Well, well, well. Hello once again! it has been a long time, so I hope you're ready for a new chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to for this one to come out, but I've had a whole lot of changes going on in my life - car breaking down, buying a new car, finishing my university degree, and starting my first big career job!). It doesn't help that halfway through writing this chapter, my computer crashed and lost what I'd written and I needed to start the chapter over!! Oh well! it's here now, and I hope you enjoy!!

BPOV

I let out a deep breath as I dropped my bags beside the lounge and sat with a thumb. It had been a very long day, made immensely worse by a lack of sleep and a still whirling brain. I'd found myself continually distracted. Yes, I'd been caught up thinking about my and Edward's conversation last night. But when I wasn't thinking about that, I'd been mulling over what to say to my dad when I called him.

Emmett had wanted me to call dad last night - 'bite the bullet', as he said. It was in his nature to jump in, guns blazing, proactively on the offence. I had always been more reserved, making sure I had weighed up the pros and cons of every aspect before coming up with a detailed plan of attack. In the past, my brother had accused me of being highly strung. But I preferred to think of myself as restrained.

A good part of my life had been spent feeling like I didn't have control, so I'd taken that control where I could. The downside was that I was constantly overthinking, my brain running over each and every eventuality, like some high-powered super-computer. Maybe Emmet was right, I was a little bit neurotic. Trying to slow my thoughts now seemed almost beyond me.

My father had never been an easy person to talk to. He was…a man of few words. If he ever had to talk to us about something when we were growing up, he'd make such a big production over it that the suspense was worse than whatever he had to say. He'd hem and haw, clearing his throat and stroking his mustache, so you knew he had to be incredibly uncomfortable. I didn't understand how he could interrogate criminals, but talking to his children was nearly impossible.

It felt almost as inconceivable to try and bring something up with him. The first time I'd confronted him about my birth mother I was nine, and he completely shut me down. He'd told me that I had a good life, that he was my father and if I respected him I wouldn't push. When I pleaded for answers once more, he stared at me with a hard expression before leaving the room without a word.

We fought for years about it, but it wasn't until I was sixteen that he finally told me what little I'd been able to tell Edward. We'd fought and I'd threatened to run away, crying at him that there was probably a whole family out there that would take me in, care for me, and never lie to me. That's when he told me my mother had been a teen in a bad situation. She'd run away and couldn't go back with a baby. I'd been placed with him, because of his connection with her. With how Emmett came into our family, it sounded plausible and at sixteen, I'd not questioned it.

But I wasn't a teenager anymore, and I didn't need to threaten my father to get the answers I needed. I had irrefutable proof that there was more to this story than he's ever shared, and no matter what he says to me now, I knew I had to keep digging.

Picking up my phone from the lounge next to me and biting my lip, I opened my contacts and scrolled through to find my dad's number. Before I could chicken out, or before I could drive myself crazy with my thoughts, I pressed the call button and brought the phone to my ear. The ringing seemed to last for ages, making me wonder if I'd chosen the wrong time to call him. But it was just six on a Tuesday evening. What would he be doing that would keep him busy at dinner time on a Tuesday? As the chime droned on, my nerves increased. The suspense was just as bad as if I had Dad sitting right in front of me, clearing his throat awkwardly and stroking his mustache down with a serious look.

Finally, the ringing stopped, and the line clicked before my father's gruff voice began. "You've reached Charles Swan, Forks Chief of Police. I'm busy right now, so leave a message." I panicked a little as the beep sounded, indicating I'd been sent to voicemail, my mind going completely blank after spending the day working itself up to have this conversation. After a moment of silence, which hopefully wouldn't confuse Dad and result in him deleting the message before he even heard it, I was able to grab hold of enough words to say something.

"Hey Dad," I started, my voice slightly shaky. "Um… Could you call me, please? I have something I really need to talk to you about… Okay, bye."

I felt awkward again and tossed my phone back down onto the lounge. Pulling my legs up to my chest, I sat with my head resting on my knees as I contemplated what I would say to my father once more. I'd felt unprepared to confront him about the whole confusing mess that was my adoption, so I was relieved to be given a reprieve for a little bit longer.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually my stomach started to growl. Unfolding myself, I made my way to the kitchen and pulled out some leftover soup from the back of the refrigerator. Setting it on the stove to begin warming, I made my way back to my bedroom to change out of the clothes I'd been wearing all day and wash my face. I was back before it had even started bubbling.

