Hello readers, so glad to have you back again! I just wanted to say, first and foremost, that you guys are awesome. I love reading your reviews, they always make me smile :) This chapter gets a little bumpy, so be ready for some rough stuff coming up. Otherwise, as always, enjoy the story my darlings!

I.

When it came to fear, James was gender indiscriminate. The flicker of pure terror in Edward's eyes when he turned, expecting his partner who was currently unconscious outside, was priceless. It made him salivate to see Bella in the arms of her rescuer unable to be rescued, and her would-be savior terrified that he had failed again. Bella had been spot on with her brief analysis of him and that it was fear that drove him, fear that inspired him, fear that made his heart beat faster and the need creep out of his veins and into his hands to make them work, create something beautiful out of a terrified child, to spill blood and create something new. She was his greatest piece of art yet.

His only quandary now was to figure out if he wanted to make Edward suffer by having him watch while he tortured Bella, or make Bella suffer while she watched him kill Edward.

Decisions, decisions.

It took the flicker of defiance in Bella's eyes to make the choice for him. If he was truly going to reduce her, to make her into what he wanted her to be he would need to take away the thing that comforted her. Watching Edward die would be the way to make her crumble. She wouldn't have any bright insights or strength left after that.

He would destroy her.

II.

"Help me up, Edward," Bella said quietly, never taking her eyes off James. James, that was his name, the man that had been stalking her, torturing her. She had taken quite a bit in the past few hours, not limited to the brass knuckles in the least. He hadn't even used half the items on his table, and it had been at least two hours since he had begun what she had heard him affectionately refer to as his 'work'.

"Your feet, Bella," Edward replied, though she could see through her peripheral vision that he had not looked back at her either. Edward was smart, he knew better than to take his eyes off a sociopath.

"My feet are fine," she argued. In reality she knew standing on her badly burned feet was going to hurt like a bitch, but the last thing she wanted, less than to die was to seem weak right then. Dying at that moment seemed to be all but inevitable, but while she still lived she wanted nothing more than to keep from James what he most desired. Her fear and her weakness would only feed him. So with his help, Bella was brought to her feet. She tested them gingerly at first and felt a very distinct and acute pain run straight from the soles of her feet up through her legs, which protested their weight being supported on so tenuous braces. But she quelled their shaking, swallowed the pain and looked at James again, who had not moved since he entered the room.

"How do you really think this is going to work, James? Do you think I am going to let you at her again?" Edward asked quietly.

"Is this the part where you say it's over your dead body, because I'll have you know that was just what I had planned," James drawled. His tone was relaxed, almost languid. It made Bella simultaneously nervous and livid.

"Your partner is currently unconscious outside, and I am sure that no one knows where you are, mostly because there is absolutely no way you went through any official channels to get the information you would have needed to find me. I know that you are here, that she is here and that I am here, and that when all of this is done I will be left standing and you will both be dead," he continued, his voice like ice. There was something clipped, contained and controlled about his tone, and Bella couldn't tell if it was purposely held in check or if he naturally spoke that way when he felt at ease in a situation.

The moments that followed passed in some strange kind of slowness, like they had forever to simply stare at each other, a showdown of some sort. But the longer she looked in his eyes, calculating as ever, she realized he meant every word he said. He intended to kill her and Edward.

Her death she had accepted, but she could not abide by the feeling of utter loss it created in her at the thought of Edward's death.

She took a step, so she was level with Edward instead of behind him, the movement and sudden change of pressure sent a shock of pain through her feet, up past her ankle almost all the way up to her hip. She grimaced but swallowed the pain. She felt Edward looking at her but didn't address him.

"Leave him alone," she said, her tone even and flat. James' face twisted into a strange expression.

"Bella, what are you doing?" Edward asked. She chanced a quick glance at him. There was something like fear and worry in his eyes, along with the puzzlement she could hear in his voice. But his face, his beautiful face was all it took to cement what she was about to do. She had to, and she knew it.

