DISCLAIMER: All characters and story world belong to SM. All lyrical references and quotes are property of their original artist. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: Project Team Beta, Bikechick3, Blahx3, OCDMess, and WendyAnn – Thank you!

Last chapter I asked what song you would want played at your funeral. My answer: It changes from year to year. I think this year I would chose Depeche Mode - Enjoy The silence. It would be my message to my loved ones.

No songs for this chapter. Just discussions. ;)

Chapter 12 Part I
BPOV
Saturday May 13th, 2006

It had been four months since my transformation and so far my life, or lack thereof, was definitely interesting. Being nomadic was different than I thought it would be. Although, when I had first learned about nomads, I was being hunted by three of them and was nearly killed, so I guess my views on their world had been rather skewed.

Garrett and I hunted often since I was a newborn, but we found that I could abstain from feeding more than what most considered the norm. I found the smell of blood repulsive, even human blood, but my throat still ached in anticipation of quenching the thirst. I had learned to deal with a pain similar to this during the last four months of my human life and while this was different, it wasn't entirely foreign.

I learned a bit about Garrett's past, though he never divulged much. He explained how he earned money and stayed under the radar, but he never shared anything personal like his own transformation. He also never pushed me for details about the Cullens, so I never pried for details about his life.

Garrett used his talent at card games by gambling at various casinos and persuading the other players to fold or make higher bets than they normally would have. He tried to keep the hands short, not wanting to push his luck, but sometimes people caught on quickly and he had to change their minds about saying something to the dealer or security. Once the dealer started to become suspicious, he would leave, cash out, and head out of town.

We never stayed in a town longer than two days. I wasn't very fond of taking advantage of people, but Garrett assured me he was particular about the types of people he gambled with, and he never played until they lost everything. I had faith in his decisions and never interfered.

With his winnings, we bought music equipment and a laptop with audio software so we could save and mix our tunes. While I no longer needed to sleep, I found comfort in laying in bed while he was out gambling. I checked into a motel, usually near the outskirts of town, and would just write, mix music, or stare at the ceiling.

I found myself thinking of Charlie and Renee a lot. I wondered how they were doing without me, and if they had moved on yet. Thoughts of Jacob and the wolf pack occasionally crossed my mind at night as I stared out at the stars. I never got to know them that well, and they had saved my life, I owed them everything. I wondered if they had stopped phasing with us gone. I wished they could lead a normal life and go back to just being the Quileute tribe with the abnormally large boys who liked to rough-house. The probability of that, however, was small with Victoria still on the loose. As long as she was still alive, Forks would always have a threat looming on the horizon.

My worst fear was that she would threaten to harm Charlie in hopes of luring me back to town to protect him. I never checked in on my father, but I'm sure she could find some way to let me know she was holding him captive. Or worst yet, she would kill him, knowing that I would secretly attend the funeral.

On sunny days, Garrett helped me practice with my shield. We learned that I could expand my shield to others nearby, but only while I concentrated. I could put up a barrier between other people's minds and outside influences if I focused on protecting them. I imagined locking them away in the safety of my mind. I occasionally went with Garrett to a casino as he gambled in an attempt to get used to being around humans more often. I only came along if I had fed that day, and could work up the courage to put so many innocent people at risk.

One night, we discovered I could protect an entire poker table, including the dealer, the security man, and two other players if I focused really hard. I held my shield steady for over ten minutes, much to Garrett's dismay, until the dealer noticed that I was acting strange and snapped me out of my concentration. He had only won one out of six hands while it was up. After that, he didn't bring me along to gamble, but we did go out and people-watch so I could practice.

I grew more comfortable around people and human blood when I was able to focus on something else. Our favorite places to sit and watch were small bars. It was amazing how many choices were made every minute in a bar, and how little people noticed what was going on around them. We knew I could shift my shield so he was able to sense my core, but I hadn't been able to repeat it while protecting others at the same time. We decided to focus on how far I could protect people, rather than trying to discover new capabilities.

Even though I was a vampire, throwing my shield seemed to take a lot out of me. I didn't get tired or anything, but I found that it became extremely difficult to focus on anything after holding it steady for more than an hour. My mind would start to wander and my shield began to fade until eventually it just dissolved, exposing the minds of the people I had been protecting, and only covering myself. I grew frustrated and irritable, and we would leave, which only made me more upset.

