A/N: SM owns everything! Beta'd by August Shaffer and feebes 86. Pre-read by Mist. Many thanks, ladies, for all your help and patience with me!

Chapter 3: Ants and a Camel

'You say you wanted more

What are you waiting for?

I'm not running from you (from you)

Come break me down

Bury me, bury me

I am finished with you, you, you.

Look in my eyes

You're killing me, killing me

All I wanted was you'

The Kill - 30 Seconds To Mars

BPOV

After collecting my baggage, I dragged myself to where I could see my father waiting. Fuck my life.

"Hello, Bella," my father greeted. He was standing by himself, people giving him a wide berth as he was still in his police uniform. I inwardly groaned. Police uniform meant police car, and if there was one thing worse than riding with Charlie, it was riding with Police Chief, Charles Swan in his cruiser.

"Charlie," I responded curtly. I caught the twitch of his seventies, porn-style, very unbecoming mustache, and the hardening of his eyes. He couldn't stand me calling him that, hence why I did. When he had asked me several years ago to call him Dad I had told him I'd be happy to whenever he started acting like one. He never mentioned it again. I could always call him 'Chief', I suppose, but that would infer some level of respect. Preposterous.

He looked down at my luggage and asked, "Is that all your luggage?"

"Yeah, I shipped the rest this morning. Should be delivered in a few days." I didn't look at him as I responded, already heading for the closest door. A goddamn Forks police cruiser parked near it.

I helped him load my luggage in the trunk as I eyed the backseat of the cruiser longingly. Would I be considered antisocial if I just climbed into the back? Probably.

After sitting down in more temporary prison, I watched in the window as the city lights of Port Angeles began to fade away. The tension was palpable, and I closed my eyes while I tried to sing songs in my head to pass the time.

The uncomfortable silence must have been too much for Charlie to bear, because after a few more minutes he cleared his throat and spoke. "I'm glad you're here, Bella," he said. I could see him eying me anxiously in my peripheral.

"Mm Hmm," I acknowledged. That was far more than he deserved.

"I know we've made mistakes ...," he stopped abruptly when my eyes snapped open. I'm sure the fire in them blazing, as red tinged everything that I saw. His gaze quickly retreated toward the road again and he continued, "I mean, I have made mistakes, and I want us to start over. I want us to have a relationship."

I squeezed the bridge of my nose, my headache back in full force. "Look, Charlie. That's nice and all but it's too little, far too late. We need to hash this all out, from the beginning. And we will, but not tonight. However, I will say this though, at the very least you're a sperm donor," I internally smirked with Charlie's cringe. I continued, "And at the most you're my grandmother's son. If you want to be more, then you need to act like we're from Missouri and just show me. It's really just that simple. I'm here until graduation, so you know where to find me."

Charlie stared ahead for several minutes, as if the headlights were going to illuminate his next words on the road ahead. After I had almost given up on his response, he finally muttered an 'alright' and continued driving.

For as long as I could remember, it had just been me and my mother. My parents had divorced when I was just three. She had high-tailed it to California to live with her mother for a while. After she found work, we moved out to an apartment nearby, but I spent most of my time with my Nana. Renee was either too busy with her next fad, or man, and Nana just wanted the company.

But with every broken heart, she wanted a new start, a clean slate. So she would pick a new town and I came with her each time. At first it was because she was my mother, my hero. I wanted to be a teacher just like her, look like her, and be carefree like her. But eventually I started to take care of her, especially after we moved to Arizona, away from Nana's influence, shortly after my eighth birthday. I paid the bills, cleaned the clothes, and I cooked so we wouldn't both starve. She wanted to be my friend and confidant, but only on the good days. It was never when I really needed her, like when I had lost both grandmothers.

She lived in her own little bubble, content with her ignorance of responsibility and life in general. But one day the bubble burst, reality found Renee Higginbotham and she lived in denial for thereafter it seemed. Keeping the happy-go-lucky attitude, 'It will work itself out Bella. Don't worry'. She kept the fear and uncertainty locked in the closet like a red headed stepchild, trying desperately to keep her head buried under the sand.

And the majority of my issues with Charlie were that he knew. He was never around and he didn't care to be. He had married her; he had divorced her. He let her take me away without so much of a ...

"What are your plans for the summer?" Charlie asked, obliterating my thoughtful contemplation.