"Edward is a side note and you know it. I am the one you want. I will come if you leave him alone," she said quietly.

"I am not a bargainer," James replied at the same time as Edward shouted a string of expletives that carried the point across that he was not in favor of the plan she had divulged.

"The longer we stall the better than chances that Emmett will come round and the less of an opportunity you will have to get to me, and I assure you that this will be your very last chance. Emmett and Edward will kill you if they have the chance."

"Bella, what the fuck are you doing?" Edward demanded but she ignored him, the hurt in his voice. She felt it resonate through her entire body and she knew, she just knew she had to do what she was doing now. She would not live out the last moments of her life, which she expected to come very soon, knowing the only person she had ever dares to love in her life was dead because of her. She just couldn't stand the thought.

"You would come right now? Knowing what you are stepping into? You must know your lover would never allow it," James answered with amusement in his voice, clearly perplexed but strangely delighted that she would come to him willingly.

"You are damn right I wouldn't allow it. If you think I am going to let you go off with this psychopath you are out of your fucking mind," Edward practically shouted. He was so angry, so distressed, she couldn't bear to look at him.

"Psychopath? I think that is a bit harsh, don't you?" he asked in return. Bella could feel Edward glowering at his strange unsmiling face.

"Would sociopathic child murderer suit you better, you crazy fuck?" Edward asked. He was letting his anger and anguish get the better of him. He was going to crack under the pressure if he wasn't careful.

"This is a onetime offer, James, take it or leave it," Bella said, ignoring the words that had passed between the two men. "You need to take me somewhere else now anyway, because once Emmett wakes up if he doesn't come in here and find us he will call in all kinds of back up and you know it. It will be easier to do if you only have to transport me and not Edward, too."

"Absolutely not, Bella; it won't matter if he kills me now or tries it later. You giving up now won't change the fact that he has got it out for me now. I got in the way, remember? I touched you," Edward told her. She finally allowed herself to look back at him again and his face was set in stone, any trace of the emotion she had heard in his voice a few moments earlier had gone completely. He was a cop again, not Edward the man who loved her. It hadn't been her intention to bring that out in him, but forcing him to shove away his feelings and embrace the parts of himself that were the most calculating, the most intelligent, was a positive side effect when she realized that Edward would never just let her leave. It had been a desperate move, and it had failed. However, bringing out the policeman in Edward was what was going to save them.

She hoped.

III.

Edward had felt every last cell in his body scream when Bella had tried to just walk off with the psycho who was trying to torture and kill her. He couldn't understand what she was doing at first until he realized that she thought that if she left with him, if she sacrificed herself James would leave Edward alone. He had to tell her that no matter what happened now, the two of them could not exist in the same world. He would die or James would.

He had noticed the slight flicker of unpleasantness across James' face when he mentioned touching Bella, and it occurred to him that his original plan of provoking him might still be applicable, only in a different context. He could draw him into a conflict now, long enough that Bella could get away and he could take care of the motherfucker for good. She was hurt but if he told her to go, she would go. She was strong, stronger than James had given her credit for, probably stronger than Edward himself gave her credit for. He realized he had been wrong, had always been wrong, to assume he would be the one to save her. Really, she just needed a little help saving herself.

"You don't particularly like the idea of me touching her, do you?" Edward asked James. His eyes narrowed but he said nothing. "No, I didn't think you did. I'll admit, at first I wondered why if it sickened you so much to see me with her you would watch us together. But you couldn't look away, could you?"

"I watched so I could picture better ways to kill you," James replied coolly. Edward smirked.

"You watched us in bed, you watched us make love because you were trying to figure out the best way to take me out? I don't think so. I think it made you jealous," he continued.

"Jealous of what? That little whore is nothing to be jealous over."

Bella didn't flinch, didn't move, and her expression didn't change. She was just watching James' face, probably for the same things Edward was watching for. There had to be a crack somewhere, a foothold to weasel his way in. He could figure out how to make him tick; now he needed to figure out how to make him break.