I wanted to be capable of being around people again. I wanted to be normal and not cause unwanted attention whenever I wasn't holed up in a motel room somewhere. As much as I hated socializing, I also hated feeling like a freak-show. I was torn between the desire for solitude and feeling like the world really did still exist. I took comfort in the fact that I had Garrett as my friend. I couldn't imagine how lonely he had truly been for all those years before me.

Some nights were harder than others, and my desire to just end my existence would consume my thoughts. I tried to keep my feelings from Garrett, but occasionally he sensed the decisions I was weighing and got upset with me. I never noticed when my shield slipped on those occasions. It didn't feel the same as when I protected others; the sensation was entirely unique.

After the fifth times he caught me, he sat me down and forced me to talk about things. I had stopped writing music and was seeking solitude more often. He knew something was off.

"Enough is enough, Little-Bit. What's wrong?" Garrett asked.

I sighed and turned onto my side, causing the sheets to rustle and mattress to squeak under my shifting weight.

"You've been distant and extremely quiet for weeks. I know you are considering some pretty dark things and I just wish you would talk to me before you make up your mind. You know, outside perspective and all that jazz."

Jazz. I missed him. I had forgiven him before he even had time to realize what he had done. Truthfully, there was nothing to forgive. He had lunged at me, but I would had been fine. It wasn't him that threw me into the glass.

I sighed and shook my head. I really didn't want to talk about them. I just wanted to curl up and slip away. That last day I was a human, I had been so close to just sleeping forever, and it has all been taken away from me. So often it seemed everything was taken away from me. Everything I wanted, anyway.

"Bella, please," he said softly.

"I don't want this, Garrett. I never wanted this," I whispered.

I felt the bed shift from under me, and his hand rub gently up and down my arm. I flinched slightly at his touch. My scars had faded, but my reaction to being touched there had not. All that was left of my dark past were faint lines across my upper arms. His hand stilled on my shoulder for a moment before sliding up to my neck and moving my hair to the side. I could feel him staring at my newest scar. Victoria's teeth had left two crescent shapes just above my collar bone.

"I know, Bella. I wish I could take it all away for you, but I can't. I promise that it gets easier with time."

I flipped onto my other side in less than a second and propped myself up on my elbow, staring up at him. "What gets easier with time? Being immortal? Being heartbroken? Or how about being dead inside, in every way possible, with no reason to exist? What gets easier, Garrett?"

"Moving on, forgetting the past and just letting go, learning that your past is not what makes you who you are; your future does. Look forward, Bella, stop looking back. There is nothing but pain and regret in the past. The only way to move on is to look forward," he said.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I know. But what's in my future to look forward to? Isolation? A life of solitude and loneliness?"

"You aren't alone, I'm here. We could see the world, make music, go to college, buy and sell real estate. Anything you want, Bella. We could do it. I know I can't offer you love, at least not the kind you desire, but I can offer you kinship. You are like a little sister to me. I never really had much of a family. You're the first person to truly mean anything to me. I hate seeing you like this." His fingers glided over my cheek.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't important to me. If it wasn't for you, everything would be such a mess right now; I would be a mess right now. I owe you my life, or rather, what's left of it. I don't know what I want though, Garrett. I just know I don't want to be like this anymore. Does that make any sense?"

"It does. You've changed, and you feel trapped in the old you. It's okay to change, Bella," he said assuredly.

"I'm scared," I confessed.

"I know you are, but that's what I'm here for. Let me be your light and help you find your path. I'm just along for the ride," he said. His eyes were bright gold and the corners wrinkled as he grinned. I couldn't help but smile at his affection.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't mention it, Little-Bit. So, what do you want to do first? Tour the world? Go back to school? I wasn't kidding about the real estate, just so you know." His grin widened and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"No, no real estate. I don't know. What could we do with our music? I know we haven't written in a while, but I really enjoy it." I sat up on the bed, and pulled my legs up to my chest, resting my chin on my knees.

"We could play at clubs, make an album, or go to music school. I always wanted to go through college. Although, I imagine the general classes would bore me to death."

I smacked his arm.

"Ow, hey! Okay, bad joke, sorry," he chuckled.

"I don't know… playing at clubs just doesn't seem like me. I'm too shy to do that, I wouldn't want people watching me," I said.

"I could help with that," he said as a grin spread across his lips.

I sighed and shook my head. "I don't know. What about being around so many humans? Do you think I'm ready for that?"

