A/N: Okay, so I know that this chapter is…very long overdue. Which is very bad on my part, but I've had lots of things going on lately, and until December, I'm afraid it's going to get worse. Anyways, let's not dwell on the past and concentrate on the future. Two reasons for me being late. One, Miley attacked my computer and deleted half of this chapter, so I've had to re-write it. Two, in the time that I didn't write anything (possibly three days?), Ally decided she didn't like me and up-ed and left. Which wasn't very nice of her, all things considered, but I persuaded her to come back nevertheless, and well, here's a new chapter! Also too, please excuse my style of language. As you may have already picked up, I am Australian so I have different spelling to some, plus different ways of calling things. I think some of those are in this chapter. Have fun reading it! And Kasey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to exploit Maine in this fashion! x L.

Carlisle's office reminded me of a smaller version of the library from Beauty and the Beast. Three of the walls were covered with hundreds of books, some behind glass cabinets, others exposed. The fourth wall held half a dozen painting of various sizes and colours.

It was the books that interested me however.

Stepping closer to one of the shelves, I walked the width of one wall slowly, inspecting the old and dusty spines. I was afraid to pick one up, lest it should dissolve at my touch. I peered down to look at a book that had captured my eye. Softly I stroked the red fabric of the spine, brushing the dust away. "Tristan and Isolde," I whispered, barely touching the book. I wondered how old it was, considering the age of the legend.

"You may have a look if you wish," I heard Carlisle say. I jumped, turning around. "Oh no, I couldn't," I gulped. "They're too old. I'd accidentally ruin one."

Carlisle laughed softly. "If you ever want to have a look then, please do so. I hardly ever get the time to read any of them as it is." He smiled at me and I couldn't help but smile back shyly.

"Please, sit down." Carlisle gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk as he sat down at his own. I moved to sit down in one of the chairs, pulling out one of the chairs for Robert. I looked away, feeling embarrassed at my actions. Carlisle, however, didn't seem to notice.

"Edward told me about your Spirit. Robert, I believe his name is," Carlisle said. He rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together and lightly resting them on his chin.

I nodded. "That's correct." My voice sounded funny in comparison to his and I cringed inwardly. Carlisle was trying to make this awkward situation pleasant and I was making it worse. "Relax," Robert whispered into my ear. He squeezed my hand, an action not missed by Carlisle, yet he didn't say anything. Like it didn't faze him.

I sat up in my chair a bit more. "I, uh, guess you want to know about everything then?" I asked.

"Not everything. Edward explained most of what you told him to me. I've had…limited experience with Spirits before, so I understand the underlining principles, how everything works," was Carlisle's response.

I tucked my left leg under my body. "The invisibility, the mind protection. All that jazz." Carlisle smiled.

"Exactly. What interests me isn't the mechanics of all this, but the story."

I froze. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. I hadn't realized we were getting so cozy so soon. Robert lightly placed a hand on my arm, his way of telling me to stay.

"However, my mind is fairly old, so I need to be reminded about a couple of things." Carlisle noticed my discomfort and quickly changed the subject with a light jo

"Like what?" I asked. I was beginning to like Carlisle a whole lot more as we talked.

"Edward says that Robert can read your mind. I was curious to whether or not it works the same way as Edward's mind works," Carlisle asked. This was a question I could answer without freezing up.

"It's not exactly mind reading," I explained to Carlisle. "Well, it is, in its own way. Robert's mind is nothing like Edward's. Robert can only place thoughts – his thoughts – in my head. He can't read my mind, unless the connection is really strong. I think Edward explained to Bella once about how he can't read her mind. Something about being on a different frequency?" Carlisle nodded his head.

"Edward's on Am whilst Bella's on Fm," Carlisle quoted the exact words Bella had said to me.

"Right. It's kind of the same here, except Robert's mind is only on Fm, which is what my mind is tuned to. So Robert can project his thoughts into my mind, and like Edward, it seems as if someone is talking out loud. I'm lucky though – I only hear one person's voice." I smiled.

Carlisle nodded again, once more in understanding. "So if Robert can read your mind, does it work the same way for you? Can you read his mind, or place thoughts into his mind?"

I shook my head. "No. That's the problem. I can only answer him the normal way – by speaking my mind. Which can be hugely irritating," I answered, glowering sideways at Robert. The number of times I'd been tempted to speak in public after he had said something…

"What does Robert look like, if you don't mind me asking?" His face was full of curiosity. I grinned, lifting the shoulder bag I had brought with me onto my lap.