"Are you sure? Because I am pretty sure the things you wrote on her wall sounded more like a jealous stalker than anything else. Like you are one of those pathetic kids who thinks because a woman smiles at them they have a relationship. Kidnapping her didn't make her yours, but taking her to bed made her mine," Edward stated.

He saw it then, the twitch that ran through all of James' body, like he had gotten an electric shock. He hit the right nerve with his last statement, he just needed to keep attacking it and hope that James would come after him.

"She will never be yours," James hissed, his calm blown, cool gone completely.

"On the contrary, she already is. She belongs to me. You might have her blood on your hands but she is mine, unequivocally, until her death. Even if you killed her she would still be mine. You lost, James. She got away from you once when she was eight and she has gotten away from you again now. You've failed. Accept it. She is mine and I don't fucking share."

James moved first, and Edward in one motion pushed Bella out of the way and took a step to meet him, reaching for his sidearm. He got it out of the holster before James met him in the middle of the room, but he was a fast son of a bitch so Edward didn't have time to aim before they were already too close for him to clearly get off a shot. He had waited to take out his firearm in case James was also armed; it wasn't wise to start waving a gun around if you didn't know if the other person had one or not.

James got a right hook in before Edward could appreciate the distance between them or size up the situation. He could take a hit, after years on the force breaking up fights, sparring at his gym, not to mention taking more than his fair share of beatings with the fights he got into in all of middle school and high school. He had learned at an early age how to take a hit, and though it hurt like a bitch he was able to move with the strike instead of letting it take him down.

He ducked out of the way of James' second punch, landing one of his own on James' stomach, which he took as well as Edward did. But he expected that. Edward turned the .38 in his hand around and brought it down as swiftly as he was able across James' face twice, in rapid succession. James stumbled back a moment, long enough for Edward to see the blood that had started to gush from his right cheek. He had probably broken his cheek bone with the butt of his gun. He brandished it like a bludgeon, holding tight to it in case he needed to use it again in the same capacity.

He was vaguely aware of Bella through all of this, who had crawled to opposite wall when it began. He wanted to tell her to get the hell out while she had the chance but he knew she must have been frightened, not to mention she most likely was caught in the moment and couldn't just look away and go. He wanted to yell to her, but before he had enough time to think about it, James was back at him.

He went for the gun first, wrapping his hand around Edward's, twisting his wrist back. Edward held on as best he could, using his other hand to bring a blow to James' already injured face, but his focus was singular. He took the punch with a grunt and a visible shake, but would not let go of his hand. The gun dropped from his grip, and Edward heard it clatter to the floor. He managed to kick it away from them, knowing it was better off away from them both than possibly in James' hands. The gun had just slid away from them when James tackled him to the floor.

Hitting the concrete floor almost knocked the wind out Edward, but he managed just barely to keep his breath and his consciousness and protect his face in time to keep the impending blows from landing. It didn't make it any less painful when James' fists landed on his arms or torso, but he needed to stay in the game, and any hit hard enough to knock his head back against the floor might put him down for the count. If he was unconscious he wouldn't be able to help Bella.

He heard a light clicking sound, and he remembered the story Emmett had told him about the drug raid, about something being the loudest sound in the whole room even though there were so many other sounds around him. His heart was pounding in his ears, his breathing was loud, James was breathing loudly, panting in his attack and there was a general scuffling sound with their thrashing around. But that little sound, a click and nothing more echoed through his ears like the room had been silent.

And then there were four consecutive explosions, his unprepared ears rang with the sound, not sure what it was at first. But it became clear when James sat up for a moment on his knees and froze before a drip of blood escaped his mouth. He fell off of Edward unceremoniously and he realized that there was blood on his clothes and on the floor next to them where James had landed.

