The writing gods have smiled down on me because I smashed this one out! This is a plot point I've had planned for a while though, so it was just a matter of getting it all out before the end of the school holidays. I'm back at work today, but I'll try to make sure I stay regular with the uploads!

Buckle up everyone, because Bella is finally going to get some answers from Charlie!

BPOV

What followed was one of the most uncomfortable dinners I'd ever experienced, and growing up with my father I'd experienced many uncomfortable dinners. Sue, Edward, and I tried to keep up as much polite conversation as possible, but Dad just sat there giving one-syllable answers, seemingly lost in deep thought the majority of the time.

"Thank you for dinner, Bella. It really was delicious," Sue said as she got up and started clearing the table. I moved to get up and help, but she quickly put her hand on my shoulder to stop me. "No Dear, let me. You've already done more than enough, making that delicious meal."

Sue smiled down at me, but shot my father a meaningful look before she turned to start filling the sink with hot water and scraping the plates into the garbage.

Edward threw me a questioning look as if to ask what we were supposed to do now, but I just shrugged at him, unsure. I watched my dad for a moment, fussing with his nearly empty beer bottle as though absent minded, but the twitch in his mustache showed me he was thinking about more than he let on.

"Dad?" I asked, getting his attention. "Do you think we could talk now?"

My father cleared his throat gruffly and nodded his head. "Yup. I think we better." He pushed himself away from the table and stood up. "Why don't you go take a seat in the living room. I'll be back in just a moment," he said, before walking down the hall to his and Sue's bedroom.

Shrugging again to Edward, I stood up and gestured for him to follow me into the living room.

I took a seat on the old couch, while Edward sat down next to me and took a look around the room. It didn't look that much different than it did when I was growing up. Cream walls and dark trim, a fireplace in the centre wall which only really got used at Christmas since Dad had the heating updated years ago. There were old family and school photos on the mantle, and knick-knacks from over the years on the bookshelf. One of the few changes was the mounted flat screen t.v. Emmett installed for Dad's birthday not long after he was shot, which had replaced the old chunky unit that used to sit on a repurposed sideboard.

Walking into the room, Dad stopped when he saw Edward sitting beside me and frowned. I knew he wasn't entirely happy I'd asked Edward to drive me here, or that he was staying in the house overnight. So, I could only assume he really didn't like the idea of talking about everything with him in the room.

"Dad," I warned. I knew he understood what I meant without me having to say it, but I wanted to make myself clear. "Edward is here for Maria just as much as I'm here for the truth. We need to know how we ended up where we did, and I'd of probably ended up telling him most of what you tell me, anyway."

He continued to stand there uncomfortably, looking like he was weighing up all the different ways this situation could go.

I knew from experience that my father didn't make his mind up about anything until he had all the facts. It's what made him a great cop. But it's also what made him hard to reason with sometimes. Once he'd formed an opinion about something, trying to change his mind was like trying to push a boulder up a hill.

If he needed proof in order to trust Edward, I had thankfully brought it. "Hold on," I said, getting up and quickly going back into the kitchen. Sue gave me a kind smile from the sink as I took the folder out of my bag by the table.

Dad was still standing with his arms crossed, exactly where he'd been when I left, but Edward looked like he'd shifted further away on the couch. Rolling my eyes at my father's antics, I slapped the folder down on the coffee table and sat back in my seat with a huff.

"There," I pointed at the folder, motioning for him to move. "That's what you want, isn't it? That's everything we know so far. The photos Edward gave me, and the info Emmett found." I shot Edward an apologetic look at that, but he just gave me a tight smile and waved it off. I'm sure he didn't like having his life exposed like this, but I think he also knew that it was bound to happen eventually.

Finally, Dad moved all the way into the room and sat in his regular armchair, parallel to where I was sitting. Leaning forward, he first flipped open the photo album, which was sitting on the top. As he turned each page, he studied the photos intently. Some he lingered on more than others. When he reached Edward and Maria's wedding photo, he stopped completely and shut the album.

