Once again I find myself apologising for keep you waiting, but my life has taken a few unusual turns. Almost a week ago, I was involved in a three car accident, and since then I have been plagued with constant back ache. This limits the amount of time I spend sitting in front of my computer. So let me say now that I am thankful to all who have read, reviewed and added the story to their favourites.

Special dedication goes out to my BFF Shelly09, cullenbear, malana09, magan bagan, Luereetwilitejunki, dreampills, Sammy73, midgie & CarrollFamily02 (great big welcome), starlight90 and last but by no means least, fvprosey.

Well, that's it from me for now. I hope you enjoy what's to come, and when you're finished, please leave a review.


Chapter 27 - The Domino Effect

Edward leaned against the metal rails surrounding the upper deck of the ferry and stared out across the turbulent, blue-gray waters of the Puget Sound. The water was reminiscent of the turmoil going on inside his head. He rubbed his gritty and tired eyes with the heel of his hand and exhaled loudly. He was tired, on edge, and in a rotten mood. Lack of sleep, guilt and the never-ending stream of thoughts going through his head were the reasons for his discomfort.

Last night after her nightmare, he lay beside Bella, unable to sleep, unable to move. She was dead to the world, and for that he was thankful. He feared that the slightest movement he made would jolt her awake. The thought of her telling him that she remembered everything paralysed him. She would tell him it was because of him that their daughter's life was cut short. It was because of him that they never got the chance to know her.

"Not thinking of jumping, are we?" Carlisle asked, coming up from beside him. Edward gave his father a thoughtful look. Carlisle rolled his eyes and drained the last of the coffee from his cup. "It can't be that bad, can it?"

Edward snorted and took a sip from his cup. The black coffee burned his tongue and scalded the back of his throat on its way down, but he barely flinched. The physical pain was a minor distraction from the mental one he was experiencing.

"You're right. It's worse," he said, returning his attention to the approaching land mass. In the distance, the Space Needle and the various high rises of the downtown Seattle came into view. This was usually the part of the trip he enjoyed most, but not today. Today, the scenery held no joy for him.

Carlisle frowned and crushed the empty cup he held in his hand. "Care to explain?"

Edward closed his eyes and began to tell his father what happened. His eyes were still closed when he finished his story, but he could feel the tension emanating from his father's body. He opened one eye and glanced at him. Carlisle's mouth was set in a firm line, and from this close distance, it looked like he had aged ten years in a matter of minutes.

"Dad..." Edward began, but trailed off when Carlisle held up a hand signifying that he not talk. He closed his mouth and waited. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it was probably going to be in the region of "I told you so." However, the first words that Carlisle offered were not what he expected.

"How is she? Does she remember anything?"

Edward shook his head and threw his half full cup into a nearby garbage can. "She woke up with another headache, but other than that, she doesn't seem to remember."

"So, what are you going to do now?" Carlisle asked, his voice weary. He ran his hand through his blond hair, disturbing the perfectly combed strands. He did not look in Edward's direction, and this bothered him. It was rare for his father to refuse to look him in the eye.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

Carlisle's hands tightened on the rails until the bones of his knuckles stood out sharply against his skin. "That's not the answer I want to hear, Edward," He turned to look at his son with exasperation on his face. "Look, I've held my tongue all this time, but now I think that was the wrong thing to do." Edward opened his mouth to protest. "Shut up, son. You seem to have a problem talking, so now it's my turn.

"I would say 'I told you so', but that's a bit too cliché. What I will say is that this is only going to get worse," he prophesied. "Your mother told me that Bella was having headaches for the past few days. From a medical stand-point, I think her mind is trying to repair itself. As that progresses, her memory will return. You knew there was a chance of this happening. That's why I can't figure out why you haven't dealt with all this before now."

"It's not that easy, Dad," Edward protested. "With everything going on, what did you want me to say to her? Hey, Bella, I know you don't remember right now, but I killed our daughter? I'm really sorry?"

Carlisle swallowed painfully and grabbed Edward by the shoulders. "Now you listen to me. You did not kill, Hayley. It was an accident. None of it was your fault."

Edward tried to jerk away from his father's hands, but Carlisle held on tight. When Edward spoke, his voice was dead, emotionless—broken. It was similar to the way he had been living his life every since that cursed night.

