Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks to all those still reading this story! :)

Bella sat up in bed, a muted calm mixed with heartache thrumming through her. While the dream had given her more questions than answers, knowing that an understanding was that much closer put her at ease.

She may have feared what the dreams were trying to tell her in the beginning, but she trusted her parents and if they told her to stop running, she would. She felt like she owed them that much, especially her mother, who had given her life so she could live.

Now that she was taking baby steps towards acceptance, she wished that she knew who or what she was supposed to forgive. Maybe it was herself.

She had spent too many years and sleepless nights punishing herself over her dreams. Even now she felt anger that things could have been much clearer if only she tried better to understand them.

"Your denial closed it."

Her father was right; she'd been living in that state for years. It was high time she found a new place to live.

Bella ran a hand through her hair, wincing slightly when her fingers got caught in the tangles. She glanced down at herself. At least the clothes she wore appeared to be clean and she did feel a little fresher than the last time she had woken up. She vaguely recalled a female face in the living room that night and despite the fact that she was a technically a stranger, hoped that she had been the one to change her.

She was back in the bedroom (once again accompanied by that frustrating sense of familiarity) and the sunlight that seeped through the same window she had contemplated sneaking out the first time she'd seen it allowed her to get a better look at her surroundings.

The spartan look of it, lacking any sort of affections save for the basic bedroom set necessities, along with the absence of color (not counting the green bedspread she sat on) screamed that this was a male's bedroom. It was strange though, how unused the room looked. There were no personal touches on the walls, no posters, no pictures and nothing strewn on the dresser to even indicate that someone occupied it. She bounced lightly on the bed. Hell, even the mattress felt brand new.

She caught something out of the corner of her eye and scootched over closer to the bed stand it was sitting on. It was a book, one that had obviously been read a lot, its cover worn and faded, so she couldn't make up the title. Picking it up, she flicked through the yellowed pages and reading a paragraph, deduced that it was a war novel of some sort. She closed the book, running her fingers over the cracks along the cover, feeling strangely comforted by the sight of them. Knowing that she had a shelf full of books at her own place that looked in the same shape, she felt something akin to kinship with whoever owned it.

Placing the book back down, she finally noticed the object next to it, a clearly brand new, bright purple hard bristled brush. Grateful, she picked it up and spent the next five minutes painstakingly brushing out the tangles in her hair. Tears were prickling her eyes by the end of it, her scalp throbbing with pain and it looked like half of her hair had ended up knotted in the hard bristles of the brush.

Setting the brush back where she found it, she swung her legs over the bed, standing with a lot more confidence than she had the night before. The tugging sensation from a few days ago was back and, shooting a cautious look at the door, she knew without a doubt that the blond haired man was out there.

Turning back towards the bed, she began to make it, nervously trying to gather up the courage to go out there. She was a little more thorough with the job than she was at her own house (ninety percent of the time she didn't even bother making her own bed), pulling down the covers tight enough to make the military proud. Running her hand down the thick cotton of the comforter to smooth out the wrinkles, she rolled her eyes as she realized she had officially entered stalling territory.

Her mother had told her to take chances, and right now there was no bigger chance than stepping outside that door and seeing what waited for her on the other side.

Steeling her back so she looked a lot more confident than she felt, Bella's steps were quick and assured as she approached the door.

No door stays shut forever, she thought with a small smile as she curled her hands around the knob and pulled.

-oo-

Bella's lips twitched in amusement when the guy immediately jumped to his feet the second she opened the door. The action reminded her of an overexcited dog that her late grandmother used to have, who twitched at the slightest movement. Only this time, instead of a tail wagging in excitement, there was blatant fear on his face.

Why should he be afraid? Bella wondered. She was the one in his house- a house he had obviously brought her to.

They were both silent as they stared at each other and Bella felt self-consciousness creep in as she finally got a good look at the man, without the cover of night or a foggy mind to cloud her vision. Despite the fact that his clothes (a practical mirror of what he was wearing the first night she met him) were rumpled and his hair was a bit of a mess, he was still one of the most attractive males she had ever seen.

A flash of gold caught her eye and she zeroed in on a small circular object hanging from his neck. She got the strange urge to touch it, but before she could step forward, his pale hand reached up and tucked it beneath his shirt.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better."

