WARNING: Long ass Chatty Cathy note ahead. Feel free to skip. It's all nonsense anyway.

Equations won judge's pick for Best Written in the Geekward Shuffle Challenge! To all of you who voted for this story, or another, thank you! To the other winners, congrats, my dears! I was so flattered. There were a lot of ridiculously well written entries submitted, and I kind of teared up a little because I never in a million years thought I would win anything of importance.

I love all of you for reviewing, or reading, or liking my hot mess full of sentences that go on for forever, and ever, and ever… A generic thing to say, but each and every one of you put me in a tizzy with all your sugary words and alerts and favorites. I had to go brush my teeth.

Many thanks, and chocolate, and lots of number-y love to winterstale who is an adorable human being for reading this ahead of time. Everyone, run to her 1982. It's so heavily under-reviewed that I want to cry because it's better than anything my brain can come up with. It's heavy on the Emmett and Rosalie, but has a side of B-E for you purists out there. Go make her day with lots of comments and ff-love. Please? For me?

We'll talk more at the bottom, m'kay?

I do this pro bono, my friends.

The plane ride to the motherland was left without excitement or prolific experiences. I didn't meet any wise sages, or attractive men who helped me join the Mile High Club after we made flirtatious bedroom eyes at each other from adjacent seats. I sat without complaint next to a businesswoman fixated on her CrackBerry like it was the second coming. She needed some coffee and a new pantsuit, but only after a lengthy siesta under the vacation sun. She looked like I felt, frozen and exhausted and at my wits' end, with something sticking in the back of my mind like a wad of gum on the bottom of my favorite pair of high tops.

I kept Alice in the loop with a text before take off, and a promise of a message after I had landed. Her worst fears had come to life, and I wanted nothing more than to quell them like vinegar on a chemical burn. I told her to behave with Jasper, and be cordial to Edward, no matter what. Breaking apart a family as remarkable as theirs was something that would hang heavy on my conscience for decades to come. I didn't need little Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder to inform me that the swamp of guilt would submerge me completely if anything were to arise between brother and sister.

Even so, Alice as my advocate blew a balloon of feelings full of warmth and comforting helium to fill the crater. Her value to me would always remain unnamed. Alice, my angelic guardian cherub, was worth the universe and then some.

The canyon that Edward had blown apart with his homemade nitroglycerin stretched from the hairs on my head to the balls of my feet, but centered in the muscle under my ribs. Instead of made from soap and rendered fat, Edward had combined himself with someone so wrong, a toxic combination for him and me both. Although, he couldn't see how she had sculpted him into something that didn't belong. He was too much paint on a cluttered canvas. Senna may have thought herself an artist, but she was an amateur, ruining simplicity with designer labels and pricy glasses. I had spotted it the very first time with the lollipops and jellybeans as my witnesses. He owed it to himself to at least have someone embrace him as he came, someone who cherished his idiosyncrasies and the touch of OCD.

I loathed saying it in thought and reality, but he needed someone like me.

The short hours flying high were over with the pages of a book, a love story that made me want to jump from the emergency exit. But stepping off the plane, I was welcomed by pine trees and fern greens, and it was worth it. I breathed slow and long, reveling in the sensations in my lungs that weren't something unpleasant, the first time in ages, or so it felt.

I was finally back where I belonged.

Comparing Washington to Edward was a mistake. Edward would never be able to compete with the overabundance of oxygen and unyielding sense of security the blanket of foliage provided for me. The steadfast and ever-present woodland space was one, giant, jade Addy for my chaotic personality. Soothing and therapeutic, I loved the effect on my central nervous system.

Forks was an overlooked town, taken to be too small and too boring, but it was my memories lay, where my friends and family continued to remain. Leaving with my mother was a decision I would never be able to regret, but what I left behind had kept me weighted down with a slew of baggage that I would hang onto with my life. I wouldn't say that I would spend the rest of forever in the tiny sect, but a commute from Seattle was a prospect I couldn't wait to explore.

The Port Angeles airport was the size of a shoe, and a half hour later, I was through the gates and in front of the Crown Victoria cruiser being greeted by the sensible half of my parental duo. Charlie had taken to separation like an indigenous species competing with something from over seas. Divorce was unwelcome in his habitat, disrupting the peace of a somewhat stable life, but he had survived the series of battles against the lawyers and settlements.

