As far as I know, there is but one person awaiting the completion of this tale.

Xxdarkness-angelxX, this is for you. It's still not done. I was totally prepared to finish it tonight, but she ran away from me. Again. I kept on writing, hoping I'd get it done, but then I looked up and realized I was about to turn into a pumpkin. I'm really, truly sorry.

Next time, Gadget. Next time!

Edward spotted Jasper in the waiting room – he looked even younger in his street clothes – and the two ran out the door without a word. Edward automatically ran toward his own car, but stopped abruptly halfway across the lot.

"What's wrong?" Jasper asked him.

"We better take your car, so we can cut through traffic."

"No, we'll take yours. I was already in the family car when you called, and it sure as hell ain't no Vanquish." Jasper's tone was even and authoritative, leaving little room for suspicion.

And yet, Edward wondered… especially when the officer took the passenger seat.

"Which house?" he asked when they were close.

"That one. The blue." Jasper was out of the car before it had even stopped rolling, running up the ruinous brick steps and breaking down the door. "I've already called for backup!" he shouted, "But we can't wait that long!"

"Jasper…" Edward tried, but the kid was hard of hearing. "Officer Whitlock!" But Jasper continued to slam his shoulder into the door again and again.

"JASPER!" Finally, he stopped and took a look at Edward.

"What?"

Edward held up a little silver trinket. "I have the key."

"Oh…" he panted. "Good work."

Edward opened the door quickly, calling out that he was entering the house. He doubted anyone was inside, but didn't particularly want to get shot, either. A small portion of Edward's brain wondered why Jasper hadn't announced their presence. Wasn't that standard protocol or something? Come to that, what was with the trying to force open a door? Surely he, as a police officer, had more efficient means of entering a home uninvited than a bruised shoulder and brute force.

Questions ran rampant in Edward's mind while they searched the house for the secret cupboard, until finally he had to ask, "How old are you, Officer Whitlock?"

"Twenty-two," Jasper answered quickly. Too quickly. Edward shrugged and let it go. They had bigger problems.

"Here!" Jasper shouted suddenly, throwing a decorative table out of the way. He didn't seem too worried about collateral damage… maybe he was a Chicago police officer. "Gimme the keys… Give me the keys!"

Edward handed over Mary Anne's key chain, but it was immediately clear that none of them would fit. It was an old-fashioned lock that had apparently been taped or boarded shut on the inside so no one could see in.

Or so Mary couldn't see what was going on in the living room. Edward shuddered at the thought.

"Mary!" he called, feeling incredibly stupid for not having done so before now. "Mary, are you in there? My name is Edward Cullen, and I'm a doctor."

No answer.

"Your mother is at my hospital, Mary. She's sick and she needs y- Ow!"

"Way to scare her, dickhead," Jasper muttered under his breath.

"If it gets her to frickin' answer me," he stage-whispered back, rubbing his newly bruised arm.

"Mary, we're your friends! We want to help you!" Jasper tried.

"I'm sure she's never heard that one before," Edward mumbled, earning himself another punch. "She must be unconscious," he concluded, ignoring Jasper in favor of becoming Doctor Cullen. Doctor Cullen saved lives a lot faster than Annoyed Edward. And this was a life he would save, he wouldn't entertain any other possibility. "Jasper, I need you to find a safer means of opening this door than your shoulder, got it?"

Jasper nodded and went in search of the fireplace poker he had spotted in a cluttered closet off the front room. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things in there they could probably use to pry with. By the time he returned, Edward had his medical kit prepared and was waiting patiently to use it, professional facade in place.

Jasper didn't waste any time digging the poker into the wall, prying the door right off its hinges. It was an old house, and he had probably used more force than necessary, but Edward understood; there was a young life at stake.

When the dust cleared and Edward could finally see, he couldn't hide his gasp. The space was so small… and dirty… and just… How could anyone do this to a child? How could Mary Anne Brandon have subjected her daughter to existing in this… hole, just to stay with her husband? It made Edward sick. Then again, he had never been a battered wife.

He allowed himself that split second of reaction and immediately regretted it; it was a split second too long. Turning on his flashlight, he very carefully moved himself over Mary's lifeless body into the space. It was a mess. She had been wearing the same diaper for three days, maybe longer, and the size of the cupboard left him within inches of excrement every which way.

Ignoring this, Edward reached to evaluate his patient. Her skin was porcelain, untouched, unfound by her father. If she was alive, he could likely move her without consequence… if she was alive.