"Yes, it was. If I was there like she asked instead of putting my job before her...them, everything would have been all right. If not for me, she never would have been on that road; that bastard would not have been able to get to her. It was my duty to protect my family, and I failed. Because I was selfish and arrogant, my daughter died, and I almost lost my wife," Edward's chest heaved with the emotions he was trying to keep inside. "I left them alone, bleeding, trapped on that road—dying. I should have been there, Dad, I should have been the one to die, not her. Not her."

Edward was shaking so hard that Carlisle swore he was going to collapse from the stress. He knew Edward felt guilt, but never imagined the magnitude. He looked at his son, and he saw a little boy—his little boy, and he was hurting. The source of the pain was unimportant. All that mattered was that his son was in pain and needed him. He drew Edward to him and held onto him until the shaking subsided.

"Edward, there was nothing you could've done for them that night. You couldn't even help yourself," Carlisle said, his voice hoarse, but firm. "It's not your fault, son."

Edward wrenched himself away from his father's embrace and put some distance between them. His hands balled into fists; his breathing was constricted and labored. He felt like his grief had become a gaping hole—a hole that sucked all the emotions into one sharp, stabbing point in the centre of his chest. But he could not let it take hold, would not. He had to continue to fight to keep everything buried deep down inside where it wouldn't touch him. Now was not the time for him to fall apart.

"You don't understand," he ground out, his shoulders slumped in defeat. No one understands.

Carlisle gave a sarcastic snort of laughter. "Is that what you think? Do you think no one understands the pain you're going through?"

Carlisle glared at his son. Did Edward really think that Hayley's death affected him and Bella only? He felt the loss every day, too. He felt like grabbing Edward and shaking some sense into him. He never thought his son was selfish and blind until this very moment.

"You're right, I don't understand. I don't understand how one person can be so incredibly selfish."

"Dad— " Edward pleaded.

Carlisle cut him off abruptly. "No, I don't want to hear it," he spat the words, anger bubbling inside him like hot, molten lava. "Do you seriously think that your mother, Emmett and I, don't think about her every day? That we don't hurt?" He sounded angry and offended. "And what about me, Edward? How do you think I feel not being able to save my granddaughter's life? I was the frigging doctor on call that night. I cut into my daughter-in-law and extracted my beautiful grandbaby. I was the one who tried to save her life, to force air into her tiny lungs. I was the one who had to call it. I was the one who had to clean her up and take her to Bella, so she could say good-bye. Me, Edward. Me," he cried, jabbing his finger into his heaving chest. "So don't you dare tell me I have no idea how you feel." There were tears in Carlisle's eyes as he stared at his son.

Edward stared at his father in horror. Quickly after that, shame and paralyzing despair followed. He had never seen his father so angry or in so much pain. This was the first time he had spoken to him about what had happened the night Hayley died. He had no idea what had gone on because a few hours before, he had been brought in with a gunshot wound to the chest, compliments of a psycho who was still running around loose to this very day.

"How the hell do you think I felt knowing that while I was in the Emergency Room trying to save one half of my family, you were upstairs in the OR fighting for your life? I felt like shit, but I had to handle it, detach myself," Carlisle said, his voice now emotionless. He stared at the mass of white-capped waves created by the ferry's engines as it prepared to pull into the dock. He sighed, wiping at his damp eyes. "I had to be strong. It was hard, but I did it. I accepted my guilt, dealt with my anger and tried to move pass it. But what did you do? You fed off the damn thing. You used your pain, your anger, your need for revenge as a human shield, and pushed us away. You pushed your wife away when she needed you most."

Edward tried to swallow past the sudden constriction that blocked his throat, but couldn't. He held out his hand to his father, but Carlisle ignored him, his mind still back in the emergency room four years ago.

"Hayley was your daughter, but she was my grand-daughter, too. What you have done to this family and her memory is wrong. You shut her away, Edward. You closed the door on her without grieving for her, and you expected the rest of us to follow suit," Carlisle said, his voice filled with grief. "You had no right to do that, especially to Bella. She needed you, and you cut her off. It was almost like you had died that night in the OR." He drew in a deep breath, and looked Edward directly in the face. "Sometimes I thought it might have been better if you did."

Edward grabbed hold of the metal rails as the crushing weight of his father's words fell on his shoulders. For the first time in four years he realised how incredibly selfish and self-absorbed he had been. He was so consumed with guilt and anger that his family's feelings were immaterial to him. He treated them with so little regard. It was a wonder they did not hate him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling worse when Carlisle shook his head.

