A/N: Hi all! Just a quick little Esme chapter here. And nobody's managed to guess correctly what Bella's deal is, so the game's still wide open!

All standard disclaimers apply.

Lullaby

Bella woke around five in the morning from troubled dreams she could not remember, and she slid out from under the bed. Her sensitive nose twitched, and she sniffed experimentally. There was a faint scent of flowers - almost like perfume, but so light. She also smelled...was that honey? And something like the rich, overwrought syrup of blackberries on the vine, hot from the late summer sun. She wrinkled her nose, breathing in the three distinct scents but not knowing what they were. Now that her nose had singled them out, though, she would remember them when next she encountered them.

Ever since she was a little girl, Bella had relied on her delicate nose to help her in social situations. Her mother thought she was crazy, but Bella swore that every person she met had a distinct smell to them, a unique combination of whatever products they used and the unmaskable odor of their own flesh. It wasn't a clear-cut, simple reaction, though. Someone with a sweet scent could still be trouble. Bella had years of practice at reading people and she studied them like a sociologist, working out their wants and needs, their goals and aspirations. It was important to be able to know what people wanted with her - vital, sometimes. She knew perfectly well that many people said one thing and meant something completely different. Not trusting the facade was the key to survival, in her book.

Which was why these Cullens were such a problem. Bella had absolutely no idea what they expected of her. On the surface they seemed pleasant enough, though Tinkerbell was beyond overbearing and the gorgeous blonde clearly didn't care about anything but herself. The mother and father seemed...normal. Rich, but normal. So normal, in fact, that Bella didn't trust them one bit. People this cheerful and warm didn't exist in real life; they were obviously hiding something.

And that was fine, Bella figured as she dug around in a suitcase for something to wear. She pulled out a pair of jeans that had been properly and thoroughly distressed - they were covered with paint splatters and bleach spots, and she'd torn the knees during various clumsy mishaps. Belting them in place, she tossed on a band t-shirt that had seen better days, some old gray Converse that she loved, and she jammed her wallet in her back pocket. She wasn't planning on leaving the house at the moment, but she believed strongly in always being prepared.

After washing quickly in the bathroom, Bella made her way slowly down the stairs to the ground floor. It was still dark outside, and while there were no streetlights anywhere near the Cullen house, a little illumination from several outdoor floodlights made it easier to find her way around. From long years of practice, Bella managed to make hardly any noise in the unfamiliar house. She found a china cabinet and turned on the lights inside to give her a little more illumination without actually lighting the whole floor and perhaps waking any members of the family.

There was a broom closet off the kitchen, and Bella got out a bucket, some rags, and a bottle of Murphy's Oil Soap. She smiled a little as she waited for the water in the kitchen sink to heat up. Murphy's was by far the best-smelling home-care product on the planet. The smell was warm and clean and welcoming, and it made her almost nostalgic, though she certainly had nothing to be nostalgic about. She dumped some in her bucket, then added hot water until the warm smell permeated the cold morning air and the bucket was full of bubbles.

Still smiling a little, Bella took her bucket and rags and knelt in the far corner of the dining room, where she could work her way around all the wooden floors in the house without getting stuck. She wet a rag, wrung it out, and began scrubbing.

While she scrubbed, Bella had time to think. The house was still silent, which did not surprise her. These were rich people. They were probably used to sleeping abominably late when they didn't have to work or go to school. More than likely the mother lay in bed until noon, drowsed her days away watching soap operas, and then made herself look pretty in time for her husband to come home. Bella wrinkled her nose, scrubbing at the floors that seemed to have no dirt on them at all. She never wanted to be one of those women, dependent on a man to do everything for her.

Except, she was sort of dependent on a man right now, wasn't she? Not Dr. Cullen - in the grand scheme of things, he didn't matter one way or another. She'd as soon run away as stay here in his house, no matter how lovely her room was. No - her father. Police Chief Charles Swan. Her social worker had made it perfectly clear that they were not sending her back to Renee this time. The custody hearing was more of a formality than anything, from her understanding. That meant that, in a few months' time, she would be moving into her father's home. And Bella really had no idea how she felt about that.

The man she'd met last night at the airport did not seem cruel or unkind. But, then, she didn't know him. She'd wondered if she would remember him at all, but she did not. Renee had kept no photos of him in the house, and Bella had no memories - not even fuzzy ones - of this tired-looking man with hound-brown eyes.

