Bella's POV

"…where…she?" a faint voice drifted into my conscious. I slowly turned my throbbing head to find the disembodied voice; a sharp pain shot through my body and a gasp escaped my lips. The voices continued to float in and out my mind.

"What…find? Did you…? Fine, fine. How is…?" I couldn't make sense of the ramblings. My brow scrunched up; it didn't feel right, the skin was too tight. Slowly I managed to bring my hand up to touch my forehead and encountered some crusty substance. Had Renee taken me to a spa without my knowing?

I brought my hand down and as I did I noticed a flaky, rust-colored substance coated most of it. A small moan slipped out and I attempted to remain cognizant. The blood began to pound in my ears. I moaned again.

Suddenly a pale face I didn't recognize hovered over me. "Isabella?"

I squinted my eyes in confusion and tried to turn my face away. Another blinding pain ripped through my body. "Don't move. I need you to remain immobile, Isabella," the face instructed me. It disappeared from my sight for several moments before coming back into my sight.

"You've got a minor neck injury, but to be on the safe side, I need you to stay still."

"Renee?"

The face looked away from me for several beats. "Renee?" I again asked. The face looked back at me. I knew that look; I had seen it on countless faces since the beginning of this war: my mother was dead. "Phil?" I tried. I received the same sad look.

"Isabella, do you remember anything?" the face asked with a grave expression.

I tried to think, "I…I remember an explosion…lots of shouting…" my eyes darted to the face's hazel eyes, "…they found us…oh, God, they found us…" my eyes slipped shut and a single tear leaked out. I hated crying in front of people, especially strangers. I tried to turn my head away.

"No, Isabella, stay still." Two hands quickly grabbed my head to keep it in place.

"Who are you?" I managed to gasp out. The tears pushing relentlessly against my lash line but I refused to let them fall; I would be strong.

"My name is Carlisle Cullen. I am the medic for the Seatacoma Region."

"Is that where we are? The Seatacoma Region?"

"Yes, we're in the underground city," Carlisle said, "Now, I'm going to give you a shot of morphine to ease the pain in your neck. You must have sprained the neck muscles in the explosion. You also have a concussion, though from the amount of dents in your head, I would say this isn't your first."

I could feel the blush spread across my face. "So I'm a little clumsy."

Carlisle laughed. "So it would seem. Now, can you tell me your name?"

"You mean you haven't said it enough already?"

A smile flashed across his face. "It's a device to calm patients coming out of a coma or awakening from a head trauma."

"Oh. My name is Isabella Marie Swan. But I prefer to be called Bella."

"And when were you born?"

"September 13, 1987 in the state formerly known as Washington in the town of Forks," I answered anticipating his next question.

"Good, now follow my finger. Okay. You just need to rest to allow your neck to heal. That means minimal head movement. Don't make me put you in a brace," he jokingly threatened. A ghost of a smile whispered across my lips. Carlisle turned to leave the room and hesitated. He looked back at me, "Do you want to see your father?"

It took me a moment to process that. I hadn't seen Charlie in fifteen years. Fighting had broken out when I was two and by the time I was three, we were living in the underground commune in the Cactus Desert Territory, or what was left of Phoenix and its outlying cities. Our only form of communication with the outside world was with an old ham radio. And while I had spoken a handful of times with Charlie over the years, I hadn't seen him. "You mean…you mean he's here?"

Confusion crossed Carlisle's face. "Yes, Bella, he's here. He's the commanding general of the underground movement in the Seatacoma Region. Didn't you know?"

"I haven't spoken to my father in five years." I waited for Carlisle to be hit with an epiphany.

"When they deciphered our code," he muttered to himself.

"Yeah. Um, do you think I could clean up a little before Char- my dad comes in?" The feeling of dried blood was a sickening one. Not to mention I had no desire for Charlie to see me covered in blood.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I guess I get so used to seeing people covered in blood it doesn't bother me any more." This man was insane. Not notice someone being covered in blood? Even with all of the death and destruction I had witnessed in my seventeen years, I still reacted negatively to blood. A thought occurred to me.

"The blood on me…is it mine?" I looked down in an attempt to see past the juts of my cheekbones.

He became very somber, "Some of it." I slightly nodded my head before remembering I had to keep still.

"Is it…is it my mom's?"

"I'm not going to tell you that, Bella," he quietly said before leaving the room.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. 'I'm not gonna cry. I'm not gonna cry. I'm not gonna cry,' I told myself. I took a deep breath and sniffed back the snot threatening to drip from my nose. 'So glamorous,' I thought with a snort.

A couple of minutes later a nurse came in with a basin of warm water and several washcloths. She gently wiped the dried blood from my face, neck, hands, and arms. She smiled gently at me when she was done and took the now red water and washcloths with her. Moments later I heard the plodding footsteps of what I assumed to be my father.

He slowly entered the room and came to stand by my bed. I looked up into his tired face. Deep circles had taken up residence underneath his eyes; my eyes. His curly brown hair was cropped close to his head, removing most of the curl. It looked as though fingers had been run through the dark strands countless times. A sad smile graced his haggard face with a deep melancholy reflected in his eyes.

"Hey, Bells," he quietly said.

"Hey, Char- Dad," a wince escaped; hopefully he hadn't heard my slip. The corner of his mouth quirked up; he'd heard.

"How are you?" I shot him a look.

"Um, my neck kind of hurts."

"Didn't Carlisle give you some morphine?"

"Not much and I've kind of built a resistance to it over the years." Charlie gave a soft laugh before his face once again became as solemn as a graveyard.

"Bells, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but do you remember anything? Anything at all? It would really help us if we knew exactly what happened."

I looked up at him. "Right, you need to rest, heal up some. We'll talk tomorrow. I can't stay with you tonight, but Carlisle said you could go home tomorrow," Charlie said.

"Home?" I questioned, my voice cracking, "Home is gone. Home's been gone for the past fifteen years. Any semblance of a home I had is gone! Bombed and razed and wiped off the face of the earth."

Charlie looked panicky and completely out of his element. His eyes darted around the room in search of someone to help him. "She's not here to provide the emotional side of parenting anymore, Charlie. She's gone!" I cruelly informed him.

"I know that, Bells. Just calm down," he sadly instructed me, "I know this is going to be hard on you. Let's just try to make the best of things."

I bit my lip in indecision before acknowledging his request. A small smile flitted across his mouth. "Okay, I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to get you." He leaned down as if to kiss my forehead, paused, raised slightly up again, and finally gently pressed a kiss to my head. "'Night, Bells."