A/N: This is for you guys who love the story but hate how long I take to update. Three days, this time! Hold your applause 'till the end ;) 6,000+...make some popcorn!


Chapter Eight Revelations


Bella. Monday morning, early.

Beep…beep...beep.

My eyes opened slowly, painfully, wanting only to locate and then stop the beeping that seemed to echo around in my throbbing head. The whiteness that unexpectedly greeted my eyes caused me to blink them closed again, a frown on my face. So much white. I raised a hand to my head to rub at the throbbing, but stopped suddenly when my eyes encountered a tube hanging from my arm.

"Wha--" I choked on the word, but didn't allow my cracked voice to stop me from opening my eyes again to the blinding glare of whiteness. I sat up quickly, and the beeping increased.

What the hell?

I located the tube and found it was actually coming from my wrist. An IV. I shuddered but followed the tube to find its home. A large clear bag filled with liquid hung from a pole beside me. It was slowly dripping into my blood stream.

Panicked, I leaned forward and turned my head, surveying the room. Four white walls enclosed the bed I was on, a dresser beside me, some shelves, medical machines and an empty chair in the corner. A TV hung high up on the wall near the door. And on the wall across from me, was a large mirror, spanning the entire wall.

A hospital. Okay, okay. I wasn't dead, good. But what had I done? Tripped down my stairs? Smashed into something? Fallen on campus and hit my head? I sat back and started to put my non-IV hand up to my still throbbing head—but stopped cold. My arms were filled with cuts, zigzagging up and down my skin. What the hell had I done to myself? The other arm was worse, the cuts were deeper. Some were bandaged up tightly and I wondered if the doctors had had to stitch me up. Searching my memory, I came up blank. The last thing I could remember was going to Dr. G's apartment and…

Oh God. No.

I closed my eyes and with a breath, yanked the tube from my arm. I yelped slightly at the pinch, but continued to scramble up from the bed, frantically searching for my clothes after I saw I was dressed in a stark white hospital gown. Nothing. It didn't matter. I stood up, ignored the aching pains all over my body and went for the door. I was one step away when it opened suddenly and a man I didn't know walked in, wearing the universal white lab coat that stood for doctor.

"Isabella Swan, is it?" he spoke gently, blocking the door with his tall frame. I peeked around him as best I could, noticing how dark the hallway looked behind him.

"Bella," I croaked, automatically correcting him, my eyes still searching the hallway. Where was the hallway hustle and bustle I was used to?

"Bella, you knocked your head very seriously. It would be best if you could sit down for a few minutes."

I found myself feeling swoony the moment the words left his mouth. I nodded mutely and allowed him to take my elbow and guide me back to the white sheeted hospital bed.

"Is Charlie here?" I asked, holding my head in my hands as I spoke, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"He's—not yet, Ms. Swan," he responded, picking up the IV, changing the needle on the end and inserting it back into my wrist.

"What's that for if I just hit my head?" I asked curiously. And then because it was so much more important, "Did the police find him? Did they get the guy who killed Dr. G?"

"They got him," he nodded.

"What…why did he—who was he?" I asked quickly, ignoring the quickened state of my heart, as the beeping monitor sped up.

"I'm sorry, I don't know many details."

I nodded and leaned back as a fresh wave of dizziness swept over me.

"Is this stuff supposed to make me feel so dizzy?" I asked, my words slurring slightly.

"Yes," was his answer. At that, I lifted my head back up from the pillow and opened my eyes as wide as I possibly could, fighting the feeling that was quickly overpowering me.

"What was your name again?" I asked slowly.

Hesitation. There it was. I saw it.

"You can call me Doc," he answered, a smile set on his face as he checked my vitals. But my mind was racing ahead.

"What hospital is this?" I asked, fear beginning to rise up inside me.

The man, Doc, cleared his throat and glanced towards the wall. No, not to the wall--towards the mirrors. I tried desperately to fight the dizziness, but it was taking me down. I had to remember…I had to. I had to get out of here, wherever here was.

