A/N: I KNOW, IT'S BEEN FOREVER!!!!! I've been balancing minimum 9 hour a week marching band practices and two honors classes. If any of this seems weird/random/out of place, please blame my wonderful dentist. While writing this, I was numbed up on Novocain, doped up on Vicodin (Love/hate relationship there. Makes me depressed and tired, but also makes the pain stop.), and in serious pain. I wanted to have Bella pull out a gun and shoot somebody, but that's not exactly going to fit her character or the plotline, now is it? AND: I've found my own little family of friends, very similar to the family in RENT. They make me so happy. Anyway, important chappie! Lots of father/daughter stuff….

I watched Tiffany sob over Benny's grave. I was perched between Roger and Mimi, the cool granite of Mimi's headstone soothing against the back of my neck. All I really wanted to do was sleep. But sleep would bring dreams. There was no way I could escape. I closed my eyes and let the wind play in the dark with my ringlets.

I squeezed my eyes tighter together as a flashlight beam hit my face.

"What're you two doing here? It's late, you should be at home," a voice barked. I assumed it was that of the cemetery's caretaker.

"We're visiting family. Bug off."

"Get. Visiting hours are over. Go home. You have school tomorrow."

"I don't have a home," I said simply.

"Don't have a home?" The caretaker looked taken aback.

"Not one that I'll ever go back to."

"But you have one."

"If it can be called a home."

"Well, get there."

"No."

The caretaker looked ready to slug me.

"Bella?"

"Yeah, Tiff?"

"Why don't you stay with Mark and Kelley?" She said tentatively.

"I don't… I don't know if they'll want me."

"You're their birth daughter. Why wouldn't they? You told me that Kelley said they wanted to keep you, but couldn't because they didn't have enough money to give you the life they wanted."

"Yeah, but, still…"

"Go, Bella. I know where my dad is. Now go find yours."

xXx

I knocked on the wooden door, and let the screen fall shut over it. I prayed it would be Mom who answered. It was in vain.

"Bella?" Mark asked.

"Uh, Mark, hi. Um, can… do-"

"Bella?" Mom said, appearing behind Mark.

"How do you-" Mark began.

"I'll tell you in a little bit, love. Bella, come in, quickly, it's not safe for you to be out alone at this time of night."

"Thanks, Mom" I mouthed as I walked in.

She smiled. A silent "you're welcome."

"Mark?" she said as we passed through a curtained doorway into the family room. "Mark, sweetie, you better sit down, too. There's some news I want to share with both of you.
"Bella, you already know part of this."

What was she saying…?

"Mark… This is our daughter. This is our little girl."

Mark's eyes were huge behind his glasses.

"How…. Musetta?"

"What?" I asked, taken aback. Musetta?

"Bella," Mom began, "when you were born, we named you Musetta. Musetta Angel Cohen. Roger would never stop playing Musetta's waltz. Even we knew it by heart."

She smiled sadly.

"And Angel?" I asked

Mark spoke up.

"Angel… Angel was a good friend of mine, years ago. She had AIDS. She died in 1990. She was only 24. Angel… Angel was the most amazing person I had ever met."

I sat there, blank. It was so much to absorb…

"Zetta?"

I looked up.

"Dad?"

And he took me in a tight, welcoming embrace.

My eyes burned with tears.