He'd looked so sad at the airport, she remembered as she scooted under the dining table. Man, this was a clean family. No crumbs under the table, even. Did they have someone in to clean for them, she wondered?

But no matter how sad he looked, the truth was that Charles - Charlie, the doctor had called him - Swan was a stranger to her. And that was entirely his doing. He had not called or written in the thirteen years she had been away from him, not once. He'd never visited, or asked her to visit him. According to Renee, he hadn't even protested when she left him with no custody. He was a non-entity in Bella's life. An emptiness. And she wasn't the kind to ask questions of Renee when Renee didn't want to talk.

So what was he supposed to be to her now? And why did he look so upset when she treated him like the stranger he was? Did he think she was stupid enough to fall for it, to assume parental affection could be flicked on or off with the touch of a switch?

Bella's musings were cut off by the sound of the back door opening. The room was suddenly flooded with light, and she peered out from under the table, blinking a little.

"My goodness!"

It was the mother. Bella's jaw dropped. The lovely, elegant woman was dressed in jeans almost as ratty as Bella's, and a giant sweatshirt that looked like it belonged to one of her sons. She was all over mud, from her forest-green plastic gardening clogs to the elbows of the baggy sweatshirt, and while she wore no makeup she was still as beautiful as Bella remembered.

"Bella, darling, what are you doing?" she asked, pausing at the door to kick off her shoes. She padded barefoot across the floor Bella had not cleaned yet, stopping at the edge of the table. "Why on earth are you scrubbing the floor? And on your knees, too." She clucked in dismay and held out a filthy hand.

Bella stayed where she was and did not take the offered hand. "How else would you prefer I earn my keep?" she asked warily, eying the woman shedding clods of dirt and dripping mud onto the gleaming floor.

"Earn your keep?" Esme asked, frowning in confusion. "Whatever do you mean?"

Bella jerked a thumb at herself. "Foster kid," she said, "remember? Means I'm not a real one. So if I shouldn't be cleaning, what would you rather I do?" She paused, twisting the wet rag nervously in her hands, and decided that a tough front might be the best way to go. Tough little orphan, like Pepper from Annie. Maybe that would help them understand she shouldn't be messed with. "I'm not fucking your sons," she said bluntly. "Or your husband. The one kid who tried that had to have a testicle retrieval operation. I'll cook, I'll clean, I'll grocery shop - I'll even tutor. That Andre the Giant impersonator of yours looks like enough of a meathead to need it. No offense."

"Isabella Swan!"

Bella flinched and ducked back under the table at Esme's raised voice, but suddenly there was a cold hand on her upper arm, pulling her out into the dining room. She yanked her arm away and rubbed it, glaring at Esme. "I said I don't like to be touched."

Esme sighed. "I remember, and I'm sorry," she said. "Sit down, please, and I'll make us some tea. There's a lot to unpack in that statement of yours."

"You want tea?" Bella climbed cautiously to her feet. "I can make it."

Esme paused, and she let out a little laugh. "Not here twelve hours and you're already teaching me new things. Sweetie, do you want tea?"

"Ah..." Bella paused. "Sure?"

Esme cocked her head to the side. "Really?"

Bella shrugged, feeling nervous now that her bravado was leaking away. "It doesn't matter," she said quietly. It was useless to try to keep up the facade. She was no spunky orphan with a knack for splitting people's lips when they mocked her. Hell - she wasn't even an orphan. She was just another kid with a set of fucked-up parents. Absolutely nothing original or exciting there. And that thought should have made her feel better, but it didn't.

"It matters more than anything else in the world, in this moment." Esme beckoned to Bella. "Come on into the kitchen with me."

Unable to disobey such a confusing person, Bella followed. Esme put the kettle on, got out a big mug, and then stared thoughtfully into a cabinet. "I know what you'd like more than tea," she said finally, and pulled out a box of hot chocolate packets. She said nothing more while the water heated, but she dumped two packets of chocolate mix into the mug, then got out a spoon and handed it to Bella. "Are you hungry, too?" she asked, opening and closing cupboards again. "I didn't expect you to be up so early, especially with the late night yesterday."

"I'm not much of a breakfast person," Bella said, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other.

The kettle hissed, and Esme deftly poured water into Bella's mug without spilling a drop. Bella watched wistfully, wishing she had grace like that. She'd probably have spilled hot water on her shoes and burned her toes.