How they came to be as husband and wife was a paradox if I had ever seen one. Renee and Charlie were never meant to be. She was fuchsia, and he was amber, her ostentatious and a bit gaudy, and him rich and wrought with the thickness of routine. But, the side effect of their whirlwind romance, my childhood, was more than swell in the end. I would rather be alive with two that were less than cohesive, versus the alternative world where I didn't exist.

Charlie and Renee's story of unexpected love was one I had heard more than once growing up in a fragrant cedar rocking chair. Charlie would tell me before the lady of the night claimed me with the Sandman's help how the prettiest girl in all of Washington agreed to be his other half. I would sit on his knee, treating every word as if it were the last I would hear, and imagining the tips and turns of their courtship and marriage into one chivalrous tale of knights and damsels in distress, as second grade girls often do.

The way I remembered Charlie talking about Renee sprung leaks in my tear ducts faster than I could shut off the memory's valve. He would tell me that the summer of '89 was full of something so magic, Shakespeare, and fairies, and the essence of attraction. As a girl of seven or eight, some of the meaning splashed to the side of my brain's basin in a narrow miss that was waiting for me to mop up as an adolescent of nearly seventeen. Looking back on that story, I could almost feel the bashing waves of First Beach on iced toes, and the misty air between the conifers as they grew together.

Charlie hugged me tight and kissed my kissed my head in a welcome gesture. We didn't speak, but we didn't need to. Charlie knew me like a book he had read cover to cover. With a face for every page, he could index my mood better than he could cast a fishing pole. When I wanted to talk, he could tell, but my mom chugged over me like a giant-sized rolling pin. Renee chattered like a hummingbird's wings that never took a break. She was a breed of shark that had to keep swimming through the pointless conversation and pertinent news alike in order to keep herself from sinking to the bottom of the speechless sea. That fact alone never boded well with me. In her presence, I was a tiny boat amongst the rocky ocean, riddled with unease, and fighting to keep my head above the surface.

The drive to our tiny blue house was an hour of silence that left a lozenge on my scratchy throat of recent experiences. Miles under the tires flew by, and with every one we got closer to our final stop. The constant aching in my knees foretelling the imminent rain was back with a vengeance, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I sent Alice an SMS that said I was alive and thriving in the place of my birth, and she sent me back that I was one lucky bitch for getting out of the trig exam. We texted about my flight and how I regretted to inform her of the absence of eye candy in rows A through L. I already missed my spitfire of a best friend, and I had yet to make it back to my humble abode.

The clock must've jumped at least three-quarters of an hour because we were there before I could bat an eye. I sprang from the cruiser as if the murderer was hot on my coattails, and made for our front entryway. The robin egg shutters and cobalt siding culminating with a simple white door was enough to lift my spirits with the visions of myself aged back ten years on the same sidewalk.

Charlie chuckled as he slammed our doors, and gifted me the key when he reached the steps. "Go on, open it," he laughed at my childish impersonation of little Bella from not so far back.

So, I opened the white door with the brass knob, and stepped inside.

The funny violet couch was the same as it had been in the month of July, and the daffodil walls still shone bright like the faraway sun. Renee was in every room, whether Charlie wanted to admit it or not. I was hardly in a place to give away tickets of blame, however, as the graph paper note burned a hole in my denim pocket wherever I went. Charlie and I were one in the same, both trying to hold onto a handful of H2O that would evaporate into nothing but an invisible vapor.

It was good to be home, regardless of the what, why, and who.

We had a quiet dinner of pasta and sauce because if everything else had to be complex, at least something didn't. I sat and twirled my spaghetti, and tried to think of what I was going to do when I got back into the land of the brown sand, but that made me fidget like I had crickets in my jeans. Charlie gave me an eye, so I combed my mind for something that wasn't going to make me anxious of getting back on another plane.

