A/N: 5000+ words! Enjoy.


Chapter Seven The Great Escape


Bella, 2009—Friday, two days before.

"Dr.G? Dr. G, I can't hear you, you're all static-y. Call me back," I called loudly into my cell phone before glaring at it and slamming it closed it in frustration. Now completely impatient and late, I punched at the small glowing 4 on the elevator panel, in spite of the fact that it was already moving up towards the apartment Alice and Emmett shared.

"Come on, come on," I muttered as the elevator finally stopped. "My grandmother moves faster than you," I have the door a kick with my sandal-clad foot—a tiny kick that immediately had me gasping and bending down to grab my big toe as it throbbed pain.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." The door opened with a cheerful ding and I glared out into the hallway, planning on putting anyone out there in their place with my death glare, should they laugh at the sight of me crouching in pain. I was lucky; the hallway was empty. I blew on my big toe, not really knowing why, as the door began to close again. Ignoring the pain in my toe, I jumped to make it out the doors in time before they sealed shut again.

I turned around and stuck my tongue out at the reflective doors.

I had worked late on the article for Dr.G and now found myself tired, irritable, and running late to meet Alice at her place. She had called me hours ago to squeal in excitement at the fact that Jasper was going to pick her up at her apartment and meet Emmett. She wanted me to stop by on my way home so I could meet him, too. Of course, how could I say no to that? But I quickly lost track of time as I put the final edits on my story, wanting to enhance the article somehow. It was not one of my finer pieces; it had been tough to find any intrigue in the boring University "underground" world. The story just wasn't there and I would have to tell that to Dr. G…when I could get ahold of him. We'd been playing phone tag all day.

I limped quickly down the hall and knocked lightly on the door. Upon hearing loud conversation and louder music, I opened the door, letting myself in. I could hear chatter from the kitchen and headed that way, turning down the blaring music as I went by the stereo.

"Sorry I'm late!" I called as I reached the entrance of the always surprisingly large kitchen that was so rarely used by either Cullen child. I knew Esme, their mother, always hoped one of them would take an interest in cooking, but it had yet to happen. Instead, their recycling bin and trash cans were always filled to the brim with takeout boxes and doggie bags.

"Hey Bells!" called out Emmett, moving into the doorway to bend down and envelop me in a bone-crushing hug, effectively blocking my view into the kitchen.

"Hey Emm, bones…breaking," I replied with a gasp. He chuckled and loosened his grip slightly, bending down to my ear.

"I like this Whitlock guy. But don't tell Alice," he said softly. I grinned up at Alice's brother and traced my lips with my index finger, and mimed throwing away a key.

"But, you take full responsibilities for your actions when Alice pummels you," I whispered back. Emmett grinned back, messed-up my hair, and then somehow maneuvered around me back into the living room.

"I can take care of the pixie," he said, back in his regular voice. I could now see into the kitchen and Alice perked up at that.

"What? Bella, what did he say?"

"Nothing, Alice, don't worry about it. Where is--" I trailed off as a gorgeous, tall blonde man entered the kitchen from the back hall, his eyes and smile focused only on Alice. Her face lit up at the sight of him and his smile grew more sparkly, if that was even possible.

"Jasper, I want you to meet the surprise I was telling you about! This is my best friend, Bella!" I could tell Alice was trying her best not to bounce up and down as she clutched the granite countertop and grinned over at me. I smiled back and swung my eyes over to Jasper. His eyes—a brilliant, sparkling green—suddenly clouded over as he turned to take me in. His mouth opened slightly and his brow creased as though surprised. He didn't say anything and my smile faltered. There was something about him. Something…familiar.

"Do we—have we meet before?" I asked, brightening up my smile again. Maybe that would explain the weird expression that continued to reside peculiarly on his face.

"Uh..no, I mean, I don't think so, "he responded, his words falling quickly and awkwardly out of his mouth.

"Are you sure? You look really familiar," I said lightly, searching my mind for a connection.

"I get that a lot," he replied, looking uncomfortable. He smiled slightly, but there was effort involved and I was thoroughly confused. What the hell?

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Jasper. Alice has been going on and on about you," I replied, attempting to brush away the awkwardness by thrusting Alice into the spotlight.

