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———
Bella looks too pale. Charlie can feel his palms sweating as he grips the steering wheel to the cruiser and peaks at her looking blankly out of the car window.
“Wanna stop and get something to eat?” Charlie doesn’t feel like seeing people, but if Bella is hungry he’s willing. Bella blinks out of her stupor and looks mildly horrified at the prospect.
“Whatever you have at the house is fine,” she says. Charlie feels his shoulders relax slightly. That’s my girl. They will have to eat out eventually, Charlie isn’t much of a cook, and Cora at the diner has been itching to see Bella again.
He tries to replay what Carlisle had said in Wayne’s bar when Charlie had been drunk off his ass: I do not doubt that you are a wonderful father. You clearly love her very much.
Sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. As evidenced by his failed marriage and his own father’s treatment of him.
Sitting in the cruiser next to his daughter, Charlie resolves to do better.
You got one life, Charlie. Do it right.
———
The Mariners game drones in the background as Charlie looks up at the second floor, a piece of frozen pizza on a plate in his lap. As soon as he hears the creak of the stairs, he snaps his eyes back to the TV and assumes what he hopes is a casual slouch on the couch.
“Made frozen pizza. Your’s is warm in the oven,” Bella is wearing a large sweater and flannel pajamas. “Want me to turn the heater up?”
“I’m okay dad, thanks,” she wanders into the kitchen and Charlie can hear her pottering about. He looks at the game without hearing, waiting for her to return. When she does, it’s with her plate of pizza and two small bowls of peas. “Found some frozen peas in the fridge. You really need to eat more vegetables, dad.” She smiles at him as she curls up next to him on the couch.
“If you say so, Bells,” he picks up the remote and starts flicking through the channels, abruptly stopping when he sees Emma what’s her name, in a gaudy period outfit. He cuts his gaze to his daughter, eyebrows raised. She looks a little surprised, but nods. Charlie settles back, shovels in some peas, and watches that chick from Titanic moon over some loser.
———
Carefully, Charlie pulls the cruiser up to his house. He sighs in relief when she sees Bella’s truck in the driveway. Thank fuck she likes it, because he doesn’t have the money to buy her a new car.
He finds Bella in the kitchen, cooking up some fish he had had in the freezer. She looks up when he enters the room, Charlie’s arms proffering a grocery bag.
“Got some salads and fruits and veggies and shit,” he had expected her to smile, but she looks tense. “First day of school go okay?”
“Yeah. Fine,” you’re a shit liar, honey. Charlie gives her a sceptical look as he starts to put away the produce. “Ok. Um. Some of the kids were a little. Weird,” she relents.
“Weird how,” he bets it’s that Mike Newton kid. Terry’s numbskull son.
“I’m fine Char-dad. Just trying to find my place,” she turns back to the sizzling fish. Charlie pulls out his phone and opens a new text:
Wayne’s tomorrow?
He shoves his phone in his pocket and starts to dump a plastic bag of pre packaged salad into his one mixing bowl. Charlie grimaces and reaches for the new bottle of ranch, he wonders if he can convince Bella to go get burgers tomorrow. He feels his phone buzz and he eagerly reaches for it and flips it open.
Family night. Wednesday?
Sure.
He looks up, and Bella is studying him. Quickly, he schools his expression back to neutral, realizing he had been smiling at his phone.
———
When he had left for the bar, Bella had been curled up on the couch calmly doing homework. He had hesitated at the door, feeling guilty for leaving her. As if she had heard his internal conflict, her head popped up and she said: “I’m fine dad. You don't have to be with me every night. Go have fun with your friend.”
So, now here he is. About to see Carlisle for the first time since Bella has arrived. He’s strangely eager to talk to him, a new feeling for him. He’s never eager to talk to anyone.
It’s not unusual for Carlisle to be late, if he has a shift, charting gets in his way. But Charlie has been waiting for, he checks his watch, over an hour. As if on cue, the door to the bar opens, and Carlisle sweeps in, spots Charlie, and makes his way over to their usual stools.
“My apologies,” his voice is tight.
“You okay, Carlisle?” Shit, everyone is having a bad week I guess.
“I…yes,” Carlisle says. Charlie signals Wayne for another whisky, then turns a skeptical look on Carlisle.