The leftover part Sunday night was spent by myself in a mess of Forks-induced euphoria after I had banished the gingered boy in Phoenix from my mind. I slept in my twin bed with indigo sheets like a baby who had never known a nap, long and hard and completely dreamless. But, the next morning it was ten past noon when I had stirred, and sooner than I would have hoped, the inklings of a fractured organ came at me again, restless and untamed. Alice's number-obsessed and carrot-topped brother had crept back into my head, but the memories were less than fondant and royal icing this time.

Charlie made for his station before I had woken. The house was a desert, even with a small tumbleweed or two that I may have imagined in my state. Somehow, I had never been here alone. Renee liked to flutter around the kitchen, and when she wasn't around, Charlie was. This past June and July, Rolly and Emmett glued themselves to my hip when Charlie was working overtime. Timers and pans had worked 'round the clock with incessant beeps and buzzes and clangs. Now pins could drop, and the world would hear. It was unsettling to be so isolated in a place that had always exuded life.

Left to my own devices, I wallowed.

Days blended into nights, and it was if I had fallen down the rabbit hole. I was in a world created by an author that wasn't real, but wasn't untrue. I got up in the morning, planted myself in front of Charlie's Sony, and had at it. I may have eaten all of the ice cream sandwich ice cream from very bottom of the freezer, but I couldn't be sure of anything much. For the first forty-eight hours, Charlie was sympathetic to my situation, but eighteen past that, he had reached his limit.

He had walked in front of his television, and pressed the power button, as my attempts to stop him bounced off like pointless darts. He crossed his arms and stared me down from my perch on the couch with enforced authority that I was almost afraid of. "Bell? It's been three days straight of Suze Orman, QVC, and infomercials. If she says Laura Geller Makeup Studio one more time… I'm worried, especially because I'm housing a truant student right now. This had got to end. Since when do you run away from things?"

I drew the duvet around my torso as a shield that did no good against his words. "Since I named and began talking to my pet cactus, and he started wearing rectangle rims," I mumbled in distaste.

Charlie was amused, but I wasn't. "A pet cactus, really? What did you name it?" I sent him my glare that was anything but entertainment, and he sighed a sad sound. "I don't know what the rest of that means, but you have to stop bottling this type of stuff up, Bell. It's not healthy."

The obvious had not escaped me, but it still picked at my unhealed scabs. "Her name is Mauve," I defended. "And, Insomnia isn't healthy either, but I don't have to fix that, do I?"

Charlie took his seat across from mine on a worn recliner, let me in on the plan, and ended with a request. "That's next on our list. Trust me. We're getting there. Tell me what's going on."

With a shattering breath, I admitted it to him, and to myself. "I forgot how to love, Charlie, and he says that he can't remind me." I shut my lids, and squeezed so hard that it hurt, but I wasn't going to open them only to let a river of salted fluids drip down my cheeks. Moments later, I felt a warm appendage around my shoulders and a transferring of weight, so I leaned into my father's flannel with no other choice.

"You'll remember when you need to, Bell. You're gonna be okay," he murmured into my ear, and I did my best to believe him. We stayed statue-like for five minutes at most, but it was enough to throw down a ladder and airlift me out of my underground tunnel. After I was able to let my corneas see the light of day again, Charlie asked. "Is that it?"

I sniffled a bit, but answered him with the first truthful thing that came to mind. "Yeah, that and I talk to my cactus and can't sleep. I'm going to call Rolly later today, have her talk some sense into me."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment like I thought he would. "Say hi to her for me, and those simple things are easy to fix." His smile was embarrassed, but what he said next had me flustered. "Did you know I had a pet rock until eighth grade? At least yours is alive…"

An eruption of giggles followed like hot molten lava, and it was honest. My laughter was out of practice, but it was like riding my bike after months of disuse. I hadn't forgotten how to use it completely.

A course of action formed in my brain, and the premier move was to locate my cellular device and call Rosalie after a nice, hot shower that would surely scald my epidermis all the way off. I washed my body free of days of stagnant grime from the sofa, and my mind of televised shopping with a sugar scrub, pouf, and hopes of what was to come this evening. It went without words that I was in for an afternoon to remember. I was sure that the pigeon express was the safest route to organize it with the way Rolly was, but I surmised that letting her know I was back home with a phoning would be a decent start.