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit. You have amazing control, Bella. With a little confidence, you could own a stage; I'm certain of that."

"Well, how about we focus on an album first. Maybe we could play at really small bars or something if the opportunity arises," I suggested.

"That sounds like a great plan. We have nine songs to start, not counting the ones I wrote before I met you or independently from you after. We need to work on some new material. We also need a name for our band, and probably a new name for you with matching identification," he said, rambling off a mental list.

"Wait, why do I need a new name? What's wrong with the one I have?" I asked, confused.

"Well, for starters, it's only been four months since an Isabella Swan died. If we plan on making music and releasing a CD, we don't want anything that could raise suspicion. Our appearances will be a big enough obstacle to deal with," he explained.

"Oh. Right. Well, what should my new name be, then?"

"We can keep it personal to who you are if you want, or we can make up something completely new. It's up to you. There's always Izzy, or Sabel, if you want some part of your name," he said.

"I'd prefer to have part of my past life represented in my name, but not Izzy or Sabel." I made a sour face and shook my head. "So how about my middle name for my first? Marie," I suggested.

"That could work. There are a lot of Marie's. What about a last name?" he asked.

"Well, what about yours?" I asked cautiously. I didn't want him to take my suggestion the wrong way.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I doubt you want to be a Madison. Marie Madison? Ew. How about where you grew up? Or your mother's maiden name?"

"My mother's maiden name was Johnson. That just sounds too formal. I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona for most of my life. A lot of the other kids in Forks called me Arizona when I came back." I shrugged and continued to think of other possible names.

"Phoenix could work. Marie Phoenix. It isn't common, but you could use Phoenix as a stage name if you wanted to." He sat very still as a crooked grin slid across his lips. "Ms. Phoenix, can I get your autograph?!" he said in a high pitched voice.

I giggled and shook my head. I felt lighter and happier than I had in a very long time. "Alright, Marie Phoenix. You pick the middle name," I said.

"Hm. How about Anne? It's just one of those popular 'go to' names that fits well with almost everything. Marie Anne Phoenix. Sounds good. I'm still going to call you Little-Bit, though." He smirked.

"Of course you will," I said through a sigh, but smiled back.

"So what about a band name? Got any interesting ideas?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Hm. Well, we could always use some adjective from one of our songs, or maybe just throw a bunch of odd phrases out there and pick something obscure like a lot of bands seem to be doing lately," I suggested. Various band names had definitely changed over the past few decades, and I really had no clue how any of them came up with something. It seemed the world went through an animal phase, such as "The Eagles" or "The Monkeys", but now they were more obscure. Bands I could remember hearing on the radio over the last few years were named things like "The Academy Is", "Maroon 5" or "Nickleback".

"How about one of your poems?" he asked as he nodded towards my red notebook at the foot of the bed.

"Oh uhm… I don't know. I don't think I want to share those with people." I toyed with my lip ring, tugging it between my teeth and breathing heavily through my nose. I was protective of my poetry. I had often edited my songs so they didn't sound so distinct to my exact feelings and experiences, but my poetry… my poetry was a whole other story. It was my unfiltered ramblings, the troubling thoughts in my mind and torment in my heart. I hadn't shared them with anybody.

"I'm sure there is one in there that means something to you that has a catchy enough title to it that could work for a band name," he prodded.

"What, like 'Untitled Two'?" I laughed. I rarely named my poems. "Well, a few are named, but nothing interesting…" I let my mind wander over all of my poems in the tattered, red notebook. Most of my poetry was random adjectives and verbs of my emotions and thoughts.

"Well, name the first one that comes to mind, and tell me about it. I'm sure there has to be at least one you like the title of." He smiled and watched me as I shifted nervously. My eyes darted from him, to the notebook, to my hands. I sighed and closed my eyes, thinking back to all of my poems.

"There is one. It's about my feelings after… after he left. It represents my view on fate, the world, life, and death. It's extremely obscure, but it was the naked truth, my raw emotions. It's titled Beautifully Sacred." I kept my eyes closed and envisioned the words scrawled onto the lined paper. I could recite my own words with flawless accuracy, but I kept the notebook for sentimental purposes.

"Will you share it with me? I'd love to hear it," he asked quietly. My eyes shot open and I could see the hope and fear in his eyes as he waited for me to reply. I tugged on the opposite side of my lip once more, avoiding the ring and biting down on my skin roughly as the metal clinked against my teeth.