“Wanna talk about it, or just drink?” Charlie asks. Carlisle studies Charlie’s eyes. Some day, he’s going to endure one of those looks without blushing.
“It is Edward. He is struggling with something at the moment. And I am not sure how to help,” his eyes drop to the newly deposited whisky glass, fingers delicately lifting a stray hair from the rim. Maybe that’s why he barely drinks here.
“Been there. Can’t get Bella to talk to me for shit,” he takes a sip. “Anything I can do?”
“Thank you, no,” Carlisle’s expression softens. “I believe in Edward. He will make the right choice.”
———
The days since Bella’s arrival pass. Both of them start to relax more around each other. He knows Renee can’t have been easy to live with, and he hopes Bella is finding it bearable to be here.
They trade off cooking: Bella actually creating something palatable and Charlie making questionably delicious frozen foods. Some nights they watch British shit, sometimes sports. It’s a nice routine.
Charlie always imagined that happiness was a brief fleeting feeling: like when you had a perfect still day fishing on the river with not another human in sight. Or, drinking and laughing at Wayne’s bar with Carlisle. He never realized happiness could be a state of being. Tentatively, Charlie hopes this will last.
———
He gets the call at work. Heart in his throat, he grabs his keys and tears out of the police station. Palms sweaty on the steering wheel, he carefully makes his way along the icy streets towards Forks High School. When he arrives, he throws himself out of the car and stumbles towards the ambulance shouting Bella’s name.
“I’m fine Char-dad,” she says uncomfortably. He calms slightly, seeing her coherently talking. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
As the EMTs load her into the ambulance, Charlie blindly fumbles for his phone.
Bella in accident. Working?
He hurriedly types.
I will be here when she arrives.
Relief washes over him as he gets back in his car and flips on the lights, heading the procession towards the hospital.
———
“Can’t I go back?” Fuck me, it’s fucking Taylor Graston. She better look past her mom’s dumb grudge and let Charlie back to see his fucking kid.
“I’m sorry, it’s hospital policy that you wait here,” Taylor glares. Charlie is about to blow his fucking top, when Carlisle bursts through the waiting room door.
“It is alright, nurse Graston,” Carlisle says calmly. “He is with me.” Taylor shoots Charlie a resentful look, but lets him pass.
“Is she okay?” Charlie rushes the words out as he trots next to Carlisle through the hospital hallways.
“She is absolutely fine, Charlie. Nothing to worry about.” He is smiling, but there is something tense in his expression. “She might have a mild concussion, but otherwise she is completely unharmed.”
“Thank fucking Christ,” Charlie breathes.
When they enter Bella’s room, the first thing he sees is Tyler Crowley: “You can kiss your license goodbye,” he says wrathfully. The kid shrinks away, looking terrified.
“Dad!” His daughter is further on into the room and he rushes towards her.
“Bella, honey. How’s your head?” She looks uncomfortable. Bella always hated attention.
“I’m fine,” she mumbles, cutting her glance to another figure in the room. To his surprise, Edward Cullen is standing next to her. He hadn't noticed him, too fixated on Bella.
“Edward?” The boy tenses.
“Edward was there too, but he was unharmed,” Carlisle says. “You were all very lucky today.”
“Glad you are okay, kid” Charlie nods.
“So, as you can see, I’m fine. Edward’s fine. And Dr. Cullen says I can go,” Bella starts to push herself off the gurney. Charlie moves forward and takes her arm. “Thank you, Dr. Cullen. It was really nice to meet you.” Bella gives Carlisle a strained smile, spares Edward another glance, and leans on Charlie as they make their way out of the emergency room.
———
Bella is moody and quiet on the way home. Charlie doesn’t relish her job of calming her hysterical mom. Renee had been almost incoherent on the phone. Accusing him of not watching out for Bella. His hands tighten on the steering wheel as they enter the driveway.
Bella stomps into the house, phone in hand, sighing as she dials her mom's number. Charlie makes himself busy: grabbing Tylenol, a large glass of water, and some leftover lasagna. He can hear Bella talking in the other room. After a few minutes, huffing, Bella comes into the kitchen and pulls up short when she sees Charlie.