He chuckled nervously. "I'll bet. Would you like anything? I have some food... or water if you like?"

Just the mention of food made her stomach roil so violently, she doubted she'd be able to even hold water down.

"No thanks." She licked her lips uneasily and was once again reminded of the taste of her mouth. "Wouldn't happen to have a toothbrush, would you?"

He looked completely thrown by the casualness of her question, no doubt expecting her to either pitch a fit, burst into tears, attack him in some way- or some combination of the three. It was his lucky day. If she hadn't had that dream, she probably would have.

He nodded jerkily and said, "Yeah I do," before reaching towards the coffee table which she belatedly realized with covered with a veritable smorgasbord of personal care products. There was shampoo, conditioner, soap, bubble bath, deodorant, perfume and even a few things of makeup. It looked like even more was in the bags that were scattered on the ground around it.

He located a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, both still in their original packaging, and held them up. "I have other stuff as well," he stated as if it wasn't already obvious, "if you wanted to take a shower or something."

She might not be in panic mode at the moment, but there was no way she felt comfortable enough to take a shower. "Um, no thanks," she replied, shuffling close enough to take the items from his outstretched hand.

She remained where she was, staring down at the coffee table and admittedly feeling a little weirded out by all this stuff. It rubs the lotion on its skin, she thought as she eyed a small bottle of the product.

He must of noticed her unnerved stare, because he chucked uncomfortably again and sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. "I had a friend pick up this stuff for me," he explained. "I don't really have any," a hesitation, "feminine type things here." He grimaced as he stared at the table. "I think she went a little overboard though."

Bella spotted a small blue and yellow box balanced on the edge and the table and felt amusement flood through her as she shifted the toothbrush and paste to one hand and bent down and picked it up with the other.

"You think?" she asked, holding up the box of tampons and jiggling them teasingly. "How'd she even know my brand?"

She could tell he was embarrassed, but fought a frown when his cheeks didn't flush, remaining his (un)natural marble white color instead.

Strange, she thought, placing the box back down and straightening up to stare hard at him. It probably wasn't the most normal or polite thing to do, but normal had flown the coop days ago.

Instead of getting a little swoony over his features like she did earlier, she looked at him- really looked at him. She realized that the paleness of his face was nowhere near her own pale pallor (and she easily considered herself the palest person in Texas) and couldn't be simply blamed on a lack of exposure to sunlight like hers could. Speaking of lack of sunlight, now that she finally glanced around her surroundings, she noticed that every single window in the in the living room (three in total) was blocked by the same heavy curtains that were in his room.

And seriously, who really has gold freaking eyes?

They looked like something that would be more at home with the tabby she'd had as a little girl. Although those had been a lot closer to the color of cloudy piss than actual gold (and had led to the cat being saddled with the cringe-worthy name Pi, which, despite what her mother and father had thought, did not refer to the apple version or the mathematical one). She wondered how he'd react if she told him his eyes reminded her of her old pissy eyed cat.

It was a little hard to look at him with a straight face after that (a strange sort of pride running through her with further proof that she was still able to laugh) and besides, she was starting to make the guy uncomfortable if his fidgeting was anything to go by.

"Bathroom?" she asked, holding up the toothbrush and toothpaste.

"There." He nodded behind her and she turned to see that, not far from the bedroom door she had exited was a second one, slightly ajar.

She sent him a small, if not a little forced smile. "Thanks," she murmured.

-oo-

Jasper exhaled shakily when the door clicked shut.

He had not expected this.

He had spent the better part of the morning bracing himself for her fear and anger, so he was wholly unprepared for her to walk out and engage him in conversation as calmly as she had.

Sure, there was a faint dusting of unease in her emotions, which was strengthened slightly by Charlotte's need to buy her weight in beauty products. He glared down at the discarded box of tampons silently asking her what the hell she'd been thinking. And now Bella was in his bathroom. Not running out his front door screaming bloody murder, but brushing her teeth like she was at home and getting ready for the day.

She is home.

A blissful smile stretched his face at the thought. It was still a long shot, but maybe she felt so at ease because she was starting to remember.

Hope.

What a strange feeling that was.

-oo-

Bella scrubbed her teeth, studiously ignoring her reflection in the mirror. She didn't want to confirm the fact that she probably looked like hell just yet. Instead she stared at the glassed in shower and distantly wondered why the woman had purchased bubble bath for a tub that clearly did not exist.