He stared at the cover for a long time before moved again. Without looking up, he pulled out the letter Edward had written, which I'd slotted in open at the back of the book, and began to read it.

Looking over at Edward, I silently mouthed "sorry", but he just shrugged. It felt a little like I was betraying his trust, though. He had written that letter for me and at this point, basically every person in my family had read it.

When Dad put the letter down, he sat back in his armchair without even touching any of the other things in the folder. He stared directly at Edward for a solid fifteen seconds, as if in deep consideration, before his eyes drifted to me and softened.

"I was off duty, on my way home from running a prisoner up to Tacoma, just like I told you," my father began to explain. "It was getting dark when I saw a woman hunched over on the other side of the road. No car in sight that looked like hers, so I turned around to see if she needed help. Turns out it wasn't a woman, but a girl who looked to be no more than about fifteen, heavily pregnant and in what looked like labour."

So far, this was nothing new that he hadn't told me already, but it was in more detail than he had ever given me before.

"I asked what she was doing out there by herself in her condition. Asked where her parents were, did they know where she was? She did this sort of humorless laugh and said that she hoped not. I asked her what she meant, and she said she'd run away from home because she was scared and she couldn't be there with a baby.

"I'd seen girls like that before. Strict parents, in a bad way, can't see their way out of it. I told her that I'd take her to the hospital and get her checked in, and I wouldn't report finding her if she could prove she found somewhere safe to go with the baby after it was born. She cried for a bit but eventually told me that she had been on her way to Seattle to visit an adoption agency and possibly select adoptive parents. She'd taken a bus going in the wrong direction, ran out of money, and was scared she wasn't going to get there in time." After a pause where he seemed to stop and gauge me, he added. "She told me her name was Bree."

I couldn't help but gasp when he said that. "Bree?"

"Yes. Though, she never told me what her last name was. I assumed the nurse who took her after I got her to the hospital did though."

"What do you mean, you never got her last name?" I asked, confused. "Wouldn't it be on the adoption papers?"

"I'll get there, Bella. Let me get through the rest of it first," Dad grumbled. This was the most I'd ever heard my father say in one sitting, so I decided to just keep quiet until he was done.

"After I calmed her down, I told her it was a very brave choice she was making. You know I'm not a sharer, but I ended up telling her how Renee and I had been trying to have a baby for a long time and had talked about adoption when nothing else seemed to have worked. I said that it took a very special person to give that gift to people who couldn't have it themselves.

"When we got to the hospital, I had a chat with the nurse looking after her. Gave her my card and told her I'd come out in the next day or so to check on her and to call me if there was anything I could do. The next afternoon, I got a call from the nurse asking if I could come as soon as possible. I thought maybe Bree's family had found her at the hospital and were making a fuss. But when I got there, she led me to one of the empty rooms at the end of the floor and gave me this."

Reaching into the breast pocket of the flannel shirt he'd changed into before dinner, he pulled out a small envelope that looked stained with age and handed it to me.

"She told me Bree had left earlier that morning, leaving her baby in the nursery and that letter in her room for me."

When I turned it over, I saw Officer Swan was written on the front of it.

With trembling hands, I pulled a single sheet of folded, lined paper from the envelope. While it felt old, it didn't look like it had been handled much over the years. The crease in the paper still felt sharp and it held its shape as I unfolded it.

Edward leaned towards me and put his hand on my back in support. The heat I felt radiating out from his palm warmed me enough to give me courage. With a shaky breath, I began to read it.

Dear Officer Swan,

I don't know if I'll ever be able to thank you enough, but you seriously saved my life when you found me the other night. I know you said you were just doing your job, but not many people would go out of their way to help a lost, pregnant girl. Which is something I've recently been finding out.

