Thank you all for your patience between updates. I have the most wonderful readers, and I appreciate every one of you.
Huge thanks to my amazing beta Writingbabe and my prereader RandomCran. I'm grateful they share their talents with me. By the time they're done with my draft, they've given me enough excellent suggestions and edits to save me from my wordy self. If there are any mistakes here, they are mine, not theirs.
Advisory: The events in this chapter include the death of a toddler. The child is not a main character in this fic, and the death takes place "off stage." But if this is upsetting to you, you may want to skim before you read, or skip it altogether.
When we last left Copward and Bella, they'd returned from a fine day on Governor's Island where they enjoyed the Dave Matthews Band. After the concert, Edward subdued a man with a knife. Bella was shaken up but Edward dismissed it as a non-event. Easy for him to say. They returned to his apartment where they failed at shower sex (hey, we've been there, right?) but they made up for it in the bedroom.
Let's jump ahead here…
Six weeks after the end of the last chapter
"Mom?"
"Bella!" Renee's voice, full of love and relief, came clearly from the Swan home across the continent. "I was just going to call you! We were getting a little worried about you, honey. How are you?"
Bella winced, feeling especially guilty thanks to her only-child status. She'd been so busy the past few weeks with work and Edward that she'd neglected to phone her parents. "I'm good, Mom. Really good. I'm sorry I haven't called sooner."
"Well, you sound good. So what's going on? What have you been up to? I've missed you!" Now that the surprise of the call was over with, Renee got down to business.
"Everything at work is great. I'm still in charge of that health care project in the Dakotas. I'll probably have to fly out there some time after Labor Day."
"Aww, sweetie, I'm so glad. Sounds like you're doing so well." Bella knew Renee was trying to be supportive and silencing her own motherly wish – conveyed quite loudly and unabashedly a year ago – that her daughter would find work closer to home.
"I am. I really love it." She gave a little more detail on the project, as much as she thought her mother wanted to hear.
"How's Angela?"
"Fine. She says hello. She's doing well at work, too. She and Ben are great."
"And how's New York City treating you?" In the background, Bella heard the tinny clangs and running water that meant Renee was washing dishes.
"Very well, Mom." Bella chuckled, half over how much she was repeating herself and half over how much she was telling the truth. She finally had the response her mother wanted to hear for the unspoken question of whether Bella had met anyone special.
"Well, that sounds promising," Renee said, trailing off.
"I met a really nice guy. Rose introduced us."
The water on the other end shut off abruptly. "Really? Oh, Bella, that's wonderful! So, who is he? What's his name?"
"His name is Edward Cullen. He lives in Brooklyn – he grew up there. He knows Emmett because they play basketball together all the time. So one night Rose asked me to go to the gym where Emmett was playing, and Edward was there. A bunch of us went out after the game and we talked for awhile. We really hit it off." Bella was almost babbling, giving her mom the information she knew Renee wanted while avoiding any mention of Edward's occupation.
"I'm so happy for you, sweetheart. What does he do?"
And there it was. With a deep breath, Bella said, "He's a cop. A New York City cop."
Silence. "Oh." Her mother gave a quick chuckle. "Well, I guess you didn't go all that far from home after all."
Bella knew the attempt at lightheartedness meant Renee was trying to get her bearings. This was a trait she'd inherited from her mother. She wished that Renee was there with her so she could see her mother's face and gauge Renee's emotions in person.
She decided to go the direct route. "Does that bother you, Mom?" Bella managed to keep her tone genuinely curious. She didn't want to come across as defensive.
Renee sighed lightly. "Cops are very good people, Bella."
"That's not really an answer."
"Well, I wouldn't say 'bother,' " her mother replied slowly. "This is your decision, Bella. How long have you been dating?"
"A couple of months."
"So it's kind of early anyway." When Bella didn't reply, Renee said, "You're serious about this guy already." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, Mom, I really am. We're serious about each other." Bella adjusted the pillow on her bed, where she'd been sprawled since she'd dialed her parents' number. "I don't know…I mean, I can't say, but I think we'll be together for a long time."
"Wow." Renee let out a windy breath. "Honey, that's…I'm so happy for you. Really. I've waited a long time to hear this. I hoped you'd find a great guy for yourself. Not really crazy that you had to go across the country to do it," she teased, "but that really doesn't matter. As long as you found him. As long as you found each other."