The tenseness was leaving her shoulders as she was presented with further proof that her being here hadn't been planned in anyway and that the man waiting for her in the living room (and apparently two others) were just as nervous as she was.

She spat the foamy remnants of the toothpaste into the sink and twisted on the cold water tap. Rinsing off her toothbrush, she left the water running as she placed it down on the onyx counter top. Bending at the waist, she cupped her hands under the gushing stream and splashed the icy water on her face. A quick burst of energy shot through her and she felt completely clear minded for the first time since she woke up. Straightening up, she noticed a ripped half of a towel and, giving it a quick cursory sniff (and smelling nothing but fabric softener) she patted her face dry with it.

Finally looking up at the mirror, she frowned at her appearance, touching the faint purple smudges of exhaustion under her eyes. What had happened to her mother wasn't responsible for that, she hadn't been sleeping very well since arriving in Galveston... and, though she didn't want to be making any crazy accusations, she had the feeling that it was somehow connected to that man. After all, her dad had pretty much suggested it as such.

Thinking of the dream, she wondered if she was being foolish. If what she had seen and heard had been created by a mind that had fractured under the pressure and used it as a way to cope. That she was simply telling herself everything she wanted to here and slapping her parents faces on it so she'd be more inclined to listen.

You're doing it again, she chided silently. Looking for any excuse not to listen. Besides, if that was the case, don't you think you'd be a little more forthcoming with, well, yourself? She chuckled weakly, her throat grating slightly at the action. There certainly was truth to the thought, that dream had really only been a step up from trees and rocks.

So where does that leave me? she wondered. She had been desperate to hear all this from her parents, but wasn't so sure if the feeling extended to a stranger... who she somehow knew wasn't a stranger at all. Well, that sounds like as good a starting point as any, she decided, smoothing down the wrinkles in the plain t-shirt she wore.

She grimaced as she shot another look in the mirror, running her hand self-consciously through her borderline greasy hair. Normally she went a few days in between washing with no trouble, but she imagined an overabundance of sweat brought on by fear and rolling around on the ground outside wasn't exactly conducive to a good hair day. She might have to amend her stand on the no shower thing.

But first...

She inhaled deeply and exited the bathroom. The guy was just where she left him, standing as still as a statue behind the coffee table, every part of him tensed so much she was concerned his skin would start cracking under the pressure.

"Can we sit?" she asked politely, hoping that he'd be more inclined to do it if she was the one who put the suggestion out. His almost militaristic stance was making her a little uneasy, and the longer she looked at him, the more she expected him to bark out, 'drop down and give me twenty!'

He nodded slowly and took two small steps backwards until the back of his knees touched the sofa behind him. He sank down, perching himself on the edge of the seat as stiffly as he stood and Bella fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Won the battle, but not the war, she thought with frustrated amusement and wondered if the conversation was going to be as stilted as his posture. If that was the case, she'd seriously consider asking him to knock her over the head so she could go back to her dream world and force whatever answers she was supposed to get out of him out of her parents instead.

Though the sofa was big enough to fit three, Bella headed for the matching chair across from it, studiously ignoring the twinge in her heart when the man frowned in disappointment. She curled one leg underneath her as she sat, determined to look more at ease than she felt, but couldn't stop herself from shifting nervously in the seat when she realized she was unsure of exactly how to begin the conversation.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said sadly.

"I'm not afraid of you." She didn't know who was more surprised by that, her or him.

"Because I'm not-" the defensive words died on his lips. "Wait... what?"

"I said I'm not afraid of you. I know I should be because for all intents and purposes, you're a stranger. But I'm not."

"You really mean that." His voice was awed when he said it (and she got the feeling it wasn't a question), before he frowned. "All intents and purposes?"

"I'm gonna ask you a question and I want a straight answer. An honest one."

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Alright."

She closed her eyes for a short second, before blinking them open to meet his darkened gold gaze steadily and opened her mouth to ask and finally get the answer that had plaguing her since she met him. "Do I know you?"

"...Yes."

A/N2: Ugg.. yes, I leave you with a bit of a cliff hanger, but please refrain from getting out your pitch forks. I'm going to do my darnedest to get the next chapter out tout freaking suite, but let's just say, Jasper's being a bit difficult.