I'm such a bloody liar. Final chapter for sure, because i thought it needed a little more than what it had. Bethanie's smart, she deserved this much.

Don't own twilight.

Thirty –one years after the death of his first daughter, Charlie Swan –age seventy-four—died. Peacefully and in his sleep, but no one felt any less grief because of it. His wife of twenty-seven years, Nina Swan, and their daughter, Bethanie, and son Billy were hit the hardest by the death. At least, as far as they knew.

Bethanie, twenty-six years old, stood in the rain and gloom of Forks at the grave of her father. Her younger brother, only two years younger than she, had left town the minute the ceremony was over. He had never been one to grieve and to do so in the company of other was completely unthinkable. Jacob had come by to see her, to check on her, and she had cried to him for no longer than ten minutes before she jumped away and ran out into the yard of the cemetery.

She'd been standing there for more than an hour before she realized she was not alone.

The woman was flawless, not a single blemish on her porcelain face, and she stood at a petite height just taller than Bethanie herself. Her eyes were brown and dulled in the rain, and a pain Bethanie never thought she'd be able to see on a person stared out at her through them. The woman's sandy blonde hair was matted to her face so delicately that it looked as if Hollywood had pulled her out of filming a movie and stuck her in Forks.

The only real imperfection Bethanie could find was the dark purple shadows beneath her large eyes and the tears that dripped from them.

"Did you know him?" Bethanie found herself asking with a raw voice she hardly recognized at all. The woman, startled, snapped her neck up to look at Bethanie and stared at the girl who appeared to be several years her elder. Bethanie found herself transfixed with the woman's eyes—the exact eyes she saw in the mirror every morning and every night. Charlie's eyes.

The woman was doing the same.

She nodded. "I used to," she admitted in a voice that singers and harpies alike would be envious of.

Bethanie brushed her light blonde bangs from her forehead and smiled pathetically. "I'm sorry for your loss."

The woman blanched in disgust and shook her head. "No, don't be. It was my own fault." She looked back at Bethanie's face and winced in what seemed to be pain. "I'm sorry for yours, though. You're his daughter, I presume?"

Bethanie nodded. She couldn't shake the image of the woman's face—she could have sworn she recognized it from somewhere. "If I may ask, what was he to you?"

The woman wrung her gloved hands out and frowned down at the newly placed headstone announcing the death of the man they both held so dear to their hearts. She choked back the lump that was making it difficult for her to breathe, as unnessecary as the action was for her. "He…he's the reason I live." The woman said it with such assuredy that Bethanie couldn't pick up any reason for her to be suspicious. Were it her mother that the woman was talking to, she would undeniably be assumed to have had romantic encounters with Charlie. Bethanie shuddered at the idea—the woman looked apon him with such heartbreak, such agony, that nothing but paternal love could have existed there.

She suddenly realized where she recognized her from.

"You're…" she couldn't say it. Charlie had never said it, so she never could force herself to do so. "He loved you very much, you know."

The woman bit her lip, nodding madly, looking more like a child than a woman in that moment. Her eyes were too wide for her to have been breathing. "I know," she wretched out miserably. "I know, I know. I should have always known."

Bethanie stepped forward and hugged the cold woman, who jumped at the physical contact. "He never stopped believing you were alive, Bella."

In less than a second, the woman jumped back, alarmed. "How do you…" She already knew the answer.

"Jake told me stories. Charlie told me stories. Your eyes say what you haven't." She sniffled. "I'm Bethie Swan."

"Bella Swan," Bella held her hand out and shook Bethanie's. She reached up and ran a hand through her hair, looking back at the road with tortured eyes. "I'm not supposed to be here."

Bethanie smiled. "I won't tell." She held her hand out, pinkie extended. "I promise."

Reviews, please. I hope you enjoyed it.