"So are you worried? About him being a cop?"
"Are you?"
"A little," she admitted to her mother. "I guess I was kind of insulated from Dad's work. I knew what he did but being a little kid, I always assumed he'd come home every night. Plus, you know, Forks isn't exactly a hotbed of crime.
"This is definitely different, though," Bella continued. "He's got a good beat in a safer part of Manhattan, but it's still New York. Shit happens here all the time, even in the best places."
"Tell me about it," Renee said drily. "That's how your dad and I felt when you moved there. And as you told us numerous times, you can take care of yourself."
Bella nodded and closed her eyes, even though her mother couldn't see her. "That's pretty much what he says to me whenever we talk about it. And I know he's really, really good at his job. Still doesn't keep me from worrying."
"Of course it doesn't, honey. The fact that Forks is as lively as a sack of doorknobs doesn't keep me from worrying about your father, either."
"Does it ever get easier?"
"Not really," Renee answered honestly, "but you adjust. You adjust your thinking and your anxiety. You learn that you can't worry constantly, so you find a way to take each minute at a time and accept it all. The longer they stay in the job without any…incidents, the more you fall into a kind of rut – a good rut, where you start to feel like maybe it'll always be that way."
"That makes sense," Bella said slowly. It was the first time she and her mother had spoken in any depth about Charlie's work. Her mother understood how she felt, and she suddenly wished she'd called Renee weeks ago. She wanted her mother with her now.
"We want to come to Washington for Christmas," Bella blurted out. She wished the holiday wasn't so far away.
"Both of you?"
"Yes, it would be both me and Edward. I've met his parents a few times, so I figured it was only fair." Bella tried to lighten things up. "You know, subject him to you and Dad."
"I'm sure your dad would have lots to talk to him about. You can take that any way you want," Renee said with a chuckle. "That would be great, Bella. I can't wait to tell Charlie about all of this. We've been trying to see if we could manage a trip back East, but so far…"
"Well, now you don't have to worry about that," Bella interrupted her mother. "We'll come and see you. I'm sorry I'll miss Thanksgiving, but at least we'll see each other for Christmas."
They talked for a little while longer about Bella's job at Valetudo and Renee's work as a life coach, which was going well, much to Bella's surprise. Her mother seemed to like it and was actually suited to it, although Bella reserved judgment until she could get her father's take on it.
They're so different. Throughout her life, that phrase was as strongly associated with her parents' marriage as their wedding rings, their late-night conversations, their home. It was the hallmark of their relationship, and as Bella grew older, she realized the differences were their saving grace. They liked the diversity.
Not for the first time, she compared her blooming relationship with Edward to the one she'd always seen between her parents. She thought her personality and Edward's were more like separate jigsaw pieces that fit, even if they had to occasionally push them to get them into place. Her parents, though, looked like a puzzle that might have been put together by an abstract artist: the pieces were intentionally askew, but when you looked at the whole, it worked.
Bella preferred what she and Edward had, but she couldn't argue with her parents' success. They'd been married a quarter of a century.
Early at work the next day, Bella was absent-mindedly thumbing through project files. It was a slow morning, and she was waiting for the clock's hands to complete their sluggish ascent to her lunch hour. Until the phone rang, and Victoria's secretary told her that Victoria wanted to see Bella in her office right away.
That changed the tenor of the whole morning.
Assuming Victoria wanted to talk about the Dakota project – Bella's biggest responsibility by far – she grabbed several files and headed over to the suite of executive offices. With a nod at the secretary who'd phoned her, Bella took a seat and waited to be called in.
She glanced around the waiting area. The chairs were comfortably cushioned in cloth, not leather. A plain coffee table held several news magazines, copies of The New York Times, and the Valetudo annual report along with several editions of its quarterly newsletter. In almost every external document Bella had seen, the foundation reinforced how much money went to actual grantees, instead of to administrative costs. In this spare but tasteful waiting area, the foundation was careful about keeping guests comfortable without any extravagance. Bella smiled in spite of her anxiety. The staff responsible for Valetudo's mission and image thought of everything.
With a sharp click, the door to Victoria's office opened and her boss stepped out. She smiled at Bella – thank God! – and greeted her. "Come on in, Bella."