"I can't speak it. But you can read it, if you want… I guess." I sighed and looked away from his eyes and grabbed the notebook. I took in a deep breath and flipped to the middle of the book. I paused for a moment before I looked back up at his expression, handing him the flimsy evidence of my human pain.

His eyes searched the page for a moment as a smile crept over his lips. I watched as his eyes focused on the words, and his lips parted further. I closed my eyes tightly as the first word slipped from his tongue and the feelings from my past flowed through me.

"Habitual, like the flow of nature.
Grand gestures belittle small favors.
The haze coating my frigid memories.
I'm broken, rejected; left with my reveries.
Conflicts, a war; emotions subdued.
All that's left is solitude.

Empty promises scatter in time.
No solace can comfort my mind.
In history the world sees violence.
Fleeting moments are drowned in silence.
Life is the divine, deemed sacred.
A beautiful death never granted.
- Beautifully Sacred by B.S, October 7th, 2005"

I opened my eyes and realized I had been holding my breath the entire time he read my poem out loud. My entire bottom lip was clenched between my teeth. I was holding my pain at bay, but just barely.

"Your initials are the same as the poem. I think the poem would make the perfect name for our band. It will be like a secret memory in honor of you, Bella Swan, now Marie Anne Phoenix of Beautifully Sacred," he said softly.

I let myself take a deep breath and pain flooded through me. I groaned quietly; that poem was my confession. I had wanted to live a wonderful life with Edward, and in order to do so, I had to die. I always thought it would be the most beautiful death, and easily worth the divine, sacred life I would be granted in return. When he left, he took my dreams of forever with him. I didn't want any kind of life if Edward wasn't my forever.

Life had been be so difficult; dying would have been the easy part. But when I could live forever, what was I living for? I could only think of one thing worth living for and it was the one thing that had rejected me. In my entire short-lived, human life, I had always battled with my self-doubt, and tried to accept who I was. When he left, all I saw was gray. The light that had cast the most beautiful colors in my world had gone out, and the forced solitude would never bring me solace. I was held captive in my own mind with a war constantly waging. The silence wouldn't lull my memories.

I realized I hadn't responded to Garrett after he read the poem. I swallowed the venom that had pooled in my mouth and released my lip from its confines of my teeth. I nodded and took a shallow breath. "Yeah, that sounds fine. I think I like the idea of keeping my name in the music obscurely, even if no one else knows about it."

**

Over the next few days we spent a lot of time writing out new songs, reworking old ones, and toying with a few covers. We had scheduled a gig at a vampire bar in mid Alaska, so we were working our way back in that direction. I didn't know what to expect from a vampire bar and my mind was racing with different obscene scenarios and ideas. Garrett assured me it was in a very remote location, but I still found myself skeptical.

"What's the place called?" I asked as I was stuffing my few belongings into a backpack.

"Sangue Cantante. It's a play on an old vampire term. It means Blood Singer," he said while he zipped up the guitar bag and threw it over his shoulder. "Ready to go, Little-Bit?"

I nodded, glanced around the room one last time, and turned to follow him out the door of the motel. "So, what's the vampire term then?"

"La tua cantante. It means 'your singer'."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would that be an old vampire term?" I asked.

"Some believe that there are humans who have a stronger blood scent that calls to us. The scent is said to be so strong it's nearly impossible to resist. They think the blood actually sings to them," he said quickly as we headed to the SUV.

I threw my bag on the floor of the passenger side and crawled in. I pulled my knees up to my chest and turned to look at him as he started the car. "Have you ever met your singer?" I asked, watching his reaction carefully.

He shook his head and pulled onto the main road out of town. "I haven't, though I have seen one who did. The girl didn't last long." He stopped and focused straight ahead for a long moment. "Listen Little-Bit, a singer is only a thought that is entertained by the Volturi. They coined the phrase, so to speak. After so many years of bringing lambs to their slaughter, they have come across a few that had irresistible blood. I don't know if I believe the whole dramatics of it, but I never argued."

"You were with the Volturi before?" I asked. I was a little confused. The way he spoke of them made it sound like he knew a lot about them. I looked for any signs that he was reluctant to talk to me about it, but he was still staring straight ahead.

"Yes." He blinked and nodded gently.

