A/N: Trigger Warning- Brief mentions of suicide and substance abuse at the end of this chapter. Do not read if these topics may be triggering for you. Jules briefly touches on the circumstances surrounding her father's death, and her own personal emotions about their strained relationship.

Jules didn't remember much of her first night in Forks. The jetlag and exhaustion had gotten to her, all she really recalled was the comfort of her hot shower before she'd sat on the couch with Charlie eating pizza and watching some American sitcom she didn't recognize. He insisted on clearing up, and so she'd brushed her teeth and crashed into her bed.

In the morning, her 'new' old alarm clock came alive with the radio, the irony of Here Comes The Sun not lost on her as her ears registered the sound of heavy raindrops against her windowpane. She squinted awake, grimacing with a scrunch of her nose.

Note to self: get thicker curtains.

Her new bedroom was easily a mere fraction of the size of the large attic loft she had to herself in Paris. It had only really been designed to fit a long, old oak table and six chairs, but Charlie had clearly put in a lot of hours to make her feel like she had her own space. The door to the kitchen had been sealed up as if it had never been there in the first place, covered instead by the three door antique blue chalk-painted wardrobe Jules had claimed from her grandmother's bedroom in Paris and shipped across the Atlantic. Next to the wardrobe was a paint splattered desk that had once been painted a sunny yellow when Jules was a child, but now was a chipping faded thing- another nostalgic import from Paris. Her wire framed single bed was pushed up against the wall opposite, between two bookshelves with the large window over the entire bed. One of the bookshelves was stacked full of books Charlie had been kind enough to already unpack, the other housed her and her grandmother's music collection and a record player that had clearly seen better days. In the narrow space between this sleeping nook and the desk and wardrobe, a solid door gave her access to the living room, and another door with a glass panel let her go outside and around back to the back patio.

The latter door was blocked by her suitcases and several cardboard boxes labelled 'clothes'. Jules knew Charlie had left them untouched because he was likely allergic to the very thought of coming across her delicates, and Jules was glad for the thoughtful privacy. Today was the first official day of her life in America, and she was going to take it one step at a time.

First things first- cut the music.

She reached out, knowing the location of the old flip clock alarm Charlie had gotten her from god knows where, which she had set the night before to wake her up in time to make breakfast. It was just a struggle to reach blindly for it on the bookshelf behind her head. There must be a better place for this monstruosité. She had never been fond of alarm clocks- it was why she had needed one in the first place, she'd thrown her last one at the wall.

Juliette Rowe was a great many things, but a morning person was not one of them. Her first battle with the alarm clock had put her into a foul mood, and she emerged bedraggled and uncaring from her too-bright room, wearing an oversized faded grey Black Sabbath t-shirt that fell to her mid-thighs over her flannel pyjama shorts. She made her way up to the bathroom barefoot, but she did not feel any more awake by the time she returned downstairs. If anything, Jules was certain she felt worse.

Charlie chuckled the moment he saw her entering the kitchen with a glare, rubbing her eyes, her hair wild. "Good morning to you too."

"Bite me." Jules scowled deeper, earning a snort from her Uncle who sat at the dinette, drinking coffee and reading the paper. She was grateful to see that Charlie had prepared the drip pot already, pouring herself a mug with the reminder and then precisely adding only enough drops of milk for her drink to take on the colour of hazelnut, une grande noisette. "Breakfast?"

"Think you're up for it?" Charlie's tone was gruff, but his eyes were mirthful as she turned to give him another dirty look over her bony shoulder. Charlie chuckles again. "What's on the menu?"

"Hmmmmm…." Jules sipped her near-scalding coffee, too impatient to wait for it to cool down as she returned the milk to the fridge and inspected it's sad contents. "Omelette? With…is this cheese? Whatever this need to go grocery shopping."

"Omelet's fine." Charlie assures her as she shuts the fridge door, sipping more coffee as she started digging through the cabinets for a bowl and a pan. "I can drive you today, took the weekend off."

"You didn't have to do that." Jules answered back, moving steadily through gathering all the things she needed for her task. Charlie only grunts in response. "Do you not have any herbs at all? Mon dieu."

"Uh, there might be some Italian herb packets from the pizza last night up there." Charlie grimaced as he pointed out a little basket on a shelf above her head.

