A/N: Thank you to RaindropSoup (she's awesome), afmtoo, and Mel at Project Team Beta for correcting my fuck-awful grammar. You guys rock!

Chapter 2: Searching

Bella's POV:

I felt the smooth wooden floor beneath my knees, and then the palms of my hands, and then it pressed against the skin of my cheek. I hoped that I was fainting, but, to my disappointment, I didn't lose consciousness. The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under.

I did not resurface. (NewMoon, pg.84)

If it weren't for Charlie, I wouldn't have gotten up off that floor, but I knew I had to go on for him. So, I locked away the pain, closed off the hole where my heart used to be and did anything I could to keep my mind on other things. I kept myself busy and established a routine. I got up and went to school, and I studied more than I could remember ever studying before. I made Charlie's dinner and sent emails to Renee — saying what I thought she wanted to hear. I worked at Newton's Sporting Goods on Saturdays and did the grocery shopping on Wednesdays. And most importantly, I never did anything that brought back the memories … memories of him. I couldn't even use his name — not even in my own head. If I did, I wouldn't have been able to hold it together for Charlie. I made sure that everything was as it should be … except for the one thing I couldn't control — my dreams.

It came every night without fail, and it was always the same. In my dream, I was lost in an endless maze of moss colored trees, so quiet that the silence was an uncomfortable pressure against my eardrums. It was dark, like dusk on a cloudy day, with only enough light to see that there was nothing to see. I hurried through the gloom without a path, always searching, searching, searching, getting more frantic as the time stretched on, trying to move faster, though the speed made me clumsy…. Then there would come the point in my dream when I couldn't remember what it was I was searching for. When I realized that there was nothing to search for, and nothing to find. That there never had been anything more than just this empty dreary wood, and there never would be anything more for me … nothing but nothing…

That's usually about when the screaming started. (New Moon, pg. 122-123)

I couldn't hide the screams from Charlie, and after a while he stopped coming to check on me. In the morning, we both had gone on as if nothing was wrong, but my lack of sleep was starting to wear me down. Each day became harder and harder to get through, and I started catching Charlie watching me with a worried expression on his face. Maybe I wasn't fooling him after all. The dark circles under my eyes, the lack of appetite, and the staring off in to space were dead giveaways that something was about to give.

The day it happened was a Wednesday — grocery shopping day — and I had just checked out at the Thriftway. My cart was full, and, as usual for Forks, it was pouring rain. I had made my way across the parking lot toward my truck, trying to keep my head down and stay somewhat dry under my hood, when my cart's front wheel got caught in a divot hidden in a puddle.

"Just great," I said, frustrated, as I stood there, struggling to get my heavy cart set right and get home before I was soaked completely through.

"Here, I'll get it," an exasperated voice spoke from behind me, startling me. A tall man came up beside my cart, looming over me. I stepped away from him quickly, my hand over my chest trying to calm my rapid heart. I couldn't see his face under his hood as he walked to the front of my cart and gave it a tug. He pulled my cart forward, making sure the rear wheel cleared the puddle before he let go of it.

I stared at the giant man in front of me. He was huge, at least a foot taller than me, and his shoulders were broad under his blue rain poncho. I felt small and vulnerable in the presence of this stranger, and I glanced around the parking lot to quickly make sure I wasn't alone. I was reassured to see another shopper loading their car. If I needed help, someone would hear me call for it.

"Jeez, I'm not going to hurt you," he asserted, sounding irritated with my reaction, drawing my attention back to him and up to his face for the first time. I wondered why this guy was so aggravated with me. I didn't ask for his help, and was about to tell him as much, when I recognized his dark eyes.

"I know you," I said without filter. "You're…?"

"Sam Uley," he filled in, impatient. The way he glanced away as he said it made me almost think he was looking for the quickest way to flee.

I seem to have that effect on people. No one wants to be near me for long.