"That's not enough, Edward," he said, sadly. "You need to fix this. First, you need to be honest with yourself, and then Bella. The time for running away has passed. You need to face your demons, because if you don't - as impossible as this sounds - it'll be worse this time around."

Before Edward could reply, his father turned his back on him and walked away. He went down the narrow flight of metal stairs and disappeared into the deck below.

He stood there, the sensation of being battered in an endless sea of emotion and anguish claiming him. It threatened to pull him under and suck him down into its cold, numbing depths. He leaned heavily against the rails to try to keep his body in a vertical position, instead of succumbing to the urge to drop to the wooden floor and scream his lungs out.

His father's words were like knives thrown swiftly, hitting him with deadly accuracy. He never thought how his family felt about the events of that night. They dealt with it alone, while he lay unconscious in the ICU for two days. Another sharp pain cut deep, and he inhaled harshly.

He never had the opportunity to see or even touch his little girl before her death. It was one of the things that ate away at him each day. He did not have the chance to say "good-bye." When he awoke, his first concern was his wife and daughter. He knew something was wrong when the nurses looked at each other, unable to speak. One of them quickly left the room, only to return minutes later, accompanied by Carlisle. One look at his father's pale and worn face and he knew something bad had happened.

When Carlisle told him that his daughter was gone, and that his wife in critical, but stable condition, his world fell apart. He couldn't process in his head most of what his father said; he blocked everything else out. The only thing he understood was that Bella's car had been rear-ended. It wasn't an accident. Someone deliberately tried to hurt her, and they succeeded in more ways than one.

He went to see Bella the day after he awoke. He demanded that his tubes be removed and the machines unplugged. He wanted to see his wife, and if he had to rip them out himself, he would.

Carlisle wheeled him to the maternity ward and into Bella's private room. The sight of her broke his heart. She was pale and bruised. The bulge that they watched grow from the size of a tennis ball to that of a basketball was gone. The reality of the situation came crashing down on him at that moment. His daughter was really gone. The tiny, little human being who was nestled safe and secure in the depths of his wife's body had been ripped from them.

Bella was consumed with grief, and as he held her in his arms, the anger he was holding inside grew into a steel cage that encompassed his heart. That was the last time he allowed his grief to show. Thinking back, he knew he reacted badly to the entire situation and had alienated his family. It ended with Bella leaving and ultimately filing for a divorce.

He wasn't in any condition to attend Hayley's funeral, but he did anyhow. His father got him dressed at the hospital and drove him there. It was the second time he saw Bella since the accident, and he couldn't look her in the face. The entire service was a blur to him. He just remembered looking upon his daughter's small, white coffin and feeling two emotions - hate and anger.

Hate for the man he knew was responsible and anger with himself for having failed Hayley and Bella. It was then he decided that he would make Jacob Black pay for what he did to his family, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

The angry buzz of his phone brought him back to the present. The arrow in the corner of the screen indicated that he had some missed calls. He remembered that he had turned his phone off to keep from waking Bella. He was surprised to find that almost all the passengers had disembarked, and he was now alone on the deck. The phone continued to ring, and reluctantly, he answered. It was James, and he did not sound happy.

"Where the hell are you?" he snapped.

Edward glanced at his watch and saw it was almost nine o'clock. He was late. His body had been so tired that he had started to fall asleep at five a.m., the time when he should be getting up. He lingered beside Bella, waiting for her to wake up and accuse him of being the cowardly liar he was. But it never happened. She had no memory of her dream, just a feeling of displacement.

The coward in him rejoiced at the fact that he was given a reprieve. The other part of him wished she had remembered, because then he would have no choice but to tell her everything, whether he wanted to or not.

"Edward, are you still there?" James asked. The irritation in his voice came through loud and clear.

Edward went down the steps and quickly made his way to his car. It was the only one left on the deck.

"I'm on my way in. What's up?"

Starting the engine, he shoved the car in drive and drove off the ferry's ramp to join the queue waiting to exit onto the main roadway. His father's car was nowhere in sight, and for that he was thankful. There was no way he could face him now.

"Shannon wants to see you ASAP," James ordered. "In other words, do not pass "Go," do not collect $200.00."

