A/N Hey guys! This is our first fan fic, our baby, so we would really appreciate it if you didn't write reviews like "This story sucks". We need ego boosting before you can do anything like that :)! Constructive criticism is welcome, like "Hey, great story, but I think it would be better if you made Bella do this instead, because I don't think she would act like..." blah blah blah. Oh yeah, and ego-boosting reviews are welcome too :). Erm, do we need to do a disclaimer? Better safe than sorry I guess. I hope this is how its supposed to go:

Disclaimer: Erm...for you people out there with thick heads who don't get it -We don't own Twilight!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

I shivered as I stepped off the plane. Forks was freezing! I couldn't believe that people were wearing shirts in this weather. Then again, I suppose they were used to it. Forks is, after all, famous for its cold, rainy weather. I scowled up at the dark, forbidding clouds. Rain clouds. I hadn't seen rain clouds for months. Phoenix, where I live – used to live – was one of the hottest places in the US. It's so hot there, its nicknamed "Valley of the Sun". It is also the 5th largest place in the US. Forks, however, was just a tiny dot on the map. I had a lot of getting used to if I wanted to stay in Forks.

I grabbed my luggage bags off a large pile and looked around the airport. Charlie, looking the same as he had the last time I had seen him, walked towards me. He gave me an awkward hug and took one of my bags.

"Welcome back kiddo." he greeted me.

"Thanks dad. Missed you." I said, hefting my other bag up over my shoulder. I stumbled a bit, the weight of the bag putting me off balance. Charlie grinned as he steadied me.

"You haven't changed one bit."

"Hey! You gave me the balance genes! As you very well know..." I said in mock anger before realising it hit too close to home. Genes.

There was an awkward silence.

"Bella? Are you sure you're ok? Do you really want to stay in Forks?" Charlie asked

"Yes Ch-Dad. I'll be fine." I said, not meeting his eyes.

After a pause, Charlie suddenly started heading towards an old red truck.

"Hey dad, where's the cruiser?"

He turned around and grinned sheepishly.

"Well I knew that you didn't like riding in the cruiser..." He was right. Charlie was a cop, and it was kind of embarrassing being driven around in a car with a siren and lights.

"So I bought you a home-coming gift. It's a little rusty, but it runs great and it seems hardy enough for you. Is it okay?

"Wow dad! You didn't have to do that. You know I hate people spending money on me, but I love it. And it seems tough enough for my accident prone self." I joked.

"I bought it cheap from an old friend of mine, Billy. He didn't need it anymore."

"Thanks dad," I said, giving him a hug. "I love it." And I really did. I could picture myself in that car. It might not be the shiniest, or newest car, but it was mine and I loved it already.

"Here, try it out," he said, throwing me the keys. I, predictably, dropped them. He chuckled.

I turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Literally, roared. The wheel shuddered underneath my hands.

"Careful now Bella, don't go over 60." Charlie warned.

"Always the cop, dad. I'll be fine." I assured him.

"Actually, I was more worried that this truck wouldn't be able to take over 60. It is rather old." He admitted.

"Don't worry dad. I'll take care of it. And living with a cop has taught me to be extra careful."

Apart from the noise, and the occasional bump or shudder, the truck ran perfectly. The rest of the trip back home passed in a comfortable silence. He asked me how my mother, Renee, was doing and that was pretty much it for conversation. Charlie and I were never much of a talker. I was left to stew in my own thoughts for the hour long drive back to Forks. Forks, I sighed, what had I gotten myself into.

As we rounded the corner, the house came into view. A small, picturesque white house, with three windows and a rather large, but good climbing tree, in front of one of them. That tree held many memories, good and bad. The time Charlie had strung up a rope swing on one of the branches. The time when I, unsuccessfully, believed I could fly. I was convinced otherwise, after I had broken my arm jumping from the tree. The time that a lightning strike hit the very top of the tree during one of Forks countless thunderstorms. The time I found a kitten, stuck in the very top of the tree. And of course, immeasurable broken bones: arms, collar bones, ankles, both wrists everything.

As we rounded the corner, the house came into view. A small, picturesque white house, with three windows and a rather large, but good climbing tree, in front of one of them.

That tree held many memories, good and bad. The time Charlie had strung up a rope swing on one of the branches which promptly broke when I took the first swing. That particular incident resulted in a sprained hand. The time when I, unsuccessfully, believed I could fly. I was convinced otherwise, after I had broken my arm jumping from the tree. The time a lightning strike hit the very top of the tree during one of Forks countless thunderstorms. The time when I found a tiny kitten, stuck in the very top of the tree. And of course, immeasurable broken bones: arms, collar bones, ankles, both wrists, everything.