Tentatively, he reached for her tiny neck. It took him a moment, in his dread, to find the practiced ease he was used to, and in that moment he panicked. But then he felt it: a pulse. It was faint, and it was slowing, but it was present. That, he could work with.

"Move back!" he yelled to Jasper, gently lifting the baby from her own filth. He leaned down toward Mary's mouth, but Mary wasn't breathing. They had gotten to her just in time. He hoped. Edward started modified CPR immediately. "You called 911?" He looked to Jasper pointedly.

"Yes!" He answered, then re-thought. "I mean... I called it in on the-"

"Forget that!" Edward barked impatiently. "Did you really call?"

"Of course," Jasper looked scandalized for a moment, but Edward couldn't be bothered. So long as help was really coming, he didn't care about Jasper's feelings.

"Twenty- Fucking- Two," Edward muttered in time with his compressions. He worked on her and worked on her, and still she wasn't breathing. Minutes had gone by, hours, quite possibly. Where was the ambulance? Where was his backup?

He checked her pulse. Non-existent.

"Oh hell no," he said aloud to no one in particular.

"Edward," Jasper hedged. "Edward, I think."

"NO!"

"It's been almost five minutes, and I think I hear sirens."

"Good!"

"The thing is, I'm not actually suppos-"

"Go then!" Edward yelled, leaning down to administer breaths. "You found the girl and brought a doctor, your part in this is over."

Jasper dithered near the back door, looking sadly down at Mary's unconscious body. "I really thought…" he started, but couldn't find it in him to finish.

"I'll cover for you, just go!" Edward could hear the sirens now too, and it gave him the oddest feeling of doom. Like if Mary wasn't awake by the time the sirens stopped, she never would be again.

"Edward, I-"

"Goodbye, Jasper!" Edward yelled, leaning down again, but screamed out an obscenity when he was met with open eyes. "Mary? Mary, can you hear me?"

"Mary?" Jasper was back, not having gone very far, peering over Edward's shoulder into the dull but conscious eyes of a very lucky three-year-old.

"Jas-per…" she said, apparently repeating Edward's word, the first she had heard upon waking. And yet, both men couldn't help but notice that she held Jasper's stare as she did so.

oOoOo

Edward made his statement to the police, claiming to have been told where to find Mary by her mother, of her own free will and called 911 himself.

"But I couldn't just wait around, ya know?" he told the officers. "I knew where she was, and I knew I could get there faster, so I went, and I'm incredibly glad that I did."

He was happy they'd bought it, and even happier when they didn't investigate further; he hadn't had time to warn Angela yet. He anticipated being brought in front of the medical board for questioning, but knew they couldn't touch him. Edward's first duty as a doctor was to save lives, and with the express verbal consent of the home owner and mother of the child in question (which she could confirm as soon as she was once again conscious), he had done his job.

Jasper evaded all questions. In fact, Jasper sort of disappeared into the shadows after leaving the Brandon's kitchen. Edward asked around, but no one he knew had ever heard of a Jasper, let alone a Jasper Whitlock. Edward toyed with the idea that Jasper was an angel, sent to save Mary's life, then move on. He immediately dismissed the notion as foolish and vowed to see him again some day. How he'd manage it, he didn't know, but it felt an attainable goal.

A few days passed, and things settled down some. Edward visited the pediatric wing often to check on Mary's progress. She was still unconscious, but it was mostly pharmaceutical causes now. Mary had been dirty, dehydrated, starved, and generally unable to sustain her own life any longer. If it had been winter and she'd been stuck in that crawl space…

Edward refused to consider it.

Mary Ann was the first to wake. Her throat had healed enough that she was able to breathe on her own, though she still received the bulk of her nutrients through various tubes. Had she tried to swallow so much as a mashed potato in her condition, it would have meant agony. Speech came slowly – she had to force out each word – but the doctors encouraged her to work up to it, slowly.

One afternoon, though his time with her had passed, Edward went to Mary Ann, as he had each day since her daughter was found, to update her on Mary's condition. He looked forward to their talks almost as much as she seemed to. Every day, she would flesh out a little more of their story for him, everything that had led to this hospital bed. He especially enjoyed the tales of young Alice. Barely three, and she was already one of the most outrageous personalities he'd never encountered.

"Dr. Cullen." Mary Ann's greeting smile was lazy and drugged, but ever-present where Edward was concerned.

"Edward, please," he corrected, though he knew she wouldn't listen. He went on to give a full report of Mary's recovery, which was looking better all the time.

She would be awake soon, and most likely out of bed. At her age, strength would return quickly – especially once she started eating solid foods – and it was extremely difficult to convince a small child that, though they felt well, they shouldn't be running around just yet. Sugar would be banned until she was fully rehabilitated.