“You should eat something,” he says awkwardly. Her thin shoulders slump, and she takes the proffered fork and mechanically eats while Charlie watches anxiously.
“Dad. I promise, I’m fine. Just a little headache,” wordlessly, Charlie offers the Tylenol and water.
Smiling slightly, she takes them and says, “I think I’m going to turn in early.”
“That’s good. Get some rest,” tentatively, she steps forward and wraps Charlie in a hug. Gently, he kisses the top of her head. “I’m so glad you are okay, honey. I was so scared.”
“I know dad. Thanks,” she whispers into his shoulder.
———
Charlie sits on the couch, tense and fidgety, staring at the TV screen uncomprehendingly. A gentle knock startles out of his reverie. Charlie looks at the clock, brow furrowed, and makes his way to the door.
“Carlisle?” He says as the door swings open.
“I came to check on Bella, and you. I know how concerned you were,” Charlie smiles and moves away from the door to let him inside.
“Thanks,” he scratches the back of his neck, looking at the floor. “Bella is ok, just a slight headache. She went to bed.”
“And yourself?” Carlisle looks concerned. Charlie can feel his expression crumbling, the adrenaline of the day leaving his body, making him feel exhausted.
“I was so fucking scared,” he moves into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost her.”
He can feel the couch dip slightly as Carlisle takes a seat next to him.
“Has Bella spoken of the accident?” Carlisle asks. Charlie flits his gaze to the other man, confused. “Sometimes, after trauma such as a car accident, victims will experience PTSD.” Carlisle says quickly, looking tense.
“Oh. Uh. No, I don’t think she has PTSD or anything,” he sighs. Fuck. Another thing to worry about. “She just keeps saying she’s ok and it’s nothing to worry about.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Carlisle says sincerely. “Please, if you need anything. Do not hesitate to ask.”
Charlie nods.
“Wanna stay a while? Watch the game?” Charlie asks. Carlisle hesitates.
“Of course,” they settle back into the lumpy couch and train their eyes on the screen. Charlie is very aware of Carlisle’s body sitting only a few inches away.
———
Bella seems subdued after the accident. Fuck, he hopes it’s not PTSD like Carlisle suggested. But she doesn’t appear to be having flashbacks or to even be scared at all. Just pensive. Quieter than usual. Charlie knows as well as anyone what needing space looks like. He lets her be, trying not to pry too much and texting Carlisle updates. It soothes his nerves that Carlisle seems unconcerned.
A few days later, she asks if she can go to Seattle by herself in about a week's time. Sometimes he likes to take long drives too, and he knows he doesn’t have much in the way of books. He agrees, mentally deciding to tune up her truck this weekend.
He texts Carlisle that night asking if he and Esme want to go fishing next Saturday while Bella is in Seattle.
We would love to.
Is the reply.
———
The week plods by. Somewhat to his surprise, Bella elects to go shopping on a school night. Well, at least she’s making girl friends. He so badly wants her to be happy here.
The night Bella is in Port Angeles, Charlie returns home from work exhausted. He’s felt itchy and restless all day, not sure why. He messes around the kitchen, munching on the cold sandwich Bella left for him and drinking some milk. Unsuccessfully, he tries to watch something trying to avoid going upstairs, but can’t seem to focus. Carlisle’s face keeps flitting in and out of his head.
Why can’t I just be normal?
———
The next night, he’s sitting at Wayne’s nursing a drink and watching the news. Carlisle shifts beside him as a news story about a suspected murderer comes onto the screen. Charlie looks over at Carlisle, who appears transfixed.
“You okay?” Charlie asks, taking a drink from his glass.
“Oh yes,” he turns to Charlie and smiles. “Esme and I are looking forward to fishing this weekend.”
“Yah, me too,” Charlie feels his cheeks heat.
———
On Saturday, it’s still dark when Charlie leaves. Carlisle had informed him that he and Esme could only stay a short while, so he wanted to get to the stream as soon as possible.
Charlie breathes in the sharp coolness of the morning air as he baits his hook. Soon, Esme and Carlisle appear at the edge of the forest. He smiles and waves.
“Charlie,” Esme’s silken voice is soft.