Deciding to make some toast as well, I was leaning against the counter waiting for it to cook when my eyes landed on Edward's letter resting on the kitchen table. Now that talking to my dad was put on the back burner, thoughts about my discussion with Edward began to rise up again. The sputtering of the soup as it began to boil snatched my attention back to the task at hand, however.

Sitting at the table with my food, the letter taunted me, stirring up the many questions that had been swirling around my head for a week. Before I could lose my nerve, I'd typed out a message to Edward and sent it.

B: Can we unpause our talk?

I slammed my phone back on the table, screen down, and took a shaky breath. I couldn't quite believe I'd just done that. I was rarely impulsive, but it was like my body had acted before my rational mind could kick in. The yearning I'd been able to tamp down with the shock of everything flared, small flames lapping at my stomach.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed at myself, I felt my face blush bright red. Quickly getting up, I grabbed a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and held it against my flaming cheeks. If this was my reaction to sending him a message, I'd hate to think of what might happen when he responds. If he responds.

Trying to keep in mind that he may not get back to me tonight either, I sat back down at the table and picked up my spoon. I'd barely eaten half the soup and nibbled on the corner of the piece of toast when my phone chimed with a message. Dropping the spoon back into the bowl with a clatter, I scooped up my phone and opened the text.

E: Pardon?

My breath hitched and my fingers started to fly across the screen. The same impulse had taken over - like someone else's fingers knew exactly what to say to him. Once again, I'd started to respond without even having to think about it.

B: I was wondering if I could ask you something?

His next messages came almost instantly.

E: Oh haha. Of course

Mulling over quickly where I should start, I decided to ask something that had been bothering me the most.

B: When you wrote that my existence would have asked as many questions as it answered, did you mean that there were things in Maria's life that make more sense now that you know about me?

E: What kind of things?

B: Like stuff that didn't seem to have an explanation, but the explanation was actually me?

I sat there, chewing on my lip and staring at the screen as I waited for his answer. But a full minute passed before my phone beeped again. There seemed to be so many coincidences between Maria and I that it wouldn't if there were just as many small occurrences in her life that only made sense now.

E: Like the fact that from a very young age, she always wanted to spend all our time together?

That seemed like it might fit with the kinds of things I experienced. Small and seemingly inconsequential, in the scheme of everything.

B: Possibly. What do you mean exactly?

E: We played together a lot as babies because our mothers are close friends, but if Maria knew I was nearby (even if I was napping) she would scream and cry until we were allowed to be together

That seemed almost opposite to what my inclination had been like as a child. I'd been a little bit of a loner, even as a baby. That could have been the fact that Renee hadn't been one for spending time with children, and therefore I didn't get a lot of socialising time until Emmett came along, or possibly the fact that I was just naturally a quiet and reserved child from a young age.

B: Was she like that with anyone else? Clingy?

E: No, that was reserved especially for me

B: Did she ever grow out of it?

E: That was just the beginning.

The beginning? Maria and Edward had been by each other's side since infancy. The day she died, it was like we both had lost a limb.

E: She always made a fuss if we were in different classes in elementary school. And when we were going to middle school, her parents were going to send her to a girl's school, but she refused because I wouldn't be able to go with her

Feeling even sadder, I got up from my seat at the table and went to sit on the sofa. Pulling the crocheted blanket from the back, I wrapped myself tightly trying to feel some comfort. Needing to feel prepared, I took a deep breath as my phone vibrated in my hand.

E: She insisted we did everything together since we were infants and now I wonder if I was, on some level, a replacement twin

My heart broke at the fact that that's what he thought. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, having never met her, that Maria loved Edward. Deep in my core I knew. It scared me how certain I was.

B: Please don't think that. It doesn't make sense how, but I know she loved you

Part of me feared that I knew so assuredly because it was only a matter of time before I was in love with him. I pressed my cold finger to my burning cheeks, trying to quelch the flame in my stomach.

E: I know she did. But I'll never stop wondering if part of us was formed from this need she had inside her for her partner. I was there, and able to be her partner in one form or another

B: You have to believe she loved you for more than just the fact that you were there. You were her soulmate

It took a while before Edward responded again. Enough time for me to start to worry I'd said something terribly wrong. My lip was most likely swollen by the time I was getting ready for bed and my phone buzzed once more.

E: Was I? Because I'm starting to wonder if that's actually you

~oOo~

During my planning meeting on Wednesday, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I hoped it was my father getting back to me, but when I checked it while waiting for Leanne to collect her things before we left, I saw it was a couple of messages from Edward.

