Hi everyone!

Wow! Thanks so much for the amazing, encouraging response so far! I'm excited about the amount of views, alerts, favourites and reviews! I hope you stick with me!

Just a side note about those 'HERE' things I had in the last chapter's ANs. I had been trying to add the chapter to the docs the night before, but FF wasn't working (typical) and so I had to do it in the morning, like now, which is a bit of a rush for me. So I forgot about those links and then I went back to fix them only to find that you couldn't have hyperlinks in story chapters (which I didn't know before). So sorry about that. You can find all the relevant links on my profile. Can't wait to hear from you!

So this chapter nearly didn't get out to you today, so I'm really thankful to my team, Chandra, Jennifer, Danielle, and Alicia for all their hard work—especially my poor pre-readers who got the chapter 8 hours ago!

There's a cliffy in this one… sort of. So I know you probably won't be very happy with me… *smiles sheepishly* Sorry.

I think we'll keep these relatively short—see? They're not all long.

See you down the bottom!

Read, review, enjoy!

CHAPTER 2

Twenty minutes later, I jogged downstairs, feeling utterly refreshed; I'd nearly fallen asleep, so tired was I despite the sleep on the plane from all the drama that Renée's house brought. Already, I could feel myself calming down and settling into a quieter, more relaxing life up here. Because of limited time, I'd showered earlier than planned to keep me awake and wash off the grime of the day. I'd then changed into a long-sleeved, moss green, fuzzy sweater and a long black maxi skirt. I'd slipped on a pair of flats as well.

My hair hung down around my shoulders as I hesitantly moved through the archway and into the living room. My eyes immediately landed on the cluster of photo frames that lined the mantle above the fireplace, and I groaned. I couldn't resist coming closer, though, when I spotted one of the three of us—my mother, my father, and myself, as a small baby.

I smiled and swallowed as I reached up and let my finger slide across the glass that covered the photo. I was bewitched by how utterly different my father, in particular, looked. He just looked so very happy as he smiled into the camera, Renée huddling close, her eyes preoccupied by me, lying in her arms. I was smiling and looking up at Charlie. I seemed to be mid-kick against his hand as it held my small foot.

My eyes filled with tears, and a strange feeling of sorrow washed over me. I so wished my father could be that man again. He was so different now; gone was the smile and laugh lines and in their place, frown lines abounded and there was a heaviness in his tread—as if the emotional turmoil of the past had literally manifested weights on his shoulders to hold him down.

I crossed my arms over my chest, pushed back my feelings, and turned toward the kitchen. Charlie would probably be home soon, and I needed to get dinner started as I'd said I would.

I groaned as soon as I entered the kitchen. Renée's influence was everywhere, unchanged in the eighteen years since she'd left with me. The bright yellow cupboards I definitely remembered from when I was younger—Renée had painted them so for one reason: to bring more sunlight into a rainy—and what she felt (and I agreed) was a gloomy—town.

But it was the fact that these cupboards had stayed untouched—no color changes, not even another coat slapped on to maintain the paint job—for so long that saddened me. It was just proof that my father truly had never gotten over my mother… just as her new marriage with Phil—and before that, her varied lovers frequently coming and going from the house—proved that she most certainly had.

I felt just a pinch of anger before I thwarted that; Renée had acted no different in her life after leaving Charlie than I'd heard stories of her acting with Charlie. It was as if he meant nothing to her.

But as awkward as it was for me to stand here—and live here—in this homage to my father's failed marriage with my mother, I knew there was nothing I could do. I could hardly ask for him to remove the photographs from the mantle, or paint the cupboards. This was his house—he was the man of this house. I was the guest, no matter the fact that I would be living her for at least the six or so months that I would be. No matter the fact that he was my father, and therefore, technically, what's his was mine.

Brushing off the thoughts as I'd done so much today, I opened the freezer door for ideas.

Fish.

I closed that door and opened the fridge. Of course, there was nothing in there but four eggs, half a carton of milk, some butter, and jam. I groaned, hissed a curse under my breath, and slammed the door shut, leaning my back against it, my arms across my chest.

Typical Charlie.

I calmed down quickly when I remembered it was either fish—something nutritional—or sandwiches for dinner.

