A/N: Poor luvrofink is having computer problems, so I thought I'd post a day early as a little bit of a consolation.
Also, Wisp is up for Fic of the Week at The Lemonade Stand (again, cuz we didn't even come close to winning last time, lol!). You should go vote! Tehlemonadestand dot net.
All standard disclaimers apply.
Wisp
"I want to hear what he has to say before you agree to anything."
Wisp's huge brown eyes were watching him worriedly, her lower lip firmly wedged between her teeth, her hands cupped around her kitten with a careful grasp, as if she were afraid of hurting the little creature. Edward tucked his phone between his shoulder and his ear, and slid his free hand against her cheek. The urge to kiss her forehead again was strong, but he refrained. Carlisle definitely wouldn't be pleased if he saw something that unprofessional. She didn't like tense voices, and she definitely didn't like Edward's tense voice. He hated frightening her, but he didn't think it was possible to talk about James while staying utterly calm. Pretending to be calm when he was face-to-face with the man was hard enough, but now Wisp's physical safety wasn't in question.
She pushed her head against his shoulder, sighing softly, and Edward held her there, trying to at least feel soothing if he couldn't sound it.
"Edward," Emmett said slowly, "even I don't have any control over that. The prosecutor makes the call, not us."
Edward's mouth set in a firm line. That definitely wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. "I don't want him getting off scott-free just because he's done having a temper tantrum, god damn it! What if he comes after her?"
"Ed, the dude had a girl captive in the back of a pickup truck. He's not getting off like that, even if he handed over her fucking birth certificate. The prosecutor will want him to plead guilty and provide information in exchange for sentencing leniency. How much he gives us, information-wise, will decide how generous the prosecutor decides to be."
"Edward, honey, you're scaring her," Esme said softly, kneeling next to them. "Why don't you try giving her here? Alice and I can watch her while you step outside to finish your call."
But when Edward attempted to shift Wisp's soft body away from him, she squealed unhappily and grabbed his shirt in one desperate fist, clutching her kitten to her chest with her other hand.
"Thanks for trying," he said, shooting Esme a commiserating look. "She's still not happy about me leaving her; I think she thinks I might abandon her again."
"Yes, Jasper said he dropped off some books about separation anxiety." Esme touched the girl's arm gently. Wisp didn't flinch away, but she obviously had no intention of leaving Edward's lap unless he made her.
"Em," he pleaded into the phone, "I need to know what's going on. The prosecutor's never met her. Maybe you showed him pictures or whatever, but he doesn't know what it's like to be around her. He wasn't there when we pulled her out of that fucking truck. I don't want him to agree to something that's not acceptable."
"You gotta trust other people to do their jobs, man. I investigate. The prosecutor handles James. You take care of your little girl. It's called teamwork."
Edward knew that. He did. But he didn't want a stranger deciding something that could hugely impact Wisp's future without even meeting her. A prosecutor's first priority was to win his case. Edward's first priority was Wisp.
"Look..." Edward could almost picture Emmett scratching his head. "I can probably get you in to observe the interview, seeing as you're her guardian and all. But you don't want to leave her, and I don't think you want her down at the station, either."
"God, no." No, Edward definitely didn't want that. She went ballistic when she heard James' name; he shuddered to think what she might do if she saw him again. He wasn't looking forward to the sketch artist pushing her, either. Maybe if James talked enough, they wouldn't have to push her like that? "It's the 21st century. Couldn't you, I don't know, set up a video feed so I can watch from here?"
"I'm not sure that's legal," Emmett said. "Besides, she'd still see him on the screen. You can't guarantee that she'll be napping."
That was true. Edward wanted to pull at his hair in frustration, but both his hands were currently soothing the worried girl in his lap. His neck was beginning to ache from being at that odd angle, too. If he wasn't so afraid that Emmett would say James' name and set her off, he would have turned the volume up and set the phone on his knee so everyone could hear.
"Sorry, but I think this is the best I can do," Emmett said, and there was real regret in his voice. "I'll bring you a video copy of the interview, get it to you asap. Then you can watch it after she goes to sleep. Sound fair?"
It wasn't what Edward wanted. By the time he watched the footage, the interview would be over and done with. The prosecutor would have agreed to...whatever it was he'd agree to. There would be no way to go back and change things. But, Edward had to keep telling himself, Emmett was right. He wasn't a lawyer. He wasn't a police officer. He was a sociologist, and Wisp's caretaker. Like it or not, other people would have to be involved in the case, her care, and her life. He couldn't do this on his own, even if he wanted to.