E: I remembered something

Maria was a little obsessive about matching pairs and symmetry. She always had matching pens and pencils that had to line up in a certain way, by twos

And at our apartment, she used a lot of matching pillows and lamps. She always really liked diptych artwork

I thought about the way I decorated my apartment, knowing I too had matching lamps on the ends of my sideboard, and sets of throw pillows placed in perfect symmetry in both my living room and bedroom. I thought of the carved orcas my father had given me on my birthday, and the memory attached to them.

B: More things we have in common then

E: We can add them to the tally

His reply made me chuckle. It often feel like I was suddenly living in a parallel universe, but Edward was one of the few people who could make me feel some lightness in the whole situation.

"That's a big smile on your face," Leanne said as she came up beside me, standing at the exit door to the car park. "Who are you talking to there?" She asked, waggling her eyebrows with a playful smile on her lips.

"No one," I said, as I shoved my phone into my coat pocket. I could feel my cheeks heating furiously, so I concentrated on the straps of my bag on my shoulder.

"Uh ha, sure it is," she said with a sceptical look, pushing the door open. "That's why your face is a completely normal color."

I sighed, trying to think of a way to explain it. "It's a friend I met at a support group I go to for people dealing with grief." It wasn't untrue, and it had the extra benefit of little shock value that might deter her from asking any more questions.

I was wrong on one count. Leanne was definitely a little shocked, but she wasn't afraid to dig a little deeper.

"Is this a guy friend?" She winked at me from across the car.

Trying not to roll my eyes but unable to control a sigh escaping, I said, "Yes, he happens to be a guy. But it is very much not like that. We… We are helping each other through some very big changes in our lives. That's all." I don't know who I was trying to convince more, her or myself.

"Okay," said Leanne, throwing up one of her hands in surrender. After a moment of silence, she shot me a warm look. "I'm glad you've got a friend who can make you smile like that. It's good, no matter how you came together."

"Thanks," I mumbled, turning to look out the window at the city streets as they passed by.

~oOo~

I didn't hear from my father on Wednesday night or during the day on Thursday, so I decided when I would call the home phone before dinner. I'd hopefully catch him, or at least be able to leave a message on a machine he knew how to use and would actually check.

It was Sue that answered the phone though after it had rung for nearly thirty seconds.

"Swan residence," her voice chimed down the line. It still sounded so weird hearing it come from a female voice. I'd only ever heard my father and brother say that growing up, so it was still odd to hear.

"Hey, Sue. It's Bella. Is my dad there?"

"Hi, Honey," she said, sounding happy to hear from me. Though her tone quickly became more consolatory. "No, sorry. Your dad's not here. He's out working a search party looking for some missing hikers. Has been all week. He's been up at the mountain base every day till late."

"Oh," I mumbled. That at least explained why he hadn't called me back. Dad had never taken to the whole texting thing, and if he hadn't been getting reception until late he wouldn't call.

Pushing on, I removed my lip from between my teeth and continued. "Well, could you tell him I called when you talk to him next? I have to speak to him about something important."

"I sure can," Sue said cheerfully. "Do you want me to tell him anything about why you need to speak to him?"

"No, that's okay. I'll just… I'll just explain when I talk to him." I'd feel awful if Sue thought I didn't trust her, or that I didn't want to talk to her about my problems, but really I didn't want to explain everything twice. There was also the fact that Sue would probably have no idea about any of this.

"Alright."

"Thanks, Sue." Not knowing what else to say, I made my goodbyes and hung up.

Feeling like a coldness had settled over me, I got up and went to get changed into something warm and comfortable. Sitting on the lounge after dinner, wrapped in a blanket, I found myself staring again at the glass dome that housed my beautiful birthday gift, sitting on the sideboard under a pair of paintings of a shore cove.

The cove spread out from what was the centre of the two canvases - the left showed the rocky shoreline protected by trees, the ocean beyond looking wild and tumultuous, while on the right the shore curves around the small cove before it butts up against an imposing cliff. The trees on the clifftop could just be seen through a fog that was painted artfully through the forest. The paintings were ones I had bought after moving to Seattle for college. I had gone to a student art exhibition during my third year with Jasper and a few other friends. I had been instantly drawn to the pieces as they reminded me of First Beach, a small rocky inlet in La Push where Jacob, me, and our families used to spend a lot of time while we were growing up. I'd bought the artwork from the artist because of how connected it made me feel to my home, but now all I could think about was what Edward said about Maria's preference for diptych art and symmetry.

I wondered if Maria shared anything more with me, just as I shared a particular sense of style. Pulling my phone out of the pocket at the front of my hoodie and weaseling my hand out from inside the blanket, I typed out a new message to Edward about the first thing that popped into my head.

