Prompt: Paranoid

Timeframe: Pre-Twilight

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. The Twilight Saga and all characters, recognizable settings, etc. involved within are the property of Stephenie Meyer.

Rating: K

A/N: Thank you for all the reads, reviews, and alerts!

It's Not Paranoia!

Charlie Swan had always considered himself a rational man. He did his best to make most of his decisions based upon logic, on facts and not emotions. He wasn't always successful, but he tried and most of the time he succeeded. He was an even-tempered and quiet man and he was okay with that.

But now everything was different and he didn't know what to do about it. It seemed he couldn't help himself because no matter how hard he tried to rein his emotions in, it always backfired and overwhelmed him. And although his rational brain whispered to him every once in a while that he might need some help, he didn't really care and he didn't think it was too much—hell, he was far too aware that nothing would ever, ever be enough…

Though his town was small and unassuming, he knew the dangers of the world better than most. And in this case, he saw them everywhere. And when he was alone….Lord help him…he would catch himself crying over the smallest things. Terrified that everything he had done wasn't enough and when that was combined with his ever present anxiety…well, it was a recipe for a mess.

But he couldn't help it and although he was seriously reconsidering his sanity, he knew it was all worth it. And if anyone had any problem with it, well, that was their problem. This was his job. This was the most important thing that he had ever, or would ever, do—so how could he not be hyper vigilant about it?

He knew they talked about him. He knew they laughed, at first, and chalked it all up to nerves or this "being his first". Quite frankly, he didn't give a damn what they said about him and honestly thought that maybe things might be a little better in the world if everyone approached this the same way he did.

So what if he got rid of everything he could that had a hard edge in the house and then cushioned every piece of furniture or anything else with an edge? They were a hazard. Bella could fall, you know, when she began walking that is, and hurt herself. She could blind herself. She could fall and hit her head and cause some sort of brain damage and then she'd be in the hospital and they'd be investigated by child services and she could end up having to use a walker or fall into a vegetative state or it could traumatize her and cause some sort of PTSD and she'd never walk and wouldn't have a fulfilling life and then…well, and then he would have failed her. So what if he wanted to protect her from the hard and threatening surfaces of the world? His Bella was so soft and not near done growing, she could be hurt so easily—too easily.

So what that he stacked pillows around her for a soft barrier and to stop her from rolling off the bed or the couch? So what if he was then concerned that she'd roll over and suffocate? He's her father; it's his job to be concerned.

So what if he drove at least 15 under the speed limit when she was in the car? So what if he brought home an infant safety hat and insisted that everyone wash their hands before they touch her? So what if he purchased a portable GPS device for her onesie's and diaper bag? She could be kidnapped for Christ's sake! It would help them find her.

So what if he brought home a choke tube tester? It's simple to use and will help them prevent choking. Isn't this what he should be doing? Protecting her and making her safe, that was his job.

And don't even get him started on the chemicals in food and cleaners and detergents and carpet and paint and plastic—it's in everything and it could make her sick.

So what if he occasionally goes into the nursery while she's sleeping and wakes her up? She's a very quiet child, when she's screaming at least he knows she is alive.

His friends could make fun of him all they want, even though he admitted to being baffled by it at times. They had children of their own; they know how dangerous everything is. Nonetheless, they tease and rag him all the time.

They tell him he's paranoid.

They say he needs to relax.

They shake their heads and murmur under their breath about "first time parents".

But Charlie Swan knows better.

He knows he's not paranoid—he is just proactive.