"Yeah," he said finally, hugging the girl's warm body close to him. She was still chewing on her lower lip and he was a little afraid that she might make herself bleed again, but he didn't dare try to stop her. Not when she was obviously so upset. "Right away—you swear?"
"Swear to god," Emmett said. "Prosecutor's on his way to county lockup right now to talk to him. I'll get you video before tonight."
And that was going to have to be good enough. Edward ended the call and dropped the phone to the floor, rubbing Wisp's back slowly. She peered up at him with those huge dark eyes that nearly killed him every time he saw them, and he didn't find it hard at all to smile at her even though his insides were in turmoil. He had to trust that Emmett and the prosecutor knew what they were doing, even though he honestly trusted virtually no one when it came to Wisp's comfort and safety. As much as she didn't want to be away from him, he didn't want to be away from her, either.
"It'll be okay," he told her, dipping his head to rub his nose against hers. It wasn't a kiss, so he hoped Carlisle would overlook it. He only hoped that he was telling her the truth. "I won't let anything else happen to you."
"I think we caught the gist of that call," Carlisle said, leaning forward in his chair. "The bastard's decided to deal?"
"Yeah." Edward blew out a breath. "I don't know whether to be happy or not. I'm afraid that the prosecutor will be too soft, and he won't get the kind of time behind bars that he deserves."
"He deserves the electric chair for what he did," Alice muttered.
"I don't know if the state of Washington uses the electric chair," Edward said. The sociology surrounding death, and the death penalty in particular, hadn't been of interest to him when he was in school. "I have to agree with the sentiment, though." When James came to the cabin, Edward's goal had been to keep him from finding Wisp. Now, all bets were off. That fucker didn't deserve a deal. He didn't deserve anything.
"But it'll be a relief to get some new information about her, don't you think?" Esme said. That was pure Esme—always trying to find a bright side. "Maybe we can find out her name, or how old she is."
Yes, those would definitely be nice things to know. Edward thought he'd feel much better if he knew for sure that the girl sleeping on top of him at night was at least over the age of consent. He had absolutely no plans to touch her like that, but still.
"Think how happy she'd be if we could call her by her real name." Esme smiled at the girl slowly calming down in Edward's arms.
"Unless she associates it with that jackass," Edward said darkly. Part of him was eager to know her real name and part of him would, he had to admit, miss being able to call her his little Wisp.
"If she does," Esme said firmly, "then it's time for her to make some new associations. He isn't part of her life anymore, and neither are the things she expected from him."
This was definitely one of those times when Edward knew Esme was the best mother in the world.
A flutter of movement distracted him from what he was about to say, and Edward caught the tail end of a little wiggle as the kitten, awake once again, wiggled out of Wisp's grasp and leaped to the floor.
"Ow!"
Both Esme and Carlisle's eyes went wide.
Was that a word? Edward wasn't sure. It definitely had been a real, actual ow, not just a squeal or whimper, which was how she usually communicated. She held up her right hand, a little sliver of blood running from a small scratch in her index finger.
"Yeah, ow," he agreed solemnly. "Kittens have sharp claws and teeth that you have to watch out for, little Wisp. It's okay—you'll be fine."
Alice was gone and back in a flash with a damp washcloth, a tube of Neosporin, and a Band-Aid. Edward applied each in order, Wisp watching with interest as he wiped the blood away, smoothed a little antibacterial goo against the scratch, and wrapped her finger with the bandage.
"Ow," she said again, this time much more a word and less an exclamation as she held her hand out towards him.
Edward couldn't help it. He smiled and kissed the Band-Aid wrapped around her finger. "Yeah," he repeated. "She likes you, but she doesn't understand that her claws can hurt. You have to be careful."
"Edward," Carlisle said slowly, "just when did she start talking?"
Edward relinquished his hold on Wisp as she moved slowly out of his arms, following her kitten across the floor toward the abandoned jingly ball. "I'm not sure I'd call it talking, exactly," he hedged, "which is why I didn't say anything."
"She says his name!" Alice squealed. "Emmett heard it, and so did I."
Carlisle's gaze turned intrigued. "Does she?"
"But nothing else until just now," Edward said, watching Wisp carefully as she sat a few feet away from him and threw the ball for the kitten. "I'm not willing yet to say definitively that she's not just mimicking."
"I'm not an expert in biological linguistics, nor am I a speech pathologist," Carlisle said, watching Wisp with a little more interest now, "but I think the 'w' and 'r' sounds can be fairly difficult and take some practice to master. Does she say them correctly?"