"If all goes well," Edward concluded, "you'll be able to see your daughter's smiling face day after tomorrow."

At this, Mary Ann began to cry. Edward assumed they were happy tears until she let out a wail and began to sob uncontrollably. His hand was inches from the call button when she finally spoke.

"I can't," she said with vigor. "I can't see her after what I've done."

Edward patted Mary Ann on the hand, completely at a loss. "I can understand how this might be difficult for you, but you're not at fault here, Mrs. Brandon."

"Don't use that name! It's his name."

"All right, Mary Ann," Edward amended. "It's not your fault. You were doing what was best for Mary and, unfortunately, things went further than expected. Much, much further than they'd ever gone before. You had no way of anticipating this, of preventing it. The fact that you're still alive is nothing short of a miracle, and I have to believe that you pulled through on purpose, to save your daughter's life.

"And you did, you know. You saved her. First by keeping her out of harms way, and then by staying alive to help us find her."

"You saved her," Mary Ann argued. "I put her in danger. I stayed. I wasn't strong enough for her. I should have left. For her."

She went into a coughing fit after that – her vocal chords had reached their limit – and Edward called the nurse to sedate her before she caused permanent damage.

oOoOo

It was very early in the morning, or perhaps very late at night, when Edward got the call.

"Dr. Cullen?" A panicked voice stage whispered into the phone.

"Angela?" he replied, sleepily.

"Dr. Cullen… Edward… Can you—"

FIND HIM! Someone yelled in the background. GET ME CULLEN!

"Who was that?" Edward asked, suddenly alert. At that moment his pager went off, telling him that he was required urgently at the hospital, though he wasn't on call.

"Caius," she answered simply.

The hospital administrator was screaming for him in the middle of the night on his day off. Edward had a bad feeling about this.

"I'll be right in," he said, despite his better judgment.

It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the hospital. For fifteen minutes he envisioned everything from an arrest warrant to a dead patient. He sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter, but given his line of work, it was a real possibility.

There were no officers waiting with handcuffs when he walked through the door, and Edward let himself feel relief. And when no one gave him that look of pity, the one they gave when a doctor had done his best but still the patient had died, he allowed himself to hope. When he turned the corner into Caius' purple face, hope fled with relief just behind, leaving fear and confusion in their place.

"Would you care to explain?" Caius asked.

Edward, who had no idea what he was talking about, stayed silent.

"Come," Caius commanded and turned heel.

Edward caught up quickly and began to panic when he realized where they were headed: Mary's room. When they entered, there were the policemen he'd been waiting for, but none of them seemed all that interested in him. They were dusting for fingerprints and taking statements from the children in the room. Mary was nowhere to be found.

"She's gone," Caius said, seeming to address Edward's thoughts. "But she left this with the kid." He shoved a letter, written in perfectly elegant script, into Edward's hands. Mary could never have written this. And then he heard it, and though he'd only heard her speak once before, Edward knew it was Mary's voice.

"Knigh'!" she yelled, running out from where she'd been hidden from view by two somber looking officers. "Say me, knigh'. Say me."

Save me, knight. Save me. Edward heard clearly, though he wasn't sure everyone could. Had they been confused, Mary cleared things up for them by running directly into Edward's arms – which he had instinctively held open to her.

Caius raised a brow as Edward hefted her onto his hip, but said nothing. He pointed at Edward's free hand, still clutching the letter, and moved to speak with the officers who surveyed the scene with undisguised interest. One of them was scribbled furiously onto a pad he'd pulled from his breast pocket.

Edward moved to a chair in the corner of the room. Mary automatically adjusted herself so that she was laying on his chest, hugging his neck, and instantly fell asleep. With no other distractions, the letter was calling to him, and he raised it up to eye level, though he both feared and suspected what it might say.

Dr. Cullen,

I am sorry. I never imagined that I would do something like this. Then again, I never imagined a lot of things for my life. But what I do now, I do for her and for her only. For years I have done what I thought was best for me and allowed my daughter to suffer for it. Caused her suffering with my own mouth and hands. She is better off without me.

This world is better off without me.

Selfish as I am, I do have some final requests:

She was born Mary Alice Brandon. Mary for her mother. Brandon for her father. Neither of us deserve this honor, just as she does not deserve to be named for filth such as we. Please remedy this.