B: Did Maria dislike her birthday?

Tonight, Edward's response came straight away.

E: No. She actually loved her birthday. She was always the 'birthday week' kind of person

Huh. It seemed we had finally found something on which my twin and I were unalike. It was bound to happen eventually, but this was not what I thought would do it.

B: We seem to have found something we can't add to our checklist

E: Really?! So you're not a birthday person?

B: Nope. I've never liked being the centre of attention. But the day always made me feel really sad and kind of empty

It always felt hard, trying to explain the way I felt about my birthday, but that was probably as close as I could explain it. The few occasions I've told people about being adopted, at least not entirely willingly, was when they would push to find out why I didn't want to celebrate as 'normal people' do. It seemed my sister may have been one of those normal people, herself.

E: We might still have a contender for a spot on the list

Maria used to say that she had enough 'birthday spirit', she could celebrate enough for two people

My breath left me in a shocked little laugh. It seemed that where Maria and I didn't align, we were mirrors. It made me wonder what we would have been like if we'd never been separated.

B: You think she had all the 'birthday spirit' for the both of us?

E: I don't know hahaha. But at this point, anything seems plausible

~oOo~

The phone ringing interrupted the music I was listening to as I made stir-fried noodles for dinner on Friday night. I often went to Emmett and Rose's for dinner on Fridays, but they were both working night shifts this weekend. Emmett usually tried to line up his night shift commitments with Rose's so they could have the same schedule. And Jasper was chaperoning a seniors wilderness excursion until Sunday afternoon, leaving me alone on the weekend for the first time in a while.

I'd decided to have a glass of white wine, cook something delicious, and watch a cheesy movie. But seeing my father's name flash on the screen as I picked up my phone threw all those plans in the trash. After taking a deep breath, I brought the phone to my ear with shaky hands.

"Hi Dad," I said, trying not to sound too nervous. I didn't want to put him on guard before I'd even gotten the first question out.

"Hi, Bells," came my dad's gruff voice over the line.

We were both quiet for a beat too long, neither of us knew what to say. "Um, so…" I started, but stopped when Dad began talking at the same time "What did you…", who stopped as well. The silence engulfed us once more, as we both waited for the other to start.

"Uuh," I floundered after I decided to try biting the bullet.

My father came to my rescue though, stepping in and asking, "You needed to talk to me about something?"

Deciding it was probably best to start with the explanation with Dad, I started from the beginning. Though it may be best to simplify a few details, so as not to freak him out.

"Yeah, I did. Umm," I took a deep breath before continuing. "So, I was contacted by a man named Edward Cullen, because he believed his wife might have been a blood relative of mine."

I could sense my father's intense energy down the phone line, even though he was completely silent. Unable to judge his reaction only being able to hear him, I pressed on. "Not just a biological sister. An identical twin sister."

"Bella," Dad finally said, interrupting me in a chastising voice. "I hope you aren't stupid enough to fall for one of those scams. Mrs Jenkins, out on Maple, lost twelve thousand dollars to some low lives out in Russia last month."

"It's not a scam, Dad. Edward has proof. And Emmett looked into it. Everything he found supported what Edward told me."

"Your brother knows about this?" he questioned with a firm voice, but I could hear the hurt behind it.

"Yes," I answered quickly, feeling a little like a reprimanded child. "I'm sorry that I didn't come to you when it happened, but Emmett was very thorough. Even he was satisfied Edward was telling the truth."

"I'm not concerned about your brother's ability to find the truth or your judgement. But I was wondering why you didn't feel like you could come to me first with this."

Biting my lip, I mulled over my words. "Dad, it's… it's not that I don't feel like I could come to you. It's just that… well…we haven't had the best track record when it comes to talking about my adoption." I'd been picking my words carefully, covering for how nervous I had been for this moment, but suddenly the dam broke, and my words came rushing out in big lungfuls of air. "You never wanted to talk about it when I brought it up as a kid, and it became such a bone of contention between us, so I didn't know how to talk to you about it without having a difficult conversation that could very likely end in an argument. And then I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that perhaps you never wanted to talk about it at all because you'd known the truth this whole time, which would mean everything you told me my whole life was a lie."

"BELLA," my father interrupted again, but with a lot more force. "Take a deep breath and calm down, please. I can assure you that I had no idea about any of this, and I was certainly not involved in a conspiracy to lie to you your entire life. If I had known that you… had a twin, and you had been separated, I wouldn't have kept it from you. I hope you know that."

