd. Why was he so amused about? I'd expected him to be angry at me. But then again, he didn't seem the type.

"Nonsense, dear," he finally said to me, patting my hand. "In fact, I'm so very glad you've come back. I've been waiting for you." He smiled and walked off. Well, that was a shock. I had never promised him that I'd be back despite my promise to myself. How had he known I'd be back at all?

He appeared again, carrying a large stack of sheet music. They looked very old, browning already because of their age. He places them into my arms and I almost bend over because of the weight. I looked at him questioningly and he just nodded. "Go ahead, dear. It's fine."

My eyes lit up and I said excitedly, "Are you sure?" He nodded again and opened the lid of the piano. I quickly scan for any form of damage but relieved that there was none that I could see. He smiled at me again as if coaxing me to play and placing the stack of papers on an overturn box to my left, I sat down on the small, plush piano stool.

He patted me on the arm again, saying, "Give me a holler if you need more," motioning to the stack of papers. I nodded, smiling too this time but thinking it would be a long time before I could manage to finish all of those.

When my hands hit the keys again for the third time, I was no longer hesitant and readily played a bit of Debussy and then tried to stumble along Bach's prelude in C major by memory. After awhile, after racking my brain for something to play but in vain, I picked out a random sheet music and studied it. I didn't know it at all, attributing to how old it really was.

Notes littered the paper along the staff lines in a dizzying array but I took my time, plowing slowly but surely. Reading notes wasn't actually my forte. In fact, when I had been taking lessons I had given my piano teacher, a Mrs. Hamilton, the hardest time when it came to doing new drills. I was so slow at first but I caught up fast once I heard the tune over and over again which to me was a benefit and I got away with it most of the time. But it didn't help me to improve my sight reading skills at all since I wasn't really reading but constantly relying on playing by ear. So, here I was, barely managing and it didn't help that I hadn't had any real lessons for ages, but I was determined to get through it.

I was liking how the piece sounded, definitely Impressionistic. It came to me in calming waves, soothing me just as Charlie had done earlier and between my staunch determination to get better at it and just liking how it sounded, I had practically forgotten about this morning's low point and the harshness of last night's dream was fading quietly away.

I poured over this one piece for over an hour until I couldn't ignore the growling sound coming from my stomach. When I glanced down at my watch I was surprised that it was almost four o'clock now. Placing, the piece back on top of the stack of music sheets, I slowly stood up from my seat, my legs aching from having been tucked in under the stool for so long. I stretched a bit, testing my tired, cramped muscles.

I looked back and found that the old man was still behind the counter as he had been for the past four hours I had been here, polishing away the glass countertop. I'm pretty sure it had been wiped down clean hours ago but was using an excuse to continue listening at his post. I tried to hide a smile of pleasure at finally knowing this. He looked so contented hearing and watching me playing and I wondered if he was just happy that someone was actually playing the piano again or if he envisioned that it was his wife instead of me. Whatever it was, I was only glad that I could be of some help. The image of the forlorn expression on his face the last time I had left, was enough to break my heart and hope somehow this could make up for it. If he wanted me to play every time I cam here, I would in a heart beat. Not that I would mind. It would be a joy to do so, not a chore at all.

Gathering up the heavy pile once again, I took it to him and placed it on the counter for him put away. "Thank you so much," I said, beaming up at him. He smiled pleasantly.

"Not a problem, dearie. Come by anytime."

"Really? You won't mind?" My eyebrows shot up and my eyes growing wide. He nodded, chuckling. If my smile could get any bigger, this was it. But I recovered and became solemn just enough so I could introduce myself properly. "I'm Bella Swan, it's so nice to meet you," I said truthfully. I stuck out a hand over the counter and he took it and gave it a strong shake that it surprised me, coming from an old man and all.

"Mr. Robert Daniels at your service, Miss," he replied gallantly as he released his grip on my hand. "And I know who you are. There's not a soul here who doesn't." He shook his head, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouths. His eyes crinkled into a warm smile, making the crow's feet around his eyes more prominent.

I let out an exaggerated sigh and grinned. "It's so tiring being the new girl," I bemoaned and he laughed. And right then and there, I knew I had made a great friend. His laughter was melodious like the tinkling of bells and it trickled on around me even when he had stopped.