"Get a job." Get laid. Ha! Good one, Bella. "Not much past that."

"Why do you need a job?"

"Peanuts," I said sarcastically. You ask stupid questions, you get sarcastic answers. I don't make the rules, I just follow them.

"You don't need to work. I can give you some money."

"Ah, no thanks, anyway, I need the job to pay for a vehicle."

"I bought you one," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" I all but yelled.

"A truck," he said as his lips curled at the corners.

Oh, hell no! It was fairly telling of our relationship that the first thing I thought about when he mentioned buying me a vehicle was 'Beware of the Greeks, and their gifts'. Assuming this wasn't a Trojan horse, I figured I was safe.

Anyway, I guess it could be a sort of olive branch in a way. Bribe, Bella, bribe. Okay, so I would just have to find a way to pay him back for it so I can keep my pride and my promise to myself.

Another fifteen minutes had us pulling into the drive of my Gran's house, Charlie had moved in shortly after her passing. And sitting in the drive was a decrepit piece of monstrosity that was to be my truck.

It was reddish brown in color, with speckles of orangey rust here and there mimicking the red highlights in my hair. It had big fenders around the wheels, and a bed step side. It was a tank; a force to be reckoned with.

Bottom line - I loved it. Damn it! Now, I had to thank him.

After parking the cruiser, Charlie got out and began getting the luggage out of the back. I got out as well and followed to help him, taking what I thought were covert glances at my new truck. Charlie spoke, "It was Billy's. Jake fixed it up for you and I bought it earlier today. You can drive a stick, right?"

I was tempted to say something of an inappropriate nature like 'Oh, I'm good with a stick in my hands all right' in order to make him uncomfortable. But the thought of me being sexually active was downright hilarious. Well not really, it was sad. But I know he wouldn't believe me and it was only really worth it if he did.

"Yeah," I lied. I knew the mechanics of it as I had paid attention while riding with Gran and others who were driving a manual transmission, but I had never attempted it. Of course, I couldn't share that little chestnut with Charlie, or he would insist on me mastering the ability, before I was set loose on the unsuspecting populous. Or worse yet, that he teach me. Not going to happen. The street was always pretty quiet, so I'll just practice while he's at work.

"Thank you," I all but whispered as we made our way up the walk toward the house. I was hoping that he might not actually hear it. I rolled my tongue on the roof of mouth trying to get the bad taste out, regretting giving the toddler my brownie earlier in the day.

"You're very welcome Bella," he said with as much sincerity as I had ever witnessed before from him. He stopped to open the door for me. No! Stop being nice, your confusing me.

Making my way inside made my heart sink. I knew she wasn't going to be here. She was gone. But the little girl in me had hoped, like only children can, that even though she was gone, her presence would still be felt in the house. However, the house I entered was cold, detached and lifeless, things that Helen Swan was not.

In the living room I noticed there were no pictures, no antiques, no half completed quilt in her now absent rocker-glider, chair by the bay window. Moving on, I realized that the differences in these areas were nothing compared to what I found when I stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. The room was completely filthy, a thick layer of grease and dust seemed to cover everything. It appeared Gran herself was the last one to have cleaned it. Her island was gone, as were the pot rack above it and the baker's rack that should be on my right. The table in the windowed nook was full of pizza boxes and old newspapers. If Gran were alive, this would kill her.

"Where's the island?" I asked as I looked at the abomination in front of me. "And the racks?" I swear to God if you got rid of Gran's stuff...

"Attic."

I didn't comment on that, since I was in shock at the sight before me. Fuck, I'll never sleep tonight knowing this mess is downstairs!

I could almost hear the grease multiplying as I stand here. It's like cockroaches. Shit! Cockroaches eat grease! I stared at the wall as if I were Superman, as if I could see the vile creatures laying in wait in them, until we turned off the light and they could scamper out and gorge themselves on piles and piles of grease. They would eventually climb the stairs and consume me and Charlie in our sleep, getting so big that only Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones would have a prayer of exterminating them.

As if he was could read my thoughts, Charlie spoke up "We got a little ant problem." Oh, God help me. And so we did, I could see several crawling around on the counter between the sink and fridge. Those little bastards got into everything! Gran loathed them, said she'd invite a family of raccoons in for dinner before she would live in peace with ants for fifteen minutes. If she saw even one, we had to clean the entire kitchen, and I mean the ENTIRE kitchen. Poor woman is rolling over in her grave right now.