"Hold on a sec," I replied, biting my lower lip as I fumbled around inside. I mentally cursed my decision to buy such a big bag. By my side, Robert held his head in his hands, groaning. Obviously he was not too happy about this, judging by the way he was muttering "Treachery" under his breath.

Finally I found what I was looking for. It was about the size of a pocket-watch and an oval shape just like it. Solid gold in colour, an intricate pattern of weaving flowers on the front. Engraved in the centre of one flower pattern were the initials R.M.

I dug my fingernails into the side, trying to find the opening. "Aha!" I cried as it popped open. As I passed the open locket to Carlisle, I smirked at Robert. "Remind me to find all those baby photos of you," Robert glowered as he whispered in my ear.

"What year was this?" Carlisle asked, leaning over the desk. He held the locket open in his palm so that I could see it as well. Not that I hadn't looked at Robert's miniature more than enough times.

"1853," I answered instantaneously. I could almost see the mechanics of Carlisle's brain ticking as he worked out Robert's age.

"One hundred and fifty five years," Carlisle said almost instantly. I was impressed – it was something that still took me five minutes to work out, even with a calculator. By the sounds of it, Carlisle was impressed too, by Robert's age. Which totally pawns Edward's total number of years, I thought to myself.

Carlisle turned the locket over in his hand. "What does the R.M stand for?" he asked. My reply was simple. "Robert Martin."

"Robert Martin? Like Jane Austen's Emma?"

I laughed aloud. "See?" I said, turning to Robert. "I'm not the only one to make the connection." Robert just glared at me. I had a feeling I was going to cop it when we arrived home.

Carlisle moved on to the next question.

"How did Robert find you then? Obviously there's more to his story, but I want to hear yours first, to grasp some things a little better. If that's okay with you of course," Carlisle added politely, remembering what had happened earlier.

"No, it's – it's okay. There's a story behind everything. Some are just harder than others to tell," I replied softly, staring at the wooden pattern on the desk.

"Please - take your time." The room fell silent.

I looked at the small portrait of Robert. It was a different Robert from what I was used to, one that I barely knew. The miniature painting, so eloquently painted in watercolours showed him from the shoulders up. The dark forest green of his jacket heavily contrasted to the white of his cravat. It was wrapped around his neck like a bow, all fancy like. Stiff and uncomfortable was what it was, according to Robert. His hair sat at a different length that it did now. The brown locks fell just over his ears. It was all just a little Matthew MacFayden-ish-in-Pride and Prejudice to me. Not at all like the short cut he now sported. Robert's face was poker straight, his chin jutting forward as he stared straight ahead.

I had always wondered how long he had stared at whatever it was he was looking at when the miniature was painted. "Nothing really. All I remember was it taking too long," had been the answered I'd always received before Robert had closed the miniature shut and pried it out of my hands.

I felt Robert's hand back on my hand once more. Though it was cold, it was comforting. I closed my eyes for a few seconds before reopening them.

"My mother died just before my eighth birthday. My father, I didn't know who he was. So I was placed in foster care. Before kids are placed with a family, they're kept in a group home. Basically an orphanage with a different name really.

Five months after Mum had died; they found a foster family for me in Maine. The group home I had been living in was in New York, so as an eight year old Maine was a beautiful change."

I paused for a second before starting again.

"The family I was in was wonderful. I had my own room, plus two brothers and a sister. I thought it was great. They had a big two storey house, white with blue shutters. The usual trimmings. A huge big backyard.

The first couple of months were perfect. I had slowly begun to forget, as much as I could, about my past life. I got along well with my new brothers and sister, I was enrolled in the local primary school and doing quite well in all of my classes."

I had been looking away before, but now I turned to look at Carlisle directly.

"My foster father was an alcoholic. It wasn't something the family liked to disclose. My foster mother chose to ignore it completely and of course for the first couple of months while I was there I had no idea. I mean, of course I had no idea. I was eight," I laughed bitterly.

"After those first couple of months, the warm, fuzzy family feeling disappeared. He started coming home drunk, reeking of beer. The others knew to stay out of his way, but I didn't."

I felt that same uneasy, horrible feeling in my gut as I used to. Robert grasped my hand even tighter. "You don't have to continue if you don't feel up to it," he whispered in my ear.

I shook my head. I needed to do this.

"Eventually I learned of course, to stay out of his way, unless I wanted a slap. But then it turned into more. He would seek me out on those days he would come home after work. I – I wouldn't say anything. I felt it not my place to say something. These people had extended their home to me, had shown me some sort of kindness.

Eventually it came down to me hiding my closet every time I heard his car pull into the driveway."