It was only then that he saw Bella holding his sidearm, blinking rapidly, still holding it out, pointed to where Edward was on the ground and where James had been a moment before. She was an absolute mess. He could see tears building in her chocolate eyes and he got up immediately, taking the gun out of her hand gingerly and holstering it. He ignored the wet sputtering of James on the ground and put his arms around Bella. She fell immediately against him, her breathing even, and then strangely hiccuped. He realized she was sobbing after he felt his shirt getting damp and heard her start to cry out. He held her tighter.

Emmett stumbled in a moment later. Edward saw him come through the plastic flaps and notice James' body on the floor and Bella in his arms falling apart. He said nothing. He didn't need to.

Emmett would tell him later that James had ambushed him while he was reaching for the radio in the car. As soon as he had come to he immediately called for reinforcements and as he was walking through the front door he heard the gun go off.

"I didn't know what the fuck was going on. For all I knew one of you were hurt, or dead. So I went in even though it was fucking stupid, hero cop here, remember? I never thought it would have been her to do it, but I guess that's all the kind of closure that girl could get, you know? Sounds like a fucked up game of Clue, 'Bella with the .38 in the creepy fucking warehouse.'"

Edward had just listened to him talk while they were in the hospital. He was getting patched up while Bella was being seen to separately. He didn't want to be separated from her, not after that kind of physical and mental trauma, but she had swallowed the rest of her tears and told him that she would be fine. When he tried to argue she just looked at him, in that commanding way she had that told him to back down a little.

All his testosterone driven need to protect her was gone when she looked at him like that. He remembered that it had been her, after all, that had shot James in the end of it. The doctors came in and briefed him on Bella's condition after his slight lacerations and what they thought was a concussion was treated as best they could. Emmett left his side to take a call from the captain who was handling the bureaucratic end of things and the doctor came over shortly after.

"She has some major contusions on her torso, a few cracked ribs, and several shallow lacerations on all of her extremities and torso. There are first and second degree burns on her forearms and the backs of her hands, and second degree burns on the bottoms of both her feet. But as bad as all that sounds, she will recover from all that given enough time. Given the instruments you found at the warehouse, he could have done far more damage than he did. I'll be sure to keep you updated with her condition and let you know what his is once he is out of surgery," the doctor said.

For a moment, Edward didn't quite understand what he had heard. It was hard enough to listen to extent of Bella's injuries without wanting to hit someone, but the last bit didn't make sense.

"Doc, maybe you have the wrong patient, but James Alistair was shot four times at almost point blank range, I don't think he would have made it," Edward said, rubbing absently at the butterfly bandage on his forehead. The doctor looked down at his clipboard—so cliché, Edward thought—and then back at him.

"Detective, Bella Swan might have shot him, but she wasn't necessarily a good shot. She hit his right shoulder once and his lower torso three times. Given enough time he would have bled out, but she somehow managed not to hit any major arteries and the organ and arterial damage that did occur is fixable in surgery, where he is currently. It's possible he won't make it off the table, but I will let you know about his status when I know more."

Edward thanked him absently, his head spinning. The son of bitch was still alive. For all he knew, and with any luck, he would die on the fucking operating table and he would never have to deal with him ever again. He thought bitterly that he should have taken Bella to the shooting range, then maybe they wouldn't be having this issue.

Someone knocked on the door to his room and he called for them to come in as he got up off the hospital bed and started pacing. Emmett quickly came in and closed the door behind him. He looked more worried than Edward would have liked at that particular moment.

"I don't like your face," he said. Emmett glanced at him quizzically.

"I'm going to skip over what could be taken as an insult and get right to the point here. The forensics lab got back to the captain and they told him that it was your DNA in the love glove, so he's rip shit, although less so than he would have been if we hadn't already gotten James. Count yourself a lucky fucker that he's taken out now because if it hadn't happened yet you'd be off duty and shit would have gone down very differently," he said, his mouth turned down into a scowl.

