Usual disclaimer applies.

March, 2012

~73~

"So, what are your plans for the weekend?"

Angela's question startles me from my thoughts, and depressing and gloomy as they were, I'm glad. We are sitting in the cafeteria, Angela on my left, Ben on my right. Apparently they had a small disagreement, so I am being used to diffuse the awkwardness.

And plans for my weekend? Nothing. Nothing except help Dad pour over the legalities of the case, over court cases of similarity from the past, hoping to find anything to help us. I don't plan on leaving the house at all.

Well, that may have more to do with the fact that I'm avoiding several people. Edward. Jasper. Sam. It's like I'm stuck in limbo, not sure what people know, what people are thinking.

Edward and Jasper look at me like I'm some poor creature, something pitiful. They go out of their way to be sweet and kind, but really, it's just patronizing. Yeah, maybe I could have used some support this past year, when things were shit, but I managed. I stood up for myself. People learned to back off. What makes them think that I need them now? That I want them?

Really, that ship has sailed.

And now the LPR's are going to be pissed off. The fact that I even acknowledged Jasper and Edward this morning will not go over well. I can only hope my dad doesn't hear about it if he heads down to La Push.

So far, Dad has no idea that Edward and I reached an understanding, that I've come to grasp his thought processes this past year, and that I acknowledge that he has suffered, too. The fact that Dad is preparing to enter into battle with Edward's mother means he doesn't want me in contact with Edward at all. And now that Dad is out of the dark in knowing some of the hurt I've gone through this last little while, he is a bit crazy on the whole protection front.

I sigh and stare at Angela.

"Not much, Angela."

She nods, turns a quick glare towards Ben, who is seated on the other side of me, and looks down at her food.

~SW~

I spend a few hours after school working in the library, trying to get everything done before the weekend. Trying to make the pile of assignments and notes somewhat smaller, somewhat manageable. If I didn't have to work so hard, have to keep my average near-perfect, I would have been home long ago.

So when I step into my apartment, knowing Dad would have already eaten, would have had to fend for himself, I feel guilty. He works so hard each and every day. He doesn't need to come home to an empty house, too.

I drop my bag in the small foyer and pad over to the kitchen.

Dad sits there, holding his newspaper. He jumps a little when I greet him. I guess he didn't hear me come in. I guess he was lost in thought.

And I know something is amiss. I know something isn't right. It's written all over his face. His tight lips. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. His eyebrows pulled together, deep valleys between them.

He looks at me, compassion and worry the most dominant emotions I can make out. Reaching a hand across the small table, he grasps one of mine, enveloping me in his warmth.

"Bella," he begins, his voice quiet and strained, "I-I've found your mother."

A/N: I'm excited people, for what's gonna happen. I must say, working out the finer details for the rest of the story...yeah, I'm stoked. Anyway, let me know what you think of this one and have a wonderful day :)