"Yeah," Alice said before Edward could answer. "It's kind of broken, like two words instead of two syllables, but it's clear. Can you make her say it again, Edward?"
Edward wanted to scowl. "No, Alice." He wouldn't even know how to go about doing it, but more than that, he didn't want to. She wasn't a parrot or a trained seal, and he refused to treat her like one.
"I'd love to hear it at some point, if you can get it on video," Carlisle said. "Maybe an expert could be able to tell you more"
Edward had been considering the same thing, but he wasn't terribly keen on following her around with a video camera until she said it again. It seemed pretty invasive, and Alice was bad enough.
Wisp's soft giggle rang through the room, and Edward couldn't help but smile when he saw her wiggle the string toy Alice had played with earlier, sending the kitten into hysterics.
"She's definitely a fetching creature," Carlisle said, smiling too.
But she was more than that to Edward. She wasn't just a pretty thing in need of care, like a pet. She had a distinct personality and a raw sort of humanity to her that wouldn't let him think of her that way despite her odd behaviors and predilection for cuddling.
They talked a little more, watching Wisp play with the kitten. Carlisle said nothing about the cat's appearance and whether he thought it was a good idea or not, for which Edward was glad. Carlisle's worries were all well-founded, but he'd had enough of them for one night.
Finally Alice said she had to go—Jasper would be home soon and she'd promised him a home-cooked meal for once. Edward chose not to give her a snarky reply, though he knew all too well that Alice, despite her many other talents, was no cook. After she left he described Wisp's meltdown to Carlisle and Esme, a little worried about what would happen the next time he had to feed the cat. It would be impossible to hide the cat food from her forever.
"Just take it slow," Esme suggested, "whatever you do. She's so scared, Edward, but she trusts you. It really is a beautiful thing."
Edward knew that, but as his parents said goodbye and left him alone with Wisp once again, he wasn't at all sure that 'taking it slow' would fix this problem. She had been abused, horribly abused, and he didn't know for how long. Long enough that things like language had been lost to her, if she ever had them to begin with. The healing process absolutely couldn't be rushed. And, though her fear of separation still bothered him, he was beginning to think that keeping her happy and content was more important than fostering independence at the moment. She was hurt, and if he was at all comforting to her, that made him happy.
He tossed Esme's frozen chicken and dumpling casserole in the oven for dinner, setting a timer so he didn't forget about it. Wisp was still on the floor, investigating the contents of the kitten's toybox as her new pet nearly vibrated with excitement, sitting by her knee and waiting for each new fascinating thing to emerge.
Watching them together was really too much fun, Edward decided. She loved her cat, and he was incredibly happy to see her enjoying something so thoroughly. The art supplies were nice and he couldn't wait to see what she created once Alice brought her more, but the cat was different. This was something she could love, a little creature she could give her heart to with absolutely no fear or regret. It was something smaller and needier than she was, something she could learn to care for. He hoped that would help her feel better and more secure, more like an actual human being, though he supposed it was impossible to really know how she saw herself at this point.
Emmett—with perfect timing, as usual—arrived just as Edward was pulling dinner out of the oven.
"Trade," he sang, shoving a little flash drive into Edward's hand and grabbing the plate Edward had been dishing up.
Edward stared at the data stick. There were answers here, answers he had craved since finding the girl unconscious in the back of James' truck. Now that he had them, though, he didn't know if he was ready. What if James didn't have the information they wanted? Or what if the truth was far worse than anything he'd imagined? What if James' answers confirmed that Wisp couldn't be helped and would always be just like this, as Carlisle feared?
"Don't watch that until she's asleep," Emmett reminded him, talking with his mouth full. He shoveled a bite of green salad in, even though he hadn't swallowed yet. "God, even on video I want to kill the little fucker."
Edward grimaced and pocketed the drive. No, he definitely wasn't watching it until Wisp fell asleep.
Instead, he dished up a small portion of creamy casserole for her, adding a little bit of salad and giving her a glass of the cranberry juice she'd decided she loved. Her portions were getting slightly bigger now, and she still seemed to be doing fine. He hoped in another week or so she'd be able to eat something approximating a healthy number of calories.
The kitchen table hadn't been used since Wisp came to him, but Edward didn't much care. She was comfortable on a cushion on the floor, and she seemed happy to eat from the coffee table, so he saw no reason to push her. He took her food to her, then returned to dish up his own, happy that Esme always made plenty. Emmett was already scooping seconds onto his plate.
"Can you tell me anything, at least?" he asked. "What did the prosecutor offer him?"