"Fuck," I said, "am I suspended?"

"I don't know, he said he's coming down here to talk to you as soon as he can get away from the higher ups and the media dogs. There is going to be fallout, but it's over for now, Edward. Bella is safe; James is out of the game for good."

"James is in fucking surgery, Emmett. He survived the shooting," Edward told him, explaining what the doctor had told him about James' condition.

"Motherfucker, you have got to be kidding me. This is some right shit. If this goes to trial we might have some issues, you being involved with the victim and all," Emmett mused. Edward glared at him.

"I fucking know that, Emmett," he growled.

"Hey now, comrade, calm down, I'm not trying to make you feel like shit, I still think you made the right choices with Bella, I'm just saying let's all cross our fucking fingers that someone slips with a surgical instrument up there and nicks something vital so we don't even have to go through with that whole shit show. It would be a clusterfuck anyway; no one will miss him if he is dead."

Edward snorted but covered his eyes with his hands, trying to block it all out. Everything was fucked. James was alive upstairs getting surgery, DNA had finally come through and he was about to get the thrashing of the year for sleeping with someone on one of his cases.

His only saving grace was Bella. She was like a spotlight in the middle of a black night. He didn't understand how she made everything all right. When he thought of how screwed up everything was it made him feel panicked with worry about how it might possibly end up okay in the end. But then he thought of Bella, the smell that came off her skin, the color of her eyes, the sound of her voice, her smile, the shape of her mouth, the taste of her, everything seemed like it was going to pan out. She was okay. She was hurt, and she would need some time to heal, but she was okay. That was everything, it was more than enough, to make all the other bad things, and there were a lot of them, completely vanish.

"Go see her," Emmett said quietly. Edward looked over at him and Emmett was staring at him with raised eyebrows.

"How did you…?" he asked. Emmett rolled his eyes.

"You get that stupid happy dreamy look when you think about her, I can always fucking tell. I'll hold off the storm coming your way, just go to her. She needs you and you need her, more than doctors and medicine."

Emmett always had the amazing skill of joking one moment and then turning suddenly serious and ending on a note that was more insightful than Edward would have predicted. But he was right. Edward knew she was going to need healing, but she also needed him, just like he needed her. Not seeing her after everything was making him insane. It had been hard enough being away from her when he didn't know where she was. She was only a floor away from him now and he couldn't get to her because a doctor said she needed to be treated.

Well fuck that, Edward told himself, that is what a badge is for.

He patted Emmett on the shoulder as he walked out the door and up the stairs. He went to the triage desk on the floor above the one he had been put on and flashed his badge, asking for the room number where he could find Bella Swan. The woman at the desk quickly scoured a clipboard and informed him the room he wanted was 314. He thanked her and went in the direction she pointed him in. When he got to her door he flashed his shield at the unis on duty outside her room and they let him pass without any issue.

Bella got a room to herself, and for good reason. She was bandaged quite a bit, similar butterfly bandages on her pretty face, the bruises more pronounced now, under the fluorescence than they had been in the darkness of the warehouse. Edward felt his hands tighten into fists until she opened her eyes.

For a very long moment he was frozen. She just looked at him, eyes staring at right, through him, right into the very depths of him. There was something about those beautiful eyes of hers that communicated everything he needed to hear without her saying a word. She loved him. She missed him. She needed him.

She was his, and always would be.

He was the one that almost burst into tears this time, so relieved to just see her face and know that she was really was okay, that she was here, not still somewhere where he couldn't get to her.

"Edward," she said quietly. He crossed the room to her and went to hold her, but pulled back at the last moment. She had cracked ribs and extensive internal bruising; he didn't want to hurt her. He settled for taking her face in his hands very lightly and kissing her mouth, split lip be damned. She kissed him back lightly, matching his gentleness. He felt her smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, taking a seat in the chair by her bed. She lifted her hand, an IV in the back of it, and tucked a strand of errant mahogany hair behind her ear.