"Bellllla," groaned Alice. But she didn't mind and we both knew it. Under her façade, I could tell that she, too, was confused by Jasper's reaction to me.

"All good things!"I said with a laugh, "Except that whole hiding in the bushes outside her window thing." My attempt must have gone completely over some line, because at my words, Jaspers sun-kissed skin turned a horrid shade of death. He laughed weakly.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I turned to Alice and attempted to send her a telepathic message.

I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. And then, lock your window.

"Well, uhm…I have to get home. I have some things. To do. Right now," I stumbled over my words and took one last glance at Jasper. Though still pale, he looked slightly more relaxed.

"It's a little intimidating, meeting Alice's best friend," he said quietly.

"And brother!" called Emmett from the living room, letting out a gigantic burp.

"And on that note…." Alice finally spoke. She looked crestfallen and I couldn't help but feel bad for her. I knew she had wanted the introductions to go perfectly.

"You guys have fun tonight," I said with a smile.

"Bella? Really, it was great meeting you," spoke Jasper, now back to the right shade of alive.

"You too, Jasper. I'm sure I will see you again soon."

I went over, hugged Alice and gave them one last goodbye.

As I bypassed the wicked elevator with a frown on my face and trudged down the stairs, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was wrong with Jasper. I knew him for somewhere. We'd met before, I knew it. But why couldn't I remember? And why would he lie about it?

I really had no clue.

Back on street level and in my truck, my phone buzzed.

Finally.

"Dr. G! Article, quick! When can I meet you?"

"Sunday night work for you? Say 10ish?"

I paused a second. Ten wasn't exactly early.

"Uh, okay, I can make that work."

"I know it's a little late, but I'll make that up to you by providing you a warm meal."

I smiled at the thought of Dr. G making dinner. I couldn't imagine anything but hot pockets in the microwave.

"You're on. I take my steak medium-rare."

"Ohhhh, she's thinks she's getting five star! I'll email you directions, Swan. See you Sunday at 10."

I clicked off my phone and grinned, almost forgetting the weirdness that was Jasper Whitlock. I could contemplate his erratic behavior later. I had bought another day of article-improving. And I probably could use a new outfit…

--

Bella, 2009. Now.

I took a breath, opened my mouth to speak, to say something, anything to this…this ghost in front of me. But the words stuck in my throat and my instincts took over, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Everything in me told me to just run. So, I turned and sprinted for the elevator, my heart-beat thumping in my ear.

He could not be real. This wasn't possible.

"Bella!" I heard behind me as I frantically punched the 'up' button. He was crazy, clearly. This man, this man who just happened to look identical to my Edward, was clearly insane. He had killed Professor Gleason. And now he was going to kill me.

The elevator arrived at the third flood and dinged open just as the crazy man exited Dr. G's apartment door in pursuit. But now his hands were not empty. There it was—the gun he had just used to kill Dr. G dangled in his left hand, mocking me. Quickly, I punched in the G for ground level repeatedly, willing the doors to close faster, and backed into the furthest corner of the tiny elevator, my heart pounding.

"Bella, wait. Bella! Please," as the doors closed, I saw his eyes. Wild, desperate, out of control. Those were not Edwards's eyes, no; these were the eyes if a killer. What had I been thinking? This was insane--if he caught me…I glanced at the door panel on the elevator and quickly reached to push the first floor button. He was probably taking the stairs two at a time. He would be waiting for me on the ground floor. I had to think.

Think, Bella.

How does he know my name?

It's all real…

No. The elevator stopped on the first floor and I dashed out, looking for another way out of the building. There had to be another way out. I ran to the end of the hallway, ignoring the stairwell. I had to push the fact that this crazy man was probably only twenty stairs away from me out of my frantic mind, and think. Think! I considered yelling for help. But I had no idea what had happened, and I was paranoid. I would never know who I could trust. I also didn't want this man to know where I was. And what if he had accomplices lurking, waiting? A bullet would only need a second to kill me and screaming could get me killed faster.

