Chapter 10. I Need More Hellos.
/Edward/
I was reading 'Pride and Prejudice' quietly, lying on the couch, and Carlisle was sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea—which I suppose makes sense, it being the national British sport of preference.
I hate tea.
But in any case, the calm and quiet seemingly became too much for the Universe. Apparently we weren't allowed to catch a breath; lest the world get sucked into some kind of black vortex and we all die in swirling masses of anti-matter.
I picture it distorted, 'The Scream' style.
I think my overactive (if annoyingly sarcastic) imagination was on full blast now that I had allowed it to return. It certainly was running wild.
Following the reasoning that the Universe and That Which Lies Beyond hate me, I could deduce that soon, I was going to get shot again. I could just tell. That's my luck, you know? And throw Bella in the mix; with her luck… you got yourself a shot.
Anyway, Bella came out of the bathroom with her hair tangled and wet and a look of blank shock on her face that had me leaping from the couch to my rifle. The book landed with a dull thud on the ground like a person landing on its face. I startled Carlisle so badly he dropped his tea cup on the floor and shot out of his chair.
Poor fellow, he was going to mourn his tea for days.
"What is it?" I demanded anxiously, grabbing her wrist and bringing her close.
"I just thought of something awful," she murmured. "Edward—when you talked to the Admiral before. He said someone was playing dress up. Whenever you communicate you need to give your code, right? And no one knows your code?"
"I have a lot of codes to my name," I said, letting go of her and straightening, somewhat annoyed.
"In fact, I have twelve different ones. Six of those are top secret and the other six have varying degrees of secrecy. Why?"
"Oh God. Okay—I need to tell you something." She walked quickly to the kitchen, wringing the brush in her hands uneasily. "Just listen, and don't ask questions. Look, when we first heard that, I just thought the enemy had one of your radios. I didn't know about the code thing, but I thought 'maybe they were lucky'. But then you explained to me about your radios and the wavelengths and the codes—and I just wonder—what if they don't just have one of the radios? What if they have one of the soldiers?"
Carlisle and I shared a wide-eyed look.
"A prisoner?" Carlisle asked dry throated.
"A traitor!" I replied quietly. I ran my hands through my hair. I had already deduced we had one because of the Admiral's words, and I had kept silent from Bella and Carlisle so as to not scare them; but now that it was out, I sighed. "There are 37 names to consider. Who lived? Who died?"
"It gets worse," she continued, anguished. "No one knows your code except you and some people with special access, right? Well, someone got your code—which means someone gave your code. Say someone had someone inside and asked for the codes for Edward Masen's missions…"
"That would have to be a Pentagon insider," I said, paling as the gravity of what she was suggesting hit me.
She nodded. "I know for a fact that the Pentagon isn't safe. And you have to call there to ask for help?" she finished, her eyes wide.
"It gets worse," Carlisle said, quietly. "If we have a traitor… he knows us. Knows how we look. He knows how to navigate the charts, he knows the encrypted codes and the alternative ways of communication, and more importantly he knows how we think and move. He can predict us."
I sat down at the kitchen table, feeling dizzy. "Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Now what? I have to tell Emmett. Shit! How do I tell them and not tell the enemy… Fuck."
I could use the radio just once, a very short transmission, seconds only. Not enough for the goniometer to locate me. Still, I would never do it from the apartment, and then after, I would drop the radio. But they would hear.
"We call Eagle Eye directly," Carlisle said, a look of determination in his blue eyes.
"Yeah, like I have his home number," I responded dryly.
"I have his personal cell phone number."
I stared at him.
He shrugged. "His father was from White Chapel. But I'll have to make the call myself."
"Oh, no. Out of the question." I sat up, glaring. "You're not going to expose yourself—"
"Edward, you can't protect me all the time," he said kindly. "I'm the only one that can do this. I have to. It's our only chance."