"Now let's sit," Esme said, leading Bella back to the table. "No one in this house is much of a breakfast person, either. In fact, we're not big on meals as a whole. Everyone is so busy, anyway, it's hard to find time to sit down as a family. We tend to just grab and go. I hope that's something you can get used to while you're here."

"It actually sounds pretty good," Bella said quietly, sipping hesitantly at her hot chocolate. It was warm in her mouth, and she couldn't help the smile that touched her lips. She hadn't had anything so childishly good in a long time. There were even tiny marshmallows already in the mix. She was also more than relieved that the Cullens didn't sit down for big family dinners. That would be horribly awkward.

"Bella, sweetie, we need to talk about what you said."

Bella dropped her head, staring at her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean - "

"Now, wait a moment, please," Esme said, and Bella saw her hand reach out, then hesitate and drop back to her side. "Bella, you're not in trouble."

"I'm not?"

"No." Esme brushed at a section of mud on her sweatshirt. "Honey, did you know all of our children are adopted?"

Bella shook her head. All of them?

"Yes." Esme smiled. "We've fostered them all before adopting, and we don't consider them anything but our children, as if they were ours by blood. In our eyes, there's no difference."

"But I'm different," Bella said quietly. "I belong to Charlie."

"Yes," Esme agreed, "you do. But that doesn't mean you're a servant or a stranger while you're here." Esme paused, gathering her thoughts. "We know so little about you, Bella, but I know enough to understand that telling you to make yourself at home isn't going to make you feel any better. I'm sorry for that, I truly am. I know I'm not your mother, and I can only imagine what you must be feeling about mothers right now. But I'm still going to tell you that Carlisle and I consider you part of the family while you're here. Anything you need, we're going to do our best to provide. I hope you understand that I don't merely mean material things, either. If you need someone to talk to, or you ever decide you'd like to try a hug - we're happy to do that, too."

"You're like something out of a fairy tale," Bella murmured, not sure at all whether she meant the words sarcastically or not.

Esme couldn't hold back a smile. "Am I? The wolf or the kind grandmother?"

"I haven't decided yet," Bella said honestly.

"I know." Esme moved again as if she wanted to touch Bella, but she refrained. "Now on to the next subject. Try to refrain from cursing in the house, please. The other kids aren't always good about watching their language either, but we do ask that you try."

"Gotcha," Bella said, breathing a little sigh of relief. House rules were easy to talk about. This was no big deal.

"Also, since you brought it up, please abstain from sexual relations while you're living with us. Under no circumstance do the men in this house expect anything from you in that area, and I'm frankly a little unsettled that that even needed to be said."

"Foster kid, remember? The situation has come up before."

"Well, it shouldn't have," Esme said firmly. "It's absolutely unacceptable to take advantage of a child like that. Did you report the incident when it occurred?"

"With my boot," Bella said with a small, wry smile as she remembered the pitiful squeaking noises that imbecile had made when her foot connected with his offending body part.

"Yes, I gathered. But to the authorities, Bella. Did you tell the police, or your social worker?"

"No." Bella shrugged. "It didn't ever get far enough that I felt in danger. I'd been watching him. I was ready."

"Still, you shouldn't have to live like that. Always on guard." Esme bit back something else she was going to say, and said instead, "You have nothing to fear from the men in this house, Bella. But you're a pretty girl, and once you start school I'm sure the boys in town will be interested in you. Please let myself, Carlisle, or Charlie know if someone hassles you. There's no excuse for that kind of behavior, ever."

"I'm kind of used to dealing with sh - stuff like that on my own."

"No doubt," Esme said with a strange look that Bella could not place. "But the need to do that ends now. You're obviously very capable, but you're still just a child."

Bella stared at this beautiful woman who was clearly much more than she let on. Originally Bella had pegged her as just another trophy wife, but it was plain to see now that Esme Cullen was no idiot. She was, however, very wrong about that last statement. "No, Mrs. Cullen," Bella said quietly. "I'm not a child, and I haven't been for a very long time."

One side of Esme's mouth lifted, though there was no humor or happiness to the gesture. "I don't suppose you're willing to tell me what makes you say that?"

"I'm here with a bunch of strangers instead of with my mom. Isn't that enough?"

"No." Esme reached out, and this time she did not check her movement. Two cold fingertips caught underneath Bella's chin very lightly, urging her to look up. Bella stared into those strange golden eyes, unable for the moment to look away. The color was absolutely enchanting - they almost seemed to glow. Maybe there was something wrong with this family's diet. Didn't jaundice give you yellow eyes?