"My good man, this time next year, you will have a stomach that reaches that table. This I can promise you." Jules vows firmly at him with a nod, and despite Charlie's reserved nature, he bursts into full belly laughter. And after a beat, Jules grins and then follows him.

By the time Charlie had driven them to the grocery store in the cruiser, he was more cheerful than he could remember being in years. They'd spent the morning jabbing barbed remarks at each other, sharing the same dry snarky humour. Charlie had moaned over Jules' makeshift omelette du fromage, playfully keeping her away with his palm outstretched when his teenage niece changed her mind on skipping breakfast and tried to steal a bite from his plate, spending a good five minutes wrestling for the plate. It had broken down any barriers the two had had. Over the course of the next three hours, until they got to the grocery store, Charlie had felt his heart swell and swell more, the emptiness of his strained relationship with his ex-wife and daughter beginning to fill up with Jules and her free personality. Charlie had shook his head and chuckled listening to her sing along to his radio.

She'd been laughing at something he had said when they entered the store, eyes bright and hands stuffed into the pockets of the denim overalls she wore beneath her grey wool coat. This was the first sight that greeted Mrs. Stanley who happened to be taking out a cart to start her regular Saturday shopping, her daughter at her side. The two openly gawked at the sight of Charlie Swan and the strangely dressed towering willowy brunette next to him. And then it dawned on the town gossip. "Juliette?!"

Jules flushed, eyes connecting with the familiar woman her grandmother had absolutely loathed when they made the trip to Forks Federal Bank to exchange their money. She exchanged a look with her Uncle, who shot one back as they walked together to the shopping carts. "Hi Mrs Stanley, it's good to see you again."

"Good Lord Above, it is you, isn't it?" The woman clutched a hand to her chest dramatically. "I didn't know you were visiting town! Isn't it a little late in the year, dear? Don't you have school?"

"Not a visit." Charlie grunts, before mumbling under his breath, Jules catching the grumbled displeasure at meeting the insufferable town gossip. She shot him a betrayed glare, plastering her politest smile at the petite portly woman and her even more petite mouse-like daughter- who gawked up at her openly.

"My father passed two months ago." Jules supplied shortly and swiftly, keeping the smile on her face as she cut the suddenly horrified looking woman from offering her condolences, squeezing Charlie's shoulder next to her as she shook it- silently keeping him from making an escape with the shopping cart. "So this old man is stuck with me now, for good, hmm? You're looking at the newest resident of Forks, Washington. I start school here on Monday, non? Yes. I landed last night."

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry." Mrs. Stanley's eyebrows furrowed, and for once her expression looked genuine, her Texan accent thick. "If you need anything- ever- we're still just two roads down on Fairbank. Don't hesitate."

"That is most kind of you." Jules nodded with an amused smile. This time tomorrow the whole town will know, so hopefully everyone will stop asking. "Thank you."

"Well, if you need help at school- my daughter Jessica here's in her last year of Junior High. I'm sure she'd be happy to have another friend, right Jessica dear?" Mrs Stanley offered while Jessica's expression dropped and her eyebrows furrowed together, opening her mouth to clearly refute- but Charlie beat her to it.

"No, that's Bella you're confusing there Barb." Charlie supplies helpfully. "Jules is a year older, she's going to be a Freshman at Forks High."

"Oh look at us all, making a roadblock." Jules chuckled charmingly glancing around pointedly at the way they held up the entrance area into the small grocery, even though there was hardly anyone else there. "It was nice seeing you again Mrs Stanley- and it was a pleasure to meet you Jessica. Perhaps I will see you at school next year, hmm? Enjoy your shopping!"

"Finally." Charlie complained as Jules tugged him past the two. "Why'd you talk to her so much? That's gonna spread like wildfire."

"Precisely." Jules smirked smugly as she plucked a loaf of bread as they ducked into an aisle, making distance between themselves and the Stanleys. "If the whole town knows by tomorrow- like they should have already known if someone had warned them."

Charlie flushed, and she continued after her glowering look. "-the more they know, the less they'll ask. Simple, non?"

"Gotta remember that." Charlie grimaced, rubbing the back of his head.