As she followed Victoria across the carpet, Bella kept her eyes down. Not for the first time, she wondered how Victoria could walk so steadily on four-inch heels. Maybe it was the years of experience she had on Bella, or maybe she was just better coordinated.
When they were settled in chairs on either side of the spacious desk, Victoria began.
"You know I generally go through the folders of our grants and projects to get a sense of how things are going. I was looking at the Dakota health initiative, and I noticed some paperwork is missing. It was time for you and I to have one of our status meetings anyway, so I decided to just have you come in.
"I didn't see the small business contracting plan that Health and Human Services requires," she said, referring to the federal agency. "Do you have it? The Dakotas consortium will be hiring local businesses for some of the work that needs to be done on the health care centers."
Bella opened her mouth, then shut it. She flipped through all the paperwork in the files she'd brought with her, trying to keep documents from slipping away because her hands were shaking so hard. The HSS form wasn't there.
There were so many details to the project. Could she have forgotten this one?
"It's not here. I must have left it in my office," Bella said.
"Are you sure you sent it out?"
"I must have. I know it's important." Bella's eyes widened as she tried to remember. Some parts of this process were so rote, she did them automatically. "I…I think I did."
Victoria looked at Bella incredulously. "You think you did? Bella, we're supposed to be helping them. They're getting federal money to supplement our grant. It's our job to make sure every requirement is taken care of, even if it's the grantee's responsibility to fulfill it."
"I'll go back and look in my office. It has to be there," Bella replied, her voice slightly shaking. "I've done this before; I know it's required."
Victoria sat back abruptly in her chair, and Bella could practically see a disapproving puff of dark smoke fly out from behind her shoulders. "If they contractors don't submit the paperwork to HHS, they may miss out on this federal funding cycle. They could lose a lot of money." Her voice got colder. "They can't fully fund the clinics just with what we're giving them. I don't have to tell you what a major screw-up would do to this initiative."
"I understand," Bella said. "I'll check right away."
"Please do." Victoria tapped the folder with one ruby-red fingernail. "If it's not in your files, call your contact at HHS to see if there's still time. The Dakotas team is supposed to be finding minority or women-owned businesses for these subcontracts. It's ideal for Native American companies. How bad would it look if they lost work because we didn't manage our responsibilities for a health care project? Considering that's what this foundation is about."
"I understand," Bella repeated. "Of course. You're right." She couldn't keep the quaver out of her voice, though she did manage to stop her chin from trembling. Don't cry. She took a deep inhale.
Her boss leaned across the desk. Although the anger was gone from her eyes, the look of intense warning that replaced it was worse. "Bella. You have to be on top of this. And by 'this,' I don't just mean the Dakotas initiative. Every project you take on, every proposal you supervise – I expect you to know, and to remember, every single part of it. I know you're fairly new, but you were promoted because you were doing extraordinary work, and you showed great capability and potential. Carelessness isn't in your repertoire." Victoria's expression softened a little. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes. Really, I'm fine. I'll follow up with you and let you know what I've found." She squared her shoulders. "It'll never happen again."
Victoria was silent for a few seconds, her lips pursed. "Okay. Be sure to keep me informed."
Bella nodded. "Of course."
There were worse managers out there. Victoria might scary at times, but at least she asked questions instead of launching into a screamfest. Bella couldn't argue with a supervisor double-checking the projects that were under her control. And she knew it was her own fault; she was the one who screwed up. Or might have screwed up.
Oh God, don't let me find I've screwed up…
She ran back down to her office and looked through the files for the Dakotas health project that were stacked on her desk. The small packet of forms that had all the information for bidders and contractors wasn't there. She pulled open her desk drawers and rifled through the paperwork for older grants. Nothing.
Bella shared a secretary with two other program managers on her floor, but she did her own filing. She'd preferred it that way, up until now, at least. There was a small cabinet with everything from funding requests for other projects to her personal benefits statements to ideas for the annual employee picnic. The form she needed was not in any of them.
She fell heavily into her chair and sank her head into her hands. Helplessly, she looked around her messy desk, wondering how she could have forgotten to do something that was so routine, it was like turning on her computer every morning.
Her eyes lit on a desktop file organizer that had several pieces of correspondence on one of the shelves. A small group of papers was stuck in the middle, with one corner haphazardly crooked so it stood out from the rest. She pulled out the whole pile and began rifling through it.