"Fish it is," I muttered unenthusiastically to myself. I took a deep breath, turned around and opened the door to the freezer again. Grudgingly, I leaned forward again and spied the collection he had. Finding a large and a small piece, I dug them out of the freezer and slammed it down on the closest counter.

It seemed Charlie had taken them somewhere—or had done it himself—and gotten them gutted as there was little for me to do besides spray oil from a can on the pan and fry them lightly. Then I put them in the oven for a little while with some potatoes I'd found in the cupboard beside the stove. I sat down and knitted as I waited for it all to cook.

~*O*~

Dinner had actually gone quite well. During, I'd broached the subject of my duties with Charlie, and to my surprise—and delight—I found him to be quite bashful that his daughter would be taking care of him, and not (quite) the other way around. He certainly was nowhere near as relieved as Renée had been when I'd proposed a set of chores and responsibilities with her at the tender age of eight.

Mentally, I tacked that on to another piece of evidence as to how different my parents were from one another.

After dinner was a little too awkward for my tastes, and so after watching the news with him, I quickly cleaned the kitchen and went upstairs. I quickly emailed my mother to tell her I'd arrived safely and that I would call her over the next few days—I only did this as she would never call me (she'd forget) and then she would call me out of the blue in a panic over the next few days. Of course she'd blame me for not having called or emailed her in the first place.

And I was of no mind to deal with her petty rants.

After sending that email off, I settled into bed and finished off the black and white scarf I was knitting. When it was finished, I smiled and held it in my hands, admiring my work. I'd definitely give that a go tomorrow at school. I read a little Jane Eyre after that and zoomed through to the final few chapters. I stopped myself from reading their reunion—I'd leave that for tomorrow night in case the day did not go quite as well. Something to look forward to, at the very least, and something to save tomorrow, I was sure.

At ten, I got up and changed for bed then headed downstairs to say goodnight from the staircase. When Charlie didn't respond, I descended the stairs and went to his side. I smiled at the two beers on the table, turned off the T.V., and nudged him awake. When he assured me he'd get up and go off to his own bedroom, I made my way back upstairs and to my own bed.

I set my alarm, packed my book bag, and settled into the covers as the wind and rain picked up outside.

It was hard to sleep, so unused to the howling storms was I.

When I woke up in the morning, I dressed in a long-sleeved dark blue shirt and a pair of brown/grey-wash jeans then headed downstairs and found Charlie already awake and dressed in his uniform in the kitchen. He was reading the paper. I gasped just slightly at the flash of a memory of a dream I'd had once, of much the same thing, only Charlie was not a policeman and it was the 1860s. I shook my head and stepped out of it, loitering in the archway. Charlie seemed off in his own world as he read the paper with a frown on his face. With a little smile, I cleared my throat quietly to announce my presence.

He jolted a little and looked up. "Oh," he said, jumping up out of the chair. "Hi… uh, how was your sleep?"

My lips twitched, but I was determined to remain straight-faced as I answered him. "Fine, thank you. And yours?"

"Same, same," he said. We stood in a few beats of silence, awkwardly in the kitchen.

"Would you like an omelet for breakfast?" I asked quietly when I couldn't think of anything else to say. "It's a good way to start a Monday."

He blinked then nodded, his cheeks reddening a little just as mine did when I was embarrassed. Though, of course, my blush was far more vibrant.

I was quite relieved when Charlie left for work after breakfast. I headed back upstairs and wrapped my new black and white scarf (the colors fading from one to the other, a mix of tones) around my neck. I'd made it so it was basically a wide circle scarf, which meant it wrapped around my neck nicely and easily with a few twists and such. After I had it sitting the way I wanted it to, I quickly put on some mascara and lip balm. I left my hair down for warmth, and for shoes, I chose my black ankle boots. My thickest coat was black and so I donned that as well when I went downstairs and walked out the door, my book bag in tow.

Charlie had mentioned that I wouldn't have the car he'd arranged for me until perhaps this evening, and I had declined his offer for a lift. There was absolutely no way I would be riding to school and back again in a police cruiser. No sir-ee. So, I would be walking to school, a prospect I was completely fine with. I slipped my earphones into my ears, set the music on, and began my walk.

It was only a few miles.

