A/N: Just a little warning for you readers out there … I am SANDBOXING this story. Almost nothing will be canon. The characters are my toys now. MWAHAHA! Have fun with that!

I will be posting as I feel like after the first three to five chapters. You know, whenever I feel like the story is getting a little attention or I am bored. I can say this though, the more reviews I receive, the better chance of a quicker update.

But I will say this. I will NEVER leave a story unfinished on here. If I post a story, you can bet your butt I'll be finishing it soon. I hate unfinished stories left to rot online. It makes me sick to see a piece of art, big or small, left to gather dust on a shelf with no attention.

Also, the first few chapters will be background and it will be a little bit of a slow-ish start. I tried to make it go faster, but the characters weren't having it. I'm looking at you Charlie Swan.

Charlie: What did I do?

Author: You just had to put your POV in, didn't you?

Charlie: But... But... It's my story to tell, too. You know I have things to add-

Author: I don't wanna hear it, mister. Back in line with the others. *cracks a whip*

I own nothing of the Twilight Saga. It all belongs to Stephanie Meyers and the demented gremlins she hides in her brain. (Admit it, everyone who reads or writes has them.)

Finally Ever After

Chapter One: I Hate Waiting

Bella POV

I step off the plane with an airy sigh of relief. For the first time in over a decade, my shoulders feel weightless and I don't have a single worry on my mind. I only stop in my determined walk when I find myself standing before a bank of windows and glass doors that lead out to the parking lot of the small airport in Port Angles we have just landed in.

A similar sigh to my own sounds to my right. Glancing over, I take in the welcome presence of my twin brother, Isaiah, as he admires the view at my side. He looks lighter than air, and giddier than I had seen him in years. His shaggy brown hair is raked off his face and hidden under a skull cap for warmth, allowing me to see his warm brown eyes shining with a happiness I don't remember finding in him since we were small. Smiling, I think of the reason we are both so happy to be in this dreary atmosphere of a climate.

No more Renee to wait on hand and foot.

No more days of going hungry because we're being 'punished'.

No more messes to clean up after wild parties the night before.

No more working ourselves to the bone through school and part time jobs simply to keep the mom-strosity happy.

My smile fades as a disquieting thought occurs to me as I peer at our reflections in the glass. We look much younger than we did in Pheonix. It was mostly in our eyes, I noted. And the straighter way we carried ourselves. It probably didn't hurt that we were a lot better groomed than we had been our whole lives. For once our hair had been cut in a shop, not at home by dull kitchen scissors and unpracticed hands. Our nails were tidy and unchewed. Our clothing wasn't patched and hanging off our rather thin frames like they were two sizes too big, which they usually were.

That is just so wrong, I think, aggravated. After all, we were only just barely sixteen, going on seventeen years old. But after a moment of thought, I realize that this is, in fact, the truth. We had spent very nearly two decades acting the forced servants and caretakers for an abusive, neglectful fool, that we had never gotten to act or look our age. Hunched shoulders, tired eyes, bordering on unkempt appearances due to stressing for time, teenagers shouldn't look this way.

"This is a good change for us, Izzy. We'll be happy here." My twin says with false bravado. It doesn't last long, though. His shoulders fall slightly as doubt creeps into his eyes as he gazes warily out at our wet and sunless surroundings. "Right?"

I take a moment to think my answer over. "I think we will. After all, we are starting fresh. Fresh is better. We'll be happy."

Charlie POV

I couldn't wait! They're arriving today. In less than an hour! I think as I skid to a halt at the drivers door of my ancient Ford pickup. My kids are finally gonna be living with me. And it's their choice! I could just scream I'm so excited.

The past week had passed in a blur in my eyes.

First the strange packages show up at my door, addressed in my children's names, Isaiah and Isabella Swan. When I open envelope addressed to me, confused as hell, I find a letter from the both of them. It read as such:

Dear Charlie (Dad),

This may be a shock. Sorry we couldn't warn you in advance. We'll see you soon!

Love,

Isaiah & Isabella

Attached to this note was a flight itinerary announcing an incoming flight to Port Angeles the following week.

I couldn't believe it. My kids, the children I had had stolen from me at four months of age by that bitch from Hell, were finally coming home. I was finally gonna get to see them.

The first thing I did after finding this out was call up my old friend, Billy Black. It wasn't long after that that the whole town knew of their arrival. The Stanley's wanted to throw a big party to welcome them, but the Webber's had the right of it. I was sure they would want at least a week to settle into things before being overwhelmed by the close knit community that was Forks, WA.

As I climbed into my truck, I couldn't help the big ol' grin I had on my face. I passed people I knew the whole way out of town. As I waved, I noted in the back of my mind their shocked expressions.

What? Can't a man be happy for a change? I thought as I turned onto the Highway. I suppose they were surprised at my exuberance due to the fact I didn't smile much. I hadn't in nearly seventeen years. Now, I had a feeling that would change.

It was just over an hour to the airport. When I pulled up to the passenger pick-up lane, I threw the truck in park and jumped out. Scanning the few arrivals milling around, a thought occurred.

Charlie, if you haven't seen your kids in nearly seventeen years, how the hell do you expect to pick them out of a crowd?

Surely I would recognize my own children, right? They're my kids. Anxiety began to bubble up in my chest. I hadn't brought a sign to write their names on, and I would feel like a fool calling out loud for them.

Thankfully, I needn't worry. Not five minutes went by before I saw them walking towards me.

Even bundled up in jackets and hats, I could tell right away who they were. Their eyes were a warm, chocolate brown that struck me as matching my own exactly. And their hair, while covered for the most part, was the same shade of deep brown that I had. They were exactly the same height, each roughly 5'6''. In fact, nearly everything about them was exactly the same as the other. If I didn't know any better, I would think they were the same gender, as most identical twins are.