Unfortunately, Mrs Stanley was the first of many. It seemed most of the town chose to do their groceries on Saturday mornings, something Jules took note of to avoid in the future. Most of them had never seen Jules, but they had all heard of the Chief's French niece who visited in the summers, and curious and gossipy like all small town people were, they all found some way or another to approach Charlie and jovially ask to be introduced to the mystery brunette at his side. Jules found herself repeatedly accepting condolences on the behest of her late father- more condolences, she was certain, than she had had to accept at his own funeral.

Charlie found it strange how her mood did not seem to change as she perused aisle after aisle with methodical precision, seeming to memorize where each item was, taking her time to inspect all the things she did not recognize which he had to explain. Despite the slight French accent, he hadn't realized how different his niece's upbringing had been until he had to explain what Hot Pockets were as she scrunched up her nose the more and more he explained. Charlie had expected her to grow more sullen the more people brought up her father, a topic he had avoided on purpose, but Jules spoke as casually about his death as she did about the weather.

Charlie spent the vast majority of the rest of the day stewing over whether or not he should bring the topic up, and Jules noticed- if anything, it seemed to grow and grow more and more annoying the longer she was in his distracted state.

"Come on old man, out with it." She finally confronted him as she waved her fork around in his direction, sat opposite him in the kitchen as they ate the best lasagne Charlie had tasted in his life. Jules decided tray bakes were the way to go, the leftovers would keep when she was too busy to cook with schoolwork, and when she was more free she could make healthier one-off meals. Charlie only raised an eyebrow at her. "Something has been bothering you all day- I remember what you're like, hmm? If I don't poke you with a stick you won't tell me what it is."

Charlie rolled his eyes, making a grouchy sound halfway between a huff and a grunt. "You're not sad about your father."

She rolled her eyes this time, eyes shooting down at her plate as she neatly prepared another bite of pasta. "I told you, I do not intend to waste my life feeling like-"

"No, Jules." He cut her off, more firm this time, reminding himself that he was the adult in this situation no matter how much his niece was clearly- and rather unnervingly- used to being self-sufficient. "If you're living under my roof, I need to understand, alright? Don't ask me not to notice things. I'm a cop. I notice things."

Jules set her fork down, chewing her pasta as she leaned back in her chair, raising an eyebrow at him unimpressed. It was as if she was challenging him, staring him down like an angsty teenager. Really? You want to do this?

Charlie, to his credit, didn't even blink as he continued to chew the cheesy goodness in his mouth, staring her straight down. She caved in with a sigh, turning to the side, away from his gaze and out the rain trickling down the windows that fit along the breakfast nook that had transformed into the only dining area in the small two-story home. Her jaw clenched once, brief, before shrugging. "We had not been on good terms for some time."

Her uncle had suspected this. "How do you mean?"

Jules shrugged again, meeting his eyes. You tell me. "We dealt with Mamie's passing differently. It was not good. I did not eat, I did not sleep, I was there but I was not there, you know what I mean? It was bad. But he was worse."

Charlie frowned.

"Eventually, I got help, I met new friends, they brought me out of it." Jules shrugged once more, going back to eating. "He didn't get any better. I thought maybe…he started a new job, it seemed like he was trying. We weren't speaking, but he was trying at least."

"He started drinking again." Charlie realized where she was going with this, his expression grim and disappointed. Jules nodded, not looking up again. "How bad did it get?"

Jules shrugged, she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She didn't want to think about it again. Charlie frowned, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. "Jules…he didn't…"

"No, never." She dismisses quickly with a frown. "We just argued a lot. Well, I argued a lot- he never stayed to hear it. And then he-"

She shook her head, scowling down at her plate. "He didn't even leave a note. He didn't even say goodbye. I didn't even know he was gone until the police came to my door Charlie."

Charlie's heart broke for his niece, and she let out a bitter laugh, eyes swimming with unshed tears. "And the funeral! God, what a a sad little pointless joke. That's the funny thing, isn't it? His whole life was so inconsequential, and…and he had been the only one to see it. I get it now. I didn't before, not until he was gone. I don't even miss him. How fucked up is that? How do you miss someone who was never there?"

"I'm glad I'm here." She shakes out of it, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears away before smiling at him- a genuine, warm and grateful smile as she reached across the table to take his hand. "In just a day you have been more of a family to me than I have had in a long time. I've missed it. I've missed you."

Charlie smiled a watery smile, nodding, not daring to say a word as he cleared his throat and pulled his hand back, going back to his pasta.