A window. Hands on the glass, I glanced down. Yes, a fire escape. My heart in my throat, I unlatched the lock and pushed at the glass. Stuck, I couldn't open it. I banged harder against the glass. Nothing. I took a breath, attempting to quelch the rising desperation. He would realize any second now, if he hadn't already, that I had gotten off early. Closing my eyes tightly, I stepped back and then propelled myself forward, connecting my right shoulder with the window.

Success! The window squeaked open just enough for me to squeeze my body through. With my feet now securely on the small flat platform of the fire-escape, I turned back to the window, hoping to pull it closed behind me, hoping to hide my escape. I tugged once, twice. Nothing.

Just go! Screamed my internal voice. And so I did. Carefully, I climbed down the escape ladder, not wanting to have an episode of clumsiness at this moment. When my feet hit the ground, I immediately looked back up, using my hand to shield the pouring rain from my eyes. The window was empty. I was in a back alley around the backside of the apartment. My truck was parked out front, across the street. Should I chance it? Or should I just take the alley until I found somewhere safe to call the police? I remained crouched low and sunk deeper into the dark shadows, thrusting my hand into my bag in search of my cell phone.

My eyes on the dark window, I continued to fish around. Where the hell--?

The apartment, I realized. I must have dropped it when he—when he—how did he know my name? I stopped. I had to close my mind off to what had happened and instead, focus on what to do…how to get away. I considered my options again. Maybe the rain would be enough of a shield that I would be able to make it to my truck. He couldn't possibly know it was my truck. Plus, he just killed a man; he probably gave up on me and is riding away in his get-away car right now. Carefully, I stayed low, bending my knees in an effort at being stealthy. I never was one for hide-and-go-seek…I always picked the most obvious spots and was quickly tagged. I carefully crept around the building to the side, my eyes sweeping the area. I clutched my keys in my right hand and griped my house key so that it stuck out between my index and middle finger. If he tries anything, I'm going to make him sorry, I vowed. Crazy killer eyes don't look so threatening when they've been gouged out with keys.

I spotted my truck yards away across the street, thankfully, alone. I straightened up, gripped my keys more tightly, and prepared to sprint across the street when a red and blue flashing light stopped me cold.

The police?

Without thinking, I shot out from my place against the brick wall and waved my arms, running to the sidewalk. The driver noticed me and stopped, rolling down his window. I bent forward, taking in a breath quickly to speak--then stopped, my voice caught in my throat.

His face, pock-marked and scared, frightened me. I stepped back involuntarily to a safer distance, my eyes wide.

"M'am? Everything okay?" he asked his voice gruff. I felt myself nod automatically. What was I saying? Nothing was okay.

His eyes. Those eyes.

"Upstairs, Dr.G. He's in trouble," I managed to get out, inching back from the car as I noticed this particular car was unmarked. It did not say police on it. It merely had the lights. The red and blue lights.

"We know. We got a call. I'm going in to check it out now. Stay here," he ordered, opening his door and stepping out of the vehicle.

No uniform. But a gun. A really big gun. A man I hadn't noticed stepped out from the passenger's side of the car.

I backed away another step and nodded my head. Something's wrong, something's very wrong.

"We will need to question you," spoke the other man, his eyes gentle, but his voice firm. But they were in a hurry and apparently took my puppet-string nod for a promise. As soon as they pushed into the front door of the complex, I jogged the rest of the way to my truck. I would call the police station as soon as I got home, from behind my securely locked doors.

Now behind the wheel, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding, ripped free from my dripping, bloody raincoat and started my truck, shifting it quickly into gear and taking off. As blocks began to blur by me, so did my façade. Shaking now, I had to force myself to focus on the road in front of me. I was far from familiar territory and I couldn't afford to get lost now.

I'm here, Bella. It's all real.

No.

I pushed back the tears and made a left.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

No.

I made a right, my stomach clenching painfully.

I'm here.

No!