My mom would say that God puts people in your path for a reason and that the Lord gives us the answer before we ever even know what we're meant to ask. Now I know what I need to ask you, and it's for something even more important than my life.

I need you to look after my baby.

Maybe God put me in your path, too. You said you and your wife have been trying for years to have a baby. Maybe he heard your prayers and sent me on the wrong bus for a reason. So I could give you what you've wanted for so long. All I want for my baby is for her to have parents that love her. Who look after her and protect her with their lives. When you picked me up and drove me to the hospital, it was the first time in a long time I felt that sort of care and I know that's what I want for my child.

I'm not only asking you to do this because I think you'd be an amazing Dad for her. I do. But I also want her to be as safe as she can be, and where's safer than with a police officer. I know I told you the reason I left home was because I was scared. But it's more than that. I'm not just scared of them because of what they did to me. I'm scared of what they will do if I ever have to go back, and especially what they would do to my child if they ever found her. You have to keep her safe, Officer Swan. Please.

You may not like what I did, but I made sure she's going to be completely yours. All you have to do is sign the paper, and no one will ever know anything about me. She will be safest this way. I'm sorry, but this is how I need it to be.

I trust you.

From Bree

P.S. I need to ask you for one more thing. Please, never tell her about this - about me. If she ever goes looking for me and finds them, this would all be for nothing. Tell her whatever you think is best, as long as her life is happy and safe.

P.P.S. You should also destroy this letter.

My ears were ringing when I finished reading the letter my birth mother had written. I could feel the throbbing of my heartbeat throughout my entire body, and I was pretty sure it was making me shake. At least, it felt like the world was vibrating around me and as that was kind of impossible, I assumed the trembling must be coming from me.

I didn't know what to feel, or what to think. My mind had filled with a kind of static. It felt like I was reading the words of a language I barely knew. I could see them, I knew what they were and on some level they made sense, but I didn't understand them yet. I kept focusing on little things, like the fact that she only ever addressed Dad as Officer Swan. It really showed how young she actually was when this happened. Dad had only been a year older than I am now at the time.

The small, loopy letters of her handwriting also hit home that she was barely more than a child when she wrote it. I had students whose writing looked exactly like that. I ran my fingers over the lines of blue letters, marvelling at the first contact I'd had with my birth mother since she left me at the hospital in 1989.

"You didn't destroy it, though," I said when I was finally able to find words again. My brain still felt fuzzy, and it sounded like I was underwater.

"No," Dad replied simply. "I never could. It was the only thing she asked for that I didn't do. Well, at least until now."

"What did she mean when she said that you would like what she did? What did she want you to sign?" I could feel the floodgates open as my mind began to come back to life. "And who are 'they', and why was she scared of them?"

"Whoa, Bells! One question at a time, okay kid." Dad said, reaching out and shaking my arm lightly. He waited until I had calmed myself and given him a nod that I was okay.

"First, what she wanted me to sign was this." This time he handed me my birth certificate.

"My birth certificate? Why would she get you to sign that?" I asked rapid-fire again. Then I suddenly remembered something. "Wait, didn't you tell me that you applied for a new birth certificate when you adopted me, and that's why it has your name listed on it?"

Color rose in my dad's cheeks. It oddly made us look more related, as I was incredibly prone to blushing. Leaning back in his chair, and further away from me, he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Yes, well. I did tell you that. But it wasn't quite the truth either."

Suddenly feeling intense frustration and anger, I couldn't bite it back enough to temper my tone. "Then what IS the truth, Dad?! Because what it sounds like is that you've given me half-truths my entire life in order to appease the request of a teenager! And I know teenagers. I work with them every day and let me tell you, they do not always have the best judgement."

Dad's face no longer looked pink with a blush, but red with semi-contained irritation. "I didn't do it to appease a teenager, Isabella. I did it to honor the wishes of the young woman who gave me my daughter."

