Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of its characters, unfortunately. :( Instead, I make them do what I want them to.

I woke when the sun shone across my eyes, the view I was greeted with was unfamiliar. As was the couch I slept on.

A quick look around revealed living room that had hand-made artifacts scattered around the walls.

A rush of memories hit me and it all came back. I had fallen asleep at the Black's house, on their couch.

"Good morning, Bella!" Billy greeted cheerfully as he wheeled past.

"Uh, good morning." I replied uncertainty.

I stumbled up to the bathroom, did my business, then changed into washed out jeans and a blue button up blouse.

"Anything on the agenda today?" I asked, unsure how the morning after the game went and what they usually did. This was my first game weekend bonding thing with them, after all.

"Breakfast, then games and television. If the weather is nice, there might even be fishing, wouldn't that be wonderful?" Jake gushed, grinning at me and rubbing his hands together like a kid on Christmas about to open his presents.

I blinked at him, unsure what to say at his abrupt mood swing.

He burst into laughter a few moments later, slapping his knee and pointing at me. "Oh, I got you good there! You actually thought we'd go fishing and all that! Ha! Me? Fishing? That'll happen when the sky turns purple!"

"Okaayyy. . . ." I responded, then immediately wanted to smack myself. Nice, Bella, real genius there. "So, what is the plan, really?"

"Definitely breakfast, that's not a lie. As for the rest, that's for the parental figures to dish out. Either way, it'll probably be something lame like fishing or watching jocks knock the shit out of each other in the name of team rivalry and more money than they know what to do with." The smartass quipped, mock shuddering.

Okay, so he hated football, too. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad once he cut the attitude.

"Who's cooking? Or in my father's case, buying?" I asked, steering the conversation, and my thoughts, back to the matter at hand.

"I think my parental figure ordered a platter from the Clearwater place." Jacob answered, shrugging.

"I hope that it wasn't a grease bomb, or I'll have to take a trip to the hospital." I grumbled, I hated hospitals. They were filled with death, pain, and sickness. Renee always made me go when I had one of my attacks, though, so I grew to hate them even more.

He shrugged and walked into the living room, flopping down on the couch with this feet propped up on the coffee table. He snatched up the remote and flipped through channels.

I frowned. Well, that was just swell for him.

Fine. If he wanted it that way, I can do that, too. I decided, sitting at the kitchen table and pretending the other teenager in the house didn't exist.

I know it was a tad childish, but he was being a tool and I had had enough of him for the moment.

I went through a mental list of things I wanted to do or get for the house so it wasn't so creepily the same as it had been when I'd been younger. It wasn't healthy not to go through at least some changes.

I understand that he is married to the force and that leaves little time to redo a house, except for repairs that won't wait, but it's still creepy having the house the same way.

I had decided to take the pressure off of him and make the changes myself. I would start with paint and decorative wall stuff-pictures, paintings, etc. I might use a bit of my savings to replace some countertops and stain the cabinets a different color.

We shall see.

A door slamming followed by a heavenly aroma announced the arrival of breakfast. My father carried two large brown paper sacks to the kitchen, sitting them on the counter and heading for a cabinet near the stove.

Four glasses were placed beside the sacks.

Billy wheeled in and settled in to the open side of the table. Evidentally, we would be eating at the table like in those cheesy' all-American' black and white classic movies from back in the day.

I, personally, had never been subjected to the family bonding over meals nonsense.

Renee hadn't been in the Worlds Greatest Mothers club. She was too busy living her life, a revolving door of men included, to care for a kid much less spend time with one. The boy toys and the life style came first. Always.

I had had two part time jobs to get through school and to pay for the things that were necessary. The house. Food. I paid for everything myself, not a penny I ever spent belonged to another person.

Speaking of, I'd have to look for a job. Or jobs, depending on how shitty the pay was.

I probably could have found one by now, but Charlie doesn't think I should get a job. He believes that I don't need to be wasting my teen years working, instead I should be a regular, reckless teenager that goes out and makes mistakes.

I disagree.

Four stryrofoam to go containers were placed on the table and the parentals were going through each one.

"Who has the French toast and bacon combo with extra syrup?" Billy asked, closing the lid.