He told me that this shop had been in the family for generations and his wife had been a piano teacher who would come here often even as a child. They had grown up knowing each other and fell in love, sharing their love for music. They had four sons together, all grown up and they now too had families of their own. Three of them had left the town and only his eldest son and his family had stayed in close proximity. Which was good, now that his wife, Kate had died just like I had assumed. She had only been dead since last Spring and he was still having a hard time without her.

When he had seen me the first time playing at the piano, he couldn't help himself but think I had been Kate. He told me that's how they met when he was only twelve years old and she barely ten. Her mother was thinking of buying her piano so she could start lessons but her father wouldn't allow it unless the girl was really apt to learn. Thankfully for all of them, she was.

He was so consumed with his storytelling that I couldn't tell him that I was practically starving to death and I hadn't the heart to stop him. Finally, he finished on his own, sighing wistfully as he stared at something I possibly couldn't see but was something he was remembering from long ago. A moment later, he snapped out of it and just smiled pleasantly at me, patting my hand. "You'll come and visit again soon, won't you?"

"I will, I promise." And this time, it wasn't just half meant. I really did want to come back and even promised a date - next Sunday if the weather was fine.

oOoOo

I was in high spirits when I bounding up the porch steps and opening the front door with flourish. The lights were already on so I knew that Charlie was home and waiting for me. He hadn't called or texted so I had assumed he got my note and decided not to worry.

"I'm home!" I called out, announcing my presence. When I got to the living room, he was right there in front of the TV, his sock covered feet propped up on the coffee table and bottle of beer in one hand. He twisted his body to look over the couch.

"Where have you been all this time?"

I shrugged noncommittally. "Mr. Daniels' music shop?" His eyebrows went up with knowing.

"Oh really? You've been there this entire time?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he let me play the piano." Now, I had his full attention. His body was twisted all the way around and he stared at me as if I had two heads.

"When did you ever learned to play the piano?" he said incredulously.

I shrugged again as I went over to sit beside him on the couch, taking my sneakers off in the process. I planted my own sock covered feet on top of the coffee table and imitated his position on the couch. I took this time to think up an answer since I knew I had to lie again. I could tell him the truth (or at least a slightly altered version of it) and say that I've been playing since I was five but I was scared that he might find that too hard to believe. Besides, he might ask Renee how I'd come about that and then where would I be?

"I self-studied a bit. I'm not that good but he lets me play anyway."

Charlie nodded thoughtfully and said, "Well, that's rather kind of him."

I nodded in understanding. "He told me his wife had just died. He must be very lonely."

"He probably is. Mrs. Daniels was a really good woman and they loved each other very much. They had that kind of happily ever after marriage, you know."

"Yeah..." I sighed and eyed the kitchen. "Well, I'm going to make us something quick. I'm starving!" I didn't see his reaction but I heard him grunt, his focus going back to the wrestling match he had been watching before I had barged in on him.

I managed to scrape something together from our almost depleted resources and my small reservoir of quickly made meals. It wasn't much but we both happily dove into our meal. And that was that.

When I went up stairs and closed myself behind my room, I was too exhausted to think about what might happen tomorrow when I had to go to school again. I didn't want to have to dread about something that may or may not happen. I didn't have the energy to plot and scheme - although, I had little part in that. For the most part, I've only been reacting with whatever was being thrown my way, in particular that whatever was a certain Edward Cullen. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with him now. If I continued to rebuff him and ignore him, I was never going to get anywhere and any chance of getting out of here, as slim as it was, would be virtually gone.

But I was too tired to think now. I just wanted to bask in the simple but satisfying glow of today's events. Charlie had shown me another side of him, a caring and fatherly side of him and I had made a new and possibly very important friend in Mr. Daniels. I will need all the friends and support I could get if I was going to keep myself sane.

oOoOo

A/n: Has anyone read the Hunger Games Trilogy? If you haven't yet, YOU SHOULD! Besides reading this mediocre piece of fanfiction, that's what you should be spending your time on! xD

Don't forget to drop a review! Thanks!

~TFT