"Bella," Esme said, not dropping her hand, "I'm not stupid. And just so you know, I have dark parts in my past as well. I see betrayal in your eyes, and it takes time to get over that. You also can't do it alone. If you never let people in, how will you ever learn to trust again?"

Bella pulled her chin away from the light touch of Esme's fingers, surprised that she hadn't done it sooner. "You won't," she said flatly. "But you never get hurt again, either."

"Little one, that's not living." She didn't look away, and the intensity of her eyes was starting to make Bella very nervous. "Who else?" she asked abruptly. "Who else has hurt you besides your mother, Bella?"

"Isn't that enough?" Bella pleaded, desperate to get away from this unnerving woman with her strange yellow eyes and her face that seemed to know too much. She was used to being looked at, but not like this. Not with this kind of studious attention that seemed to almost pull unsettling revelations right out of her.

After a moment's intense silence Esme finally nodded and dropped her eyes, permitting Bella to look away. "For now," she said. "It's enough for now. But you need to open up to someone, Bella. It doesn't have to be me. In fact, Charlie would be over the moon if you chose him, but I understand that he's a stranger to you just as much as we are."

"No kidding," Bella muttered.

"It might hurt to talk, but I assure you it's healing. Just think about it, please?"

Bella shook her head to clear it, rubbing at her eyes. She suddenly wanted nothing more in the world than to get out of this room. This woman didn't know anything, and yet she knew altogether too much. It was far too much to handle, and Bella wanted out. Now. "No swearing and no sex," she said, taking the mug of chocolate that had gone cold and bringing it to the sink. "Anything else?"

"We run a relaxed household," Esme said, giving up on the heart-to-heart for now. "I won't give you a curfew unless your actions show me you need one. You'll start school on Tuesday. Just keep your grades up and let Carlisle or I know if you're having trouble in any of your classes. You're free to join any extracurriculars you'd like, just let us know if you need any equipment and we'll get it for you. Charlie will be bringing by a car for you tonight so you can get around, since we live so far from town."

"Why Tuesday?" Bella asked, latching onto the most important part of Esme's speech. The car would be nice, she supposed. Then she wouldn't have to rely on anyone in the family for rides to school. But the thought of a day cooped up in this house alone with this woman was more frightening than the thought of a new school. "Why can't I go on Monday?"

"Charlie thought you might appreciate an extra day to rest," Esme said gently. "This is a big transition, and we want to make it as easy as possible."

"I'd rather go to school," Bella said, shifting uncomfortably as she rinsed her mug and placed it in the immaculate dishwasher. It didn't even have that weird dishwasher smell. Was there anything normal about this family? "Get settled in a routine as soon as possible."

"If that's what you want, then of course you can go tomorrow. Do you have everything you need?"

"I'm covered," Bella said quickly.

"All right, then." Esme rose from the table and stretched a little. "Nothing better than a hot shower after an early morning in the garden," she said with a smile. "Help yourself if you change your mind about breakfast. And Bella? You may not believe this now, but we truly are glad to have you."

Esme paused before she opened the door to the police station. Out of habit, she checked her appearance in the glass door before pulling it open. She wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea, but someone had to do something to help that girl, and she couldn't do it on her own.

"Mrs. Cope!" she said as she entered, surprised to see the woman behind the reception desk. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Mrs. Cullen, how are you?" the school receptionist said with a friendly smile. "Yes, I pick up weekend shifts working the desk here now and then. What with Bob gone, it gets a little lonely around my place. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if the chief was in. I wanted to talk to him about his daughter."

"Sure, let me give him a call." Mrs. Cope picked up the phone. "I'm sure he'll drop everything to talk to you. How is the poor dear doing?"

"About as well as can be expected, I suppose," Esme said, not wanting to gossip. Mrs. Cope was a nice enough person, but she did work at the school and Esme didn't want any information about Bella getting out unless Charlie said so.

Just then the man in question hustled out of a back room, and his eyes lit up when he saw Esme. "Mrs. Cullen! I thought I heard your voice."

"I was just getting ready to call you, chief," Mrs. Cope said.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Charlie, everything is fine," Esme said, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I just wanted to ask you a question. And, please, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Esme? Mrs. Cullen is my mother-in-law."

Charlie smiled and held open the little gate separating the rest of the police station from the reception area. "Five teenagers, and I bet you don't look a day older than when your doctor married you," he said with a smile.