There, underneath an invitation from a women's auxiliary to speak about federal health care reform, were the sheets with the small business subcontracting plans and a post-it note with the date on which they'd been sent to HHS. The only unanswered question was how the hell these documents got left where they did.
Now Bella cried, a few welcome tears of relief. As she wiped her cheeks, her eyes fixed on a photograph that she'd recently set on her desk. She and Edward were at the Jersey Shore, where they'd gone when they'd managed to score a couple of days off at the same time. Carlisle and Esme rented a house in Ocean City for a week, so Bella and Edward were able to stay with them.
She stared at the picture. Edward's arm was around her; in the background was the family beach umbrella that staked their place near the water's edge. His grin was huge; his face right next to hers, their cheeks touching. Bella's smile was just as enormous.
With her index finger, she slowly traced Edward's outline. Thinking of him distracted her from this disappointing morning. Maybe that was part of the problem. Was she losing her focus at work now that she had more in her life? She'd always worked hard and still did; but with Edward, she now had other things to think about besides her job. Did that automatically mean she was slipping at the office?
Bella frowned. She never wanted to be one of those people for whom work was life, and she never wanted to be one of those women who lost some professional luster once she became seriously attached. Neither was a zero-sum game, in her opinion.
How did other women do it, especially working mothers? They must go insane trying to manage work, kids, a husband. What were Edward's thoughts on working mothers? Would he want her to stay home? Why was she thinking about this after being with him for only two months?
Because she knew she'd told her mother the truth: she was certain she and Edward would be together for a long time, if not always. Already, she couldn't imagine being with anyone else; and it didn't even sink in that it was premature. He was the first person she thought of telling about her crappy morning today, even if he might have a small part in it. It would lead to another good talk between them. It always did.
Bella called Victoria's office to let her know that the important papers had been in her office all along, and most important, were completed by the grant recipients in Dakota well in advance of the federal government deadline. Then she went to the photocopier and made several copies of the form, putting them in different files just to be sure.
She slumped in her chair and sipped a can of Diet Coke, staring at the wall in front of her.
Edward's day started off as the exact opposite of Bella's. After a relaxing morning at home, he reported for an afternoon shift at work. He and his partner Riley were on patrol at 63rd Street when they hear a quavering but loud voice calling, "Officers! Officers?" An elderly woman ran out into the middle of the street, heading straight for them.
"Whoa, whoa! To the corner!" He waved his arm toward the crosswalk. "Come on, ma'am – you're going to get hurt."
A cab nearly clipped her as she made it to the other side. By the time he and Riley ran to her, she was turning sideways to squeeze between two parked cars, still trying to reach them.
"Can we help you, ma'am?" She still wasn't looking where she was going and tripped over the curb. Riley grabbed her arms to steady her.
Her eyes were fixed on Edward's face, her expression earnest and open. She leaned in and whispered, "Is Zsa Zsa Gabor still alive?"
Edward rolled back on his heels a bit. The woman was suitably clothed in a housedress and light sweater, and looked clean and properly cared for. He knew, though, that even if the exterior was well appointed, the interior could be a mess.
"I believe Ms. Gabor is still with us, ma'am," Edward said, as patiently as if he was talking with his young cousin Charlotte. "Do you live around here?"
A look of relief came over the woman's face. "Oh, thank God. I was so worried about her." Her voice dropped lower. "That prince she married is an absolute scoundrel. I told her not to consort with him, but she wouldn't listen." An exasperated sigh. "Please, could you check on her? I am still very concerned."
"I'll be glad to. Where do you live?" he asked again. "If you tell me your name I can let her know I'm calling for you."
A voice rang out from across the street. "Agnes! Agnes, what are you doing?" A woman wearing a nurse's uniformed dashed down the stairs of a townhouse. "You're not supposed to go outside alone!"
"Thank you, Officers." She looked genuinely worried and embarrassed. An ID tag with the name Mrs. Pat Callahan was on the front of her uniform.
"Do you know this woman?" Edward asked.
"Yes, I take care of her during the weekdays. I'm a home health care aide." Her nameplate included the logo of a nursing agency.
"Where does Agnes live?" Riley asked. Mrs. Callahan pointed to the townhouse, then pulled a laminated card from her pocket with Agnes' photo and address.