“Morning,” Charlie whispers back, holding out the rod for her to take. Carlisle is hanging back, face troubled. While Charlie wants to ask him about his expression, he also wants to honor his and Esme’s tradition of keeping their fishing trips quiet. He resolves to ask him this week at Wayne’s.
Carlisle and Esme leave just as the sun starts to peak out from behind the clouds and Charlie watches as they slowly disappear into the trees.
———
Later, Charlie is loading his catches into the cruiser, when his phone rings. Thinking it might be Bella, he takes it from his pocket, flips it open, and answers it immediately.
“Hello,” he grunts, putting his tackle box in the trunk.
“Charlie,” Carlisle’s smooth voice surprises him.
“Oh. Hey,” he says lamely.
“I… I wanted to tell you something.”
“Uh okay. Shoot,” his pulse starts to race. He doesn’t like surprises.
“In lieu of our friendship, I feel honor bound to tell you that my son, Edward, is interested in dating Bella.” Charlie’s brain screeches to a halt. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that.
“What?” He says sharply.
“Recently, he asked her on a date, and she has accepted him. I know Bella is not forthcoming with information, but I wanted you to be aware of these developments. I believe they wish to tell you soon. But…” he pauses. Charlie can’t seem to get his mouth to work.
“I know what it is like to have teenagers, and I know how you worry about Bella. I wanted you to be prepared.” He hears Carlisle sigh, which sounds staticky through the cheap phone speaker.
“I… I did not see that coming,” Charlie rushes out a breath. Carlisle lets out a surprised laugh.
“Your daughter is most reticent, I know,” he chuckles.
“Edward seems like a good kid,” he didn’t want to say more. Fuck, he didn’t think he would have to worry about Bella having a boyfriend. He’s going to have to drop by a pharmacy.
“He is,” Carlisle says fondly.
“Thanks,” Charlie says. “I really appreciate you keeping me in the loop.”
“You are most welcome,” it sounds like he’s smiling.
———
When Bella tells him next week, awkwardly stumbling through her words, he’s prepared.
“And I know you’re friends with Dr. Cullen, Edward told me you and him hang out. So, I thought you might even approve?” She ends her little speech.
“It’s okay, Bells,” he clears his throat. Neither one of them likes talking about shit. “As long as you are being careful. I put some stuff in the bathroom cabinet.” He looks significantly at her.
“Oh my god, dad. I’m going to his parents house to meet his family! I don’t need condoms,” she yells, face beat red.
“I know Bella. Fuck,” he sighs. “But yah know. If you ever need them. You’re too young to have a baby.”
“I know dad,” she whispers, deflated. “Trust me, I’m not going to let that happen.”
Charlie nods, satisfied.
“I probably won’t be home till late, okay? We are probably going to hang out there, do some stuff with his family,” Bella mumbles.
“Okay. Well. Have fun or whatever. Give Esme my regards.” Bella smiles.
“Thanks dad,” she flits forward, kisses him on the cheek and scampers off.
Charlie watches from the porch as she gets into Edward’s car, a familiar starry look in her eyes.
———
Charlie spends the rest of the day getting things done around the house. He knows if he lets himself take a break and think, he won’t be able to stop his mind from wandering to where it shouldn’t be. Charlie fixes the sink in the kitchen and changes the oil in his car. Once he’s too tired to do anything else, he collapses on the couch and turns on the TV. Fucking Grey’s Anatomy again. Can’t he get a moment's peace?
He rests his head back against the couch, and lets his mind drift into unconsciousness.
———
Charlie startles awake, disoriented. Bella rushes through the front door, yelling.
What the fuck? Is he still asleep?
Charlie staggers to his feet and towards his daughter.
“Bella?” He says in an alarmed tone.
“Leave me alone,” she shouts at him, her face tear stained. Panic courses through his body. What did the boy do to her?
Bella rushes upstairs, confused and nonsensical words rushing out of her mouth.
The next five minutes are the worst of Charlie’s life. Worse than when Renee left. When Bella slams the front door, Charlie collapses onto the floor and dry heaves, his empty stomach protesting.
When his brain returns, he crawls to the liquor cabinet and starts to drink.
———
When he wakes, he feels like he has been run over. He drags himself into the kitchen and chugs water from the tap. Sense suddenly returns to him, and he can’t believe he just let her walk out into the night, no matter what she said.