My smile broadened as I raised my arm to signal them over. Catching the movement, they spotted me quickly and hustled through the crowd. They each carried a small carry on bag, most likely holding only a change of clothes, and some bare essential toiletries.

Stopping in front of me, they stood and stared with identical looks of wonder writ on their faces. My face heated up as they stared, and I grew a mite uncomfortable under their combined gaze.

Suddenly, my girl, my Isabella, smiled slightly, a small blush rising to her face. "I guess I get my blushing curse from you, huh?"

Slowly, I nodded. Now that I was here, with my twin children standing before me, I didn't know what to say. How to act. What to do.

But the decision was taken out of my hands. Before I could think too hard about it, I was dragged into a quick, tight hug by my son, Isaiah. It didn't last very long, and I wished it had. However, I knew that men didn't hug. Even their own sons. So it would do, and I was happy with any affection I could get from them after so long.

Breaking the contact, I pulled back and took in the sight of my only son. Huh. Strange feeling. My son. It felt good to finally think that without pain crashing through me.

He looked strong and healthy. He had good muscle tone, with the build of a light-weight boxer. He was a little on the thin side, they both were on closer inspection, but that was probably due to their mother's genes at work. The damn female could never put any weight on. Even when pregnant with twins, she had been like a twig with a large bubble in the middle.

Turning fully to my daughter, I grinned at the thought, I opened my arms in the universal sign of 'can I have a hug?'. With only a small hesitation, my girl threw herself into my arms and held on for dear life. God it felt great to finally hold my little girl. It had been too damn long!

Raising my head from Isabella's hair, I caught sight of Isaiah's expression. He looked... scared? Confused? Happy? Constipated? I had no idea. I only knew that that expression didn't fit and should never be on my boy's face. It made my gut wrench in paternal worry and vexation.

Slowly, even a little reluctantly if I wasn't reading the signs wrong, my little girl drew away to stand next to her brother again. Looking at them together, I had the funny thought that they were like two jig-saw pieces, perfectly matched together, but with the outer edges missing. Making the whole picture incomplete and unsatisfactory.

Shaking my head at my ridiculous thoughts, I clapped and rubbed my hands together in front of me, not missing for a moment the sudden jerk and skittish movements of the teenagers before me.

Looking between the two, I asked, "So, either of you hungry? I'll buy if you are."

{-F-E-A-}

We sat in a homey little restaurant on the edge of Port Angeles' business district, enjoying a hot meal. As I watched my children eat like it was their last, I mulled over what had happened in the truck on the way here.

Flashback

We piled into the truck after my question. Isaiah sat next to me, with Isabella settled on his other side. It looked to me like he was guarding her almost.

As we pulled into traffic, I asked them how their flight was.

Isaiah shrugged his shoulders. "Long, but good."

When they didn't add anything, I asked, "So, do you guys feel like anything in particular for dinner. Sky is the limit."

There was a pause before their answer came. "Whatever you like." They answered simultaneously. They sounded almost afraid to speak. Strange. I had asked them a question, why would they be afraid of answering.

I was distracted at that moment by my rear view mirror. It had somehow gotten skewed just enough everything in its' reflection was off center. Reaching up, I adjusted the angle slightly to fix my view.

Suddenly, Isaiah flinched away from my raised hand in the limited space of the cab, all but throwing his body over the top of Isabella. With both of their eyes squeezed shut, they couldn't see my dazed expression.

Why would they react like that? I thought, bile rising in my throat at the obvious answer.

I'm a cop. I may be the Police Chief of a small town, but I'm still a cop. I know what abuse looks like. I know the signs. I know the reactions of those too used to a harsh word, and an even harsher hand. But at this moment, in this little truck cab, with my newly returned sixteen year old twins finally straightening beside me, I didn't want to know. I couldn't acknowledge such an atrocity without lashing out at something.

But my mind couldn't help catalog every nuance I saw. Their slumped shoulders, though they were straightening up. Their eyes cast down submissively and their heads turned away ever so slightly. Isabella's hands were trembling a little, I saw, when we stopped at a red light.

A few minutes later we arrived at the restaurant and got out of the vehicle.

End Flashback

Taking a bite of my steak, I continue to watch the twins eat their food. Their shoulders weren't so rounded now, but their eyes wouldn't meet mine. Every once in a while, one of them would ask a question, like how the weather was around here, then fall silent again.

Something caught my eye as I peered at Isaiah. As he turned his head to look at his sister beside him, I ground my teeth at what I saw.

Just below his shaggy brown hair and just above the collar of his t-shirt, there were a few barely visible, thin, wispy scars. They weren't fresh, and they weren't from one beating. Many overlapped and crisscrossed each other.

Casting my eyes to my food, I found my appetite completely gone in favor of the impotent rage I felt roiling in my gut, though I somehow was able to keep my emotions from showing on my face. Pushing my food around, I contemplated what to do.

After only a moment's thought, I decided that I would let them settle in. Let them get to know me, and me them. Let us get comfortable before I rip open a likely seeping wound.

But for now, I had to wait. I had to wait as my children climbed back into the truck and we drove for home. I had to wait as I helped them get their things settled in their new bedrooms. I had to wait as we all settled in for the night. I had to wait as I took myself off to bed, still seething with anger at the knowledge that someone, and I was pretty sure who, had laid their filthy hands on my children and I could do nothing about it. I could do nothing but wait.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading. I hope you liked it. Please leave a review if you are able. Positive feedback is always nice. And while negative is not, oh well, such is life. Have a nice day!

Clhover