"Me. About time, I'm starving." Jacob grabbed the container and began to eat the moment he sat in the empty chair to my left.

"Jacob, the rest of us haven't received ours. You can wait another few minutes." His father responded, a stern bite to his voice. He leveled his son with a glare, pointedly glancing at his open container.

The teen sigh, closing it. "Whatever."

"Full order biscuits and gravy with extra gravy?" The older Indian inquired without missing a beat.

"Mine." I answered, accepting the container. "Thank you."

"That leaves the sausage with cheese and omelette." He handed the container to my dad without waiting for an answer.

Breakfast was a bit awkward after that. Billy and Jacob seemed at odds with each other the entire meal. My father pretended not to notice as he happily stuffed his face. I, on the other hand, glanced back and forth, half expecting someone to break and start screaming.

Yippee.

I was grateful when everyone had finished eating and the tension between father and son was broken.

I. Hate. My. Life.

Wrestling.

Out of everything that was on today the parentals had to choose that. It was the really cheesy one where they pretended to hit each other and almost every man had hair longer than me.

After a really badly executed 'punch' I'd decided that I had had enough.

I pushed off the floor and snuck around the couch. I'd rather stand in traffic than watch this bullshit. So, sneaking around and exploring it is.

I never really had a chance to actually look around yesterday, which only fed my need to do so.

I grew bored of the downstairs pretty fast. I opted to snoop around upstairs while the authority figures were too busy with the 'wrestling'.

I hadn't been upstairs long when I noticed a door I hadn't paid attention to yesterday. Come to think of it, no one had. They had all passed it like it hadn't even been there. Even my father did it. Billy and Jacob wouldn't look at it.

Interesting.

Curiosity got me on a hook, demanding I investigate immediately.

I listened.

The door opened without much prompting, emitting a low creak suggesting the hinges probably need oil. I had to struggle with it a bit when it hit about halfway, but I finally opened it all the way.

I paused, blinking. Huh.

Darkness. Total and complete darkness. Not even a sliver of light shining through a curtain could be seen.

Hmm. That's a bit weird. I thought, stretching my arm out to find the light switch. Wait. . . What the hell is that?

My hand found something hard, cold and lumpy. Wtf?

I blinked when the light came on and looked for what my hand had been touching.

A colorful panda with a light switch sticking out of its large stomach. O. . .kay?

The room was dusty and. . .pink. The walls were painted with fluffy clouds, pandas and butterflies. They were not the original colors for their lifelike counterparts. They were purple or pink.

This was not a room for a son.

A mahogany crib, dresser, and changing table that were almost grey they were so covered in dust. The small pink dresser had odd shapes sticking out of the top of it only fed my curiosity.

I closed the distance, cautiously touching the odd shapes. A shape similar to the end of a tie clued me in to their identity. Someone had flipped the picture frames so they were facing down.

I picked up the nearest photo, dragging my thumb over the glass to clear the dust.

A smiling dark skinned woman held a small pink bundle, a man standing proud and happy stood behind her. A smaller figure with similar features leaned over the woman's arm, head tilted curiously.

I replaced the picture, moving on. A corner sticking out from under the crib caught my attention and I knelt down beside it, feeling around underneath. I felt something a bit larger than expected and tugged, the mysterious item emerging from hiding.

It was a book-a beat up, leather book. Letters of foreign writing were etched into the aged leather.

I flipped through it and quickly discovered that it was a photo album.

The first pages were old, older than I was. Most were centered around a young couple, but a good chunk had a group as well. I recognized a younger version of my father in the group photos.

These must be pictures of Billy, my father and their friends. The couple were Billy and Sarah. I'd bet my savings on it.

Next came wedding pictures and a photo of Billy holding Sarah in front of the finished red house he'd built for them to start their life together. I flipped through the rest withour interest, they were more photos of the couple and featuring a pregnant Sarah.

I stopped when I caught sight of a newspaper clip. The first was largest, made up of a picture of a burning, broken up airplane.

I had a bad feeling in my gut.

The second was an article with the heading Tragedy: Survivors and Loses of the Doomed Flight 1407.

