Title: The Man Who Sold the World

Author: Lamb

Rating: T/PG-13

Summary: With only weeks to go before Bella leaves the nest, Charlie teaches her a little life lesson about the very different kinds of love he's experienced in his lifetime.

I wasn't in my kitchen anymore. Far from it, even. I was in a lush, green meadow peppered with tiny yellow and blue flowers. It wasn't any meadow; it was my meadow. My happy place, as it'd been so often referred to these days. I was in the meadow with Edward, his angel's face glowing dimly from the sun that was setting behind the trees.

I crawled closer, extending my hand to reach for his and coaxing him into meet me somewhere in the middle. Taking the initiative—something I was so rarely allowed to do—I pressed my lips hard against his. Edward hesitated for a moment, his fingers winding into my hair as he kissed me back.

Once; twice; three times.

I slid my arms from around his neck, finding the button at the collar of his shirt as I hurriedly undid it. There was no pause as I moved onto the next button or the one after that; I kept moving my hands as if I was too afraid that he'd stop me. I wanted this too badly for him to stop me.

…I was daydreaming again. I was daydreaming a lot, really. It'd become my refuge from the busy wedding planning and my refuge from Alice. In my mind, I was already long gone—fingertips against flesh; a gentle summer wind blowing across the meadow—and then the intense burning took over.

I hissed as I pulled my hand away from the pan, snapped painfully back into reality.

I groaned, sucking softly at my fingers. "Son of a b—"

"Watch out, kid," Charlie cut me off, reaching for my hand. "Let me take a look."

I furrowed my brow as Charlie reached for my hand, examining it closely. With his free hand, he reached to turn the faucet on and brought my hand under the water. I wriggled my fingers beneath the running tap and couldn't help but feel like a child. It was oddly reminiscent of sitting on the front steps as Charlie wiped a scraped knee with disinfectant; the thought made me smile a little.

"Thanks, dad…" I murmured. "You really didn't have to."

Charlie didn't really say much in the way of 'you're welcome'; instead he just wandered back to the table and slumped back against his chair. Something was off, and it was clear to see that Charlie was far away as he glanced out the window; I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking as I went back to stirring the contents of the pan.

I plopped a large pile of sauce and noodles onto Charlie's plate and slid it down on the table next to him. He hardly noticed, and now I was concerned. I weighed my options, contemplating whether or not I should bring it up, but part of me worried it would turn into another conversation about Jacob, and I just couldn't take anymore. This week had been too stressful. With the wedding so close I'd been pushed and pulled every which way, and I was thankful that the Cullens had been hunting for the last few days, even if they'd taken Edward with them.

I slid down in the seat across from him and frowned. I couldn't eat with this clawing at me, and as I swirled my fork in the spaghetti, I glanced up at him and cleared my throat.

"Is something wrong, Dad? You're awfully quiet tonight…"

Charlie was quiet for a long moment, and then shook his head. "I'm just thinking."

Charlie was sitting on the sofa when I finished with my dishes, the same lines formed on his furrowed brow. I sighed heavily; deciding it was best to leave him alone I headed for the stairs, but the second I'd set my foot on the first step, he glanced over toward me.

"Bells," he hesitated, "could I have a few words with you? It's kind of important."

I groaned internally—it was about Jacob and, honestly? The last thing I wanted before bed was another chat about how worried Charlie was about Jacob, how upset he was with Billy's aloof attitude, or how I should be more concerned. I was concerned—my Jacob, my best man was missing—and it hurt me more than anyone knew; more than even I knew. I was worn out, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed and wait for Edward to come back from his little hunting expedition.

I plopped down on the sofa, trying my best not to look too dejected, but I didn't say a word. If I was being honest with myself, it was taking everything I had not to run up the stairs and lock my door like a child throwing a tantrum.

"I… I know that you're so sure about Edward, but," he muttered.

I cut him off, horrified. "Don't even, Charlie! Don't even start trying to talk me out of—"

"It's not that, kid, I swear. But, look, I just want to talk to you; is that so awful? Can't you give your ol' dad a chance to tell you a little story? This is something I really think you should hear."

Charlie gave me a hopeful look and I sighed, settling back against the sofa with my arms crossed tightly against my chest. I was completely guarded now and pouting petulantly, and after a long moment of silence I gestured for him to continue.

"Okay, so," Charlie mumbled, trying to choose his words more carefully this time. "I wanted to tell you a story, and it's probably long and boring but just… hear me out on this, please? I've never really told anyone this story before."

"I'm all ears, dad," I replied, only half-sarcastic.

Charlie picked up on it, sighing heavily. "I'm trying to be serious here, Bells. Not trying to get you to reconsider anything, not trying to get you to call off this whole wedding—hell, kid; at this point, Alice'd probably kill us if anyone tried—I'm just trying to explain some things, okay?"

Something about Charlie's tone seemed completely different; if anything, I could tell that he was being sincere. I sat up—less guarded this time—and listened as Charlie began to talk. For what I was sure was one of the first, last, and only times in my life, my father and I were having a 'father-daughter' moment like the ones on television.

A/N: First off, I want to say that everything about this story is being inspired by David Bowie. Even if not directly, but you'll notice a lot of Bowie titles as chapter titles. For some reason, the Bella in my head loves Bowie and this is a love I would guess she got from Charlie, who might have been a lot cooler in his day, really. There's a lot of research going behind this fanfic and I've put a lot of work into it—so please, don't discount it just because it's not how you imagined things.

With that said, I really hope you all enjoy this one.