I banged both my hands hard against the steering wheel, tears spilling down my face, blinding my eyes from the view of the road in front of me. I almost didn't notice the bright yellow car next to me until it nudged against my truck. Turning my head towards the passenger's window, I spotted a yellow mustang driving parallel to me, its windows tinted and threatening as it once again swerved towards me. I fought to remain in control of the wheel, but it struck me harder and this time, I lost the fight and felt the truck spin towards oncoming traffic. The jolt that suddenly hit me caused me to grip the wheel, turning my knuckles white. I felt the side of my body slam against the driver's side door and then throw me back towards the middle of the car. My body begged to be released from the grips of persistent seatbelt, but the ride wasn't over. From somewhere behind my car, which was now scattered in the middle of the intersection, something else hit. The last thing I'd remember is my face flying towards the windshield. And those eyes. Those eyes…

Edward!

And then…darkness.

--

Edward, 2009. Now.

No. Not after everything, not now. This could not happen. Fucking yellow mustang. Someone would be paying severely.

And yet, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," was all I could say, chanting to the beat of my shoes on the cement below me as I sprinted from my Volvo to Bella's truck. I yanked open the rusty door of the beat up old truck, my hands finding her before my eyes could, the rain pounding my eyes angrily, accusingly. I felt her chest rising and falling evenly and I let out a shaky breath, taking one hand back to pull the hood of my jacket over my head and wipe the rain from my eyes. Squinting, I found the seatbelt release and pressed hard, soon feeling it grudgingly release its captive into my waiting arms. I leaned her back against the seat and stepped up onto the truck platform to check her face, her body. I needed to know if I could safely move her. And I needed to do it fast, already sirens screamed in the distance. I had to move. Blood covered her face, but I knew it wasn't all hers. Her arms were covered in cuts, some holing pieces of her shattered windshield. I would take care of that later. Other than an obvious concussion and probably more bruises, she appeared movable. I quickly slid her to the edge of the driver's seat and lifted her down into my arms, cradling her carefully against my body, her limbs limp and unresponsive.

"I didn't notice her, she just came out of nowhere…oh God, man, is she okay?" groaned a voice from a few feet away. A man, about sixty, stumbled out from his crumpled Toyota Corrola.

"She's fine. Take this. Call this number. We'll work out insurance details," I handed him a card and kept walking.

"But…she's unconscious! Should you be moving her? Maybe you should wait for the police to get here," I heard suspicion creeping into his voice as he took a step after me.

"I am the police. Just call that number," I answered. I pulled Bella closer to my body as the rain continued to pound all around us. I jogged to the running Volvo. I hadn't even pulled the keys out of the ignition or shut the driver's side door in my haste to reach Bella. Now grateful that the car would at least be warm and dry on the passenger's side, I leaned down slightly and pulled open the door. Shifting her weight slightly, I managed to seat her in the car, quickly fastening the belt around her slim hips. I closed the door tightly and jogged across to the open door, hoped in and slammed it shut behind me. With the sirens making an appearance in my rearview mirror, I quickly checked my side mirrors and pulled out, taking the first right possible. I breathed out another shaky breath and kept driving quickly but carefully. When I finally reached familiar landscape, I allowed myself to slow down and glance at my passenger. Her head tilted forward, I could see she was still completely unconscious.

Oh, you'll know when she wakes up, I warned myself. She will be screaming bloody murder. Literally. I sighed.

The number of times that I had daydreamed about reuniting with Bella and not once had my mind played this particular scenario. It was beyond being an ideal circumstance. And yet, the magnetism I felt between Bella and I, the pull I had vehemently tried to ignore, was undeniable and ever-present when she was unconscious. Five years and it had only grown stronger. I shook my head and pulled my car into an underground parking lot.

I didn't have a plan, I certainly didn't have a guide book, and I had said a giant "fuck you" to protocol the moment I had gone back to investigate the footsteps I heard after killing Gleason, as I'm sure the persistent vibrating of my cell phone was dying to tell me. I knew one thing only and that was that I had to make sure Bella was safe. And she needed to know she wasn't crazy. I had to tell her what I could about me, about what I'd done, and I had to make her believe me.

I could no longer remain a figment of her imagination, a ghost of the past. I could no longer run.