You have no idea, Esme thought, but she only gave Charlie a teasing smile before allowing him to lead her to his cubicle. The desk was littered with papers and file folders, and there were dozens - literally dozens - of old photographs adorning the wall. A few were of Charlie's fishing buddies, and there were a couple of Billy Black and his son Jacob. But most were of Isabella.

He only had photos of her as a baby and toddler, but her sweet little smiling face was absolutely everywhere in Charlie's cubicle. She was a lovely little child, with the same big brown eyes that looked even larger in her tiny baby face. The photo that almost broke Esme's heart was one of Charlie in hospital scrubs, on what was obviously the day of Bella's birth. He was holding her in his arms, her tiny body almost swallowed by his bulk, and she was reaching one hand up toward his face. His expression was absolutely sublime, full of both astonishment and love. Esme shook her head a little, trying to remember why she had come. What kind of mother, she wondered, could rip a child away from a father who showed that kind of devotion?

Now that they were settled away from prying ears, Charlie's expression turned anxious. "Is she all right, Esme?" he asked, worry permeating every syllable. "How did she sleep? Is she eating? I hope she hasn't said anything too awful today. I am so sorry about last night - "

"It's fine, Charlie," Esme said, patting his hand a little. He didn't seem to even notice how cold she was. "I have teenagers myself, remember? Five of them, in fact. They act out, it's what they do. And can you really blame her? Bella has lost her mother and her entire world all in one stroke. No matter how she felt about her mom, that life was all she knew. Of course she's scared."

Charlie sighed, looking despondent. "I wish things could have been different with Renee, I really do. After she left, she told me she didn't want me calling or visiting. Said it would confuse Isabella. I fought and argued, but she had custody so there was nothing I could really do. I tried sending my girl presents at Christmas and on her birthday, but Renee just sent them back." He rubbed at his tired-looking eyes. "Now I've got a sixteen-year-old girl who doesn't want anything to do with me, and I can't blame her. There's no telling what Renee put into her head."

Esme hesitated for a moment. "That's partially what I wanted to talk to you about," she said slowly.

"What? Did she say something about her mother?"

"No." Esme glanced around the cubicle again, but there was no easy way to say this. "Charlie, I wish we didn't even have to bring this up, but I think it's for the best that we discuss it now. Bella is a very sweet girl, but she's been exhibiting some odd behavior."

"Like what?" Charlie visibly braced himself.

"She slept under her bed last night instead of in it, and I found her scrubbing the dining room floor early this morning when I came in from my garden. She expected to have to earn her keep." Esme stopped there, deciding not to burden the chief with what his daughter had said just after that. Talking about Bella and sex would not go over well right now. "I tried to sit down and talk with her, but she wasn't forthcoming. She keeps a lot bottled up inside - I can see it in her eyes. I'm betting she takes after her father in that way."

Charlie snorted. "She certainly doesn't get it from her mother. When Renee was upset, the entire neighborhood knew about it." He put his head in his hands. The slope of his slumped back looked defeated. "What am I going to do, Esme?" he asked brokenly. "I don't know how to raise a teenage girl, let alone help one that's hurting."

"I know, Charlie." Esme put a hand on his shoulder. She felt a great deal for this poor man. He hadn't asked for any of this. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Do you think we should find her a therapist?"

"Yes, actually." Esme was surprised; she hadn't expected the discussion to be this easy. "Now, I know there's no one closer than Port Angeles, and I'm sorry for that."

"I'll take her," Charlie said resolutely. "I'd drive to Seattle every day if it would help her feel better."

Esme had no doubt that he would. "I actually had a suggestion for you. Through Carlisle's contacts, we've learned that a world-renowned psychiatrist is in Port Angeles on sabbatical right now. He's supposedly writing a book, but you know as well as I do that he won't be at his computer all day every day. I'd like to go talk to him, on the off chance that he would be willing to take Isabella's case while he's in town. If anything she's dealing with lines up with his current research, he'd likely take you on for free."

"That would be wonderful," Charlie said, expelling a deep breath. He looked at her with thankful eyes. "Would you really be willing to do that? I just wouldn't know what to say."

"Of course." Esme stood to leave. "Thank you for your permission to talk to him. We'll do all we can to help your daughter, Charlie, I promise."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "Somebody needs to, and I just don't know how."

A/N: Next time we meet our new psychiatrist friend and Bella goes to school. Loves you, duckies!