The walk was easier than I had come to expect after Charlie's directions and small rants about safety. I'd chosen to ignore a lot of what he had said on the subject, simply because most of it had been said to ensure I would take him up on his offer. But I would not be swayed; I was a stubborn little thing, after all.

A small smile settled on my face, just fleetingly, when I remembered my dreams of Jasper calling me his stubborn little five foot four wife—though that last word was frequently changed to a variety of others depending on the mood, the occasion, and the circumstance.

I entered the office and was met with a sweet old lady by the name of Mrs. Cope. She went through the details of what I had to do, and gave me a map and my schedule at the end of it. She only let me go when I resolutely promised to return the slip she'd given me at the end of the day.

My first class was English with the surly and morose Mr. Mason. He decided to be cruel and had me stand at the front of class and announce my name and where I had come from before he allowed me to sit down—in the front row, right in the middle. A brunette busty girl at my right immediately introduced herself as Jessica and animatedly chattered away at me for the rest of the class, despite Mr. Mason's and my cues for her to stop and pay attention.

I was just glad to get away from her at the end of the lesson and wandered my merry way to one of the multiple other buildings for my government class. There, I met another girl—this time a blue-eyed blonde with fake tan by the name of Lauren. I could immediately tell from her disposition that she was a friend of Jessica's. Apparently, she had also been in English with us, but was stationed further toward the back of the room. It was my understanding, from what she was telling me, however, that she and Jessica had been texting during class.

By trigonometry, I was praying for a reprieve, and I got one in the shy and lovely Angela. This teacher, like Mr. Mason, made me stand up in front of the class, but she at least had half a mind to sit me next to someone a lot quieter. At the end of the lesson, we were handed an assignment to work on in pairs. Angela and I shared a smile, and I knew we would get along well.

By Spanish, I was of a much quieter state of mind, but I was beginning to feel a little hungry. I was set aside to sit by myself toward the back of the classroom, something I was ever so thankful for, and my teacher did not ask me to do any such thing as the three previous had. When the bell rang for lunch, I jumped from my seat and followed the herd toward the cafeteria. I was relieved when neither Jessica nor Lauren greeted me along the way, and I made sure to hide my face as I walked past them.

I was immediately taken aback when I entered the cafeteria, however. It was so very similar—or rather, it was exactly the same—as the one from my dream last night. The banners, the tables, the trees outside, the weather—everything was like a photo right out of last night's dream.

I shrugged it off as mere coincidence—perhaps Charlie's descriptions of the school had initiated my correct imaginings.

I got my food and paid for it, and just as I turned to sit at one of the empty tables toward the back of the cafeteria, I heard a shout, "Over here, Bella!" and turned to find Jessica standing and waving in my direction to gain my attention. I sighed, defeated, and walked over to sit down. Beside her was Lauren, a few other people I had not yet met, and to my surprise, Angela.

"Hello," I said as I came to a stop in front of their table. I didn't want to seem presumptuous by sitting down, and to be perfectly honest, I actually had no desire to sit with anyone at this table other than Angela. My skin crawled at the looks on some of the boys' faces as they eyed me, so I pointedly ignored them.

Lauren and Jessica shared a look and giggled. "Well, come on—sit down with us!"

"Oh… okay," I said, nodding once. I sat my tray down directly opposite Lauren, and took the seat between a girl and one of the boys. Thankfully, he, at least, wasn't looking at me strangely. In fact, he seemed to be casting not-so-subtle glances toward Angela. She sat on the opposite side of the round table next to Jessica. I, too, glanced at her once I was settled, and smiled when I saw her look at the boy beside me right after he stopped looking at her.

"Hello, Bella," she said quietly. Her brown hair, around the same length as mine but thinner and much darker, swirled around her face, her long fringe concealing half of her face as well.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, crossed. There was a bright and encouraging smile on my face as I replied, "Hello, Angela."

Lauren interrupted before I could continue. "So, how's your first day been, Bella?"

I turned to look at her and straightened up, sitting back in my chair. "It's been good, thank you. A little overwhelming—"

"So why did you move up here?" Jessica asked.

I stopped for a moment and looked at her, then Lauren and then the rest of the table. I shrugged. "I wanted to spend time with my father before I moved to college. I'm sure you are all aware that my mother left with me when I was quite young, and that I have spent very limited time with him since then." I glanced around the table.

