Hi there! A little early posting for you. Tomorrow, I will be up to my ass in alligators, and I won't be able to be near my computer.

This has been pre-read (many thanks jakbranton) but not beta'd, so if there are any mistakes, they be mine.

Thanks for your reviews. I will try to get around to replies tonight. That is if I can coax my kids into leaving me alone.

Here is some daddy/daughter time.

The world of Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. What happens here to her characters is my fabrication

The night after the funeral was harsh. I stayed with Charlie, in my old bedroom, surrounded by the relics of my youth. Peter always got a kick out of visiting Charlie. He loved the bachelor feel of the house, with the ratty recliner that needed to be burned and the larger than life flatscreen on the wall. As a joke, Peter had gotten Charlie a mini-fridge that doubled as an end table so that my dad wouldn't even have to leave his chair for more Vitamin R during whatever game he was watching. If Peter hadn't attained the status of 'worthy' before that, I was certain that after getting the beer chiller, he was the golden boy in my father's eyes. Men.

It was easier to sleep sitting up slightly, so that my arm could be elevated. Charlie tucked me in as if I was a child, which secretly made me feel special, and went off to bed. At some point, I awoke after having a nightmare of the accident. It kept playing over and over. The terror of losing control of the Jet Ski gripped me, and a replay of the impact with Peter occurred in slow motion. In my mind, I actually heard his neck snap before I hit my head into the side of his craft. I woke up, screaming at the horror that had just visited my dreams. Charlie was by my side immediately, and I clung to him as I became more aware that it was just a nightmare.

"Can we go downstairs, Dad? I think I need a drink. And maybe another pain pill, if I'm allowed."

Charlie nodded and helped me up from my bed. "You can have either one or two pills. I double-checked with Rose. Two might knock you out or make you sick to your stomach, though."

After we made our way down the stairs and to the living room, Charlie ushered me to his recliner. It looked awful, but was so comfortable. He got me settled with a pillow for my arm and the quilt Grandma Swan made for our sofa so many years ago. Then he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a drink, a pill bottle, and a box of Goldfish crackers.

"The bottle says take with food, but sometimes I think that's just there so that when you do throw up the pills, it's not just dry heaves, you know?" Charlie said, placing the ginger ale on the mini-fridge and the box of crackers in my lap. He plucked a white tablet and placed it in my palm.

"Rose said that if you don't start feeling better an hour or so after taking one that you can take another. But no aspirin, no ibuprofen, because they aren't good for the baby. Tylenol is okay."

I nodded and took the tablet with a swig of ginger ale, then opened the Goldfish. "The nightmare was awful, Dad," I said softly. Charlie waited for me to continue. I ate a handful of the fish and offered the box to him.

"I dreamed of the accident, in vivid detail, no less. How is it that my mind can come up with even more horrific details than what actually happened? It just doesn't seem fair. I mean I have to live with what happened for the rest of my life. Why is my imagination punishing me?"

"I wish I could answer that for you, honey. I can tell you that it is pretty common to have nightmares like that after tragedy. It's perfectly acceptable to feel guilty. That's my professional opinion. Now as your dad, I can tell you that you are just beginning to realize what you have lost. Your best friend, your partner in life, the father of your child was taken from you. Unfortunately, as cliché as it sounds, the thing that helps us the most to heal is time. In a week, you'll feel better than today. In a month, better still. The change will be gradual, but there will be change. Now that's not to say that you will forget about Peter, because you could never forget him, but your heart will begin to heal, and you will move on."

For a man of few words, Charlie's speech spoke volumes. I leaned back in the chair and turned my head toward him. "Is it normal to not want to move on? So many times in the past two days, I have just wanted to join Peter. I mean, I'm not suicidal, but I'd give anything to just not feel this emptiness at all. That makes me feel so weak, and then I remember that I am carrying our baby. That reminds me that I have to get through this, but it hurts so damn much, Daddy. I had no idea that my heart could hurt so badly."

Charlie got up and fetched a box of tissues. When he handed them to me, I cracked a smile. They were the kind with lotion in them.

"I know, I know. All of Peter's bitching about scratchy tissues got me to change to the more expensive lotion ones. Sue me," he said with a sheepish smile. It was one of the fun arguments that Peter and my dad had, since being cold always made Peter's nose run. After spending several mornings in the cold, fishing with Charlie, Peter finally let loose and had a fit about the cheap tissues that Charlie bought. After that, Peter made a point to bring his own Puffs Plus. Charlie, sensing a good time for teasing, bought Peter some maxi pads and tampons, telling him that since he had grown a vagina and couldn't handle scratchy tissues, the feminine products suited him. Their relationship was so easy and fun. It hit me then that Charlie had also lost someone he dearly loved, too.

We sat there laughing a bit over memories. When the medicine started to kick in, I pushed back in the recliner and Charlie retrieved a pillow and blanket for himself so that he could sleep on the couch next to me. I drifted off, my good hand rubbing my belly. Time would heal me, I knew that was true. That fact didn't make the fear of the weeks and months to come dissipate, however. In a very uncharacteristic move, I resolved to hand over whatever burdens I could and focus on my growing child and myself.

Thanks for reading. See you Monday!