Okay, I may have inherited a little bit of OCD from her. But ants? Come on!

"I put some Terro out, may take a few days," Charlie said quickly seeing the sheer panic on my face.

Before I could stop myself I asked, fear evident as my voice cracked, "Roaches?"

"Nah," he replied. I released the breath I didn't know I was holding. "That's more of a winter problem." My head snapped up to find the retreating form of Charlie, shoulders shaking with laughter. Men! Can't live with them, go to jail if you get caught killing them. I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, but vowed that any roaches checking in, checked out. Permanently.

Too tired to deal with the mess right then, I made my excuses and got ready for bed. I didn't unpack, didn't look around my room. I just crashed.

I slept like the dead at first but then I started to dream the strangest dream. The giant cockroach from the Men In Black movie was chasing me around the woods. I was crying and frantically screaming for help that seemed to be as elusive as talent on reality television. Finally, I was cornered, my back against a tree, and its red eyes were boring into mine. Just before it took off my head with its mandibles, I was suddenly transported to the clouds. To my astonishment, I was flying! Diving and somersaulting in the cottony clouds like I was a Lost Boy in Never-Never Land.

After a time, I floated up to a large chair facing opposite me. When I stopped behind it a moment later, I recognized it as an airplane seat. The small boy from my flight to Seattle jumped up, startling me, and turned around. His delicious peal of laughter was instantly comforting to me. He beckoned me closer until our faces were inches apart. I was staring into his wide, dark grey eyes while his hair, slightly darker than I remembered, waved in the breeze. He placed his small hands on either side of my head, and smiled at me with a geniality that belied his age. He inhaled deeply, and then slowly and steadily blew the breath into my face. Giggling at my obvious surprise, he simply said, "Boo."

I shot up in bed, my heart galloping in my chest, my breathing was labored, and my head was splitting. That was definitely a mind fuck of a dream. I rarely dreamed anymore, that I could recall at least, and never had I been left so unsettled by one before.

I shook my head, and got up. After my morning routine, I drug myself downstairs. The clock on the hallway wall showed the time to be just after five in the morning. Cringing as I walked into the room that must be cleaned, I made a pot of coffee. Moments later, I poured it into a cup, ignoring the potential bacteria that could be lurking within. Worse yet, I had to drink it black, because of the expired milk and canister full of sugar ants. Bastards!

I decided before I could clean anything I had to clear the crap out first. I started pulling food out of the cabinets and fridge left and right, checking and sniffing, and near gagging several times. With the fridge now devoid of anything but empty ice trays, I decided to clean it first then I could go buy some groceries. Of course there was nothing to disinfect it with, so I added cleaning supplies to the train length, list of items that were needed. I continued pulling stuff out of the cabinets, putting things either on the table or in the trash. By the time Charlie materialized downstairs, the table was covered in cans of soup and a stack of dishes to be cleaned.

"My God! What happened here?" he exclaimed.

"Exactly! How could you eat and cook in this pig sty?" I vehemently defended.

"I don't cook." See! Positive proof right there that my theory about grease multipling was true. The thick layer coating everything now, was the progeny from Gran's last batch of bacon she fried. Ugh!

"I need the island and the racks brought down so I can clean them too."

"I like it open like this, so there's more r..,"

"I wasn't asking Charlie," I snapped. There would be no negotiating on this. This kitchen was going to look like the last time Gran was in it, come hell or high water.

He mumbled something, unintelligible to my ears, as he turned and went upstairs; I assume to finish getting ready for work.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Beyond confused, I walked into the hallway to find it was only a little after seven.

I opened the door, hesitantly, only to find a giant waiting on the other side. He looked damn near seven feet tall, effectively dwarfing my respectable five foot five inches. He gave me a sunny smile, his eyes laughing at my visible awe.

"What? Nothing to say to your favorite cousin?" Realization dawned on me at once that this was Jacob Black.

He made to give me one of his signature bear hugs, but I deftly avoided it. Giving him a small punch to the shoulder instead, grimacing slightly at the pain it caused in my hand to do so. Shit, is he made of granite? "Hello, Jacob," I said. His smile clouded over with my using his full name. The last time I had seen him had been a lifetime ago, and a lot had happened in between. I wasn't the same person, but I was somewhat pissed that I hadn't heard from him since then. I had always been closer to him than Quil, but I guess out of sight is out of mind.