But throughout my childhood, that tree stood, strong, sturdy and dependable, and amazingly, lived, throughout all my acts of clumsiness and stupidity. It was always there waiting for me so I could hide from reality for a few hours, hidden amongst its branches.

Charlie helped carry my bags up to my room.

"Umm, well, I'll be downstairs if you need me. I'll leave you to settle in then..." he said awkwardly.

"Okay," I said, standing in the middle of the room.

"Umm...I'll just go then..." he said backing down the stairs.

"Okay," I repeated.

As soon as he had gone downstairs, I closed the door and flopped down on the bed. Ouch! My shin had hit the end of the bed. I was a lot smaller when I had last slept in it. I sighed; Charlie had left everything exactly as it was the last time I was here. Stuffed toys lined the dusty shelves. Colourful picture books crowded my bookshelf. My window still had the Humpty Dumpty sticker I had stuck on it, years ago.

My thoughts swirled around in my head. Why was I in Forks? Why had I chosen to live in my personal hell on Earth? What was I going to do now?

That last one I could answer. I found an empty box in my cupboard and started methodically taking off all the stuffed animals from my shelves. As I placed them carefully in the box, old memories washed over me. This toy elephant I had won from a fair in Seattle. This talking monkey, I had seen tattered and out of batteries in a garage sale. This doll, I had found lying in a park and begged and begged mo- I stopped as forbidden memories bombarded me. Tears leaked from my eyes unbidden as I tried not to remember, still it came through. Mum. A simple word, three letters, but it caused me so much pain. I curled up on the bed, hugging the doll to my chest.

The doll was lying propped up against a tree. Wet, ragged and missing an eye it stared at me forlornly. It seemed like it was asking me to help it.

"Mum! Look what I found!" I shouted.

"Bella? What is it honey?"

Pain ravaged through me, that familiar voice from my past bringing on fresh tears.

I dragged my mother to the doll.

"Look mummy, look! Isn't she pretty? Can I have her?" I asked excitedly.

"Bella! You didn't touch it did you? That thing is so grimy and wet. Come on, we'll go get an ice-cream. You can have your favourite, rainbow sundae."

"Mum, that's your favourite flavour. I like the coffee flavour best. But I don't want an ice-cream. I want the doll. I've made my decision and I'm sticking to it." I said, using I line that I had heard mum use with me.

She laughed at the frown on my face and I stuck out my lip.

"Okay then, my persistent 30 year old. You can take the doll. But it will need a wash first, and another eye. And probably a new dress as well," she said, passing the faded rag with a critical eye. "In fact, why don't we make her a whole new wardrobe? And we could build her a dolls house with tiny little furniture. And we could have tea parties with a thimble of milk for the doll and..."

She kept talking as I bent down to pick up the doll. I gave her a hug and when I looked at her, her one eye seemed to be twinkling and the corners of her mouth turned up. I named her Stacy and kept her by my side for ages. Mum sewed another eye on, and made her one bright new dress, but the new wardrobe, dolls house and tea party were forgotten.

I kept crying softly, but never stopping. The tears kept flowing, a never ending stream. Eventually, Charlie came up to check on me. He first saw the unpacked bags, then the half-filled boxes and finally me, curled up on the bed, staring sightlessly at an old doll, tears streaming from my eyes.

"Bella? Oh Bells, I'm so sorry, I should have packed all this up before you came. I didn't realise that you would be so upset. I should have known. I'm so sorry Bells..." Not knowing what else to say, he quickly left the room. I heard some banging from downstairs. In a couple of minutes, he came back up, carrying a mug of hot chocolate.

"Here," he said handing it to me. "My mu-...erm. This always used to make me feel better." I slowly sat up, spilling some of the hot chocolate as I went. I tried to wipe away my tears.

"Don't worry Bella, I'll just change the sheets afterwards. We have some spare in the cupboard."

I nodded, hiccupping a little.

Charlie stayed with me throughout my teary episode, sitting next to me, morning in his own way. I must have fallen asleep becuase, the next thing I knew, it was morning.

A/N If you didn't understand it, the intalics bit was a flashback. If you have any questions, please PM us. (sorry if we use the wrong fan fic language, we are still getting the hang of this :P)