The album was ripped from my hands, I jolted in surprise and guilt. I spun, face to face with the person that caught me.

Jacob Black.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He hissed, dark eyes burning with anger.

I swallowed, mouth dry and words absent. "I-I-"

"What gives you the right to come into our home and snoop through our things?" He snarled, trembling with rage. "Get out! GET OUT!"

I bolted, shaking like a leaf. I had never seen someone so angry.

I shot down the stairs and into the living room, to the safety of the parents sitting on the couch.

My dad twisted, frowning at my shaken appearance. "What's going on? We heard shouting."

"Jake's mad at me. I found something he didn't want me to." Technically I didn't lie, but I also didn't tell them the entire truth.

I sat on the floor beside the couch, my eyes flitting to the stairs nervously once every few seconds.

Jacob didn't come downstairs.

Hours passed and Jacob Black only appeared for drinks or snacks, before disappearing without a word once again.

I felt bad. Obviously what I did was a big deal to him and I must have really, really upset him.

I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I was just curious.

I finally womaned up and slipped upstairs again. If he wasn't going to come to me, I'd have to go to him. I needed to set this right.

The door I'd previously entered without permission was wide open, a soft light coming from within.

I risked a peek inside and almost wished I hadn't.

Jacob was sitting on the floor in front of the dresser, the photo album propped up and splayed open so he could flip the pages without holding it. Candles were all over the room and some were on the dresser itself, positioned around the righted photos.

The bad feeling returned.

I cautiously entered, inching through the doorway. "Jacob?"

He didn't turn around or acknowledge me.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry for coming in here and looking through your families things. It was wrong of me." I shifted awkwardly.

He was so quiet. Still. It was a bit freaky.

Okay. I gave my apology so why am I still moving forward? I asked myself, hating that I didn't have a clear answer. He probably wants to be alone and if so, if he sees me right there he'll freak out again.

Reasoning with myself wasn't working, much to my annoyance.

I finally came to a stop just behind him, noticing that he had turned to the page I had paused on before he caught me. The picture of the plane large and clear, even in the candlelight.

"Look at the date." Jacob finally mumbled, still not looking at me.

I blinked. "What?"

"You're so interested in what went on, what happened. Look at the date."

I leaned down, squinting a little to read the slightly smaller print. My breath was sucked out of my lungs the moment I did.

It was today's date.

I felt like absolute shit.

"Every year, on this weekend, without fail. My dad invites yours to stay the whole weekend, they watch that bullshit downstairs and most times, when they think I'm asleep, they drink themselves to sleep. Sometimes they talk about it, but mostly they just-" He stopped, inhaling audibly. "He does it every year so he won't be alone. He thinks I don't notice, or maybe he doesn't give a shit. Once a year, he can be a grieving man who lost half his family. His legs."

I glanced at Jacob and the feeling of being absolute shit intensified one hundred percent.

He wasn't the teenager I'd seen since yesterday anymore. He was curled in on himself, his arms held on tightly to his legs, his hands squeezing his elbows with all his might. His eyes were open and vulnerable. He was a small boy-hurting and lost.

I hurt for him.

I understood.

He was angry, hurt and lonely. He missed the half of his family that had been so cruelly ripped from his life.

I could relate. I could relate pretty damn well.

After that little heart to heart moment, we went our seperate ways and hadn't spoken the rest of the night. We didn't need to.

He became the moody teenager again and I pretended none of it happened.

I knew it wouldn't help if I tried to talk to him about it or attempt to comfort him the usual ways. He'd gotten it out of his system for the moment and that was enough for him for that day.

He had been civil that night, even telling me good night. It was an improvement, but I wouldn't expect a complete turn around just because he talked about his family's tragedy.

I chose to kill time by going back downstairs and try to watch something before I went to sleep. I needed to think of something other than Jacob Black and our conversation or I'd probably have dreams about it.

As Jake had said, Billy changed in noticeable ways after a certain hour, I checked the time and confirmed it was ten o'clock. He became solemn and distant, his face and eyes cast in got the first round of beers and he kept them flowing, soon I lost the count and gave up the effort of trying to keep track.

The pair continued well past midnight, but by then I called it quits and went to bed.