"Like a psycho tortured me," she said plainly. Just hearing the word torture escape her lips in reference to herself made him want to throw up or hit something, but he restrained both urges and frowned at her. They sat in silence for a few long moments, not talking, not needing to talk.

"I didn't know what else to do, Edward," she murmured finally. "He was hurting you, he had already hurt me. He was going to kill us, or try and your gun was right there and I just…it felt like some kind of dream sequence or something, I hardly remember doing it. And the nurse told me…she said she wasn't supposed to but she told me he is in surgery and I just…he's still alive, Edward. He is still breathing and maybe he won't make it through the surgery but I…"

She stopped short but Edward didn't need her to finish her sentence. He was still alive and it scared her, even if he was incapacitated. Before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door and a nurse came in the room. Before she could tell him to leave he showed her his badge and she nodded. She checked a few things on Bella's monitors and adjusted one of the tubes that went down to her IV before leaving them alone again.

"Bella, there is something else we need to talk about," Edward started. She looked at him intently and he sighed, before explaining to her the shit situation they were in regarding his involvement with her and how public it now was, and how further public it was going to get if things went to trial. He told her there was a chance the defense would use it against him if he testified, to discredit him, and it might get James off the hook. He could see her eyes darkening by the second as he talked. He didn't like it either, and he could feel his stomach tightening in distaste as he explained it.

"So because you and I are…involved, that could get in the way of the case, if James makes it through?" she inquired after he was done talking. He nodded slowly. She bit her lip and immediately flinched when her teeth connected with the broken flesh. Edward winced with her.

"Well, let's cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? I don't want to worry about it if the motherfucker just ends up dying during surgery anyway."

Edward agreed with her logic, but immediately felt his mouth fall open.

"Did you just say motherfucker, Bella?"

"I think it's justified in this case," she spat. Edward grinned despite himself.

"I couldn't agree more."

Edward talked to her for a bit longer and then she confessed she was tired. He told her to go to sleep, that he would be there when she woke up. She closed her eyes and within minutes he could hear the difference in her breathing. Watching her sleep was the most comforting thing he would ever do. Knowing she was at peace, safe in front of him was possibly the most calming thing he could think of.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and without waiting the doctor that had talked to Edward downstairs entered the room. He didn't look the least bit surprised to see him sitting in the chair beside her bed.

"Detective, when they told me you had left your room I had no doubt this was where I would find you. I can kill two birds with one stone as it were, I need to check on her and talk to you, all the more convenient if I can do both at once," he said quietly, noting Bella was asleep. He went over to her monitors and checked them the same way the nurse before him had done and picked up her chart to make some sort of note. When he set it back down at the end of her bed he beckoned him to the other side of the room.

"I wanted to tell you that I just got word from the surgical team. James pulled through the surgery and he is in critical condition in the ICU. The next twenty four hours are going to be decisive, but they said given his physical condition and the amount of reparation they were able to do so fast, chances are he is going to survive."

Edward digested his words slowly, but said nothing. He nodded to the doctor, who left without ceremony, telling him to have him paged if either he or Bella needed anything. When the door was closed again Edward went back to the chair by her bedside and put his hand lightly over hers.

"Oh Bella," he whispered, stroking her upturned palm with his thumb. To his surprise her hand curled around his.

"I'm not asleep anymore," she said quietly before opening her eyes. They were empty and frankly it scared him to look at her and not see Bella looking back.

"He is alive," she stated, clearly having heard the conversation between he and the doctor.

"Yes," Edward answered tentatively.

"And they think he is going to pull through?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?" she asked. He balked.

"How can you ask me that? Of course I love you; I would do anything for you," Edward replied immediately.

"Anything?" she questioned, her voice quieter than before.

"Anything."

She closed her eyes for the briefest moment as if she was trying to remember something. When she opened them again the same emptiness was there, but there was also a kind of terrifying determination.

"Kill him."

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