"So this has happened before?" Riley asked.
Mrs. Callahan rolled her eyes and nodded her head. "Unfortunately, yes. I keep this with me all the time even though I hope I'll never need it. I'd just stepped into the closet for my sweater so I could bring her outside, and she was gone. She's quicker than you'd think."
She put an arm around Agnes and gently directed her to the corner. "We have to go now. Let's take that walk we were talking about."
Agnes acted as if she hadn't heard the nurse. She walked slowly to Edward, her expression almost youthful in its expectation.
He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. This could be anyone I love some day. "Listen to Mrs. Callahan," he instructed her. "She's here to take care of you. I like you and I want to know you're okay. Zsa Zsa will be worried about you, too. Promise me you won't go outside by yourself?"
"All right," she said, looking slightly abashed. He knew that promise would fade in her memory like everything else.
She tugged on his arm one last time, as if what she was about to say was most important. "I wish I was as strong as you," she whispered.
His heart almost broke at her plaintive words. "I think you're plenty strong, Agnes," he said. "Just…please be careful. Okay?"
She gave him one last ghostly smile before turning away.
"That could have turned out a lot worse," Riley observed. Before Edward could even nod his head in agreement, his radio began squawking with instructions to get over to Lexington Avenue, where there was a report of a dead child.
"Damn," Riley muttered. It was the call every officer hoped he or she would never get.
The dispatcher gave them the exact address and Edward confirmed their own location. They ran the several blocks to Lexington. Several squad cars pulled up and double parked, their wailing sirens echoing up the broad avenue.
A young girl paced in front of the address they'd been given, holding her cell phone in her hand. Her loose blonde hair and backpack made her look like a college student. Edward guessed she had to be around 20. She was crying, her face red and streaked. She cried harder when she saw Edward and Riley.
"Miss? What's going on?" Riley asked, approaching her carefully.
The girl pointed down a stairwell that led to a basement apartment. "I just got home from class and I found…I saw him," she said. She looked away, sobbing.
At the bottom of the stairwell, tucked in a corner, was a child no older than a toddler. Judging by the clothing, it was a little boy; he was filthy, with no shoes. He looked like he could have been sleeping, curled up and silent.
Oh, Jesus Christ, no. Edward's chest tightened, his heart full and breaking. He doubted very much the baby was alive. No toddler would keep so still.
He pushed aside the child's shirt collar. There was purplish bruising, maybe from an adult hand or some type of ligature. Fighting the bile that was rising in his throat, he placed his index and middle fingers on the boy's neck. As he'd feared, there was no pulse.
Edward knew he shouldn't touch anything else because detectives and forensics needed to examine the scene, but he couldn't keep from stroking the child's head lightly. "Who did this to you, sweetheart?" he whispered. "What sick fuck could ever hurt you?" His breath came harder and harder.
The other officers who'd arrived by car watched him walk back up to the street, looking as solemn as he felt. Riley was speaking to the young woman, who was still sobbing. Edward overheard her say that she was an NYU student who lived in the basement apartment with a roommate. She'd arrived home after class and found the body.
"Do you recognize him from your building?" Riley asked.
"I don't think so. He doesn't look familiar."
"Does anyone in your building have a child this age?" Edward watched as she thought carefully.
"I don't think so, but I can't say for sure. I just moved here for school."
Riley jotted down her answers. "When did you leave your apartment?"
"Around 10 a.m. this morning."
"Did you see anything suspicious?"
"No. There wasn't anything in that space except for old leaves and some trash."
"How about your roommates?"
"I don't know if they're home yet. I haven't been inside." She glanced back at the baby and her lower lip trembled. "I saw him and called the police right away."
"That was good. You did good, not waiting." Edward patted her arm. "The detectives will be here any minute, and they're going to take over the investigation. They'll need to talk to you. Think you could go to the station with them?"
"Um, sure, if you need me to."
Edward looked around to see if the detectives had arrived. Without exception, every one of his fellow officers looked grim and ashen. The businesslike routine at a crime scene was absent here. There was nothing that could be said, no words to possibly match the quiet outrage of a lost life when the victim was so innocent. Any talking, except for relaying information, was futile, or worse, disrespectful. It was as if the child's funeral had already started. Indeed, it had.
