Author's Note: A round of gratefulness as always. So, there's a playlist on my homepage (you can get there from my profile) for this story that goes through the last chapter (it would have gone through this chapter, but the song I wanted I couldn't find so I need to find another one which, knowing me, could take forever). Also, the next chapter of Life and Times should be up tomorrow if you're also reading that one.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

Five: Charlie

I had been in this sunny psychopathic retreat for twenty one days and counting. Sometime during my stay, it had become June although I couldn't say exactly when. I had been keeping track of time in the journal Alice gave me; I made a grid of boxes with the words Time Served across the top and through questioning Dr. Masen and Hatchet, I'd figured out my length of stay. Inside this particular day's box, I wrote the words – twenty one days, June 10th I think. My color today is gray-blue. I knew it was Wednesday at least. A Masen day. I thought I could like him, but the last few sessions had been particularly intrusive and he just wouldn't let up. I understood that was the point, but it didn't make me hate it any less. He wanted to know about my mom, what she was like, her hobbies, likes, dislikes, her behavior near the end of her life. She was gone; I didn't want to talk about it. I knew he was trying to find my diagnosis; I could practically feel his hands probing, searching for weak points. I'm sure I wasn't giving him much to go on.

I closed my journal as Rosalie walked in; she had decided to like me, by the way. She sat down on her bed with a little bounce, seemed to be a good day. As a matter of fact, most days with her seemed to be good days lately. Dr. Masen's bipolar diagnosis led to medication that was slowly evening her out. From the way she talked, she was taking her therapy more seriously too, which was more than I could say for myself admittedly. "Has your friend come to visit you again?"

I knew the real question was whether or not I had the newest issues of any magazines. "Yeah, but she didn't bring anything." Her expression was a little pouty. Alice's second visit was the day prior and had gone much more smoothly that the first. She chatted about their move into the new house and how she had her eye on a new puppy. She showed me a picture the breeder had sent her. "Wow, how big is that gonna get?"

She smiled, "about a hundred fifty'ish, maybe more."

"Alice, that thing will be almost twice your size!" I looked at the picture again. "I always pegged you as one of those people with pets that fit in your purse."

She scoffed, "those aren't real dogs."

Rosalie cleared her throat, "lunch?"

Walking down the wide halls with the nurses for lunch reminded me of being herded. We were about halfway there when I heard Esme's voice.

"Bella," her voice was as warm as ever, but was laced with what might have been nervousness. I stepped away from Rosalie, who didn't seem to care, and made my way over to Esme. "You have a visitor today." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. I didn't ask her who it was; the fake smile was a dead giveaway. I let her lead me to him.

Charlie stood up when he saw me and if he hadn't, I may not have recognized him. His normally short hair was in dire need of a trim, it curled at the ends around his ears and at the nape of his neck. But his clothes looked clean and freshly pressed; I made a mental note to thank Alice. That's not what I noticed first though.

He had aged and weathered, like driftwood left to dry out and hollow on the sand; he looked paler despite the abundance of sun, and the lines in his face were more deeply etched, a permanent record of my time with him.

And his eyes had lost their light. I felt like my being in here had taken the soul right out of him.

He was holding a tattered book in his hand which he set down on his seat when I walked over. Neither of us knew what to do. "Hey, kiddo," he lifted half his mouth in a smile as if it took everything he had to make the gesture.

I sat down. "Hey, dad."

He picked up the book, "I brought you this."

I recognized it as my old copy of Wuthering Heights; I didn't have the heart to tell him about Alice's gift. I held it between my hands, "thanks." My voice sounded thick.

"That's one of your favorites, isn't it?"

I attempted a smile, "yeah, it is."

He rested his elbows on the table and didn't say anything, but I could feel him regarding me. "How are they treating you in here?"

"It's ok, everyone's nice to me." I couldn't bear to tell him about the pills and the needles and how sometimes Rosalie would cry at night about someone named Sarah, or how two nights ago the girl across the hall killed herself and I wasn't even that sad about it because it happens. Again and again and again.

"I wanted to come sooner, but…," he trailed off. "Dr. Cullen has been keeping me posted." He looked somewhat pleased.

"Dr. Cullen?" I felt a prickle of something up my spine. "Why would he do that?"

"He and I came up together in Washington." I could see his expression, already tense, changing into that guarded look he used to get when he thought I was getting angry. It irritated me, that 'here she goes again' thing he did. "He's just letting me know how you're doing."

"So…what? So you don't have to see for yourself?"

"It's not like that. It's just…," he trailed off. "I hate seeing you like this, this isn't easy for me."

I stood up roughly and leaned forward, "This hasn't been easy for you?" My voice was incredulous. "Let me make it easy for you then, you're absolved. Go back home; I'm off your hands." His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I inhaled sharply and looked toward an orderly who hadn't seemed to notice.

"Bella, will you sit down, you know that's not what I meant."

I sat, more out of surprise than anything else.

"I know I should have come sooner."

My eyes started to water and I lost all the self righteous anger I'd been filling myself with; I exhaled. "I haven't seen you at all since…," That Day. He hadn't come to see me in the hospital after he pried me away from James in the vineyard; he wasn't the one that took me to Los Angeles. He'd been the man behind the curtain handing down my sentence.

He let go of my wrist. "I know."

We sat in silence which was what we did best anyway. I stared at his hands; they were dry and gray looking and it looked like he'd been biting the nails on his right thumb and forefinger. "You shouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Bite your nails."

He smiled with very little actual humor and looked at his hands, "your mom used to say that too. I actually stopped for a long time." He curled his fingers into his palms so I couldn't see the ends anymore, an old self conscious gesture. He looked down at the table, he had learned years ago not to mention Renee. I felt the guilt of my rule the way he felt the guilt of breaking it. "I read it, your book I mean," he nodded toward my tattered paperback.