My heart beat quickened at the thought of telling her everything. I wondered if what was happening was similar to the stages of loss. She had certainly suffered from the first stage—denial-- right in front of my eyes, as she had turned and sprinted to the elevator. At the time, I thought I could catch up with her; explain to her somehow that I really was me. But I had fucked up royally when I had exited into the hall, gun in hand. The moment she saw the gun she panicked, as though it had confirmed something in her mind. I knew there was no talking to be had. I had taken the stairs down to intercept on the ground floor, but she outsmarted me. I should have known she would. She got off a floor above and used the fire-escape to vacate the building. I had considered hiding myself in the bed of her truck and riding to wherever she decided to go, in hopes of somehow explaining myself to her once there. But I knew that wouldn't work, so I settled on following her. I would watch what she did, what her next step would be. I would have to get a plan together. And so, I had watched, hidden, as she spotted the flashing lights from Jonze's unmarked car. He had sure acted fast. I figured Jimmy must have been listening closely as the events unfolded.

And then, there was that fucking yellow mustang and I knew it meant big trouble. Who? No license plate. I had been blocks behind Bella's cripple truck and not been paying any attention to the mustang until it as too late. Why? Why Bella? There were many questions and Jonze needed to know, he to find the car. One of Gleason's men? I would fucking kill them for what they did.

My phone buzzed again as I turned off the ignition. Again, I ignored it.

I was going to be answering a lot of questions when I finally picked up my phone. They were not going to be happy with me. In fact, I didn't want to imagine exactly what they would say to me, how much trouble I was in. I was breaking all their rules and I knew the consequences would be severe.

Fuck the rules. This is Bella. I had let protocol rule my life, rule my head, for so long that I had almost forgotten what freedom felt like. It would take some getting used to.

I unbelted her quickly, carefully folding her cut-up arms gently across her body before scooping her up and carrying her quickly to the elevator. My loft apartment was on the fifth floor, and as I waited for the doors to swing open, I took in her face, my concern mounting. Was I supposed to wake her up? If she had a concussion, shouldn't I make her stay awake? I didn't know and I nearly didn't care because she was in my arms. In my arms. The potential severity of the situation escaped me for a moment as I held her close to me, leaning my face down to take in her scent, brushing back a lock of wet hair in the process. My heart filled with a nearly forgotten sensation of the purest joy I could imagine.

Bella.

My heart ached for her, for her eyes to open, her full sweet lips to curl upwards playfully, for my name to fall from her lips. Instead, her breathing staggered and I snapped back to reality. At my door, I fumbled for my keys, unlocked the heavy door and strode to the double bed at the back of the large, open loft. Pulling up the black duvet, I laid Bella on the bed, turned up the heat in the room and then ran to the bathroom and grabbed a couple clean towels, some tweezers and a roll of bandages.

First, I decided, I would get her dry, clean her wounds and then worry about her concussion.

Chicken.

She was clad only in a white v-necked t-shirt and jeans. Aside from her soaked hair, she was nearly completely dry and I realized she must have taken off her jacket in her truck before the accident. I lifted her head gently and placed a dry towel under her hair, wrapping it around slightly, attempting to dry her dripping locks. The amount of blood that came off onto the towel scared me and I suddenly wondered if I had not noticed a cut. Running my hands gently threw her hair and across her scalp, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, I located a small gash just above her hairline. Small, but deep. I sat back on the bed beside her closed my eyes, and pressed my lips together.

What the fuck had I done? She needed stitches. She needed real medical attention. I grabbed my ridiculous first aid kit and threw it hard at the wall across the room, angry at myself for being so stupid. It was because of me that Bella was lying here, bleeding and unconscious. I grabbed the other dry towel and twisted it into a long strip, then wrapped it around Bella's head. I could at least stop the bleeding.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up the tweezers, placed an empty plastic cup on the nightstand and leaned down to examine her arms. The embedded glass was everywhere, zigzagging up and down her arms haphazardly. I went for the largest chunks first, watching her face closely for signs of pain or discomfort. Nothing. I didn't know if that was good thing or a bad one.

The small pieces were the most difficult, but when I was sure I had every single piece, I leaned back, wiping the sweat from my forehead. The plastic cup overflowed with bloody glass and reminded me of a horror movie I had recently caught on cable. It was not a sight for the weak. I bandaged her up the best I could and cringed when I again leaned back—she looked a bit like a mummy.