I wanted to argue. God, did I want to argue! But he was right. The helplessness that came with that realization made me seethe, and I stood abruptly, cursing loudly. I forced my hands through my hair.
Carlisle watched me calmly. "I'm no boy, Edward," he said at last. "I'm older than you, and I've been well trained. Your wish to protect me touches me, but you're taking it too far."
I swallowed and nodded.
"Bella, I need you to teach me the instructions," he said, picking up his winter coat and shrugging it on. Bella quickly pulled hers on and I sat heavily on the couch, livid with frustration but silent.
"I'll bring her back and then go away and make the call immediately," I nodded again, staring at the window.
I heard them leave. Half an hour later, Bella came in and sat next to me.
Hours passed.
I read for a while, I paced, I took a shower, I lay on Bella's bed staring at the ceiling, I paced some more. I tried to read again but got stuck and dropped the book in frustration. Bella watched me the whole time, concerned but calm. I began to panic. If anything happened to him, if he was hurt, if he was captured, I'd never forgive myself.
I almost jumped when the door opened right after nightfall.
He smiled wryly, shrugging off his coat. He let himself fall in a chair as Bella hurried to make him tea and start dinner.
"I got through to him. He was already suspicious of a rat. He's going to keep his moves in his inner circle, his closest officers; the ones he can trust. It's going to be a tricky mission. But it's the only hope we have at succeeding."
I nodded.
I worried for a moment about communication with Emmett and the rest. We had to let them know of the change of plans. They knew, like me, to communicate directly with the Pentagon if they were behind enemy lines and disconnected from the direct Command. But if the Pentagon was infiltrated, and Bella was sure it was… had maybe some of them figured out we had a spy? Yes, surely. If I had, the rest had as well. They had heard Eagle Eye's words.
What if the traitor was in our little group? So close to home?
No. I'd kept a close watch on all of them and Emmett had been even sharper. No one had had any chance to communicate with the enemy. I knew that as well as I knew my name was Edward Masen.
"He will send helicopters. You will call him and he will give you instructions to be followed immediately. He says you ought to call him tomorrow, from a different phone from then the one I used—I got a city map and I marked where it was," he said, and took the map from his pocket and dropped it on the table.
I looked at Bella. "You said we have rats in the Pentagon. What do you think the chances are of our Admiral being a traitor?" I asked honestly.
She looked at me steadily. "Slim to none. All the names I know are linked to the Pentagon and the Government. They didn't need people on small command posts like ships. They wouldn't bother."
I certainly wouldn't refer to the command of an aircraft carrier as a small post, but whatever. I guess having people in the Pentagon and the Government put things in a different perspective. I decided not to think of the meaning behind Bella's words because it would drive me insane and I needed a level head.
"One more thing," Carlisle said, now hesitating. "When I was talking to him, someone walking by overheard me speaking English, recognized me as British and spoke to me. He turned out to be the English Ambassador and is on his way out of the country. I have English citizenship, so he wants to get me out with him."
"Carlisle—that's perfect!" I said, leaping at the opportunity. "You have to take his offer, go home!"
"Edward, I can't get us all out—"
"It's alright, just go on yourself. Go home, be safe! Start packing right now, I'll help you—"
"Edward, wait, stop. Listen!" he stood, commanding my attention. "I'm not going to leave you two here on your own. It's out of the question."
I stared at him. Was he… serious…? He was staying? Staying?!
I was going to shoot him. He'd lost his mind. I was going to knock him out, and drag him all the way down to the Embassy. And if he came about, I would knock him out again. If I got court-martialed for it I would argue that he had suffered temporary insanity.
"I'm not leaving alone!" he said again, firmly.
My right hand fisted. I was faster than him, younger. A well placed punch in the jaw and he'd be out like a light. A strong hit to the sternum and he'd crumble to the floor like a doll.
"Oh, yes you are."
Her voice was surprisingly calm, and we both stared at her.
"You're leaving. You're leaving alone, and you're taking this with you," she said, and thrust her hand in her jean pocket and took out two small plastic things.