A few nodded, but most looked bored and simply ignored our conversation. Jessica and Lauren were leaning forward, eyes staying on me the whole time as if they were riveted. I knew what this was immediately, but chose to ignore the fact that they were using me to up their popularity. High school girls would always be high school girls.

Angela bravely put forward her own question then. I could hardly make it out she was so quiet. She was sitting much the same as I was, just a little more hunched in on herself. "Is it strange? Being back here in a totally different environment after growing up in hotter places?"

I took a moment to think about her question. "Yes and no. To be honest with you, I do prefer hotter and drier climates than Forks provides, but being able to stay with my father," and away from my mother and her needy ways, I mentally added, "makes it worth it. I don't have much of a relationship with him, and I would like to, especially since he's been alone up here and I'd only come up for a few weeks each year. I cannot imagine how lonely he must have been, especially during the holiday season."

I stopped myself from going further. I found myself quite enjoying speaking to Angela. I sent her a discreet look to make sure she knew I would most definitely like to continue our discussion, and from the small smile and practically unnoticeable nod she returned, I knew she knew.

"Right, I get that," Jessica replied. "So, like, what are you into?"

I blinked. "Into?"

"Yeah, you know, like hobbies and stuff…" she said, shrugging her shoulders and brushing my confusion off. Her voice was annoyingly bubbly and that made me extremely uncomfortable; I was by no means shy with those I knew well, but unfortunately—in reality—that was quite literally no one.

"Oh, yes, um…" My mind boggled as I tried to think on the spot of what I could say. I could hardly mention my love of sewing or knitting or mending—or most of my other hobbies—as they were hardly popular in this day and age and certainly not so for a teenager. Plus, I hardly wanted to be bullied at this school as I had been in the past; knowing my parents and their strangely overprotective nature when it came to this issue, I knew I could hardly trust them to let me stay here. And there was certainly no way I was moving back to Phoenix.

I looked around the table and found that most eyes were on me. I looked around for any ideas from any of their books, and mercifully, I found that one of Angela's folders was embellished with a violin. I turned back toward Jessica and Lauren and smiled. "I like music," I said, "listening and playing."

"What else?" Lauren asked, cocking her head to the side with a raised eyebrow. A smile was toying on her lips.

I felt myself become nervous, my mind completely blank. As was always the case when I felt a bout of nerves, my tight hand on my accent slipped as I opened my mouth to speak. "Uh, well," I hesitated, my accent hinting.

I felt as though cold water was thrown down on me from above when I watched them smirk at each other. "What was that?" they asked innocently enough.

I closed my mouth shut, deciding not to say a thing. My nerves were even worse now, and I was sure that if I spoke, my accent would come out in full bloom. Not something I'd quite hoped for my first day. Fucking high school girls.

They asked me again, leaning forward, and my heart clenched painfully in panic. I desperately wanted to simply get up, take my tray of completely untouched food, and trudge along to find somewhere else to sit. I honestly felt as though they were trapping me, and I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself, but it really wasn't working.

I looked around, trying to find something else to hint at what I could respond with—something that would hopefully help me control myself once again. I looked toward the door and that was when I first saw them.

There were only two of them at first, but they, too, were straight out of my dream. It was that small pixie girl again and her partner, who towered over her, with bronze hair and a lean yet somewhat muscular body. The fact that I could remember them from a dream, coupled with how familiar this entire scene had already been, made it hard for me to look away. Right at the moment they reached the door, the girl looked directly at me and smiled. As they entered the room, I saw her partner's arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him.

Close behind them was the second couple that I remembered from my dream: the very same blonde, and her robust and bulky boyfriend with the short brunet curls. When the blonde started to turn to look at me, I turned back to the people in front of me. I couldn't help but ask, "Who are they?" I pointed towards the four with my chin. I forced myself not to look back at them, despite how much I desperately wanted to. It was stupid to believe that Jasper would be walking in behind them; he was a figment of my imagination. I'd probably just planted him in my dream; hell, I probably had remembered these people subconsciously from one of my times here years before!

Though part of me was quite sure I'd certainly remember people so beautiful and distinct if I had seen them—even once.

