A/N: This is my first fanfiction and I could never have done it if it wasn't for my wonderful beta MissAlex! If you haven't read her story "Rebel Without A Cause", DO IT NOW! She's not only an amazing person, but also one hell of a writer!!! :D Thank you so much Alex for your help!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight and I doubt I ever will.

Chapter One: The Missing Piece

As I sat down on the old couch in the living room, I let out a loud groan. I was exhausted, and ready to face another dreadful, sleepless night with my roommate's stereo as my only company. Alice was already in asleep and the stillness of the room was uncomfortable.

Actually, Alice was not just my roommate, but my childhood friend. We first met when we were both six years old. I had just moved to the rainy small town of Forks, the dullest town in Washington, from Rome, the most beautiful city in the world. My mother was an American and so was my father, however, a work opportunity brought them to Italy. I was born there and after my father's job ended, the three of us moved back to the United States.

I had been back to Rome several times since and I absolutely adored it. Although I had citizenship in both America and Italy, life circumstances prevented me from moving back. But really, there wasn't anything driving me away from Washington except the weather. I had wonderful friends and aside from my lack of boyfriend, I felt complete.

Now, after all these years, at the age of twenty-six, I was still close with Alice, the crazy Donna Karan wannabe. We moved into this apartment in Seattle together a few years ago and I loved her like a sister even though we always made fun of each other. In actuality, I thought she was a true fashion genius. She was always working on new creations to add to her huge clothing collection, but she didn't need the ego boost, so I found it better to just joke with her about it. Regardless of how far it went, Alice knew that I supported her and had the utmost confidence in her abilities.

Yes, we made quite the pair, Alice and I. She was the messiest, most disorganized human being to ever walk this planet, while I was probably the only journalist in history with an obsession for
neatness. Living with a slob like Alice did not cure my OCD, as my roommate kindly called it. In fact, it made my desire to tidy everything up, more prevalent.

Luckily, in my field, this rare quality of mine was highly appreciated and it helped grant me a well-paid job for the culture section at The Seattle Times, which basically consisted of reviewing cultural events such as concerts, shows, plays, musicals and ballets. Consequentially, one of the perks of the job was free tickets for me and Alice.

Flipping through the various radio stations, I searched for a song to ease me into sleep. I was about to give up when a slow tune filled the room and left me completely mesmerized by its sweet melody. It was absolutely captivating. Its rich notes caressed my ears and I wondered how a single piano could produce such a symphony.

I could picture the pianist's hands in my mind, seemingly flying over the keyboard, leaving none of the eighty-eight keys untouched. To add to my immense pleasure, the deep, soothing, soulful voice of a man began singing and goose bumps erupted on my skin.

The lyrics were obviously written by an experienced poet. It was the most romantic declaration of love I had ever heard and I secretly wished I was the lucky girl who inspired this masterpiece. As I immersed myself into the music, a wave of peacefulness and contentment washed over me and every muscle in my body relaxed. Briefly, I wondered how this man, whom I had never seen and whose name was still a complete mystery to me, could evoke such feelings in me.

Tears stung in my eyes as I leaned in closer to the speakers, secretly hoping that by decreasing the gap between myself and the stereo, it would bring me closer to this musician and unravel his mystery. Deep down, I knew it was a ridiculous thought, but I did it anyway. I needed to hear as much of this beautiful piece as possible. His romantic poetry tugged at my heart strings and touched my soul.

I sat there completely stunned, letting the melody sink in as the music swelled, signalling it was coming to a close. The music was so beautiful that when I heard the final note, my heart broke. After it faded, the announcer's voice declared the name of the radio station, but that was not the bit of information I longed to hear. My ears perked up, trying to obtain the identity of my newly discovered Prince Charming.

"And that, folks, was "The Missing Piece" by your favourite singer of the week. Tune in tomorrow night at the same time when we will feature another beautiful song by-"

The radio cut off abruptly and my mouth hung open in disbelief. I peered at the stereo, wondering what in the world happened and why my luck was so terrible that it had to stop working at that very moment.

"What are you doing here, Bells?"

My head snapped in the direction of Alice's voice and I found her standing by the wall, in all her 4'10" glory, holding the plug to the stereo in her hand. She had disconnected it from the wall.

I glared at her with all my might, knowing that I would now have to wait until tomorrow night to find out the angelic singer's name. If looks could kill, she would have been six feet under right now. I was tempted to remind her that that was my house too, but I opted for the ever-effective, always entertaining, "Mind your own business, Miss Versace."

Unfortunately for me, she was the only person I had ever known to be immune to my infamous glares.

She just shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "It is Donatella to you, dear," she smiled. "Seriously though, Bella, this is the millionth time this month that you haven't gotten a decent night's sleep. You and I both know it will do you no good to stay up late tonight, since tomorrow, you have to attend another one of those ever-so-boring performances with a bunch of overly thin people dancing around in leotards, in order to review it for that newspaper column of yours."

Although she really enjoyed musicals and plays, for some reason, Alice absolutely hated ballets. She said they were too boring and she would rather go shopping. I wanted to dispute her parental-like comment, but she was right. As a critic, if I fell asleep during a performance, it would be one of the worst things that could happen to a ballet company, and it would also look very rude on my behalf. I would feel especially guilty if the particular performance didn't deserve it and was actually a well done show.

Nevertheless, to give in to Alice would have meant that I agreed with her, and I would never give her that satisfaction. I had always been very stubborn.

"That is an interesting periphrasis for the prosaic, overused word ballet, Alice. Only someone like you, the great she-Armani, could have come up with something like that. If you go back to sleep now, I swear I will keep it in mind for my next article."

She rolled her eyes and huffed childishly, and for a moment, I thought I was looking at a six-year old version of my flatmate. Actually, she hadn't changed much over the years, but that was one of the things I loved the most about her. Her personality was always so vibrant and optimistic and it was utterly infectious.

"Whatever, snail-eater," she joked.

After more than eight years, Alice still had not forgiven me for ordering escargots during our trip to Paris and withholding from her what they were until she put one in her mouth. The memory made me laugh so hard that my sides hurt. From her offended expression, she didn't look pleased, but then the corners of her mouth twitched up and she joined in.

"Please try and get some sleep, okay, Bella?" she pouted after we regained our composure.

"Okay," I smiled at her concern. "I'll try."

Satisfied, she turned on her heels and walked back to her bedroom. I was too tired to make the trek to my bedroom, and too restless to lie down on my bed anyway, so instead, I opted to remain in the living room and sleep on the couch.

Surprisingly, it didn't take me long to fall into a peaceful slumber, and I was certain that the company of my lovely, faceless mystery man in my dreams had something to do with that. The entrancing, sweet melody of his voice sang to me throughout the night, and when I awoke the next morning, I felt completely rejuvenated and excited for the evening to arrive so I could finally fill in the missing piece to my tantalizing puzzle of infatuation over the enchanting musician on the radio.

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