Do not speak of me in her presence. Should she ask, make her believe that I was but a figment of her imagination, a nightmare. When she asks for me, make her believe that I am not wanted. When she mourns for me, help her understand that I am not to be missed. Say what you must to make her let go. I do not wish for her to grow up knowing that I have abandoned her nor awaiting my return. It will never come.

Darling Dr. Cullen – Sir Cullen, they should call you, for that is who you are: a knight in shining armor. My final wish is my dearest, and also the most burdensome. You saved her when I could not, and I pray that you will continue in that tradition. Do not abandon her as I have. Love her as you would your own. Raise her well (I know you will) and show her what a true family is. If you can not or will not accept this responsibility, I understand, but I am trusting you to find her a good home regardless.

Do not let her down.

In return I promise that I will never come back for her. Whether it be with you – as I hope – or with another worthy soul, the family she finds now will be hers in every way that has meaning, and I will do nothing to disrupt that or call it into question.

She is yours now, Dr. Cullen. Edward. And I will be forever grateful for whatever part you play. You have already done too much.

Eternally in your debt,

Mary Ann Brandon

Edward read and re-read the letter Mary Ann wrote. It didn't make any sense. She wanted him to adopt her child? She expected him to raise her as his own? He was a bachelor. Even better, he was a doctor, a fairly green doctor. New doctors had very little time. There was an initiation of sorts, into the medical world, that included a lot of late nights and hard lessons learned.

A new, single doctor had even less freedom than most. In addition to the grunt work and spill-over patients, they were given the most inconvenient shifts, simply because everyone knew they had no family to go home to. Edward wasn't sure he could handle a healthy relationship right now, let alone single fatherhood. Until he could open his own practice, afford to set his own hours, Edward could not have a child. Not even one as sweet and beautiful as Mary.

It wouldn't be fair to her, he reasoned. She deserved more than he could give her. She deserved a family. She deserved a mother and father, a brother, like he'd had – a full support system already in place for whatever life threw at her.

Mary deserved… the Cullens.

Before he could even think that thought through, an officer with A. VOLTURI embroidered on his shirt stepped up to Edward for questioning. He spoke in a hushed whisper so as not to wake the child, but his tone was decidedly accusatory.

"How did you know Mary Ann Brandon?" he asked, almost angrily. "What is your relationship with this child? Has the father been in contact with you?"

On and on the questions went, interspersed with vague warnings like, "I know what you're thinking" and "You can't hide the truth." The longer he spoke, the wilder Officer Volturi's theories became. It was almost as if he wanted Edward to be at fault for something. Every now and then he would huff and look defeated, only to come up with some other crazy possibility.

"Do you own, or have you ever worn an angel costume?" he asked once, and Edward laughed in his face. He couldn't help it.

Despite their idiocy, Edward answered all of the questions as best he could, seeing no reason to lie. He barely knew the mother, and had had almost no contact with the child whatsoever. Frank Brandon was just a name he'd heard on the news; Mary Ann had never even mentioned it, as though it were taboo. Finally, Officer Volturi ran out of ridiculous questions and started giving Edward some answers.

"Mary tells us that an angel came to her in her sleep and told her that you, Dr. Edward Cullen, are her real father. That you were a knight, who had saved her, and planned to take her away to a magical castle where she would live with her real family, as a princess, for the rest of her life."

Edward gulped. Suddenly the costume question didn't seem so ridiculous. But, knowing what he did about Mary Ann and her daughter's preference for fairy tales, Edward had a good idea of what had happened. She had come to this room and spoken to Mary as she slept. She told her a story about Edward, one that would help her embrace her new life and let go of the old one. He told the officer as much.

"Yeah, that's what we figured, too," Officer Volturi said with a sigh.

"You did? But why-"

"Had to make sure we were right, didn't we?" He was much more relaxed now. "You coulda' been a pedophile, or a kidnapper. We got no proof yet that this letter was written by the woman. Mighta' been the father, mighta' been you. Can never be too careful with kids, ya know?"

Edward nodded absently.

"So…" the officer spoke after a moment, getting Edward's attention. "You gonna adopt the kid, or what?"

"I… You'd just hand her over to me?" Edward asked, slightly appalled.

"Course not. Just wonderin' if you'd try. Was her mother's last wish, after all." The officer motioned to the letter, now settled on Edward's lap. Only then did he realize that it was just a photocopy; the original was probably in an evidence bag.

"I don't think so," Edward said sadly. The officer looked shocked and… disappointed? "But I think I have a better idea."

I'm neither a medical or justice system expert. If something I say in this story makes absolutely no sense, please either suspend your disbelief or tell me how to make it look right. Also, totally unbeta'd. Sorry.