--

There was no beeping this time, only silence. I cracked my eyes slightly, not making a sound. The room was dark this time, except for the red light emanating from the machine beside me as it measured my silent heartbeat.

I didn't know where I was, but it wasn't a real hospital, it couldn't be. I had spent way too much time in hospitals and this one was all wrong. Where were the constantly prodding nurses? The noises and jarring intercom announcements? Why was there such a huge mirror on the wall? Why was the hallway so dark?

Where was I?

Had that man—the killer, was he the one who had run me off the road? Had he taken me here? Was I a prisoner? I kept still in my bed as I contemplated these questions and of course the most important one: how the hell did I get out of here? I just needed to find a phone. I could call Charlie and he could call the police and they would find me. But where was I? What day was it? I pressed my lips together in frustration. They were probably watching me. I hadn't noticed any cameras, but that mirror. I would bet everything I had, everything I owned, that it was a two way mirror. Why else would it be there?

And then the door creaked open. I had my back to the door, but I strained my ears and continued to feign sleeping.

"Decoy?" a whispered voice.

A shuffling from the corner, a soft yawn. Someone had been in there with me? Chills ran up and down my spine and I used every fiber present to not visibly shudder at the thought.

"Jonze wants you," said the voice close to the door.

"No. Not until--" the voice in the corner trailed off.

"He wants you, Decoy. Now," there was an authoritive ring to the voice and it meant business.

A pause from the corner.

"When she wakes up, I need to be here this time. Tell him no," he finally answered, so quietly I could barely make out the words.

"Doc says you have a couple more hours at least. Go, Decoy. If there is any hope for you, get in there and explain yourself. Jonze is only so tolerant, you know that. Go."

There was no answer, but the voice in the corner must have eventually agreed, as I heard him get up from the chair I guessed he had been seated in. His footsteps brought him close to me and he paused. I braced myself. My body was so tensed up, I was sure he would know I was awake. He would know and he would immediately put a bullet in my brain. But instead of feeling a bullet, I felt a pulling sensation. He wasn't touching me, but every single part of me prickled to attention, drawn towards the hovering figure.

His breath was close and I wondered if I should just bunch up my hand and hit blindly. What were the chances that I would hit him? I almost laughed at the thought. Who was I kidding? Instead, I remained still, ignored the prickling sensation, and tried to keep my breathing even until finally I heard his footsteps turn away. The door closed a second later. My breath quickened as I allowed myself to turn over and stare at the door.

Was that him? Was that the man who had killed Dr. G? I didn't know, but I did know I had to get out of there. And fast. Maybe with the killer gone, no one was watching me. I silently pulled out the IV, only wincing this time at the prick of pain. I snaked a glance over at the mirror and prayed to god I wasn't so important that someone was always watching me. I swung my legs over the bed and in one quick lunge; I was at the door, opening it, my heart in my throat. Who knew what was on the other side of the door? I braced myself for voices, shouting, movement. But, nothing. It was dark and deserted and did not look much like a hospital wing. To the right, at the end of the hallway, I spotted a large door. It looked promising, especially when I turned my head left and saw a cross-hall. A cross-hall with a person walking by. I ducked back into my room, waited a minute, and then poked my head back out. Gone. I turned right and sprinted to the giant door. Holding my breath once again, I pushed at the door. The sudden light was nearly blinding. Another hallway, this one lit up, but, thankfully, inactive so far. A phone, as long as I could find a phone. I could call Charlie and tell him…tell him what? I didn't know where I was. Feeling desperate now, I spotted an elevator. Yes. It was close; I only had to make it about five feet. Past three doors. The first room was empty. I kept going. Room number two was also empty. The third room though, the third room contained talking. I tiptoed as close as I dared and stopped. The voices, a woman and man, seemed to be thoroughly engrossed in each other. I stepped by, hit the elevator button and waited, praying silently.