The memory cards. From her cameras.
Carlisle paled. He shook his head, but she walked to him, grasped his hand and pressed the cards into his palm.
"You're doing this, Carlisle. You have to do this, for me. Please!"
"Bella, I—"
"Please, Carlisle," she pleaded, squeezing his hand.
He hesitated, but I saw the exact moment his will caved. His brows dropped, he closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. He finally nodded.
"What time is he leaving?" I asked, hiding my triumphant expression.
"Midnight tonight. He said he would wait until midnight sharp, in case I changed my mind," he said defeated, sitting down at the kitchen table and rubbing his forehead tiredly.
"We still got a good four hours," I said, sitting in front of him. "I'm going to tell you what I need you to do once you get home."
He nodded and listened intently. Once safely in London, the Royal Army would want to debrief him. Bella assured us the British army was safe, at least in this particular situation, and that could be used to our advantage.
"England is very interested in ending this civil war," Bella said as we ate dinner. "They're going to be looking very keenly at those photos and at what Alice and I know. If you can get them to shelter us, we'll be a lot safer in England than in the US. You can show them the photos, you have my express permission."
As if the English would give a flying fuck about her 'permission' if they wanted to see the photos. Then again having that might save Carlisle's life, in a way that he wouldn't make a comic relief out of himself trying to defend Bella's precious, secret photos.
"I'll get it," he said, confident. "If not on my own, with Esme's family's influences, I will manage it."
I wanted to protest against his personal involvement, but there was no point. He was resourceful and I would need those resources.
He would first warn the British Army of the interest of Bella's and Alice's knowledge. He would then ease the knowledge that the Pentagon was infiltrated and that we could only trust the high command of the Forks aircraft carrier. Subsequently, he would contact the Forks and inform them of his safety and our situation. Then he would find out the best way to get us all to safety.
Bella was certain that while the enemy would monitor the US communications, the English army would be left to its own devices. A cooperation between the British Army and Eagle Eye would be the ideal scenario, but I wasn't getting my hopes up on that one.
Carlisle would still be careful, though, because the traitor most likely knew he was a British citizen and that there was a chance of him contacting the Queen's Army.
Carlisle Cullen was, of course, no fool. He might not be a politician, but he was English, and every Englishman knows his careful way around what he says and what he means.
Something about meaning what you say without actually saying what you mean was something my straight forward, bull heading mind just didn't grasp.
And as I knew he would be safe soon, I felt a little more relaxed. I could take care of Bella and myself better than I could take care of Bella, myself and Carlisle.
So we had dinner, discussed plans, plotted, and when ten o'clock came, Carlisle had a small bag packed, had hidden the memory cards somewhere only he knew, and was ready to go. Bella and he hugged tightly, and he pressed a fatherly kiss to her forehead.
He picked up his bag from the floor, and looked at me evenly. I wasn't running away this time, though. Bella went into her room to give us a moment of our own.
We stood in front of each other silently for a solid minute. We were even in height, but I didn't want to meet his gaze, so I looked at the hallway beyond the open door.
"Edward," he said gently. I met his eyes reluctantly. His deep blue orbs were shining with concern and affection.
"Say hi to Esme from me," I said lightly. "Tell her I miss her pies." I smiled, but he didn't return it.
"She's good for you, Edward," he said quietly. I knew he didn't mean Esme, and I didn't make a stupid joke because he was dead serious and this could be the last time I ever saw him, and I didn't want to hurt him. "You deserve to be happy."
I shifted, my throat aching. "You're not my father, Carlisle. You have no obligation towards me."
"I do," he said, and smoothed down my hair in a very rare show of affection. He never touched me beyond a slap in the back of the head or a playful shove. It made this small, delicate gesture all the more charged with all the things I wasn't letting him tell me, and I knew I had better usher him out the door soon.