Jesus fucking Christ, he let his baby get in her truck and start driving to Arizona. Whatever she said. It doesn’t matter. He’s not letting her get hurt. He’ll kill Edward when he gets back.
Charlie scrabbles through the coffee making process, shoving bread into the toaster. While his breakfast is being made, he stumbles upstairs, changes his rancid clothes, chugs some more water, ingests a few Tylenols, and races back down the stairs.
Thirty minutes later, fully caffeinated, Charlie walks purposely out to the cruiser. He’s going to make sure she is safe. He’ll call Renee from the road.
———
He’s almost to Phoenix when Carlisle calls. Charlie pulls over to the side of the road and screams into the desert.
———
Charlie is running on adrenaline and caffeine when he walks into the hospital. Immediately, he spots Carlisle.
“Where is she,” he gasps.
“Follow me,” Carlisle looks grim.
———
“Daddy?” Bella looks so young and vulnerable lying swathed in bandages.
“Hi honey,” Charlie chokes out, stumbling to her side. He feels his heart pounding. Jesus fuck. He almost lost her, again.
“I’m… I’m so sorry,” she says in a pleading voice, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes.
“Shhh, it’s okay. All that matters, is that you are safe,” he gently kisses his forehead, clasping one of her cold hands in his. Her eyelids are drooping, clearly fighting the morphine. “You get some rest, Bells. I love you.”
“Love you,” she whispers, slipping into unconsciousness.
Charlie pulls a chair next to her bed. He can feel his heart racing and moisture gathering in the corner of his eyes. Forcefully, he presses his clenched fist to his mouth, trying to will his hands to stop shaking.
Keep it together, Charlie.
He can’t. With gasping breaths, Charlie rushes from the room.
———
Oh god. He’s having a heart attack. At least you’re at a hospital, he thinks hysterically. Charlie slumps down in the corner of the empty hospital stairwell, fluorescent lights swimming in and out of his vision as he puts his head between his knees. He can’t die now. Bella needs him.
“Charlie?” He hears a voice through the ringing in his ears. “Charlie, look at me. You need to breathe.” Cool hands check his pulse. “Bella is safe. You are in the hospital. Breathe in two, three, four, out two, three, four. There you go. Good job. You’re doing well.” Carlisle keeps up a steady stream of reassuring words as Charlie works through his panic.
Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. Impossible to tell. Carlisle’s words swim back into focus: “Bella is an intelligent girl. She seems to favor the classics in literature. I do as well. Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice ? It is quite good.”
Charlie slumps his body forward, leaning his forehead on Carlisle’s firm shoulder. His words stutter for a second, then he resumes talking, this time with his cold fingers stroking through Charlie’s hair.
———
When he calms down enough, he lets Carlisle pull him to his feet. He makes his way back to Bella’s room. Edward is there and he sees red.
“Charlie,” Carlisle catches his arm in a vice-like grip. “It is not Edward’s fault.” Charlie clenches his jaw, and glares at the boy.
Carlisle and Edward explain what happened. He doesn’t believe it. Something doesn’t click. But what is he going to do?
Stick by Bella’s side until she wakes up again, that’s what he’s going to do. Much to Edward’s evident chagrin. Good. Charlie smiles wryly and settles down to sleep in the uncomfortable hospital chair.
———
By the time Renee arrives, Bella is awake again and talking weakly. To their mutual surprise, Bella insists that she wants to return to Forks. Charlie cuts his gaze to Edward, the fucker. He has something to do with this.
He lets Renee stay with her, so he can go get a shower at his hotel he booked, but hasn’t been to yet. As he showers the days of sweat and grime off his body, he feels his panic start to climb again. He ends up on the floor of the shower, sobbing.
When he returns to the hospital, Carlisle is the first one he sees. Relieved, he makes his way over.
“Charlie,” Carlisle smiles at him. “Bella is doing quite well.”
“Good,” he nods. Carlisle gently takes his arm, a parody of his iron grip from the other day.
“Come. Let’s get you something to eat,” he leads them towards the cafeteria. “I am sure Renee is probably hungry as well.”
They walk in silence, but Carlisle clearly has something to say.