He didn't elaborate, but he hadn't specifically said he didn't want to talk about it either. I considered asking him further, but I felt my core shift, and my decision was made for me. I shot him a quick look of shock and sighed. I had lost enough of my control on my focus and emotions for him to be able to sense me again. "You could have simply said you didn't want to talk about it." I crossed my arms and huffed again as I turned to face forward, still watching him with my peripheral vision.

"I'm sorry, you're right. It's just instinct to shut out any curiosity about myself from people. I shouldn't have made your decision for you. Although, It's not often I can sense your core. Is something bothering you?" He turned and glanced at me. My resolve to keep him out faded and I nodded as he placed his hand on my knee.

"So I'm just 'people' now?" I cocked an eyebrow at him, but my slight grin gave me away. He chuckled and smiled, letting the light moment linger. After a long pause, I finally spoke again. "I think that's what I was to… him. Edward." I sighed. You can say the name, Bella. It's not the end of the world. I took another deep breath. "He once told me that my blood called to him; he said I was his 'own brand of heroin'. He spoke of his brother, Emmett, having encountered blood that called to him as strongly. Though, it didn't end well." I looked down at my hands and ran through the conversation in my mind. Once again, my memories were of the forest, being terrified I might lose something so important to me, and discussing my death.

"Wait, you were his Cantante, and you lived? I've never heard of such a thing before, Bell—"

"Phoenix," I corrected and sighed.

"What?"

"You almost called me Bella. Phoenix, remember? We don't want to slip-up around others. You should start calling me that from now on." I glanced back at him as he nodded.

"You're right, sorry. Anyway, that is unheard of. The whole point behind the Cantante term is that they are impossible to resist. The blood sings such a seductive and promising melody to our thirst that the vampire often doesn't even savor the moment properly. For him to resist you… that's just…" His voice trailed off as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, he never used the term. Maybe he had never heard of it before? Maybe I just smelled sweet to him. They were surprised he didn't kill me. I don't know. Let's just forget it, alright?"

Garrett took a deep breath, considering for a moment before he nodded. "Alright." His serious expression slowly turned into a grin as he glanced at me again. "So how about we get some shopping done? We should get you something nice for the show. A dress would be fitting for the occasion. What do you think?" He smiled, and the creases at his eyes formed, telling me it was genuine.

"I hate shopping. Alice always tried to get me to go shopping with her. Please don't make me," I pleaded.

He chuckled and patted my knee. "Nope, not getting off that easy. Let's find you a seductive dress and maybe some subtle heels for the show tomorrow. It'll be fun," he said through a smirk.

I rolled my eyes and found myself thankful it was Garrett instead of Alice. I could easily veto Garrett's suggestions; saying no to Alice, however, was much more complicated.

**

After four stores, and a lot of complaining, we settled on the dress that I would wear. It felt like it covered more skin than the miniskirts and snug strapless dresses he first suggested. The entire dress was midnight-blue, and was open all the way down to the dimples on my lower back. The sides were split all the way up to the hip, and the top had small rhinestones with thick straps that went behind the neck. It was a compromise on both of our parts. I really didn't want a dress that showed my arms, or that much of my skin, but he wanted a short, strapless mini-dress. It still felt like he had won.

We found a motel when we got to the outskirts of Cantwell, Alaska. Once inside, I hung up the dress, placed the shoes next to the closet and curled up on the bed. I was terrified of singing in front of people, and had no clue if I would actually go through with it or not. I felt my shield fading, and Garrett eyed me suspiciously. I took deep breaths and focused my mind. I can do this. Garrett will help. I can do this.

"Hey Little-Bit, I got you something else today," he called from the table by the door.

I sat up and looked at him, confused. Pulling the covers up to my shoulders, I sat with my legs crossed and waited for him to elaborate. He turned around with a small, black, velvet box in his hands, and I gasped. I scooted further back until I was pressed against the headboard. "Garrett, what's that? I don't want it. Please, I hate gifts."

"Hey." he said quietly. He held one hand up in the air, gesturing for me to wait. "Calm down, Little-Bit. It wasn't expensive, and I want you to have this. Please, calm down." He stopped at the foot of the bed and waited for me to breathe easier.

I took steady, deep breaths; slowing my intact of air. The action always seemed to calm me. I stared into his eyes, finding strength. I nodded when I was ready and he sat at the foot of the bed. He held the box out for me but I shook my head. "You open it," I whispered.