"I told you, it was based on the quality of his information. And—hey, that's a funny face she's making."
Edward looked carefully at Wisp. Yes, she was making a strange face. Her nose was slightly wrinkled, her eyes squinted as she slowly chewed whatever was in her mouth.
"I...don't think she likes it," he said slowly. That was a first. She devoured everything he put in front of her, and seemed to savor every bite. "Do you know what she just took a bite of?"
She swallowed with a little grimace and grabbed for her juice, gulping it quickly.
"Dunno," Emmett said with a shrug. "I never met anyone who didn't like Esme's cooking. Maybe there was a bug in her salad."
Edward watched as Wisp picked up a piece of lettuce in her fingers, looking at it without enthusiasm before slowly putting it in her mouth. Again, the funny squinted look washed over her face.
"I bet it's the dressing," Emmett said as she reached for her juice again. "Rosie's nephew hates vinegar—the kid won't even come to the table if he so much as smells it."
Edward hadn't even thought about it, but it made sense. They'd been feeding her so much bland food, and it stood to reason that something so strong might not be appealing to her. Quickly he went to the kitchen, dished up a little bowl of dry salad without the dressing, and brought it to her. He scraped the rest of her dressed salad onto his own plate, kissed her forehead gently, and set the new salad next to her.
The smile that broke across her face when she tried a shred of plain carrot was beautifully bright.
"Check," Edward said, settling back on the couch. "No more vinegar. I'm actually kind of glad we found something she doesn't like." Besides cat food, he amended silently.
"I guess it means she has opinions, huh?"
"Something like that."
Wisp happily ate the dry salad with her fingers and did the best she could with a spoon and the casserole. She seemed to like radishes and cucumber particularly, poking through the other vegetables to find them first.
"So...the interview?" Edward reminded Emmett. Wisp would probably nap in the living room for a while after dinner and he could watch it then, but he was too impatient not to hound Emmett for information.
Emmett grimaced around a mouthful of chicken. "Fucker," he said. "I can't say he gave us jack shit, but he didn't give us much. The prosecutor rescinded the plea deal because his information just wasn't good enough for what he wanted out of us. Oh, you'll be happy to hear that she's not a minor, though."
"How old is she?" Edward asked tightly. Part of him was frustrated beyond belief that James hadn't given up more information, but another part of him was just happy that the little shit hadn't got his plea deal after all.
"Twenty, according to him."
"What's her name?"
"You'll have to watch the interview, see what he says," Emmett said, shaking his head. "He didn't make a whole lot of sense, but it sounds like there's more people involved than just him."
The darkness in Emmett's tone matched the sinking feeling in Edward's gut. Part of him had suspected that James wasn't smart or patient enough to have done this all on his own, but that led to a whole mess of new problems. One or more accomplices were still out there, and from Emmett's frustrated tone it sounded like James hadn't narked on them.
But still. They had an age. Edward looked at the girl sitting quietly on a cushion at the coffee table. She swiped a finger in the creamy chicken sauce and offered it to the kitten purring on her knee. He didn't have it in him to scold her for feeding the cat at the table—not that she would understand, anyway. The kitten's miniscule pink tongue licked furiously at Wisp's fingertip, eliciting another giggle from the girl.
Twenty. Twenty was young, but it wasn't as bad as sixteen or seventeen. Age-wise, she was an adult. Realistically it didn't change anything, but Edward felt a little better nonetheless. He wasn't bathing and sleeping with an underage girl, though he understood that this didn't automatically absolve him from the kind of suspicion Dr. Lawton had had for him. She was still utterly unable to consent to anything that happened in her life. That had not changed. Knowing her age really didn't solve any problems, though he still felt a twinge of relief.
"I wish we had better news for you, man," Emmett said. "He was our best chance at getting a good lead. Tomorrow we're gonna sift through everything he said real carefully, see if we can figure out the next step. I guess it's always possible he'll change his mind and give us more if he really wants that deal, but no luck so far."
Edward nodded slowly, listening halfheartedly as Emmett rambled a little more. He rinsed off his plate before leaving, and Edward knew without asking that he'd go home to Rosalie and eat another dinner quite happily, even though he'd already had one here.
Wisp was curled up on the floor with her kitten when Edward returned from putting the food away and cleaning up the kitchen. The cat really needed a name. It was sweet that Alice thought they should name it, but realistically Wisp was far from being capable of something like that. Maybe he should just pick a random name from an Internet list or something? He wasn't good with this sort of creative task.