It dinged open and was empty. How was I this lucky? I studied the buttons, wondering which floor I should choose. It looked as though I was on the fifth floor. Should I go to the ground door, or was that too risky? I had no idea, so I hit the G and backed into the corner. I looked down at my hospital gown clad body. I didn't even have a weapon.

Where the hell was I?

Thirty seconds later, the elevator doors whooshed open and I found myself standing mere feet away from a door, a door that had to lead outside. It occurred to me that this could be a trap. Perhaps the other side of the door was exactly where they wanted me. But I had to try. I took a breath and ran for it. Just as my finger tips were within inches of the door, a low voice stopped me.

"And where do you think you're going in such a hurry?" he stepped out from almost nowhere, coming at me from the side. I didn't look; I didn't want to even glance as I made an attempt to push the door before he got to me. No such luck. He grabbed me roughly and pushed my hands behind my back, holding both of my wrists with just one of his large hands. I gasped in pain, twisting, pulling. I had been so close, so close!

"How did you make it this far?" he wondered, his voice grizzled and loaded with something unfamiliar to me. A harshness that was all wrong. "They're losing their edge, this is pitiful." I stopped fighting when I realized there was no use at all and struggled instead to find my voice.

"Please, just let me go. I…I don't know anything. I won't say a word," I plead, as he pushed me down a hallway.

"It's never that easy, angel. Never." I couldn't see his face, but I heard something--sadness? Regret?-- in his voice as he pulled something from him pocket. A key. He unlocked the door to the room in front of me, shoved me inside, and then quickly closed the door behind me. I stumbled into the dimly-lit room as the locking from the outside echoed throughout the space before me. I turned to look at what he'd thrown me into.

The room was completely empty save for a table and two chairs. It looked like the type of room the police kept bad guys for questioning. Again, with like in the hospital room, was a long mirror stretching from one corner to the other of the furthest wall. I made my way to the mirror and pushed my face against the glass, banging with both fists.

"Let me out of here!" I yelled. "Let me out, please!" I yelled until my voice grew tired and then I just continued banging. But no one came and finally, finally I curled up in the corner, my eyes never leaving the door. Eventually, someone would have to come.

--

It felt like hours had gone by, but it could have been minutes. I blinked in and out of consciousness, my mind alternatively tired and then completely alert. Finally, minutes or hours later, there was a click from the other side the door and I straightened my back up against the wall, but remained seated in the furthest corner of the room.

His were eyes wild as they darted frantically around the room and when they spotted me, I watched as emotions ran through them quickly, so quickly, that I could only identify the last and final one.

Relief.

"Bella," said the killer. "Did he hurt you?"

"How do you know my name?" was all I could say. I was tired. I had resigned myself to the fact that they were probably not going to let me leave alive. I was a witness to a murder committed by the very man standing in front of me. "Why did you kill Dr. G?" Questions. I had too many of them. Why would you care if he hurt me?

Did the answers matter even anymore, as I faced death?

Yes.

I watched his eyes blink rapidly a couple times, as though not knowing what to say to me. His eyes ran quickly over my face, down my body, lingering on my arms, and then back up, but not in a sexual way. His onceover seemed to confirm something in his head and he nodded slightly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He ran a hand through his ear-length hair, the color so similar to a color I once knew. But it wasn't. He wasn't.

"Your Dr. G…James Gleason was a bad man. He…he killed two girls last year. He ran an underground drug operation," responded the killer, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, worry written all over his face. "Please," he spoke quickly, "Please sit down," he requested, motioning to one of the chairs.

I shook my head and remained in my corner.

"I don't believe you. Dr. Gleason wouldn't hurt anyone. He is…he was, he was good. He was in charge of the newspaper. I was editor," I spoke, my voice dull. If I'd been paying attention, I would have noticed the man's face light up slightly, in a sudden understanding.

"That's why you were there," he said, more to himself.

"We were going to go over my story. But you killed him. Who are you? Where am I?"

The man hesitated and studied me, his eyes growing sad.

"Please sit down. I know this room isn't very comfortable, but they won't let me…this is all we have right now and there are some things I need…some things I have to tell you, Bella."