Inhaling a shaky breath and then letting it out slowly, I found her face with my eyes. I had to wake her up. Gently, I touched her face, running the tips of my fingers across her cheek lightly. Thank god none of the glass had found its way to her beautiful, perfect face.

"Bella? Bella, you have to wake up," I whispered. She didn't move. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Bella." Louder, now. My hand slid down to her neck and I shivered. The room was not cold. Squeezing gently, I reached my other hand to the exposed patch of skin on her forehead. I couldn't believe I was touching her.

"Bella, you need to open your eyes now," I raised my voice now, cringing slightly at how loud it sounded in the silence of the loft. And then, movement.

"Mmmmmm," she groaned softly and she moved her head slightly to the right.

"That's it; open your eyes, Bella. You're safe," who had time for the truth at a time like this?

Her head rolled back towards me and my heart froze mid-beat as her eyelids fluttered and she groaned again. She was waking up. I took that as my cue and pulled my hands away quickly. Not even hours ago she was convinced I was a killer. I couldn't imagine her opinion could have changed since suffering head trauma.

"Nooooo," the moan was soft and almost playful sounding and so quiet I had to lean forward to hear her. "Edward, your hands. They're so warm."

Or maybe she was actually suffering from extremely severe head trauma?

I slowly placed my right hand on her cheek, waiting for a reaction. A scream, to be precise. Instead, that smile I had missed so much, that smile she use to use just for me, spread across her face as her eyes slowly opened. It took her a moment to focus and then find me. But when she did, the smile broadened and I felt my heart skip a couple beats.

"Hi," she whispered, leaning her cheek into my touch.

"Hi," I said back, completely dumbfounded but insanely happy. It suddenly became my goal to keep that smile on her face.

"I missed you. Where have you been?" I watched as her eyes lost their focus for an instant before coming back to me.

"I-" I was lost. I had no idea how to answer that. Where to even begin. I mentally kicked myself for not feeling more prepared. All the preparation in the world would never have you ready for this moment. I knew that.

"You don't visit much anymore. It scares me." I watched, transfixed, as her smile disappeared. Nooo! Screamed my heart, almost too preoccupied with the loss of her smile to grasp her words. Almost but not quite.

My empty hand gripped the duvet tightly as I realized what her words must mean. Her eyes began to glaze over.

"Bella! Bella, stay with me!" I suddenly knew I should not let her fall back into unconsciousness. I also was ready to admit that I was in way the fuck over my head.

Scrambling for my cell phone, which was still buzzing angrily, I flipped it open.

It was Jonze.

"What the fuck were you think--"

"Jonze, I need help."

"Decoy, what's happened?" his anger immediately turned to concern and I knew I'd done the right thing. After many fuck-ups, anyway.

"I'll explain everything later. But I need our medic."

"Doc? Were you shot? What the fuck's going on, Decoy?"

"I'm fine. It's not for me."

The long pause frightened me almost as much as Bella's closing eyes.

"Bring her in," was the answer. I almost dropped the phone.

"To headquarters? But-"

"Bring her in, Decoy. Doc will take a look at her. You and I will talk."

Fuck.

"Jonze, she doesn't know--"

"I'm sure there's a lot she doesn't know, Decoy." I didn't miss the knowing tone in his voice. "Unfortunately, the knowledge that she has recently acquired is dangerous for us all. You know that."

Fuck.

I looked down at Bella, her eyes now closed, her breathing shaky. I had no other choice.

"Okay. She gets medical attention first. And Jonze" I hesitated slightly, "…when she's well-enough, I talk to her first." It wasn't a request.

Pause.

"You better know what the fuck you're doing, Decoy," the growl came before the dial tone.

"I have no fucking clue," I muttered to the tone, my eyes focused on Bella.

No fucking clue.


A/N: Oh dear. Thank you guys for all your awesome reviews, words of encouragement and recc's! I know this chapter took a little longer to get out than usual, but I've been working and going to school. Luckily, I've got some time again! So expect my next chapter up next week:)

As always, I'd love to hear theories! I can say that the next chapter has The Big Confrontation between BxE. Finally! You guys have been patient:) Don't expect puppies and gumdrops just yet though....