A/N: A quick thank you to everyone who added this story in their alerts and/or added it to their favorite list. It truly means a lot to me.

Chapter 3-

Charlie's POV-

"Daddy,"

I hummed in response, stirring the pot of soup with all the concentration one can muster in their life, refusing to look away for even a brief second- with my luck the soup burning in that very second that I looked away.

I was no genius in the kitchen, far from one, really. And so needed the added concentration desperately.

"Daddy," she repeated, a whine accompanying her words this time around.

"Yes," I stated, still not looking away, heavily aware that this was routine for her.

Bella often called for me- while I was busy elsewhere, waiting till I looked up to give me a wide smile, before looking away and starting to do her own work, almost as if she had never called for me. Now, the smile was never a problem. It was heartwarming indeed, but the fact that she called for me at odd, slightly inappropriate and mostly without any reason or logic, was what was weird.

But those are kids in a nutshell.

Weird as all of hell!

No one could understand them.

So, don't even bother wasting your time in trying to do the unachievable….

"Daddy!"

"Yes, Bella," I gave out an annoyed sigh, finally looking up, giving into her weird game of smiling at me when her eyes met mine, but shockingly so, a smile was not what greeted me this time around.

"Daddy," she cried out, a hand clutched to her…. chest?

"Bella?" my eyes were wide as I rushed to where she sat on a stool- watching me cook our dinner, the pot on the stove long forgotten in my worry and concern.

Shit.

I could see the tears in her eyes, a few of them trailing down to touch her soft, red cheeks.

Why hadn't I looked up any earlier?

I was an idiot.

"Bella, honey," I whispered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, coming to a stop right in front of her.

Why did she look to be in pain?

"Daddy, I don't feel good." she cried out, shaking her head to herself.

"Shh," I let out a breath, putting my hand to her forehead immediately.

No. She wasn't running a fever.

Thankfully!

Then…. what was wrong?

"Does your tummy hurt?" I questioned, knowing that kids often over-ate, not realizing that you could not gorge on as many chocolates and candies as they wished for.

Renee had warned me of Bella doing this at times, over eager to satisfy her sweet touch.

Maybe, Sarah hadn't realized of how many extra cookies Bella had eaten…

"No." she shook her head at me, her voice a broken whisper. "This hurt!" she put a hand over her chest, indicating that her chest was what was paining.

What?

How?

She squirmed in discomfort, shifting heavily at her place, her eyes being her witness that this was no prank of innocence. She truly was in pain.

"Daddy, it hurt!"

I took her in my arms, her cries breaking my heart as she let her head rest on my shoulder.

I was confused.

I had no clue of what conclusion to even reach.

Her chest was aching!

How?

What?

Why?

Due to years of priming, my mind associated chest pain with heart attack- the obvious conclusion to reach to when an older person complained of chest pain. But Bella was five.

She should not be facing chest pain.

She was too, too young to get a heart attack.

Obviously.

"Daddy," her watery eyes looked up at me, begging for a solution to relieve her off her pain.

I let out a sigh, so thoroughly helpless as any father who is pushed into such an unwanted situation, unable to see their child hurting.

Even Renee wasn't here….

Maybe, she would know what to do in such a situation.

"Let's go see a doctor, little one." I declared, picking her up in my arms as I ran to turn off the gas stove, grabbing my wallet and car keys as I walked out of the house, worry dripping off me in waves.

I don't know if I was being hasty or not, rushing off in this manner to see a doctor.

But all I knew and could understand at the moment was that my child was in pain.

I was no doctor.

I had not a clue of what could be wrong with her.

But I was a father- and I could not see her cry for any longer.

It was better to be tested, having a clear answer in mind….right?

At least I assured myself of so repeatedly, the drive to the hospital over in mere minutes.

I ran into the old building, my baby clutched to me tight, one hand of hers permanently attached to her chest as she cried out loud.

Never before had I seen her in as much pain.

Never before had I heard her cry this loud.

I needed a doctor.

I needed a doctor. Now.

X-X-X

"There is nothing wrong with her."

What?

I sat up straighter in my seat, confusion evident on my face.

"But her cries…"

"Yes," Dr. Gilbert let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "She is not pretending to be in pain…"

"Of course, she is not." I cut him off with a frown. My daughter was not someone to pretend in such important matters. This was a serious matter, and she understood that.

He put his hand up, silently indicating that he meant no offense to me with his words.

"Mr. Swan, all I am saying is…" he paused, looking into my eyes, a hesitance visible in his eyes, "the reports have come back all normal. There is nothing out of place in her body. It is a mystery to me as well of why her chest is aching so badly. It should not be, frankly speaking."

"Maybe I should go see a specialist then. At least then I would be able to get some real answers as to why my child is in pain." I hotly argued, raising an eyebrow at him in stubbornness.

He shrugged in response. "I can't stop you from seeking further advice, Mr. Swan. But as a general physician, I can state with full surety that there is nothing wrong with the girl. She may be making it all up. Kids often do such things- and it could be a possibility, even you have to agree with me on that. She may be a better actor than one gives her credit for…."

"You know what? I am out of here." I refused to listen to a word ahead against my daughter- knowing her better than any doctor could on this planet, pushing away my chair as I stood up and walked out towards the hospital lobby, taking my still crying daughter in my arms as a nurse looked over, a helpless sigh leaving my mouth.

What was wrong with her?

Why was she still in pain?

It was almost morning now- a long night having just ended, Bella's tears still not having stopped.

Maybe…it was time to call Renee.

She was Bella's mother.

She would know what to do.

Yes.

She was my last hope remaining.