“I know you are upset at Edward,” he says tentatively. “But please. If you ever trusted me, as a friend. Please believe that he has done nothing to harm your daughter.” He looks pleadingly at Charlie.
Charlie grunts. Doesn’t mean he has to like the kid.
———
When Bella is well enough, they fly to Forks. Charlie has to drive his cruiser back, so he leaves a few days before the rest. It makes him anxious to be separated from Bella even for a little bit, but he is comforted by the fact that Carlisle will be there with her the whole time.
Bella has a long recovery ahead of her, but Charlie is so glad she is choosing to come back to Forks. Even if he is not delusional enough to believe it is because of him.
He makes it back before Bella by a day. Which is good, because the house is a mess. He makes himself busy cleaning and preparing for her return. Even goes out and gets vegetables.
When their flight gets in, he’s there at the baggage claim. She’s in a wheelchair, looking resentful and embarrassed. Charlie smiles tiredly when he sees her.
That night, he makes her a salad and puts on Pride and Prejudice. He flutters about her, trying to do whatever she needs, until she grabs his wrist and tugs him down onto the couch with her.
“Dad. I wanted to say. I am so sorry for what I said,” he looks down at his lap, supremely uncomfortable. “It was cruel and I didn’t mean it.”
“Thanks. It’s okay,” he grunts.
“No,” she says sadly. “It’s not.”
She rests her head on his shoulder and watches Colin Firth ride a horse or something. Charlie doesn’t know, he can’t see through his tears.
———
He doesn’t know how, but somehow Edward tricks Bella into going to prom. She looks supremely uncomfortable as she hobbles down the stairs and onto the driveway in a dress. He watches Bella gingerly lower herself into Edwards’s car. As they start to pull away from the house, Charlie feels his hands begin to shake.
She’s coming back. Breathe.
Fuck. He knows he shouldn’t. But he stumbles to the liquor cabinet, unscrews the top of a new whisky bottle, and takes a pull from the neck.
———
Through the haze of alcohol, he hears the buzzing of his doorbell. Confusedly, Charlie looks at the cuckoo clock. It’s not time for Bella to get back. He stumbles into the main room, fumbles with the lock, and opens the door.
“Charlie,” Carlisle is smiling. His eyes flick to the half empty bottle in Charlie’s loose grip. “I thought I would come over and see how you are doing. I see you started without me.”
“I’m fine,” Charlie slurs. He moves away from the door to let Carlisle slide past him into the house. Goddamn he smells good. They stand awkwardly in the foyer. Carlisle is looking expectantly at Charlie, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m okay, Carlisle. Really. Just. Started feeling off. Needed something to calm me down,” Charlie sighs.
“You know I worry about you. You drink far too much Charlie. Is there something I can do? To help?” He looks serious.
Drunkenly, Charlie grabs the man’s shoulder and gives it a clap, not moving his hand away after. Carlisle quirks his mouth into a small smile and Charlie leans forward, wrapping his arms around his friend.
“Hey. Thanks. For everything,” Carlisle is solid, and curiously cool. Startled at first, Carlisle tentatively returns the embrace.
The seconds pass, the clock ticking the only sound to break the silence. Charlie presses his face into Carlisle’s neck. He stiffens, but Charlie is past reading the warning bells that tinkle faintly in the back of his inebriated mind.
Slowly, he starts to pull away, face still touching Carlisle’s. Suddenly, panic flares in his brain as he realizes his eyes are closed and he can feel his warm breath puffing against the cool skin of Carlisle’s lips. They aren’t touching, but they are so close, Charlie can almost taste him.
The fabric of Carlisle’s coat rustles as Charlie releases his grip as his eyes flutter open. The other man sways away, separating them by a foot now instead of a few centimeters.
“I… I must go,” Carlisle’s expression is unreadable.
“Wait,” Charlie croaks. Carlisle pauses, but no words are forthcoming. Charlie realizes his hand is uselessly outstretched towards the other man. He can hear his own choppy breathing, blood rushing in his ears. The air around Carlisle is curiously dead, like he’s not breathing at all. Not breaking eye contact, Carlisle starts stepping towards the door. He spares Charlie one last look, before slipping out into the night.
Shakily, Charlie collapses onto the couch, stomach churning with disgust and blind panic.
What the fuck have you done, Charlie.
———