Once I was squeaking with cleanliness and dry as Renee's pound cake, I dialed Rolly's number and was met with her boisterous voice. "Baby! To what do I owe the pleasure of this wondrous phone call?" she cooed into the receiver, pleasant and cheerful and peppermint tea for my heart.

I could see her through the electronic waves with jeweled cat eyes and oven mitts equipped with a grin the size of Texas. It set a similar reaction on my own face, and I couldn't help but match her joviality with a tone of sheer delight. "Hey, Roll! I'm in town. Feel like ditching school tomorrow?"

The faint crashing of a pan made the background complete, and she screamed her response into my broken eardrum like a crazed concert enthusiast. "Why didn't you call me sooner! You're ridiculous. Of course I feel like ditching school! Emmett's coming for you right now. How long do we have?"

True to Rolly form, approximately nine minutes, and one half of a Fluff and Nutella sandwich later, a Wrangler the size of my mudroom with a gentle giant operating it peaked into my drive, and shut the engine. I pranced out the door in a flurry of excitement. Where there was a Rolly, there was an Emmett doing her dirty work. She was too loud, and he was too shy. Unlike Charlie and Renee, they were two peas from the same pod, both shining with a blindingly bright canary yellow representative of their happy-go-lucky selves. He did whatever she asked, and she returned the favor tenfold in baked goods and warmth. They defined mutual symbiosis.

Rolly and Emmett met on the bus, and ten minutes later they introduced themselves to the chief and I. Impressed by my police escort, they befriended the duckling I used to be with no questions asked. We shared birthdays, and holidays, and the same frustration when Emmett hadn't gotten a Furby for Christmas. Rolly was there for training bras and awkward inquisitions, and Emmett stood his ground against the hoards of pervy teenage boys whenever he was needed.

While Rolly was larger than Jupiter, Emmett was Pluto. He hid behind Rosalie, but wasn't forgotten in the end. As a preschooler, he had a stutter that followed him into kindergarten and through second grade. Kids were mean, but Rolly was vicious. It didn't matter that she was shorter than them, or a little pudgy with thick glasses. When Tyler Crowley had first mentioned that there was something abnormal with Em on a Friday afternoon at the reading table, Rolly set in with cavalry in tow.

Six weeks from that day, she sat in the principal's office for stealing crayons, and pouring glue in hair, and pants-ing poor Tyler in front of the entire second grade. No one bothered Emmett after that. Rolly had instilled the fear of God into anyone who dared to cause trouble with him, her, or me. Emmett outgrew his stutter, but never his mannerism for only speaking when something needed to be said. Whenever Emmett had something to say, people listed, or else they would miss it like a leaf scattered by the wind.

Emmett had greeted me with a hug off the floor that cracked my spine with quiet enthusiasm, and, for one minute, everything was back to how it was before Arizona stole me for a mirage of experiences, both good and bad. We were two musketeers meeting the third for musketeer things like our former ambitious youths using training wheels and singing in Thanksgiving pageants.

"We missed you, baby," he said softly as he put my two feet back on solid ground, but leaving a limbering arm tight around my narrow shoulders.

I glanced up the mountain, and repeated the sentiment with fervency from finding his pool of sustenance in my wasteland. "I missed you too, Em, but we need to get going. Rolly's going to have a heart attack if we don't get there soon."

One day… one day, I will learn to be a serious author and write without Fight Club references.

Thanks for making it to the end of Lovesickella and Numberward's second installment. Originally, this was only the first half of the chapter, but it ended up being cut off here instead. I would have liked to give you more, but in the long run, you will most likely be getting fifteen or so chapters instead of three. Fair trade? Oh, and we will be getting an M rating later for some shennanigans.

Ice cream sandwich ice cream is real, by the way. It's also tasty, and mildly addictive. Okay. Pluto got demoted. It's a dwarf something or other now. I know, I know. I was sad, too. Oh, and another fun fact - did anybody catch that cold medicine doesn't even help in that last chapter? Yeah, FDA recall. They don't help colds, and hey, they make behavioral disorders worse. Oh, the irony.

I'm slightly curious. Numberward sent a numerical one to five-lettered Bella, but has anybody ever sent a love note to you?