Riley took the college girl over to a squad car so she could be brought to the station, while Edward relayed their conversation to a plainclothes officer. He couldn't help looking back down that stairwell. He'd seen death before, but this was the first time he'd been involved in a murder investigation of a baby. All deaths were somber, sometimes even gruesome; so Edward had come to understand that sometimes life ended in the least fair way possible. This, however, was more than murder; it was the worst kind of theft. It robbed a young victim of his life; and for every person who'd come into contact with the baby's body, it erased any faith that humans could never be this cruel.
In times like this, Edward wanted his role to be someone else's responsibility. Better yet, he wanted the ability to actually fix something, a joy he had infrequently at work. Here, that was all but impossible anyway, unless he'd developed the ability to go back in time and rescue the boy from whoever had done the unforgivable.
Edward stared at the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets, before looking up and carefully examining everything above him, buildings and sky. He was obeying an instinct not related to his police work, so he wasn't hunting for a suspect. He was searching for someone else.
"Take care of him, Garrett," he whispered.
Edward knew he would. Garrett had always listened to his big brother.
He thought of his own peace, or even whether he could find any now, in this moment. There were only two possibilities.
Edward stepped further away from the crowd of people and dialed Bella. He knew she'd be at home at this hour.
"Hey." She sounded surprised to hear him. "What's up?"
"Hey." He let out a big breath. "Think you could come over to my place later?"
"Tonight? Aren't you working?"
"Yeah, I'm on until midnight. I just…" Edward grew silent. "Ah, forget it. It's too late. You have to work tomorrow."
"No, Edward, wait." She'd never heard this tightness in his voice. "What's wrong?"
"I'm having an incredibly shitty and fucked-up day. The only thing that could make it better is seeing you tonight, even for just a little while when I get home." He sighed. "Look, don't worry about it-"
Bella interrupted him. "I've had kind of a crappy day myself. I want to see you, too. I'll come."
He blew out a breath. "Baby, if you could, it would mean a hell of a lot. I'd love it."
"On one condition," she teased.
"What's that?"
"I'm staying over."
"You even have to ask?" Finally, she heard the smile back in his voice.
"Take the train whenever you want and wait for me. I'll be home as soon as I can," he said before they hung up.
He told Riley he was going on his dinner break and headed off in the direction of West 53rd Street, lightly jogging most of the way. One thing about being a policeman: when anyone saw you running toward them with an intense look on your face, they bowed out of your way without giving you any New York attitude.
When Edward reached the entrance for the Museum of Modern Art, he took the steps two at a time. The security guard nodded at him and the docent waved him on, recognizing him as Maggie's nephew. The stairway wasn't crowded at this hour, so he was able to make it to the fifth floor very easily.
He rounded the corner, knowing his path, having been to this exhibit a couple of times already. Hanging a short distance away was Edvard Munch's famous painting "The Scream," its bright pastels a marked contrast to the gaping, ghoulish figure in the middle. The Expressionist classic was on loan to MoMA for several months.
Edward studied the central character's rounded head and the way that the hands fit the side of the face, as if they were molded to it. The two men sketched in the background ignored the unnamed horror steps away from them. A sunset hued with orange and yellow reinforced the normalcy of everything but the screamer. The noise within the silent artwork gave voice to everything Edward felt at that moment. He'd thought his skin might split from the strain of holding it in, but the screamer took it all and let it out for him.
He stayed with the painting for about 10 minutes, until he felt calmer and ready to resume his beat. On his way out, he passed a rack holding the museum's brochures, one of which caught his eye. He grabbed a copy, folded it in thirds and tucked it in his back pocket, buttoning the flap so it wouldn't fall out.
Bella took an evening train to Brooklyn and arrived at Edward's apartment around 9 p.m., thinking she'd read and keep Mookie company until he arrived home. She unlocked the door with the extra key Edward had given her and headed straight to the kitchen. She left a couple of cannoli on the kitchen table, then settled in the living room with the books she'd brought.
When Edward arrived home around 1 a.m., she was fast asleep on the couch, wearing sleeping shorts and a tank top, a blanket thrown around her shoulders. She was still sitting up but her head was slumped sideways, and a book sat haphazardly on her lap. He closed the door quietly and kicked his shoes off underneath the coffee table.
He knelt on the floor in front of her and moved the book aside. Quiet except for a faint sigh, he slid his arms around her waist, laying his head in her lap. The comforting softness of her skin eased his eyes closed, and he breathed in her scents of faint perfume and sweat.