I felt a sudden presence behind me. Turning, I saw Edward and Bella standing in the doorway. Bella's face read shock and I turned back round so I wouldn't have to look at her as my face went red. I brushed away a tear that had escaped my eyes. I promised myself I wouldn't cry, I thought, mentally scolding myself.

"You don't have to continue, Ally," Carlisle said the same words Robert had minutes ago. Again, I shook my head. Breathing in deeply, I continued, Bella and Edward still behind me.

"One afternoon, he had come home from work. He'd obviously been drinking – you could hear it in the slur of his words. I had shut myself in my closet as soon as I had seen his car pull in. By then, I used to watch and wait for the car to arrive. I had sat waiting and waiting in that small closet, until I heard his voice fill my room. He knew where I was of course, but made a game out of pretending that he didn't know where I was.

All of a sudden, as he walked around my room calling my name, I dared to open my closed eyes. And there was a man beside me, a finger at his lips. And I listened. I don't know why. Usually an eight year old would have been out of there like a light, but something compelled me to stay. My foster father eventually ended up out the front of my closet, but for some reason, when he tried to open it he couldn't. It was like it locked from the inside. The only exception being that the closet didn't lock from the inside. Afterwards, the man introduced himself as Robert. He said he was here to protect me, and he was."

I paused to let everyone soak up what I had just told them.

"What happened after that?" I heard Bella's voice ask softly from behind me.

"I left Maine three weeks after that. Change of heart on behalf of the family, or so I was told. I moved onto a few different foster homes after that, for various reasons, but Robert was always there, beside me. He eventually told me the whole truth, vampires, Spirits and all. And now I'm sitting here, telling you the story."

It was silent for a few minutes. I looked at my left hand, which was still being held by Robert's own hand, instead of at Carlisle or anywhere else.

"How did you get to come here then? Your obviously knew about the Cullens' when you arrived," Bella asked. They came further into the room now.

I leaned into the back of the chair, positioning my body so I felt more comfortable. Robert's hand was still clasped over mine, but I didn't want him to let go.

"Robert had managed to get into contact with a, er, friend, of his Spirit about two years back. He told this other man about his situation – well, being a vampire, and this man told Robert about two sets of "families" which had chosen to become 'vegetarians' instead of drinking human blood." Bella winced slightly.

"One was in Denali, Alaska, and the other one was here, in Forks, Washington. That same day, I was at the agency, and my Carer gave me three portfolios to look at, to see if I was interested in any of the families which had queried about me."

I laughed bitterly. "Sometimes it seems as if we're horses their selling, not children needing a home."

I straightened up, and continued my story. "My Carer- Amanda – received a phone call midway through our session. From what I could gather, it was from a friend who lived in none other than Forks, Washington.

Of course I was persuaded by Robert to find more out about Forks, and we discovered that the friend was an officer at Forks Police Station, who knew Charlie. After a lot of pleading and a few phone calls, Charlie agreed to take me in, and now here I am." I opened my hands wide to emphasize the point.

Carlisle laughed. "Ally, thank you for sharing that with us." His eyes were light with laughter. "I would like to talk to you more, but unfortunately I think Edward and Bella need to see me before I go back to the hospital. I will talk to you again, I promise." He smiled apologetically.

I nodded. "Of course. I'll…we'll be downstairs." I rose from my chair, Robert doing so as well as I lent down to pick up my bag.

"Don't forget this," Carlisle called. I turned around, seeing the locket in his hands. "Oh, of course not! I think I'd be shot if I lost that," I laughed. Smiling at Carlisle and the others, I left the room. I heard their conversation start.

"Bella was interested in where your story begins," Edward told his father as we left the room.

Robert and I wandered downstairs as Bella and Edward talked to Carlisle. Once I had reached the bottom step of the curving stairs, I stood, hand hovering on the railing. There was no-one about, and silence infiltrated the house. I could hear the soft rushing of the Calawah from where I stood, and if I looked out of the huge windows, I'm sure I could see the river as well.

"That was very brave of you," Robert said as he reached the bottom step, standing next to me.

I shrugged my shoulders. "It needed to be told." Robert just nodded his head in understanding. He moved further into the room. I stared at his graceful movements. It was one of the qualities I liked about Robert. He never questioned anything I said, he just understood. With a look, or a nod of his head, he understood. There was no need for words.

Turning my own head to look around the room, I caught sight of the piano. Like an invisible force, something pulled me towards it, and I realized Robert had taken my hand and was leading me over to the piano. "It's so beautiful," I murmured, running my hands over the black and white keys.

"Play it," Robert said softly, sitting on the piano stool. I laughed aloud. "Are you serious? It's not my piano to play. Plus you know I'm musically challenged when it comes to things like playing the piano," I responded.