I stood up slowly, but didn't move. My eyes flashed.

"How the hell do you know my name?" I glared at him. He took a breath and, as though realizing I wasn't going to sit down, finally faced me. I watched as he straightened his broad shoulders, taking a deep breath.

"Because I've known you since we were sixteen, Isabella Swan."

No.

"No," I whispered.

"Yes," he responded softly, taking a step toward me. "We met at Forks High School."

"No, stop this," my throat closed up at his words.

"Chemistry class. When you smiled, my world melted away, Isabella," he spoke again, taking another step. I pressed my back firmly to the wall.

"No," quieter now, uncertain of my denial, as I looked into his eyes. Those eyes.

"Our first kiss was in our meadow, Bella. The same meadow we would come back to and look up at your star."

I shook my head, my eyes wide. How could he know this…how could he--?

"Yes," he was almost in front of me now, his voice barely a whisper as he stared into my eyes, searching. His hand came up and moved towards me, towards my face. Terror coursed through my veins and I reacted.

"No!" I yelled the word and lashed out; I hit his hand away and went for the door. It wasn't him, it couldn't be, how could it? I turned the handle. Locked.

"They won't let you go, Bella."

I collapsed to my knees at his words, my hands still on the doorknob, dry sobs shaking my body. And then:

"My heart, forever. Keep it safe."

Those words. Oh god, those words.

I turned my head slowly, my fingers reflexively grasping the ring hanging under my hospital gown. Finding my feet, I stood, turning all the way around, facing the man head on.

"How…?" I don't know how he heard me, my voice was barely audible, but his answer came quickly.

"Bella, it's me. You found me."

Only one person knew the words inscribed inside the ring and that was Edward Masen, the one who had put them there. I stepped forward; I stepped towards impossibility, my heart staggering in my chest. I searched his face, searched his eyes for the truth I had been refusing to see. They were his eyes. They were. I'd known it from the moment I saw him in Dr. G's apartment.

"Edward?" I whispered now, stopping directly in front of him. I put a hand to his face, ran my fingers down his cheek, and watched as he closed his eyes, inhaling sharply at my touch. Goosebumps covered my arms, but I ignored them and continued my exploration.

I traced my fingers down to his strong jaw, eying the small scar that had graced the edge of his chin since before I had known him. Back up to his eyes. They were open again, filled with things I could now recognize. Longing, regret, pain. Fear. I traced a finger to his lips and he parted them slightly, his breath coming out shakily. He reached a hand to my face, brushing back a lock of my hair that barely obstructed my view of him.

"Oh god, E-Edward," the emotion in my voice caused me to stutter his name, but the realization was beginning to sink in and I pulled my hand away quickly, as though suddenly electrocuted by our touch. I suddenly needed to be away from him, out of range from the magnetic field. The undeniable pull.

My mouth dropped open and I backed away, my head shaking. My body screamed at me, wanted so badly to wrap him in a hug and find his lips, his hair, his body. But I resisted. I suddenly needed that chair; I felt my legs giving out. I found it in time and sat back hard, trying to form words, my eyes never leaving his face. He watched me helplessly, his hands clenched into fists. Waiting.

"But, you died. I watched you die. I held you in my arms and watched you take your last breath," I spoke slowly, my eyes taking this man in from a different perspective. He had changed so much. His features held a certain hardness, a warning to not get too close. Had that always been there? Had I just been too blindly in love before? Who cares! Go to him, he's real! But still, I ignored the magnetism that begged to be acknowledged.

"Bella. I have a lot to tell and I'd rather tell it to you somewhere more…not here."

"But, it's you. Edward." I said his name softly, wonder in my voice, gripping tightly to the edges of the chair. His eyes flashed momentarily of hope and he took a step towards me.

"Can I take you back to the hospital room?"

"Please, no. I don't want to go back there," I shivered. And then, "It was you in the chair? Waiting?"

He nodded silently. And I exhaled. He'd been so close, watching over me.