"Mmmm?" She stirred and stretched. "Hey, you're home."
He nodded. "Home." He turned his head and pushed his face into her thighs.
She giggled and rubbed her knuckles on his head. "Edward!"
When he didn't move or respond – just stayed there with his face hidden – she knew something was wrong. It wasn't like him to be quiet for so long, or to not follow through if he was hinting at anything related to sex. Burying his face between her legs would otherwise be the start of some lengthy, delicious foreplay.
"Edward," she said again in a completely different tone of voice. He finally lifted his head, and even though his lids were drooping with exhaustion, she could see his eyes shining, wet and emotional.
"What's going on?" she said quietly.
He pulled himself up and sat next to her on the couch, tugging her close. "We had a dead child today – a baby, maybe two years old. Worst kind of thing." He squinted in pain, as if it hurt to even think of it, and he swiped his hand down his face.
"Oh, hell. Aw, no, sweetie. I'm so sorry," she whispered. "What happened?" She rubbed all over his shoulders and chest, trying to find some way to comfort him with her touch.
"We got a call about the body. A girl found it…Jesus, she was just a kid herself. College student. Riley and I had to I check it out. Someone left a two-year old in the bottom of a stairwell. He was gone." Edward stared ahead at the wall opposite the couch. "We figured it was recent. Forensics confirmed it.
"We had to interview the girl who found him, and she was pretty broken up. But she was great. She helped us narrow down a lot of possibilities. Seemed like he didn't live in the building so we couldn't find his parents or any other relatives right away." He sounded like he was drifting, reciting the awful details of the investigation to avoid the heartbreaking reality of it. "She gave us a lot of information, even though she was a mess. We all were. But everyone…we did our job. I just hope we find…"
When his voice caught, Bella moved into his lap, facing him, straddling either side of his legs. More tears filled his eyes, crowning his exhausted and distraught expression.
Her fingers stroked his face delicately, passing over his cheekbones, his forehead, and then combing through his hair. She couldn't touch him enough, trying to compensate physically for what he was feeling inside. "You will," she said, low but fierce. "I know you'll find them. You won't stop until you do. It's the best way you can help that little boy. You'll honor his memory." She kissed him gently, trying to convey her faith in him, as he'd done for her so many times.
Within a few moments, their kisses grew more heated. Edward's mouth on hers felt desperate, almost hard, as if he was looking to forget the day with each press of their lips.
Bella broke away from him, and while Edward's surprised and hurt expression almost crushed her heart again, she stood up anyway, taking his hands and pulling him up gently. A look of understanding crossed his face as she walked backward and led him into the bedroom.
Without a word, she unbuttoned the shirt of his uniform and eased it off his shoulders. She held it in her hands and reverently kissed his badge before folding it up and setting it on his dresser. A tear finally escaped and rolled down his cheek. She swiped it away tenderly, whispering words of comfort and encouragement. For the first time since the morning, all thoughts of her own worries at work disappeared. She focused on the man in front of her. With careful purpose, she unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper.
He stepped out of his pants, and she carefully set them on top of his shirt. With a gentle tug, she began lifting the hem of his tee shirt but before she could go any further he stopped her. He took her hands in his and turned them over, kissing her palms, his eyes squeezed shut against the visions that were still unsettling him. She framed his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, her own gaze all caring and concern.
Bella crossed her arms and pulled her tank top over her head, tossing it aside. She edged her hands underneath his tee shirt, rubbing his back, then pressing her fingertips into his skin before gathering up the cotton material and urging it up and off his body.
Edward's breathing became heavy, almost raspy. He snapped off his briefs, a hurried desperation overtaking his movements. Just short of rough, he unhooked her bra and pulled off her panties, kissing her on the mouth and neck, nipping and biting as if he wanted to swallow her, or find some way to absorb the solace only she could offer.
His hands moved to her breasts, cupping them, grazing his fingertips over her nipples. He was silent except for an occasional muffled sigh or low noise that came from the back of his throat as he pressed his mouth against her neck. Bella couldn't tell whether it was relief or pain. She smoothed her hands over his back, his stomach and then lower, trying to soothe him and excite him at the same time, showing him that she wanted him.