I told that part of me to shut the fuck up. And then I tuned in on what Lauren had just begun to say in response to my question. "…Cullens. They were the new ones before you, but they've been here for a few years now. The first couple who came in—that's Alice and Edward; Alice is super weird and she looks like a boy. Then there's Edward"—I could almost hear the pathetic sighs from the girls at the table before they snapped out of it—"he's just a dick. Like, seriously; just because he's beautiful does not mean he's God's gift to females everywhere."

A smirk twitched across my lips as I detected the sourness in her tone. I wondered vaguely when she may have flaunted her attributes only for him to turn her down in favor of the girlfriend he already had. Glancing once more at Alice just increased the confidence I had in my interpretations; she might have been short, but she was certainly not one with a 'boyish figure'. She was really quite curvaceous for her height and weight. Nowhere near as much as Jessica, mind, but still not what I'd call 'boyish'.

Jessica jumped in to continue. "The second couple that came in—that's Rosalie and Emmett; Rosalie is a total bitch who thinks she's better than everyone else, and Emmett's, like, a goof. He's a total jock, and it's obvious that he works out and is super good at sports, but he's not on any of the school teams. I guess they're not good enough for him or the family or something."

"I wonder where Jasper is, though, huh?" one of the other girls further along the table said suddenly. She seemed to be looking toward the door. "He's not here yet, and I was really hoping to see him before I leave early for my study date." The salacious grin on her face as she winked at the boy across from her indicated just how much 'study' would be occurring in that particular date.

But as soon as the name she'd used registered, I felt as though I'd been shocked with electricity. I felt it when my jaw dropped, my eyes widening. I barely got the lone word out, stuttering, "J-Jasper?"

The girl with red hair looked at me strangely. "Yes. They have a brother named Jasper. He's superhot and blond and he's pretty muscular but he doesn't talk to anyone. Shame, really; he's the only one that's single."

Blond. Muscular.

Jasper.

I swallowed just as I heard the same girl squeal about his presence. I couldn't stop myself, my heart throbbing as I dared to believe he may actually be real. Surely it wasn't a coincidence. Surely. I looked toward the door just as the blond and muscular Jasper came through the door.

I gasped, and my body moved involuntarily as I stood. I faintly heard giggling behind me, the girls asking me if I was okay, and others laughing that Jasper had that kind of effect on people. And I knew that; I knew exactly what kind of effect he had on people—I knew better than anyone.

I couldn't respond to them. I could barely even think. Some part of my mind knew that this was indeed real—that he was indeed real—but my mind couldn't make sense of it. It was just so fucking confusing.

In the back of my mind, dreams—or were they somehow, impossibly, memories considering he was real?—played back to back. Flashes of him and I together—waking up in bed together at daybreak, sharing smiles as we looked into each other's eyes… me walking up the aisle toward him in a dress and he in the dress of the 1860s… the first time I saw him at the age of six… our first kiss, crazy as it was, when I was fifteen and he sixteen. They continued on and on and on.

My throat was tight and my eyes were watering. I could hardly see him as I started unconsciously to step slowly toward him, but I was pretty sure he hadn't seen me yet and so I hesitated from walking straight to him. A few moments later, I literally felt it when his eyes landed on me, and the sound of his sharp inhalation propelled something within me. In an instant, I felt a jolt run through my body—the very same one we'd felt when we'd somehow met in the 1860s, only stronger. Instinctively, or perhaps it was intuition, I knew he felt it as well. But I could not focus on him as it traveled through my veins, burning straight through to my heart. I gasped anew at the wild sensation.

My mind was still a blur of confusion, so much so that I felt my body weakening, my mind dragging me into unconsciousness, but I pushed against it. I blinked hard a few times as I walked the last few steps to Jasper. And then I was right in front of Jasper, who looking down at me with much the same expression in his eyes as I had.

"Jasper," I breathed in a shaky whisper.

It was the last thing I said before my mind won. The last things I felt and heard were cool arms circling my waist and a smooth, rich southern accent I knew all too well hoarsely reply.

"Isabella."

So that's the end of chapter 2.

You will have to unfortunately wait until next Sunday for chapter 3.

Not really all that much to say from me, I think. Just I hope you enjoyed it, please review, and I'll see you next week!

Can't wait to hear your thoughts!

ncbexie25