He nodded and opened the box slowly. Inside was a thin, silver chain with a yellow-gold, tear-drop stone encased in gold plating. I gasped and looked from the box to Garrett. His eyes were filled with sorrow, and I couldn't even begin to understand why. Before I could open my mouth to question him, he whispered something so quietly, I could barely understand it.

"Yellow is sorry," he mumbled.

"Why is yellow sorry, Garrett?" I was completely confused. I had no idea what he had to be sorry about.

"Yellow is sorry," he repeated, closing his eyes. After a few moments, he opened them slowly and looked at me. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm sorry I couldn't stop Victoria, and I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from Edward. I'm sorry I couldn't take the pain away, and I'm sorry I can't be enough for you to be happy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bella," he whispered, choking back a sob on the last word. He curled inward, hunching over as his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

I reached out and placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at my touch, but I didn't let go. I moved my hand to his chin and pressed my fingers upwards, coaxing him to look at me. "I forgive you, Garrett," I whispered.

He peered up at me, his eyes glossy, as his body shuddered with silent, tearless sobs. We sat quietly and stared at each other, waiting for him to calm down. When he finally came around he held the box back up to me slowly, and turned the stone over. On the back of the gold plating holding the stone was two letters engraved in an elegant script with a heart around them.

"B.S," I whispered. I gasped and looked back at him. He had this engraved with my initials.

"I don't have too many memories of my life before I was turned. One that is still crystal clear to me is of a small girl sitting on a bench. I remember that I was waiting for something, but I can't recall what it was. This little girl saw that I was sad, and asked me what was wrong. I told her that I wasn't feeling very happy that day. She made a sour face and looked down at the ground, swinging her feet back and forth under the bench.

"Suddenly, she stopped and hopped down, plucked a small daisy from the ground and stood in front of me. She held the daisy out to me, and told me 'Yellow is sorry'. I remember giving her the most confused expression. She giggled of course, blushing and thrusting the flower towards me with embarrassment. I asked her why yellow is sorry and she explained that whenever someone is upset, the color yellow is supposed to make them smile. Her mother always told her that yellow is only for when you want someone to smile, or feel happy.

"This small child, no older than seven, was sorry that I was upset, and was trying to make me smile. The innocence and wisdom in her gesture has never been forgotten. So I give this gift to you for many reasons. First, yellow is sorry. I am sorry I could not be there when you needed someone on your side. Second, this is a yellow-gold citrine. This is the color your eyes will be in a few more months and I wanted to give you something to remind you of that. I know that your eyes bother you the most. Third, I wanted you to have something to remind you of your past. Our human memories fade all too quickly if we don't work to remember them. Never forget who you are, and where you came from, Bella Swan. Never forget, but never refuse to move on, either."

If my heart could beat, it would have stopped. His story was heartbreaking and so touching. The amount of thought and feeling he put into such a small gesture was astounding. I was speechless. It took everything I had to nod and not burst out sobbing. He wants me to smile. He was searching my eyes for any kind of response to his gift. I smiled gently and a soft giggle escaped my lips. The smile grew as he picked up the necklace and reached around my neck to fasten the clasp.

When he pulled away, the small teardrop gem was resting at the hollow of my neck, and I couldn't hold back my sobs any longer. I threw myself into his arms, and curled up in his lap. Nuzzling my nose into his neck, I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with his clove and woodsy scent. He was my rock, my protector. When everyone I cared for gave up on me, or left me, he stayed. When no one else wanted me, he took care of me. He was my brother, and I loved him.

A/N: The mentioning of 'Yellow is sorry' is taken from stella_luna_sky's fic, 'Bare' here on ff net. It's a great AH story about an artist and a writer. Canon pairings. I highly recommend it. Thank you to stella_luna_sky for letting me use your awesome saying! I greatly appreciate it!

So this is part one. Part two will be up next week probably. It seems Monday/Tuesdays are ending up my update days... so lets just plan on that, from here on out. Unless I have a beta or RL issue, I'll try to keep to that as a schedule.

Next chapter is the show at Sangue Cantante. Any guesses? Who wants to play Alice? I love theories, they make me giggle and smile appealingly. ;)

Speaking of 'Appease', everyone appease me and go wish OCDMess a Happy Birthday!!! (or HBD if you feel witty). March 29th is her awesome-sauce birthday, and this chapter is dedicated to her. If you haven't read her fics, you are truly missing out!!

Song question for the chapter: What song reminds you of being 'Sorry'?