I let his words sink in for a moment. I don't know why it was so important that I hear him say it, because I'd never truly doubted him. But hearing it made me feel… safer. "I'm sorry, Dad. It's just been an odd time lately. I've kind of been questioning my own reality a whole lot."

"Well, it does sound a bit improbable," he said sceptically. "Not like something that would happen in real life."

"Believe me, I know," I chuckled humourlessly. "When Edward first told me, I couldn't

"You're sure everything checks out? What proof did this Edward guy give you?" And just like Emmett had, my father had switched into cop mode.

"He showed me photographs, which would have been substantial evidence by themselves. We are truly identical. We have the same birthday and were born at the same hospital. There are also a creepy number of similarities between, outside of our appearance."

Dad was silent again for a few seconds. "And why is Edward the one talking to you about this and not your twin?" His voice still held so much cynicism.

Knowing there was no other way to go about it but to be blunt but finding it hard to say higher than a whisper, I simply said "She died a little over a year ago."

"What?" he asked abruptly.

"She - Maria, that was her name - died of a brain clot, causing a stroke, in her sleep," I explained a little more. Then, hoping to emphasize that this was real, that I was really a twin, I added, "It happened around the same time I was in surgery after the accident, actually. Edward is convinced that the reason I survived the same symptoms was that I was in the middle of being operated on, and they were able to stop the bleed before it killed me, too."

"That's…" He didn't say anything else, leaving his words dangling in mid-air.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's not the only weird coincidence between us," I said trying to convince him.

Still, my father was quiet, until he sighed heavily. Almost a reluctant sigh. "Bella, I think we need to talk about this in person. I don't like doing this over the phone, and… well, this is something best done face-to-face."

It reminded me of Edward's insistence, and I had to agree with them both. As awkward as talking to my dad could be, his stoic face gave away more than his silence at the end of the telephone ever could. "Okay. When can I see you?"

"The sooner the better. Are you able to come out to Fork this weekend?"

"Oh." I was essentially stranded in the city, without my brother, Rose or Jasper.

"I'd come to you if I could, Bells. But we've not found the hikers yet and I need to be close to coordinate with the search group."

"No, Dad. It's okay," I assured him. "It's just that the others are all working this weekend, so I don't know how I'd get there."

"Is there no one else who would drive you?"

"I don't think so. I could try asking Angela, but it would probably be hard to persuade anyone to drive nearly four hours just so I can talk to my dad."

"Hmmm,' Dad hummed in thought. "I can see if I'm able to make it down to the city next weekend, but… there are some things we need to talk about, and I don't like the thought of leaving it so long."

"Me either," I sighed. "I… I'll try and think of something.

"Alright. Just don't… it can't be left too long,"

"I know, Dad," I replied quietly. "Believe me, I know. It's felt like my entire world has been turned upside-down in the last two weeks, and all I want know is the truth."

"The truth," my father said, his deeper tone conveyed a meaning I didn't quite understand. "The truth always finds its way out, Bells."

It wasn't until after we had hung up that I realisedI hadn't asked Dad what he actually did know, and if or what he had kept from me that may have stopped me from discovering all of this sooner. It was comforting to hear that he hadn't known about Maria, and it surprised me how much I needed to hear it from him. But I was still so full of questions, I didn't think I would feel completely okay again until some of them had been answered.

The idea of not getting those answers until the following weekend was disheartening, but I understood my father's desire to have this kind of conversation in person. I was sure it was the same force that drove Edward to track me down in person, as opposed to just sending me a message when his sister found me on Facebook.

Thinking of Edward suddenly gave me an idea, though an immediate awkward nervousness made me reconsider whether it was a good idea. Edward had told me that he wanted to be there with me, to find out the truth for Maria's sake. He's said he wasn't just there if I needed someone to talk to, but that he would help me solve this mystery if I wanted there- that he would help track down any and every lead.

We had talked every day this week, so I knew he was a man of his word in that department but were we in a place with each other that I could ask for help already. What I really needed to ask myself was which path could I live with the most? Was it not having answers for another week, or was it asking a near stranger for something, even if they had offered you their help?

In my heart, I knew the right path, and I didn't have to think about it for too long. It had always felt like I knew and trusted Edward on a deeper level - like my soul knew him before I did. So, before I could think up a reason why it would be a bad idea and talk myself out of it, I picked up my phone and typed out a message.

B: I need to ask you something

There you go! Bella is going to start getting some answers soon. I'll try and get the next chapter out a lot quicker, which should hopefully be a lot easier now that my life has gone back to a little more normality!

Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! I always really like to see your reviews (especially if you have any predictions!)