A/N: So yeah..another new story I've had sitting around. Little cute and fluffy.
Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters that may appear in this story. The remainder is my original work. Copyright 2010 by Fate of Shadows. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.
When the Fog Rolls In
"Drop me off here." She whispered, pointing to the gas station sign just visible through the thick heavy fog. The truck driver grunted, pulling in the parking lot. The car stalled, breathing hardily, just adding to the fog.
"Here ya are, sweet." The girl jumped out, black worn backpack half on her shoulder.
"Thanks." She called, the door slam cutting off anything else she could say. She watched as the driver put the truck in gear and pull out. Then, squaring her jaw, she faced where fate landed her. At a gas station in the middle of nowhere in the cloudy fog.
A neon red sign blinked every couple seconds, the sign stating the word "Open". There was only one car in front, a black sports car. She didn't know anything about cars so she couldn't tell you what it's make was, just its license plate number; 275 GGA. The clerk was behind the counter, uninterestingly flipping through a magazine. Every so often she would look up, to glance towards the beverage aisle where the girl could see a mop of strange bronze colored hair.
The sound of a bell announced her entrance. The clerk briefly looked up, decided she was nothing of notice and went back to flipping. The girl looked around. There was no one here. No one she could hitch a ride with to whatever town. She didn't know where she was going; she didn't even know where she was. I could be in Kansas for all I know. She thought wearily.
Off to the side were several tables, a salt and pepper shaker in the middle paired with a napkin dispenser. The girl trudged over there, roughly settling down in the booth. Exhaustion finally caught up with her and her head drifted to the tabletop. The cool surface was refreshing, rejuvenating. She exhaled a contented sigh. In the background she could hear muffled voices. Then, silence followed by footsteps. The girl assumed the man had left. She didn't think to check for the bell.
Something was placed down in front of her, liquid sloshing. She opened her eyes to see a Twinkie and a cup of hot chocolate, just for her. Eagerly, she ripped open the Twinkie, stuffing it in her mouth. She hadn't eaten for hours and the truck driver hadn't offered to get her anything.
A hushed chuckle rebounded from somewhere above her. She had enough courtesy to look up and face the perpetrator. She was met with a pair of rich, jade colored eyes. They had the tone of jade with a hint of emerald. Pine mixed with deciduous trees. The only other things she noticed was he was incredibly handsome, a supermodel and his hair was that unusual shade of bronze she had only seen on one other person; her mother's best friend.
He gestured towards the other side of the booth. She nodded, indicating that he could sit down. Recovering from her initial shock, she continues stuffing her face, half oblivious to her companion.
"You know, I don't think I've seen someone wolf down a Twinkie as fast as you. I think you'll need another one. Haven't eaten much lately?" she shook her head, gulping down the scorching hot liquid. Overwhelmed by the heat, it came up immediately, shooting out her mouth and covered her guest in chocolate and fluffy cream.
"Crap, shoot, crap, crap, crap. I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't realize it was…" He held up his hand, stopping her onslaught of apologies. "…so hot." She finished. He grabbed a bunch of napkins, wiping down his shirt.
"No, no, no. Don't do that. You dab at it not wipe. Here, let me." She came around the table, snatching the napkins from him. Crouching in front of him, she dabbed at the brown stains spattering his tan button down. She suddenly looked up and he was right there, an intoxicating scent driving her senses crazy. Hastily, she backed up, still squatting and tripped, landing hard on her back. The man smiled, reaching down to lift her up.
"You're one for accidents. So what's your name? I'd like to know a name to put to the pretty girl." True to her fashion, the girl blushed
"Bella." She whispered, looking down. "But my full name's Isabella."
"Beautiful. Your name means beautiful. Well, beautiful, I'm Edward."
"Guardian, I see." She shot back. "See? I know it too."
"Yes indeed you do. So, beautiful, why are you half starving and relying on strangers to feed you?"
She hesitated. She didn't know this man, how could she trust him? He might turn her in to the cops. But then again, he might not. A voice reasoned back. And he called you beautiful. Are you willing to take that chance?
The answer was yes.
So she told him her story. About the hard life at home with an overbearing boyfriend, harsh parents, the peer pressure of teenagers under the influence. How all her friends chose the opposite course than her and their persuasiveness to convert her. With her refusal, everybody turned her back on her, stating she wasn't trust worthy, not a good friend, to good for them. She felt like she couldn't handle it anymore so she did what she thought was the best course to take. Running away. Taking the low road out and trying to fight for liberty all teenagers should have. She was planning to find a halfway house soon to rest and sort things out. She was tired of running and just wanted to settle down. That was it.
Edward listened to it all, listened to the whinings, complainings, everything. And then when all was said and done he spoke two words of advice.
"Go home." He stood and walked out. She sat there shocked, staring after his retreating form. What did he just say? Go home? Who was he to tell her to go home? Anger sparked then caught, greedily consuming her emotions.
She ran after him, shoving the door open. He was just barely opening his car door.
"Hey! HEY!" She slammed his door shut. "You can't just walk away. 'Go Home' you say, go home. I don't know where the hell I am and you expect me to go home? How? Nobody's around. The only person here is you. So you might as well take me home, since you're the only person willing to talk to me." She shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, but he had wrapped his hands around her wrists, dragging her stumbling with him.
"Go on, get in." He pointed to the passenger seat. She quickly climbed around and seated herself in the comfy leather. He started the car and it purred gently to life. The fog was still thick so he drove carefully. The last thing she knew was the radio playing Claire De Lune.
* * *
In his parent's dark apartment, the only light came from the computer screen. He had been visiting some friends before senior year started, but they lived a state away. His parents owned this apartment for city business when his dad had to stay for work. Tenants occasionally occupied it, but there were none this night. He was grateful for that.
All he had done was stop at the gas station for a snack for the ride home. Instead, he gave up his snack to a stranger who was now sleeping in his bed. A beautiful stranger but still, a stranger. Right now, he was trying to make that stranger into a person. A person with a family that loved her.
A missing person.
The Washington state missing person's site had three entries that had been submitted in the last 48 hours. One was a 42 year old male, definitely not the girl sleeping 10 feet away. Another was a female, 23. Close, but the name wasn't right. The last was jackpot. One Miss Isabella Swan. Swan, swan. Where had he heard that name before? Not from school. Maybe from his mother? Yes his mother had spoken it. She had a…friend named Renee'. Renee' Swan. Renee' Swan had a daughter about his age. Bella.
This realization made him push away from the desk. She knew his family, he knew hers. Really, in all actuality, they weren't strangers. Just unacquainted acquaintances. He knew he should call his mother to tell her he had found the missing swan girl but part of him wanted to leave the girl peace, if not for a few hours. She looked so, fragile, so breakable that one wrong word would shatter her. He couldn't do that to her, not now.
Instead, he walked over, letting his fingers drape over her cheek. She was so soft, so innocent. So, perfect. He jerked his hand away. He had no right, no right whatsoever. She had a boyfriend. But hadn't she said he was overbearing?
A fierce way of protectiveness washed over him. He had to protect this girl from anything and everything. It was his duty, his passion. She was depending on him. She had placed herself in his path, for him to take in and provide.
"Guardian." The name rolled off her lips. She wasn't awake, still asleep. "Edward, Guardian." She whispered again. It was decided. He would be her guardian, as she asked him. Forever and ever.
"Yes, of course I will, Beautiful."
A/N: Any one want me to make this into a story? Or leave it as a one shot? Tell me in a review...