Edward rolled his eyes. Sometimes James's sarcasm could be extremely irritating. Now was one of those times.

"Has something happened?" he asked as he turned onto Alaska Way and headed downtown.

James huffed. "Yeah, and whatever it is has Shannon's shorts in a knot. He said he tried calling you, but you weren't answering. What happened? Late night?"

Edward frowned. Something about James's snippy tone got under his skin. It wasn't what he said, but the way he said it. However, given the recent events, he was in no mood to take on any more stress. He had enough to deal with, and according to James, more was on its way.

"Something like that," he stated enigmatically.

James exhaled loudly. "Whatever, man. Just get your ass here before Shannon bursts an artery." Then the phone went dead.

When Edward arrived at the office ten minutes later, he went straight to Shannon's office and knocked on the door. Without waiting to be invited in, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He knew whatever happened was bad, because the man's usual "open door" policy had been revoked.

As James predicted, Shannon was extremely agitated. He paced up and down the room, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. His bulky frame literally flew across the navy industrial type carpet. Edward was surprised there wasn't a path where Shannon's feet had worn the carpet threadbare.

The man gave Edward a look that was a mixture of relief and frustration.

"You're late," he snarled, his pace slowing but never coming to a complete halt.

"Sorry," Edward apologized, plunking himself into one of the chairs opposite Shannon's desk. "James told me you wanted to see me. What's up?"

Shannon glanced at the door to ensure it was closed. He then went to sit in his chair, all the while keeping his eyes on Edward. Edward knew he was stalling. Shannon was the type of man who did not delay when he had to say something. This made Edward realise that what Shannon was about to say was probably something he did not want to hear.

"There's been an incident at Florence."

Edward sat up slowly, his defenses slamming into place, his brain working hard. "What sort of incident?"

"Apparently, one of the other prisoners has taken a violent dislike to Jacob Black,"

Edward snorted. "Like that's something new. Everywhere he goes he spreads hate and evil. He's like the frigging plague."

Shannon ignored Edward's interruption and continued. "Well, this particular prisoner went after him with a knife during breakfast. We're not sure how he got the weapon, but he had it."

Edward felt a sliver of anticipation run through him at the prospect of Jacob Black being killed. It was a feeling that, given the circumstances and his position, he should not be experiencing.

"Is he dead?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"No, but he's been injured badly enough to be taken to St. Luke's Medical Center."

Edward shrugged, quickly losing interest. "He'll live."

Jacob Black, the "life-stealer," was the last person he wanted to hear about. It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out that he should have died. Just like Hayley and all the other people he killed. It would be poetic justice. While they never found the vehicle or the person who ran Bella off the road, he knew Black was connected. He knew that bastard sent someone to go after his family.

Shannon suddenly began to look uncomfortable. Immediately, Edward knew that there was more to this story than he was being told.

"There's more, isn't there?" His voice was calm, disguising the anxiety he felt building inside.

"Yes." Shannon cleared his throat, trying to find a way to break the rest of the bad news. "When Black was attacked, Mark got caught in the middle..." He trailed off, waiting for Edward's reaction to the news that his friend was injured.

Edward closed his eyes and folded his hands into fists. There was a rushing noise in his ears, and he took a few breaths before he spoke.

"Is he dead?" Edward croaked, as a picture of Mark's jovial face flashed through his mind. The last time he saw him, he begged Mark to be careful. He had a bad feeling then. He should have followed his instincts and pulled him out. Now, it was too late.

Shannon shook his head, but the look on his face remained grim. "No, but he's hurt...bad. They say he might not live. He's in surgery now, but it doesn't look good."

Edward ran his hand through his hair and swore. This was not supposed to happen. Mark accepted the assignment to infiltrate the prison and keep an eye on Black, because he asked him too. Another person hurt because of him. Boy, he just seemed to be racking up the casualties by the handfuls.

His thoughts suddenly went to Mark's wife, Tessa. She was pregnant and probably due any day. He swallowed when he thought what she must be going through. She was his friend, but after this she would probably hate him.

"Has anyone contacted his wife?"

Shannon nodded. "Yes, I did, after I contacted his boss. She should be there by now."

This could not have happened at a worse time. The age old adage "when it rains, it pours," came to his mind. He glanced at his watch.

"I'm going to Denver," he announced, his tone daring Shannon to argue. He did not. All he did was nod and hand Edward a sheet of paper.