"You did?" My disbelieving expression was genuine.

"Yeah, I thought…it'd give us something to talk about." He smiled part way.

I felt my heart growing and filling an open space inside my chest and I was about to say something that probably wouldn't convey in the least the amount of gratitude I felt, when someone touched my shoulder. I looked up and it was Hatchet. I hated her, I wanted to push her away and tell her I was busy. I wanted to hug her for helping me keep my parts intact. "Your appointment with Dr. Masen is in five minutes." She took a step back far enough to give us a semblance of privacy.

I couldn't seem to force my eyes to meet Charlie's, so instead I looked at his hands again. "I've got to go." I started to stand, unwilling to prolong the goodbye.

Charlie followed, "alright kiddo."

When there was no longer a table between us, I didn't know what to do. Custom said to hug him, but our traditions lacked most forms of affection. We settled with an awkward half hug; he patted my back.

I didn't have time to take my book back to my room, so I had to take it with me. I held it with both hands on my lap and watched Dr. Masen pull a small white bag out of some compartment in his desk. He had taken to regularly eating lunch during our appointments. Everyday he had a turkey sandwich on wheat with a pickle and a bottle of water. I heard a small sound that reminded me of something I couldn't quite place; it was like a light suction sound. It reminded me that I hadn't eaten since dinner the day before.

I stared at the condensation gathering on his water bottle. "Do you have a fridge in your desk?"

He grinned like he'd been caught. "I have a fridge under my desk; I just put it in yesterday." He unwrapped his sandwich slowly, I had a feeling he still felt weird about eating in front of me.

"And they're ok with that?"

"Who is 'they'?"

"I don't know…big brother?"

He shrugged, "it's fine." My stomach growled and his gaze darted from my midsection to my face. "Didn't you eat lunch?"

I didn't want to get into any specifics about my dad visiting, but there was something about being in this office – despite the constant scrutiny, that felt like a sanctuary. I still didn't really want to tell him though. "No, I skipped it."

He set his food down. "How come?"

I raised one shoulder and then let it drop. "Busy."

"With what?"

"You do that a lot."

"Do what?"

I put my feet up on the chair and circled my arms around my legs. "The two-word-question thing to get me to talk."

"Do I?"

I snorted, "now you're just doing it on purpose."

"Think so?" He smiled crookedly. "I'll stop if you answer a question," he paused so I nodded, "why did you skip lunch?"

I set myself up to not answer; I put my chin on my knee and looked at the floor, mouth set. I could see the tips of his shoes underneath his desk. I kept my eyes fastened there as he shuffled with something on his desk, when I looked up he was handing me half of his sandwich. It tasted good; the bread was fresh and soft, thicker than I thought. "My dad came to see me," I said when I was finished chewing. He didn't say anything; he knew how much it bothered me. "It was fine, I'm fine." I took another bite.

"Did he bring you that book?" He had finished his half of the sandwich already and I wondered if he was still hungry.

"Mm-hm," I said around my mouthful. "He said Dr. Cullen was keeping him posted. Did you know they knew each other?"

"I was told as much. Does it bother you?"

"I guess not." I finished my last bite.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, "you're going to have to talk to me eventually, Bella."

"What if I don't?"

"Then I won't be able to work with you anymore. They'll assign you to a different resident until they find a good match."

Something about what he said scared me; I didn't want to talk to another doctor. I didn't want him to give up on me too. Maybe it was the prospect of having to start all over, of having another pair of eyes going through my file, cutting me open from the comfort of their expensive office chair. "I hadn't seen Charlie since…since before I came here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I think…I know, I mean, that he's having a hard time with everything." I didn't know what I was doing, but now I don't think I could've shut myself up if I tried. And that's the thing – I wasn't trying.

I talked about Charlie for the entire hour. What happened after my mother died, what he did with me, why we moved to Sonoma. I couldn't stop and he knew it and I saw something about his eyes change while I talked; it was like a light came on. He could tell the same way that I could that the mortar holding my wall together was crumbling; the bricks were loosening in their spaces. Dr. Masen was getting through.

That night, in what was supposed to be the quiet of my room, Rosalie wanted to talk.

"You looked different this afternoon," she said, in a voice just above a whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, happy or something." I could hear her change positions. "I'm getting out soon, Dr. Cullen told me today."

I wanted to say something about being happy for her, but the words wouldn't come. "Do you know when?"

"A few weeks, I think. They got my dosage right, finally."

I felt an odd sense of gladness for her mixed with a disappointment and panic that she would be leaving; she was my thick skin.

Later on I was dreaming and I knew this as fact, but didn't care. He was there with me; it was the last time I was really happy.

"Where are we going?" It was early evening and he could barely see; I led him deftly between the trees. I could find it with my eyes closed.

"My place." Before long, the space opened up, the drop-off a yard or so ahead. The aquamarine water was a perfect reflection of the night around it. The moon shone off it like a light. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist; I shivered at the touch.

"How did you find this?"

"Just came across it one day," I leaned into his chest and he kissed the top of my head. "Doesn't it feel like no one else exists?"

"No one else does." He let go of me and moved to the edge of the cliff. "How do you get down?"

I kicked off my shoes and slipped out of my jeans while his back was turned. "Like this." He turned and watched me appreciatively as I made my way to my favorite spot. I took one deep breath, not because of nerves, but just in case it was my last one; I felt like I was always saying goodbye. I jumped. That was the best part, the falling without control; hitting the water was like breaking glass.

It brought me back to life.