Charlie comes home after a day of sorting out a neighbourly dispute that involves door graffiti and window smashing. Hangs up the cruiser keys. Gun in the cabinet, ammo separate in a locked drawer. The house is full of the smell of caramelised sugar and peaches. Bella's made dinner again.

It's not that he's having a hard time adjusting, Charlie reasons with himself, spooning cream pie into his mouth straight from the pie tin. Bella's the same, sweet little girl she always was, bending over backwards to please others. He used to see it with Renee all the time when he visited. The sigh: "okay, Mom." The way she looked at him, or rather didn't look – a sideways glance as if to say am I doing this right? He remembers the first time he realised she called him Charlie behind his back, instead of Dad. Copying Renee of course, but still it smarted.

They had told him all about it: Harry, Billy...Teenage girls. They would hog the showers; cake their faces in make-up and wear too-short skirts to school and too-tight tops out on dates on a Friday night. They would beg to borrow his car, spend hours on the telephone, giggle, cry with no prior warning. Charlie had listened, taking it all with a pinch of salt. He had not seen much of this behaviour from Bella in the last few years since she had become a teenager. Then again, he'd not see her much, thanks to Renee's busy schedule and annoying lack of willpower to stand on her own two feet and let Bella leave her on a plane to Washington.

Now here she is living with him in easy companionship. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with her nose in one of those c19th novels she will read and re-read. Happy to exist quietly beside each other, - he watching the Mariners game, she wrapped snugly in a checked shirt and pyjama bottoms. The penchant for checked shirts is a definite Charlie trait.

"So, not seeing Jacob tonight?" Charlie pulls at his moustache. It needs a trim.

Bella and Jacob are pretty much inseparable these days. He's been the perfect friend to help her settle in to Forks - practically family anyways. Charlie can see that young Jake has a crush on his daughter and he and Billy rib them both about it mercilessly. The way he follows her about like a lost puppy. Constantly yabbers on the phone to her. About nothing so far as he can see.

...

Charlie comes home late. Hangs up the cruiser keys. Gun in the cabinet, ammo separate in a locked drawer. Bella's light is on and she's in bed as he pops his head in to say goodnight. Her face is even paler than usual and tear-stained.

"How was your night at Billy's?" he asks. Ignore the crying, he tells himself. She hates having to explain herself. He can relate to that sentiment.

"…Fine."

Ah, the teenage catch-all phrase that means 'Not fine but I'm not telling you.' Her face has a story to tell of its own, like she is deep in thought about an experience that has shifted her world. Heck.

His cop's instinct itches at him till he picks up the phone to Billy, but when he does, it rings out. Strange.

Next morning she heads out at first light to La Push.

...

Charlie comes home for dinner. Hangs up the cruiser keys. Gun in the cabinet, ammo separate in a locked drawer. Looks around the living room to see it awash with black hair. He catches a piece as it drifts through the air. What the hell.

"Bella?" he calls.

...

Charlie comes home to hear the sound of laughter in his living room. Hangs up the cruiser keys. Gun in the cabinet, ammo separate in a locked drawer. Walks in to the living room (now hoovered) to find his daughter lying on the couch with a boy. Tangled around him, to be more exact. Charlie nearly retraces his steps to fetch his rifle until he realises that the short haired muscled boy wearing the sleeveless black top is his daughter's younger best friend.

"Huh."

Bella lets go of Jake's hand at the sound of her dad's voice.

"Hi Dad. Chicken pie in the oven for tea. Jake's staying too."

"Hey Charlie," Jake waves lazily. "Catch any bad guys today?"

"Not. Yet." Charlie mutters, making his way to the kitchen in search of the aforementioned pie.

"Cold beer in the fridge." Bella calls through. Charlie reaches into the refrigerator for a Rainier, plugs it open, stands and looks back at Jake's hairy legs hanging off the end of his couch.

"O-kay."

...

Charlie comes home just in time to see a motorbike cruise past with his daughter waving from the back. She's wearing a helmet, thank god, but that doesn't stop him nearly putting on the siren and running down Jacob Black, even if he is the son of his best friend. Charlie shakes his head, goes inside. Hangs up the cruiser keys. Gun in the cabinet – though his fingers twitch a bit – ammo separate in a locked drawer.

Bella's note reads: Gone to First Beach for a Camp-fire. Back later but not too late. Love you, Bella. X

Charlie sits down on the couch, rubs his face and looks at those last few words.

...

Charlie comes home late. Jake and Bella are sitting at the kitchen table poring over homework. Good.

He hangs up the cruiser keys. Gun in the cabinet, ammo separate in a locked drawer. Gets a beer out the fridge and some leftover cheesy pasta bake. Pours over ketchup. Bella is trying to explain to Jake the difference between onomatopoeia and assonance:

"Bang – pop – soft-ly. Sounds like it is. Get it?"

"My ass-onance needs some work, Bella."

"Lazy ass, more like it."

"Cheeky girl."

Charlie slams the fridge. They both look up.

"That's new" Charlie comments. Jake has a large and intricate black tattoo on his upper arm.

"Uh..yeah."

"It's Jake's tribal tattoo, Dad. He got it last night at the campfire."

"Swell." You getting a matching one? He now has wild visions of Bella, tattooed, on a motorbike, driving off to God-knows-where with this boy-man who looks about five years older than her and who all of a sudden has taken over sweet innocent little Jacob Black's body.

...

Charlie comes home after a day of endless paperwork and local politics. Hangs up the cruiser keys. Gun in the cabinet, ammo separate in a locked drawer.

The night is dry and the moon is out so Charlie hits the lights in the yard, takes a beer and heads out back. On the way he sees what looks like- and is- shredded material scattered on the grass. He reaches down and picks up a piece of black denim and some dark cotton. There's hundreds of little pieces everywhere, like confetti. Charlie can't quite make any connections as to what they would be doing there.

Then he hears voices from the trees, and Bella and Jake appear. She's only wearing a bra on top and he's butt naked except for Bella's shirt which he is using to cover his modesty. Charlie turns around, walks back into the house. Finds the key to the locked drawer. Unlocks it. Grabs some ammo. Fetches his rifle from the cabinet.

And starts loading.