"I know I'm not your father." He sighed, and I thought I heard a painful edge to his voice that I deeply regretted putting there. "But in some ways, you are my son," he said, and squeezed my shoulder. "I'll see you at home."
I nodded, giving him a crooked grin. "I'll be there for your birthday." Common joke. I always promised and never went.
He gave me a warning look with a tilt of his head. "You still owe Emmett money."
"Go, because if you get there late and get back here I am going to bitch slap you!" I growled.
He grinned, perfectly aware that I would never lay a hand on him—as opposed to Emmet and Jasper, both of which I had hit on occasion—and nodded.
I closed the door behind him, went to sit on the couch and picked up 'Pride and Prejudice'.
"True goodbyes are the ones never said or explained," Bella said quietly, leaning against the door frame of her bedroom.
"I need more hellos," I murmured.
She laughed. "Snoopy?"
I nodded. " 'Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos'."
Bella walked closer to me, smiling gently. "Richard Bach said, 'Don't be dismayed at goodbyes, a farewell is necessary before you can meet again and meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends'."
" 'I quit, I give up, nothing's good enough for anybody else, it seems...When I'm all alone it's the best way to be. When I'm by myself nobody else can say goodbye. Everything is temporary anyway'," I quoted quietly. I realized as I finished saying it that it was what I had believed for such a long time, only not anymore. I didn't feel like correcting myself though.
"I don't know that one," she said curiously.
I waved my hand. "It's anonymous."
"He was a very prolific author," she said, nodding in wisdom. It took me a moment to understand and laugh, and she grinned.
She walked to me, took the book from my limp fingers and threw it on the couch at my side, before sitting in my lap and hugging me. My thigh hurt, but it was well worth it.
I sighed contentedly and hugged her back, playing with her long hair. I rested my chain on her shoulder, staring at the wall covered by the bookcase, one hand twirling a lock of dark hair as the other made idle paths on her back.
"You'll see him again," she said, kissing my temple lovingly. She ran her hands gently, soothingly, through my hair, and I closed my eyes. I hummed in approval, rolling back my head to rest it on the couch's back so she could keep doing that.
She giggled slightly, playing with my wild hair, alternatively smoothing it and making it stand on end, pulling it very slightly. I liked that it was a loving gesture, but at the same time had a very small edge of pain. I shifted under her, trying to be more comfortable and just then realized: a) I had an erection, and b) the side of her thigh was pressing against its rather defined form.
She chose that moment to notice it too, and froze, her eyes wide. A blush crept up her cheeks swiftly, fiery red and warm.
"Damn it. I'm sorry," I mumbled, straightening my head.
"It's my fault, I shouldn't have—"
I shook my head. "No, it was all me. It's my overactive mind, you were perfectly innocent."
"Well, not exactly," she mumbled shyly. I looked at her eyes, blinking. "I mean, I really wanted to do that to your hair. Since I met you, actually. You have what Alice calls sex-hair. Well, she told me. I mean I wouldn't know. Sex-hair, I mean, I wouldn't know—"she was babbling.
I leaned forward and just caught her lips in mine without another word. She hesitated, leaning back a little, but my hand was at the small of her back and she grabbed my shoulders to keep from falling to the ground. Then she just relaxed into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. My left hand slid up to the nape of her neck and tangled in her hair and my right stayed at her waist.
I played with our lips for a long while, just enjoying the silky texture of hers. I pulled on her bottom lip, sucked it in, and did the same with the top one. It was her that licked my bottom lip, furthering this kissing business. I couldn't complain, and I readily deepened the kiss. I wanted to kiss her, but she didn't seem to agree with me taking control, and at last I just gave in, letting her have it. I was fine so long as her lips stayed on mine.
She raked her hands through my hair, at the base of my skull and I grunted, gripping her left thigh with my right hand.
I felt a wave of heat in my abdomen that snapped my eyes open. God.
Get a grip.
"Bella." I broke away, breathing hard. Hell, everything was hard. I had to stop this before it went too far. Fuck, it had already gone too far, but I needed to stop before it went any further.