"I need to hear everything…Edward. Who are you?" How many times had I asked that? But now it was time for the truth. Who had I been mourning the past five years?

He sighed, ran a hand threw his hair and found the chair across the table from me, his jaw tightening.

"This is not how I wanted you to find out, Bella. I—I pictured this so many ways, but this…I'm so sorry." The torture on his face twisted at my heart and I wanted to touch him, to reassure him, but I stayed planted in my chair. I could not move.

"I tried to tell you as much about me as I could, Bella. I never wanted to lie to you, I didn't. The moment I met you, I wanted to take you away, to run away with you, to be with you and protect you from my life. There was so much I could never tell you." He looked down at his hands and then back up to me, the pain evident as he creased his brow in a frustration I was trying to make sense of.

"My parents were killed before I moved to Forks. Murdered," he paused but rushed on before I could say anything. Not that I knew what to say. I was in shock, frozen. I felt as though the earth had stopped rotating and everything and everyone was waiting on this moment--this moment that would decide a certain fate.

"They had worked for the government…they were agents for a very classified branch of the government. To this day, I still don't know all the details. What I do know is they weren't just murdered; they were tortured and then burned alive in our home. I was there, I wasn't supposed to be, but I was and I heard their screams…I still hear their screams, " he trailed off, his expression bitter for an instant as his eyes drifted out of focus and then quickly snapped back to me. "I wanted revenge, Bella. I wanted to kill the people who did this to my parents. To me. I was so angry. I found the right people, people affiliated with the government and they took me in. They wanted this man and the lowlifes working for him dead just as much as I did and so they trained me and set me up for an elaborate hit, a hit that not only would take care of the man who killed my parents, but would also reveal his partners."

At that word, I spoke. I had been playing around with it in my head as I listened, but now, to hear it…

"A hit?"

"When I came to Forks I was only there for one reason. I had been trained by the CIA to be a hit man. I was there to kill the people that killed my parents. And I did. And after that, I met someone. I tried to fight my feelings at first, but it didn't work. I fell completely and unexpectedly in love with her."

He paused, his eyes intense and I lowered my head.

His voice changed, grew sad.

"Those were the best months of my life, Bella. With you, with us. I never wanted to leave you, but I had to. Part of the deal was that Edward Masen would die, he was no longer of any use to me, and I had been ready to move on under a new name, a name that couldn't be attached to my parents or my old life. I had literally signed away my life when I'd joined. Edward Masen had to die and I had agreed easily. After I met you though, I tried so hard to get out of it, to leave, to keep my life. But I owed them and they weren't going to just let me walk away."

"The bruises," I suddenly whispered, my eyes snapping up to his across the table. "They were all over your body."

He nodded. "They didn't want me to forget the deal; the bruises were a reminder of their power and of my promise. I knew the day was coming, I knew they were going to fake my death eventually. I wanted to tell you, Bella, so badly, but I was afraid that if I did, they would find out and they would hurt you. I was scared. And then the day came. The day I gave you the ring. The car accident. I don't remember much, but I know they gave me a pill, something that stopped my heart for an hour. Long enough to convince the people that needed to be convinced."

He stopped talking as I attempted to digest the enormity of this information.

"And then? You've been working for them ever since?"

He shook his head.

"They were mad at me for how I handled things. They didn't want me working for their program; they thought I was too much of a liability, a risk. I moved away. I lived in LA for a few years, working as a contract agent until I was recruited by this operation," I watched as he—as Edward—swept his eyes around the room and then found my face again. "I've been here ever since, laying low."

"How many years?" I asked.

"How many—?"

"How many years have you been living in the same city as me?"

"I've been here for two years, "he answered slowly, his eyes weary.

"Two years," I muttered, surprised. "We could have run into each other anywhere. We could have walked by each other on the street. I could have looked up one day at the grocery store and seen your eyes looking back."