"I'll help you," he said matter-of-factly, looking up at me. He held up his hand, poised over the black and white ivory keys.

"Someone will hear us," I hissed. The last thing I wanted was to be caught using something I shouldn't be. "Oh come on Ally! Where's the rebel in you gone, huh?" Robert's eyes twinkled.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. The rebel in me had disappeared when we had moved to Forks. The rebel in me was why we had moved to Forks in the first place. Well, part of the reason. Sighing, I took his hand, sitting down next to Robert on the stool.

"First," he murmured, "you need to be sitting in the middle of the stool." He stood up, placing his hands on my hips and moving me over so that I was centre to the piano. "Next, I sit down next to you." He slid back onto the chair until our bodies were molded into each other. My breath caught in my chest. "Now I'll work the pedal stool," he said, moving his right leg so it was on the gold pedal, pressed against my leg. "Then I place my hands over yours," he paused, as one of his arms came around and hugged me close to his body, his right hand coming over mine. His left hand reached for my left hand.

Our hands lay flat on the white keys. "Bend your knuckles like this," Robert demonstrated, bending my fingers at the knuckles so that they were curved. "And we are ready to turn you into a musical protégée." I laughed softly, my heart hammering in my chest.

Suddenly noise came from the piano. My hands were moving – no, flying – gracefully over the keys as Robert played the piano with both of our hands. It was a soft, melodic piece. I daren't say anything as Robert's fingers pressed my own over the black and white keys, sometimes lightly, other times hard, building the notes into a crescendo. The music was so beautiful; I felt a tear run down my cheek slowly.

I smiled as Robert started to hum to the music. I looked at his face as he guided my hands. He was full of seriousness, concentration masking his features as the piece of music finished; the last few notes soft yet chilling as it echoed through the silent room.

"That was beautiful," I whispered, not wanting to interrupt the silence. Robert made no move to take his hands off mine. He started to play the piece more casually this time. "Who is it?" I asked.

"Chopin's Tristesse."

I translated the French. "Sorrow? I thought it was too beautiful to be sad," I mused out loud.

The music suddenly trailed off, and I looked up. Esme was standing in a doorway, watching me.

"Oh, Esme, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," I stuttered. I stood up quickly, throwing Robert's arms off me as I stood.

"It's okay," she smiled softly. "I was in the kitchen when I heard the piano. You played so beautifully. I didn't know you could play."

I blushed. "I can't," was my answer. Esme just nodded her head in understanding. There was that awkward silence again, and I stared around the room, anywhere but Esme's soft face. She reminded me too much of my own mother.

Luckily, Edward and Bella decided to emerge from Carlisle's office a few minutes later. They came down the stairs, hand in hand. Bella looked like she was still absorbing some of what Carlisle had told her.

"We best had be heading off," Edward said as they walked to where Esme and I stood. I glanced at my watch. It was getting close to six o'clock, I saw with raised eyebrows. I hadn't realized that time had gone by so quickly.

"Sure thing," I said. As I looked up from my watch, I saw Edward looking from Esme to me. I felt my face go red again as I realized that Edward would know that I was playing his piano. Not that he or Carlisle wouldn't have already heard it from upstairs in Carlisle's office.

"Let's go then," I mumbled. "Thank you for having us," I said, turning to where Esme was standing. I realized I had an urge to hug her as I stood, playing with my ring and looking up at her face shyly.

Carlisle had joined her, and I shook his hand. "I'll be in touch Dr. Cullen," I said, smiling.

"Sure thing – it was nice to meet you both," Dr. Cullen replied. "Feel free to call me whenever." I nodded. I knew that I would be seeing Carlisle again very soon.

We headed to my car, leaving the Cullen house. Twilight had already begun to fall as I drove out of the long, winding driveway and headed back to Forks.

The car was silent for most of the way home. I think Bella didn't know how to react and Edward was just being polite. The silence frustrated me.

"I, uh, never knew. About what happened," Bella stammered. I smiled grimly through the rearview mirror.

"I never told you, that's why you don't know. I've never told anyone before," I replied, feeling my hands grip the steering wheel. It was still a hard subject to talk about, even with people I knew I could trust.

"Thank you, then, for telling us," Bella said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It means a lot to me that you would. But Ally, no more secrets, alright?" Bella asked, her face full of concern. I patted the hand on my shoulder, smiling, feeling the tears glistening in my eyes.

"No more secrets."

--

We drove back to Charlie's house in silence. Thankfully, Charlie wasn't home when we arrived. Edward and Bella went inside the house before us, and I rested against the car as I locked it.

Staring up at the sky, I wondered whether or not I'd ever get over my past.