"I suspected you would want to go. Your flight details are there. While you're there, I want you to pay a visit to the prison. Find out how it happened," Shannon growled, slamming his meaty fist onto the desk. His half-filled cup and a couple of pens jumped into the air. "And for God's sake, be careful. I don't want another agent ending up in hospital."

Edward nodded, got to his feet, and then yanked the door open. James was standing on the other side, his folded fist poised, ready to knock. Edward stepped around him and headed down the hallway towards the locker room. James was not far behind.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, as Edward entered the combination code into the keypad on the metal door.

"I'm going to Denver," he answered, shortly. He yanked open the door and retrieved a black bag from one of the hooks inside.

"What for?"

Edward felt James's eyes on him as he continued to stuff an assortment of toiletries and a few pieces of clothing into the bag.

"Edward, I'm talking to you. Why are you going to Denver?"

Edward sighed in frustration. "Jacob Black was attacked, and I've got an agent down. The prison's not secure, James. I need to find out what happened."

James looked shocked and angry. "You have an agent in the prison?"

"Had," Edward clarified, shoving an undershirt into the depths of the bag.

James stared at him in disbelief and stood, kicking a chair out of his way as he made his way towards the door.

"You know what? Go find yourself another partner," he growled.

Edward stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I think you're smart enough," James said coolly. "Figure it out."

He went through the door, leaving Edward staring after him in shock. Shaking his head, he reached into the locker, extracted the navy sleeveless vest with the words F.B.I stenciled on the back in bold white letters, and stuffed it into the bag. This day just keeps getting better and better.

The sound of the door opening and closing again, made him whirl around. James was leaning against the door, anger infusing every line of his body.

"You know, I have stood by your sorry ass for five years, and this is how you repay me?" he spat, balling his hands into fists. "I know you're point on this investigation, but we're supposed to be partners, Edward—partners. Do you even understand the fucking concept? From the time you marched your ass back from Canada, I have been picking up the scraps you've left behind. You put a goddamn agent in the prison and didn't even tell me?"

"It was on a need-to-know basis," Edward explained, his voice hard. "The less people who knew, the better."

James's mouth formed an angry line. "So what am I? A security risk?" When Edward remained silent, James shook his head. "Great. Why am I not surprised? I should have expected this."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, that everything changed when she came around," James spat. "You're an entirely different person. It's like someone switched your body."

Knowing that James was referring to Bella immediately got his back up. What James was implying was ludicrous.

"This has nothing to do with her."

James laughed. "Yes, it does. I can't rely on you anymore, man. I need to know that when the shit hits the fan, my partner will have my back. But I guess I'll have to check with Bella first, since she's obviously running the whole goddamn show."

Edward felt anger consume him. He dropped the bag on the wooden bench and took a step towards James. The man did not flinch, but stared at him with cool, angry eyes.

"You're out of line, James. Way out of line."

"Am I? I'm your partner, and you do not keep me in the loop. You went to see Jacob Black before, and I had to find out when you got back. You put an agent in the prison, and you neglected to tell me," James said, counting off Edward's infractions on his fingers. "And the biggest thing of all, you and Bella get back together, and I had to walk in on the two of you to find out. That's not something a partner and friend does, Edward."

"The status of my relationship with Bella is not up for discussion, and I explained about the rest."

"The hell it isn't," James yelled. "She's bad news, and I told you that from the very beginning. I watched you beat yourself into the ground because of her three years ago. I watched you fall apart. You could barely function, and I was there for you, every step of the way." James took a step into the room. This put him about four feet away from Edward's trembling body. "I admit, she looks like a real good fuck, but you can pay for it and have less stress."

Edward's anger unleashed itself and the next thing he knew, he had grabbed James by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the set of empty lockers on the wall. The metal cubicles rattled, and the noise was deafening in the quiet room.

"Shut your mouth," Edward roared, looking into James's astonished face. "Don't ever let me hear you talk about her like that, again!"

James yanked himself away from Edward's hands and straightened his tie and jacket. "It is my business. I put my life in your hands every day, Edward. I have the right to know that I'm safe. I don't want to find myself in a situation where your mind is on Bella instead of where it should be."

A flash of intuition went through Edward's mind. It started as an idea, but quickly grew into a full blown theory. Edward stared at James in anger.

"You said something to her, didn't you?" he accused.