Once she was clearly sleeping, Edward fetched his laptop, booted it up, and inserted the flash drive. He was eager to hear what James had to say despite Emmett's unenthusiastic response to the interview. He plugged in a pair of earbuds just in case Wisp wasn't quite asleep, loath to frighten her with the sound of James' voice.
The audio and video quality were much better than he'd been prepared for, but then, he'd been prepared for security-video quality, so that wasn't saying much. There was James, the little shithead, in a prison jumpsuit, in a white interrogation room. A nondescript man with a briefcase and a tablet computer stepped into the room, followed by a guard.
"James Newton?"
James ignored the question. "What sort of deal are you offering me?" he demanded. His voice was tight, his long, pale hair messy and uncombed.
"That depends on what sort of information you're offering me," the man, obviously the prosecutor, said.
"I'm not playing your fucking mind games," James hissed. "You tell me now, or I'm not saying a goddamned word."
The prosecutor shrugged. "I've got more than enough evidence to convict you, Mr. Newton. I'm here as a courtesy; I don't have to offer you anything. I don't need you to plead out."
James dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, slumping over the table. "He'll kill me," he said. "You don't fucking understand—he'll rip me apart!"
"Who will?" the prosecutor said. "Who are you protecting? Do you have an accomplice? Is there someone else we should be looking for?"
James barked out a laugh that was anything but humorous. "You don't know jack shit."
"And we won't unless you want to tell us." The prosecutor folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. His posture said it all—he was calm and collected, fully in control of this meeting. Edward began to have a little respect for the man. "If you're interested in a deal, you'd better start talking. We want to know who the girl is, where she came from, and how you got her."
James was shaking his head, his hands still hiding his face. "I can't," he muttered. "I can't."
"Then we can't deal."
"I don't deserve to be locked up for this!" James yelled from his hunched position. "I didn't fucking do anything wrong!"
"That's bullshit, and you know it," the prosecutor deadpanned. "Who is she, Mr. Newton?"
"She's just a girl!" James' voice was raised, but whether in anger or just plain frustration, Edward couldn't say. "She's just a fucking girl! Who the fuck cares who she is?"
"We do," the prosecutor said. "Her family does, I'm sure. Wouldn't you care if a member of your family went missing? If you never knew what happened to her?"
"I don't have a fucking family, and neither does she," James said flatly.
Edward held his breath. It wasn't much, but it was perhaps the first real information James had given them. No family?
"You have a cousin. Michael, isn't it? He took you in, he says. Gave you a place to stay when you showed up at his house. That's what family does. Give her family the chance to do the same, Mr. Newton."
"If they ever wanted her," James muttered, "they sure as hell don't now."
Edward just barely resisted punching his computer. How could anyone not want that sweet girl? She wasn't a bother. She wasn't anything but a lonely girl in search of where she belonged. How could James deny her that?
"Let's just start with something small," the prosecutor said, ignoring James' outburst. "How old is she, Mr. Newton? Can you tell me that?"
"Twenty," James said, the word falling from his mouth as if it hardly mattered. "She's twenty. I don't see why you care—you wanna take her out for a beer or something?" He snickered.
"Why doesn't she talk?"
"Because bitches should keep their fucking mouths shut!"
Edward wondered if his computer was going to get through this interview in one piece.
"Why doesn't she walk?"
"Why should she? She have somewhere important to be?" James leaned back and slouched in his chair. "Are you gonna try to make her? You'll mess up years of hard work. You'll be ruining a fucking piece of art."
"Did you create the, uh, art?" the prosecutor immediately asked.
James narrowed his eyes. "I told you, I'm not talking. He'll kill me. Look, I want a deal, but not if it means getting skinned alive once I'm out. She's twenty years old. She doesn't have a fucking name. Maybe someone's looking for her and maybe they aren't, but they sure as hell aren't her family. If she ever had one of those, she doesn't anymore. Now, is that enough to deal or not?"
"No," the prosecutor said, gathering up his things, "it isn't. When you're ready to give me some real information, then we'll talk. Until then..."
Edward shut the computer and pulled the buds out of his ears. He watched Wisp's side move as she breathed evenly, her kitten playing idly with the ends of her long hair. According to James, she was twenty years old, had no name, and no family.
But these were things she had to have had once. He was determined to find out who had taken them from her, if it wasn't James.
And if it was, that bastard was never going to walk free again.
A/N: The response to my little plot bunny has absolutely blown me away. I kinda love you guys. :) I'm working on responding to reviews over the next couple of days - remember, if you review anonymously, I can't respond to you! See you next Thursday!