"You wouldn't have recognized me, Bella. Look at me. I'm barely a shadow of the guy you knew." I studied his face, his long hair, his physique. He had changed, yes. Probably in so many more ways than in the physical sense, but I would have known. I had known tonight…denial was an interesting method of dealing.

"Did you ever try to…did you ever think of contacting me?" I asked softly, learning forward slightly in my chair, allowing the pull to have its way for a moment.

"Every single day. But I couldn't, Bella. It was so dangerous and you were safely ignorant to who I was."

"I wasn't ignorant to who you were. I knew who you were. You mean, who you are," I repeated, correcting him, my voice low. I pulled my body back into the chair.

"Who I am," he spoke, pain evident in his voice.

"Who are you, Edward Masen? Oh wait, Edward is dead. What do they call you now?"

He paused.

"I can't say, Bella. I'm sorry. They—the people that I work for—have restricted me from revealing anything more about our operation."

Anger began to mount within and I glared at the man in front of me.

"Well, I guess I wasn't that far off. You are a ghost. Edward is dead and you don't have a name."

He started down at his hands.

"How do I get out of here, Edward? I need to go home," I stated tiredly.

"Jonze wants to talk to you. He needs to make a decision about…what needs to happen. The car that ran you off the road? They will be looking for you. They're Gleason's men and they want…they want you dead. We need to find them before they find you. I don't doubt that they've already searched your apartment. He has an agent heading over there right now."

"I…can't go home?"

Edward sighed sadly.

"Not yet."

My head heavy, I lowered it to the surface of the table, closing my eyes against the pounding of my head.

"How long?" I whispered.

"We don't know yet, Bella. It could take days, weeks."

"No. How long have you known that I lived in Seattle? How long?" I said the words without emotion, but the question was loaded.

Do you really want to know the answer? I cringed, but opened my eyes and moved my head so I could see his face. The face that I had longed for every day for five years, the face I thought I would never see again. The face that spent five years knowing I was alive, but not contacting me, the face that allowed me to continue living a façade.

The face looked away and I knew. My eyes closed again. I didn't know everything, but I knew enough and my stomach lurched at the thought that pushed itself into my head. No, no, no.

"Go away," the words came out softly, but we both heard .

"I don't want to lie to you, Bella. I knew you were here when I moved back."

"Go away, Edward." I responded.

"Bella, let me—"

"Not now. Please leave."

My heart was hurting and I couldn't look at him. He was the only person I had ever loved, the only one I had ever wanted. The one I hadn't been able to let go of for five years because I still felt his presence. I had been holding onto his heart; he had asked me to hold onto his heart, to keep it safe. Maybe I should have asked him to do the same with mine.

I heard his chair push back and his steps reach the door.

"We're going to be transferring you to one of our safe houses, Bella. Jonze will be in to tell you what's happening."

I didn't acknowledge that I'd heard. Instead, I pressed my eyes tightly together and wondered if this could all possibly be a bad dream.

"I'm sorry Bella. So sorry." A pause, and then softly, "They call me Decoy."

The door closed behind him.

--

Edward. Monday morning.

I watched through the glass as Jonze talked to her. I couldn't see his face, but I could see hers. She was sitting up in her chair now, but her shoulders slumped forward. She looked defeated, her face expressionless. I wondered when all my words would sink in, when she would come up with the hardest questions of all.

Tell her before she can ask. Tell her or you'll lose her forever.

"This shit sucks, but it happens," spoke the man beside me, Trace. I turned my head slightly to give him a look then turned my attention back to Bella.

"Not to me."

Trace shut up quickly and I hit the transmit button. Jonze's dry voice met my ears.

"You have to understand, Ms. Swan, that this operation is beyond classified. If the public found out about us, all hell would break lose, chaos would ensue. I can't stress enough the importance of secrecy."

"I won't tell," replied Bella's voice, dull, void of emotion.

You did that to her! Screamed my head.

"We're going to need to get you to sign documents. Everything you've seen and heard here must never leave your lips. We have to make sure of that." I watched as Bella's face twitched slightly at those words.