Further as in me throwing her on the couch and getting her out of her jeans. And then some.
Fuck, I always did this with women. Once I got them I just took them. But Bella was different, and not only was she different, I was different with her. And I liked how I was with her. I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't want to hurt her.
"You need to stop," I breathed, pressing my forehead to her collarbone. I shifted beneath her again. We stayed like that for a while, still. I sighed.
"I have more self control than I thought," I said, slightly amazed that I had managed to make myself stop for her.
"Yeah," she said, and laughed nervously. "I wish I could say the same."
I chuckled. "Are you alright?"
"Um, I would love to have the ground cave in and swallow me," she said honestly.
I laughed. "I'm not easy; not a lot of women can get me like this just messing with my hair. Don't be embarrassed. I'm not." And I wasn't. I didn't mind admitting that I wanted her—I wanted her so badly—and I didn't mind that she knew just how much. I never thought there was anything embarrassing about sex.
Was she embarrassed because I was the first man she'd ever gotten this far with? I needed to ask that now. I had to know.
"I'd better get off—" she said, shifting.
"It's fine if you want to stay. I can calm down if you keep still." But I didn't make to try and keep her on me. If she was more comfortable leaving, then so be it. I would miss her weight, but I wouldn't force her.
She hesitated, but in the end her shyness won over and she carefully moved to sit by my side on the couch, crossing her legs Indian style again. She did that a lot, folding her legs near her body, I'd observed. I slid down on the couch and relaxed, knowing I could will the excitement away. That position made my problem more visible but really, why would I hide it? She already knew it was there anyway.
"Bella," I said quietly, staring at the ceiling. "Do you have a boyfriend back home?"
"Eh? Erm, no. You? Any boyfriends I should know about?"
I laughed and shrugged. "A couple, but I'll leave them all for you, babe."
She chuckled.
"No girl waiting for me to come back, no," I answered seriously.
"And don't call me babe," she reminded.
"Right on, chick." I grinned.
"Oh, keep up the nicknames, Eddie, and you will be sleeping where you are."
"Maybe I don't want to sleep." Had I just said that? And with an eyebrow wiggle, too? "I'm an asshole," I said clearly.
She nodded. "I don't know what you are anymore, but you certainly got your asshole role to the peak."
True.
"Bella, have you ever been in a serious relationship?" Where did that come from?
I glanced at her and she was clearly wondering the same, because she was looking at me like I was crazy.
"Look, if what you want to know is whether I'm a virgin, just ask." She cocked an eyebrow.
Right. No filter.
"Are you?"
She huffed. "Not any of your business." But I could tell she wasn't angry.
"Bitch," I muttered.
"Dickhead." She slapped my chest playfully. "I'm not about to share my experience—or lack thereof—with some strange man-whore."
I couldn't really argue with that. I sighed and stood up. I still had a bit of a semi hard-on, but I couldn't do anything about it right now, so I ignored it.
"The window in your bedroom overlooks the street. I can have a better viewpoint from there and you need to sleep."
She complied.
Three hours later we had an argument because she wanted to stay awake with me and I wanted her to shut up and 'get to sleep already'. She was as stubborn as a fucking mule with a whim, I swear. Finally I agreed I'd take the night shifts—we were more likely to be attacked at night while the neighborhood slept—, then we would have breakfast and I would sleep in the morning as she kept watch. We'd have the afternoons to occupy in my learning the language, and she would get to sleep after dinner.
She didn't know her shifts would be about six hours' tops, which was my regular sleep pattern. I didn't tell her because she was going to keep arguing and I didn't feel like it.
So she slept, and I stood by the window watching the street and listening to her breathing, her sighs and the small noises as she rolled around in the sheets.
And just then, I realized something I hadn't noticed the other two nights when we slept together. And I blame that on my semi-comatose state at both times.
Bella talked in her sleep.
And she said the most interesting things.