They moved to the bed, and Edward hovered over her, his eyes meeting hers. What he saw there – deep compassion and caring reflected back to him, chestnut to shamrock - filled his heart and brought out every emotion that had flowed through him since the start of his day. He'd witnessed the closing time of two very distinct, different lives during one eight-hour shift. One never had a chance; one had everything, but lost it through a horrible quirk of nature. With all that entailed, this was the only way to end his day without feeling like he was losing his mind.
He ran his hands over her hair for a few seconds before his lips sought her mouth. His kisses grew harder, more fervent, his tongue more demanding. Moving between her legs, he slid against her, rocking his hips and waiting for her response. Bella opened her knees wider, catching up to his rhythm so with the next pass, he slipped inside her with a groan.
It was fast, immediate, and rough. It wasn't like other times when they hadn't seen each other for days and practically clawed each other right through the mattress. There was no laughter or lightness; the true sweetness was in knowing she could give this to Edward, and it was enough. Tonight he needed to release everything inside of her.
Edward balanced himself on his right elbow while his left hand moved along her body, clutching and squeezing whatever space of flesh he could reach. He slammed into her hard, almost mindlessly, as if he was fucking it all out of himself. But she cried out with her own pleasure more than once, and that spurred him until he came, panting and moaning, his head buried in her hair.
He moved to pull out of her but she stopped him. "No," she whispered. "Stay." She held him there until he slipped out with a satisfied grunt. He kissed her gently now, tenderness filling the void where sadness and helplessness had evaporated, at least for the time being.
"Baby. My baby. My girl," he murmured as he stroked her cheek. "Thank you."
She guided his fingertips to her mouth and kissed them. "For what?"
"For being here tonight. For coming over even though it was so late. Swear to God I never would've gotten through this without you."
She pushed aside the usual words that rose up in her throat – of course you would have, you're so strong - and left them with the Bella of the past. Instead, she pulled her to him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you called me. I wouldn't want you to be alone after a day like this." She moved back again so they were face to face. "Always, always let me know when you want me. I will be here," she said, almost in tears.
For the first time in the evening, Edward smiled a little. "You're gonna regret that."
"Never," she replied, her voice low but strong. She held his face in her hands. "Never. I will be here for you whenever you need me." Because you do need me, and that could be the greatest gift you'd ever give me.
"Ah, sweetheart. You have captured my heart." His finger drifted along her arm, her side and her waist, and then her leg. He moved up and down, along her warm skin, a connection he was loath to leave. He smiled again, more easily now.
"You've always been so good about helping me see myself in a better light," Bella said. "And I always feel like I can never give you enough back for it. I might not be able to tell you the things that would keep a child's death from happening again - you know that would be a lie anyway - but I can give you my mind and my ears, and my arms, and…" she shook her hips suggestively, "the rest of my body. And this, too." She placed his hand over her heart, wanting him to know what she meant, though she was afraid to say the words out loud.
He stared at her quietly, his hand sliding up to her neck so he could cup the side of her face and bring it to him for a kiss. "I'll take very good care of that. I'll take very good care of you." He caught her lower lip between his, sucking on it gently before opening for more access to her mouth. He slid so he was hovering over her.
"I know you will. I trust you," she whispered. Edward had no idea how much he'd wanted to hear those words until she spoke them. And they were spoken in his bed, where she'd taken a great leap of faith earlier in the summer. Her words were more precious because it wasn't something she said easily or lightly.
"Do you know I'd never want you to be anyone but who you are?" she asked. "Do you know that you're also safe with me? It means so much that you knew, right from the start, how much I needed that. I want you to know I'll give it to you too. I'll always give you that."
"I know," he said, pressing into her again, more languid but no less needy. "I know.
Edvard Munch's "The Scream" was on loan to the Museum of Modern Art earlier this year, but sadly, I didn't get to see it. At least Edward did. There were four versions of the painting made by Munch between 1893 and 19190. MoMA was loaned the only private copy.
Thanks again for reading! Hey, I'm on Twitter along with everyone else on the planet. Say hi: SerendipitousMC. Let me know if you found me there through this story so I'll follow you back.
There's a page for "Boxing Out" on Facebook. The wonderful Laura also set up a "Boxing Out" board on Pinterest, where you can see Zsa Zsa Gabor's picture as well as lot of other great visuals for the fic.