"What if I get caught? What if I get tortured? I can't help what I say under duress."

I cringed at her tone, but felt a small amount of pride run through me. She was challenging Jonze, almost taunting him. Whether she realized it or not, she was messing with the wrong man. Bella was tougher than I had ever given her credit for.

"You will have plenty of time to learn that that wouldn't be wise. D-Edward told you we're moving you to a safe house?"

She nodded; the fight had left her as quickly as it had come. I turned away, my guilt flaring.

"Alice," I heard her say and I turned back. "Alice will wonder where I am."

"We'll take care of it, MS. Swan."

"Who's going to the safe house with her?" asked Trace, his eyes on Jonze. I hit the transmit button once more, silencing the voices from the next room.

"I am," I spoke, my eyes flashing.

"Jonze gave you the okay?" Trace responded, his voice surprised.

"Not yet. But it doesn't matter."

"Damn, Decoy." But he didn't say anything else and my glare didn't invite anything different. I turned back to the window to see Jonze hand Bella a pile of clothes. They weren't the clothes she had arrived in, but they were her exact size and fit. He said something else to her and then left the room. I watched as she glared at the mirror, and felt as though she were glaring right at me, though I'm sure she didn't know I was there. I ran a hand across my face and sighed.

Jonze entered the small room a minute later and Trace escaped quickly, muttering some excuse.

"You're lucky, Decoy," he said, "She's not going to talk."

I nodded. I had told him that, Bella wouldn't. I knew her.

You used to know her.

"You fucked up big time."

I nodded. I knew that, too. But I had to hold on to my position until I got Bella out of this. I needed the access and power the operation provided me with, at least until Bella was safe.

"You know I know your past, Edward. You should have seen this. You should have known Swan was Gleason's student. How could you have fucking missed that?"

I knew it was best to keep quiet as he worked through his anger.

"You were the best for this job because you're meticulous and you follow protocol. You don't ever let emotion get in the way of a hit. You're focused and dedicated. But you fucking turned around and went back, Decoy…you went back! Now we've got a mess on our hands that we've got to clean up quietly and quickly."

My silence stretched on.

"Gleason's men have been to Swan's apartment. We don't know their interest in her just yet, but it has to be related to the fact that she was in that apartment. How they knew she was there, we have yet to find out." I turned my eyes back to the window and was surprised to see Bella fully dressed in the jeans and long sleeved black shirt Jonze had handed her, her hospital gown waded up on the table. Jonze followed my gaze.

"You'll meet her at the safe house later. Seth and Jared will take her and keep an eye on her until then. You've got some work ahead of you, my man. I need you to get your ass over to district. Quickly." We were both silent a moment as we watched Bella find her corner again and slide her back down the wall, her eyes on the door. "You know, this isn't the end for you, D. You're too good. I'm going to be doing damage control with The Boss in an hour. He likes you."

I wasn't sure yet how I felt about that. I watched as two agents, Seth and Jared, entered the room and spoke a few words to Bella. Bella stood up from the corner and, after a moment's hesitation and a glance towards the mirror, allowed them to lead her from the room. I watched as she disappeared and fought the urge to run after her. To pull her close to me and reassure her.

I was already way the fuck over my head so when Jonze left a moment later, I pulled out my cell phone, and dialed Jasper's number.

I needed one last favor and I hoped to hell he would consent.


A/N: No cliffhanger! Right? That wasn't bad! Right? I'm trying! And for those of you who are yearning for more angst (and I totally love you guys!), don't worry, it's coming! Bella is only just beginning to realize the implications of what Edward has revealed. She will have lots of time to think about what it all means next chapter in the safe-house.

Leave me a review and tell me what you think so far, I love hearing from you guys--theories, things you liked abt the chapter/things you really thought didn't work, or just geberal comments! And see, those complaining reviews totally got me to crank this one out faster! Also, I know I'm not the greatest at getting back to comments on here (unless you ask a specific question or have a complaint..), but if you head over to twilighted(dot)com I get back to every single person who reviews!