It was that thought and the sense of dèjá vu I had looking up at Sam's face that triggered the anxiety that welled up in my chest. The memories of that night came flooding back before I could stop them. Flashes of Sam's face standing high above me as I lay on the forest floor, of me walking through the forest searching for him, and of his face telling me he didn't want me anymore — that I wasn't good enough — all played out in my head, like clips from a movie.

It was too much, too fast. I felt the hole in my chest where my heart used to be — the heart he had taken with him — tear open. I closed my eyes, wrapped one arm around my torso to hold myself together, and grabbed the cart handle with the other to keep from falling to my knees. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to control my breathing.

I'm losing it, I thought, panicked. I have to get away, get home. No one can see me fall apart. Charlie will hear about it if I break down here.

And then, there was warmth.

A soothing, tingling warmth spread slowly up my arm and into my chest from my hand that was clutching the cart like an anchor to reality. The warmth soothed the ache at the edges of the hole and freed the air in my lungs, so I could breathe.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay…

As my senses came back to me, the first thing I noticed was my internal chant being echoed by a deep soothing voice next to my ear.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. It's okay. It's okay…" he was saying.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked at my hand on the cart handle. It was covered by Sam's much larger one. I was afraid to move. I didn't want him to let go. He was like a tether keeping me from floating away. I turned my head to look at him, drawn to his face so close to mine by his low, rumbling voice.

"Bella?" he asked. His expression was still hard, but his eyebrows were knit together, betraying his concern. "You back with me?"

I stared back into his eyes as he waited for my reply. My panic was momentarily forgotten, and everything in my peripheral vision faded to black. The only things that existed for me at that moment were Sam's eyes. They were dark brown with flecks of gold around the iris and were framed by long, thick, black lashes. He didn't say anything, but his eyes just seemed to know me. Like he saw me, really saw me.

Yes. I thought, mesmerized, then slowly nodded. I'm back with you.

He slowly stood upright and put a little space between us, breaking the spell and bringing me fully back to reality. I broke eye contact and glanced around the parking lot again. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle and I suddenly felt self-conscious. I didn't know how long I'd been standing there staring into his eyes, or how long he had been there watching as I freaked out.

"Let's get you loaded up," he said, watching me carefully. He didn't seem annoyed with me anymore. Instead, he offered me a soft half smile and pretended that everything was fine and that I wasn't some kind of lunatic.

I gazed up at him, noticing that when he smiled, he was kind of handsome. But, as soon as I had the errant thought, I blushed and pulled my eyes away. I looked down at his hand that still gently covered mine. His eyes followed my gaze, and when he realized how intimate the gesture was, he quickly pulled his hand away. My hand was immediately cold, and, for a second—before I could stop myself—I wished he would have kept his hand over mine.

"The red truck, right?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of my truck.

"Yeah," I replied softly, still feeling unsure of myself.

I followed him as he pushed my cart to my truck and opened the passenger door. He began loading my bags, and when I protested, saying that I could manage, he ignored me. When he was done, he pushed the cart to the cart deposit, while I waited awkwardly at the rear of my truck. He returned to stand in front of me, with his hands in his pockets and his gaze on his feet. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he sighed, and his expression became resigned. Then, he walked past me, around to the driver's side of the truck, and opened my door for me. His hand came up under my elbow for support as I climbed into the cab, and he kept it there until I was settled in my seat.

"Thank you," I said, my eyes coming back up to his. I wasn't only thanking him for the help with my groceries. I knew he understood what had just happened with me — how close I had come to having a breakdown.

"You're welcome," he replied.

He closed the cab door and stepped back to watch me leave. Before I pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, I looked back in the rear-view mirror, one last time, to see him standing there watching.

I knew at that moment that something in my life had shifted, something small but important. Sam saw the hole in me and, in some inexplicable way, eased the ache and pulled me back from the edge. I hadn't thought it was possible, but for the first time since he left, I felt a flicker of something inside me — not an obligation to Charlie or Renee, but something just for me. I thought that the emptiness was all that was left, but there was something there, and I felt it when I looked back at Sam watching me. At the time, I didn't know what it was, but if you were to ask me later, I would have said it felt a little like … hope.