Disclaimer

Twilight and all affiliated characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. I do not own any of the aforementioned characters except Beth and the plot of this story (that is, should it stray from the original Twilight). This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line. I am not in any way, shape, or form benefiting financially from the publishing of this story on this site and am very grateful for Mrs. Meyer's creation. Besides, if I did own Twilight, I'd have treated myself to an ice cream sandwich for lunch.

As Charlie finished assisting the firefighters on the unfolding scene of the motel fire, his phone buzzed with a text notification. He pulled it out and saw the message Beth sent him, quickly typing out a reply before pocketing the phone once more. He had to ensure the fire scene was being properly managed and that everyone was safe. However, his attention was diverted when he noticed a heated argument brewing betweenFrank, the motel owner, and a woman he had never seen before. The woman seemed visibly upset, her infuriated gestures and expressions revealing her frustration. Charlie knew he needed to intervene before things escalated further.

He stepped in between the two, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Whoa, let's calm down and take a step back here. What's going on here?"

Frank glanced at Charlie with a mixture of relief and frustration, no doubt glad to no longer have to deal with the angry red-head for much more. "Charlie, thank god you're here!" The man looked ready to tear his hair out from how frazzled he appeared. "This woman is crazy! I've been trying to explain to her that there's no way for me to accommodate her and she's not listening!"

The woman's eyes blazed in the fire, her red hair matching perfectly with the burning embers behind them all, stepping forwards threateningly, "Crazy? I'll show you crazy, mister!"

Frank backed up, eyes wide and hands held aloft as he tried to flee. Charlie blocked her path quickly enough though, turning to address the woman, one hand on his taser just in case and the other held in front of him in a placating fashion.

"Hey! Calm down now," he asserted authoritatively.

The woman's eyes narrowed as she spoke in a frustrated tone. "I booked this room well in advance for two weeks! Two! And on the night I drove four hours down to this-" she struggled to find an apt word, "ass crack of a town, it just so happens that the place I need to stay at suddenly bursts into flames!"

Behind him, Frank piped up, gesturing wildly to the chaos taking place, "You think I did this on purpose, lady?"

 Charlie spun to face him, glaring down at him sternly until the smaller man backed down with a frown. "Go take a walk," the chief commanded. The other male rolled his eyes, stalking off angrily. 

 Beside him, the woman sighed heavily, bags under her eyes becoming more visible as the streetlights caught the shadows on her face. "Is there any other motel around here?"

"The nearest would be in Port Angeles." The Chief replied, kicking at a charred piece of wood near his foot, gaze lifting to watch the blaze finally die down, the bright red siren lights circling the top of the fire truck and casting on his face.

"And that is...?" she trailed off.

Charlie cleared his throat, mustache twitching, "Only about an hour outside of town."

The woman's jaw dropped, "Only? Only an hour?"

At his nod, she scoffed, cursing small towns for their size. "I've been driving for hours!"

"Car's always an option," he suggested, the walkie-talkie at his breast buzzing to life with a beep. He took a step away then, listening to the summary of the newest report.

The woman watched him, a frown marring her features. Sleeping in her car was the last thing she wanted to do. But gazing at the destruction that the fire had caused and judging by how tired she was, it was the only option right now. If she'd left to go to Port-Whatever in the state she was in right that moment, the officer in front of her would probably be the unfortunate soul who would find her after she inevitably drove into a ditch in the middle of the highway. Rubbing her forehead tiredly, she resigned herself to her fate.

When Charlie had finally turned back to her, the woman was gone. No trace of her auburn hair amongst the gathered locals that came out to gawk at the scene in their pajamas and thick night robes.

Eventually, she found a somewhat secluded spot on the side of the interstate and settled in, feeling wary of the trees that bordered the road. The next day in the still dark gray of the morning, she woke up groggy, cold and uncomfortable from a night of fitful sleep in her car, nothing to cover her from the brutal cold that covered Forks save a semi-thick coat. Aches and pains foreign to her greeted her body when she stepped out to stretch her legs and brush her teeth with an old bottle of water, dressed up in her embarrassingly long, blue and white striped pajamas and closed the door to the car without a second thought. She groaned at the pain, feet covered by some fuzzy brown socks and pitiful bedroom slippers that looked insanely out of place. She ran a hand through her undoubtedly messy hair and stepped off to the gravel to do her business. While brushing her teeth, however, she ran out of water to wash her mouth out completely and upon going back to the car to get more, finally noticed something that made her heart sink: her car keys were locked inside the vehicle. Panic started to rise within her as she realized her phone was also there and she nearly screamed. This morning wasn't going great at all.

Desperate and frustrated, she eventually began walking along the side of the road, hoping to find some form of help. It didn't take too long before she reached an old house, stripping yellow paint covering its outer walls. She took a deep breath, trying her best not to think of how insane she must have looked with dried toothpaste on the corner of her mouth and approached the front door, knocking with a mix of anxiety and hope.

A woman answered the door, giving her a curious look. "Can I help you?"

The red head's voice trembled slightly as she explained her situation. "Hi there! I'm Emilia Parkes, reporter from Seattle Chance. I had to sleep in my car last night and I accidentally locked my keys in my car. My phone is inside as well so I couldn't call for help. Would you mind calling someone who could help?"

The woman's eyes practically bugged out but nodded sympathetically and gestured for Emilia to wait. And after a few minutes, she returned.

"I just called the Chief of Police. He should be here soon because the locksmith doesn't open till Monday."

"Thank you so much," Emilia replied with genuine gratitude and walked down the creaky porch steps once the door shut. Sighing, she flopped onto the last step, waiting for help.