A little stunned by his outburst but mollified, I slumped back against my seat with a sigh. I was beginning to feel like a deflated balloon, with little buoyancy left and an aching need to go to sleep. With my head to my chest, I tried to muster enough energy to keep myself from having an all-out breakdown. I knew that as soon as I was alone in my room tonight, I would be unable to stop the torrent of tears that was building within me.

"Your birth certificate was the other thing Bree had left in her room before she'd left the hospital. When the nurse handed it to me, the only things that were filled out on it were mine and Renee's names. The girl had put our names instead of her own so that we were your only parents, according to records."

"Isn't that illegal?" Edward asked from his end of the couch. He had been so quiet the whole conversation, I'd almost forgotten he was even there.

Dad huffed a tired laugh. "It is. And Bree was right about me not liking it one bit."

"Then why did you do it?" Edward continued to question. "Couldn't you have adopted Bella through legal channels?"

"I'm sure I could have. But the nurse explained that if Bella wasn't claimed, and deemed abandoned, the state would step in, and it could be almost impossible to get her back from them. I knew how the system could fail kids, even at that stage of my career. I had to see it often enough, escorting kids from one bad foster home to another. There was no way I could let that happen to an innocent, newborn baby."

I couldn't stop the few tears that spilt over at my father's words. "Dad…" I whispered, feeling choked up.

"Of course, I signed the certificate, Bells," Dad said with so much emotion in his eyes. "It went against what I stood for as a cop, but I've never regretted it. You were the best federal crime I ever committed, kid."

In a rare show of emotion, my father pulled my arm and stood to draw me into a hug. He held me, my face to his chest, rubbing his large hand over my back like he used to do when I was little and had a nightmare. He'd come into my room, sit on the side of my bed and rub my back as he told me that monsters wouldn't dare come into the Chief of Police's house, so there was nothing to be afraid of.

After a few minutes I realised something, so I pulled back to look up at my father. "Does this mean I'm committing fraud every day? How did I even get a social security number?"

"Don't worry. You're not committing fraud," Dad said as he patted my back and released me so we could sit back down. "I went to a lawyer and sorted it all out when you were little. I had to be a bit creative with what I told him, but it was essentially the truth. I made sure everything was legal and above board, because I knew that if I didn't, you'd figure something wasn't right as soon as you applied for a driver's licence or a job."

It amazed me that my father had done all of this to keep this secret for my birth mother. But she had also gone to great lengths to make everything impossible to discover. Not only had she separated her twins, sending them to different families to have different lives, never to know about each other, but she had made sure that there was no trace I had ever been her daughter in the first place.

But why? Why would she do all that? She had said she was scared of her family, that she was scared of what they would do to her child - her children. What had they done to her, and what did she think them capable of?

"Do you think she split us up because she was scared of her family?" I asked, my voice quiet. I was so emotionally drained at this point that it felt like I was running on fumes.

"That's what I first thought when you told me," said Dad with a nod. "It's the only thing that makes logical sense to me, at least."

"They must have been awful for her to do what she did," Edward added. "It's a desperate move to make, unless you think you're doing it to protect your children."

Knowing that didn't make me feel any better about it at this point, though. I felt like I was on overload, with too many mysteries still swirling around my mind. I thought getting my dad's side of the story would clear things up, and while it did answer many of the questions I'd had my entire life, it left me with more confusion about how this whole tangled web had been spun.

Feeling close to my breaking point, I rubbed my hands over my tied eyes and gingerly stood. "I… I think I need to go to bed, I'm sorry."

Before either my dad or Edward could say anything, I stepped out of the room and dashed up the stairs. The door to my old bedroom had barely closed when the tears began to fall. Crawling onto the bed, I pulled the covers over my head as the first sobs began to wrack my body.

So...? What are you thinking? Was it the answer you expected?

Hopefully the next chapter is as easy to write as this one! I haven't decided who's POV to do yet, though. So if you have an idea if who you'd like to hear from, let me know!

Till next time :D