"What brings you here so early?" I asked.

"I'm on my way to Port Angeles for a part. Heard you were in town and thought I'd stop by and make sure you know the ins and outs of the beast so she will treat you right." You could tell that my lack of elation to see him had thrown him off.

Charlie chose that moment to come out the door. It was obvious to me that he was no happier to see Jacob than I was. "Jacob," he acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd say hello and make sure Bella could change the oil in the ole girl before I went to P.A. to get a part." They started talking about some new Mariner's player that was showing promise as they both walked to the truck. Charlie finally said he had to go to work and took his leave.

"So what rock have you been hiding under these past four years, Bells? Do ya got a beau?" he said batting his eyelashes like the debutants of old. Turning to unlatch the hood and peering inside he went on, "Gotta admit, I was a little hurt when you stopped calling."

What the fuck?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie stiffen for the briefest of seconds before continuing to open his cruiser door. And after he sat himself inside and looked up and met my eyes, I knew. The bastard hadn't said a word. Not a goddamn word to anybody, about the shit I had been through. Nothing about where I was or what I was doing. I stared at my father through the windshield in disbelief, a silent 'Why?' escaping my lips.

Choking back a sob with a shuddering breath, a single tear slid down my cheek out of Jake's line of sight. I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing. I could breakdown later. Crying would only peak Jacob's curiosity, and a curious Jacob was a dangerous thing.

And here I had thought no one had given a damn. I wasn't overly close with anyone left in Forks and La Push, but I knew them better than anyone else, and it had hurt badly when they had avoided me too. If nothing else, they were Gran's family, my only link I had to her, from twelve hundred miles away.

"Bella?" Jacob said, concern lacing his tone.

I shook my head of the thoughts bouncing around like a pinball. I opened my eyes to my lonely existence. Looking back down the drive showed Charlie had apparently escaped during my preoccupation, retreating like the coward he was.

"Sorry, just busy I guess," I decided to reply, thankful that my voice didn't crack. Perhaps Charlie's omission was a good thing. Not much I would get now but pity, and there were few things on this earth that I hated more than sympathy, of any form.

"No on the beau then?" he asked.

"Definitely no." Jacob chuckled and proceeded to show me how to check the oil. Then he made me show him twice what I had learned. Anal, much?

As he put the hood down, he announced "Hey, Grandpa wants you to come see him, says he has something for you."

"Liiikkke?" I drawled.

"Don't ask me, I'm just the messenger. Anyway, you know him, he wouldn't have told me. Everything has to be all mystic and shit," he rolled his eyes while shaking his head. He looked fairly comical when he did that, but the fight to keep the tears at bay kept the smile from forming on my face.

"Kay, when I get the hang of the truck, I will."

His head jerked to a stop quickly, looking at me with a quirked brow. "You can't drive it?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I'm just not that good," I snapped. "I've only driven an automatic."

"But Charlie didn't mention ..."

"Charlie seems to have not mentioned a great many things," I cut him off, unable to keep the venom out of my tone. I sighed, running a hand over the bandana I had thrown on before starting to clean out the kitchen. "Look, its fine. It's just the clutch giving me trouble."

Jacob looked at me as if he didn't believe me. He could tell that I was upset, but I was hopefully banking on the male species' trepidation of tears that would keep him from prying.

"Tell you what, why don't I have Quil or Embry drop me off later this afternoon and we can go see Grandpa together. I can help you learn the clutch and you can stay for dinner."

I raised an eyebrow, "Will it be edible?"

"Will be if you help," he smiled cheekily. Trying to get him to leave before I lost my fight with my emotions, I just nodded my head and agreed for him to come back around three. Hopefully, I could put a dent in the kitchen by then and it would be before Charlie would get home. Not that I expected him back anytime before midnight in effort to avoid me. Perhaps, I'll pack a bag for the weekend just in case.

Drowning once again in the pain, despair, and loneliness of the last four years, I watched Jacob back out of the drive. I slowly turned and walked back into the house, tears already running down my cheeks. Shutting the door softly, I leaned back and rested against it. A sob broke free as my emotions got the best of me, and I slid slowly down to the floor. There, in the cold foyer of my grandmother's empty house, I did what I had not allowed myself to do in well over a year, I cried.

A/N - Thanks for reading!