(A/N: Hi! This is my take on my Sim ship :) Hope you like it. My main concern right now is Mortimer and Bella actually sounding like they're kids. I'm figuring them to be about nine or ten at this point, and I want it to sound accurate. Enjoy!)

Part One – Childhood

"Mortimer!" At the sound of his name, the young boy turned. When he saw who was calling him, he slowed and started running in the direction of the house instead. "Bella!" Behind him, he heard the young girl stop, too, though she soon caught up to him again, and they ran side by side up the porch steps.

"Dinner's ready," said his mother, and she held the door open as the pair went racing past. "No running in the house!"

Laughing, Mortimer and Bella slowed to a walk as they went through the kitchen door together. Two plates of hamburger with what Mortimer was sure were gourmet patties sat on the kitchen table, laid with cutlery and napkins. Mortimer's mother was nothing if not decorous.

Bella took her place nearest the door and Mortimer slid into the other chair. He raised his hamburger to his nose, sniffed it, and made a face. "She always puts lettuce in," he said in a low voice.

Bella laughed. "'Cause it's good for you, silly!" She picked up her own burger and took a big bite. Still making a face, Mortimer did the same.

After Bella polished off her burger and Mortimer finished his reluctantly, Cornelia came in with a slice of key lime pie for each of them. "There you are," she said, setting the plates down. She turned to the young girl. "Bella, will you be staying the night tonight?"

Bella shifted guiltily in her seat. "Um, thanks Mrs. Goth, but I'd better not. I stayed last night, and also my dad wants me to help him clean out the attic."

Cornelia nodded and turned to go. Once she'd left the kitchen, Mortimer pouted, letting his bottom lip jut out. "You're not staying?"

Bella raised her hands as if pleading guilty. "I'm sorry, Mortimer, but if I don't go home to help my dad again, he'll be really mad at me!"

Mortimer sat back, frowning, and folded his arms. "Why can't Michael do it?"

"He's gardening with Mom." She rolled her eyes and grinned at Mortimer. "Don't be mad, we're biking to the park tomorrow. And we're still on for the movies on Sunday morning, right?"

Grudgingly, Mortimer mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Bella smiled at him, and eventually he had to smile back. There was no resisting her cheerfulness.

With a hug goodbye, Bella left, and Mortimer stood on the back porch watching her skip down the garden path to the driveway, wheel her bike to the road, and speed off. He sighed, and heard a chuckle from behind him. When he turned he saw Gunther setting down his briefcase on the island. Gunther came over and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Missing her already?"

Mortimer sighed again. "Yeah."

"Well, knowing how much time you two spend together, I'm sure you have plans for tomorrow, and Sunday as well." Gunther laughed again. "We may as well just ask her to move in and have done with it."

The boy turned his face up to his father's, looking hopeful. "Really? Can Bella come and live with us?"

Gunther shook his head. "Sorry, son, but her parents might not like that idea. In fact, why don't you spend a couple of days apart next week? Give her parents some time with her. They barely see her!"

Mortimer's lip jutted out again. "But I like playing with her!" Suddenly his eyes lit up, an idea forming in his mind. "What if I went to Bella's for a few days? I like her brother, too, he's really cool. Can I, Dad, please?"

"That depends. Ask your mother, and see what the Bachelors think about it, okay?"

"Okay." But these conditions weren't registering as possible obstacles to Mortimer; his mind was already going through the things they could do at Bella's house, which, while it wasn't as grand nor did it have grounds as extensive as Goth Manor, had a playground in the backyard and quite a few places to explore.

Gunther ruffled the boy's hair. "Now, go upstairs and get ready for bed, or you won't get an answer from your mother on anything."

Mortimer rushed upstairs to his bedroom.

On Sunday morning, Mortimer woke to the smell of toast, and he smiled. His mother always made his favorite on Sundays.

He got dressed and wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, where Cornelia was standing at the stove with a frying pan. Mortimer inhaled deeply. "Mmmm."

Cornelia smiled at her son. "Good morning, Mortimer. How many slices would you like today?"

"However many are left over after I eat!" Gunther joked, coming through the back door with the morning paper in his hand. He kissed Cornelia on the cheek, squeezed Mortimer's shoulder, and sat down at the kitchen table to read his paper. Mortimer poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down, too.

After he'd eaten enough French toast to feel like he might explode, Mortimer asked, "Can we go to the theater now, Dad?"

"In five minutes, Mortimer," Gunther said from behind the paper. "Why don't you go get your jacket?"

As usual, Gunther wasn't finished reading for another fifteen minutes. By then, Mortimer was practically hopping with impatience. But finally they kissed Cornelia goodbye and walked out to the garage, where Gunther's black two-door coupe was ready and waiting.

Gunther parked in the gravel lot behind the theater, and as soon as the car stopped moving, Mortimer opened his door, scrambled out, and, slamming it shut, took off running to the entrance. And there was Bella, waiting for him. A smile lit up her face when he came into view.

"Hey, Morty, how are you?"

"Good, how about you?"

"I'm great! I'm really excited for the movie." He smiled and nodded. Then Bella pulled a face. "Not excited for school tomorrow."

He grinned and stuck out his tongue. "Not even excited to see me?"

She laughed and patted his shoulder. "I'm seeing you now!"

Yes, and Mortimer was ecstatic about it. They walked into the movie side by side, chatting happily, as Gunther followed behind, shaking his head slightly.

Mortimer didn't take in much of the movie, some adventure story about dinosaurs; he was too busy sneaking glances at Bella every five minutes, checking that she was enjoying it. Bella was laughing her head off, and every now and then, she'd look at Mortimer, who would at once laugh, too. Gunther sat one row behind and, thoroughly uninterested in the movie, watched his son watching Bella, a frown on his face.

Mortimer didn't seem to have many friends, and while Gunther and Cornelia were very glad that he got along so well with Bella, they were concerned that he seemed to be putting all his eggs in one basket. If he and Bella ever, God forbid, got in a fight, who would the boy have to turn to? Gunther knew that their living on the outskirts of town and the wealth and power of their family didn't help his son make friends, nor was Mortimer a particularly outgoing kid, but he was sure that spending every day together would drive the two apart, and he wanted Mortimer to have other people in his life.

When the movie ended, Mortimer turned to Gunther and pleaded to be allowed to bike back with Bella to her house. "Son, you don't have your bike with you," Gunther pointed out.

"That's okay, Mr. Goth, we can take turns riding mine," Bella said, smiling at her friend.

But Gunther shook his head and put his hand on Mortimer's shoulder. "Thank you, Bella, but I think I'd better take Mortimer home. I'm willing to bet there are things his mother would love some help with."

Mortimer looked on the point of protesting, but Bella, who was much better at interpreting the hidden subtext, gave him a look, and he said nothing. Gunther nodded curtly and turned to walk back to the car.

Bella pulled Mortimer in for a hug, whispering in his ear, "Don't be sad, Morty. We have our whole lives to play together."