James gave him a blank look. "Something like what?"

"You said something to her yesterday. That's why she was so upset last night."

James quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did she tell you I said something?"

Edward tried to decide between telling the truth and calling James's bluff. If he said "yes," James would demand to know what it was, and he would be caught in his own lie, so he decided to tell the truth.

"No, but I know her, and something upset her yesterday."

"So, you automatically suspect me?" James narrowed his eyes. "Thanks a lot, Edward. But for the record, if I said something to Bella, it would have been for her own good."

Edward felt his anger shoot straight into his brain. His theory was confirmed. He leveled a finger at James's chest.

"Stay away from Bella," he warned, curbing the need to lash out physically. "She has enough to deal with without you adding to it. Back the fuck off."

"Or what?" James challenged.

Edward slammed the locker door shut, grabbed the bag and made his way to the door. Before he went through, he turned and gave James a cold, hostile look.

"Or, you'll answer to me. Believe me, James, you don't want to mess with me."

*~*~*

As Edward sat in the back of the cab on his way to the airport, he telephoned Bella. The phone rang for a bit, but finally she answered. She sounded groggy and confused.

"Hey, baby. Did I wake you?" he asked softly.

"No, not really," she replied hoarsely. She cleared her throat. "Miss me already?"

Even though she was feeling like crap, she continued to tease him. The love he felt for her welled up inside him, and he drew in a shaky breath. He could not lose her again.

"You know I do," he chuckled, trying to push his fears and insecurities into the back of his mind. "How's the head?"

Bella sighed. "Better, but it has its moments. So, what's up?"

He heard a bit of rustling in the background, but soon everything became quiet again. Edward smiled. There was no fooling Bella. Even now, she could still pick up when there was something on his mind.

"Do I need a reason to call?"

She tried to stifle a yawn. "Based on the fact that you left home almost three hours ago, yes. What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to the airport." There was silence on her end as she processed the meaning of his words. "Something came up, and I've got to go out of state."

"For how long?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"I'm not sure," he hedged, looking out the window at the buildings as they went by. The driver took a right onto the I-5 ramp and then merged into the lane for Airport Way. "When I get to Denver, I'll have a better idea of what I'm dealing with. I'm hoping it will only be overnight, but I think that's being optimistic." He listened for any sound that would give him an indication on Bella's thoughts. There was none. "Are you okay with this?"

Bella snorted. "Edward, I'm not a baby. Besides, we're not joined at the hip."

Edward grinned. "Thank God for that. It would make it really difficult to make love to you then."

Bella giggled. "Perv!"

Edward laughed. "Yeah, and you love me for it."

Bella was silent once again, but when she spoke, her voice was soft. "Yes, I do."

Edward went completely still. His joy made his heart rate accelerate so quickly that he thought his heart would leap out of his chest. Had he heard right? Did Bella just admit that she loved him? He had to be sure.

"What did you say?"

Edward could tell she was blushing. He imagined her tracing an invisible pattern on the sheet and chewing the corner of her bottom lip.

"I said, I love you," she said, her voice soft and intimate.

Edward closed his eyes and felt a burn at the back of his closed lids. He drew in a breath and held it. He had waited months for her to say those words, and now that she had, he was nowhere near her. He wasn't sure when he would see her again. For all he knew, it could be hours, or it could be days. Damn!

"I love you, too, Bella," he confessed, his voice breaking. "More than you'll ever know. I've loved you for what feels like my whole life, from the very first time I saw you. You are my life, and always have been."

There was more silence on her end, but the sound of quiet sniffles broke through.

"Baby, are you crying?" he asked, concerned. The last thing he wanted to do was make her cry.

"Yes, but happy tears," she whispered, sniffing. "I've wanted to hear those words from you for a long time."

Edward groaned. "I wish I was there with you now. This was not something I wanted to say over the phone."

Bella laughed quietly. "Me either. I always envisioned something a bit more romantic."

"I'll make it up to you as soon as I get home; I promise. Now, go get some rest."

Bella yawned again. "Can't. I promised Peter I would come see him today, so I've got to get moving," she explained. "Emmett said he would take me since Alice stayed over at Jasper's last night."

Emmett had decided to take the day off so that he could have an extra long weekend with Rosalie. With Edward's help, he planned a romantic getaway at one of the island's Bed and Breakfast inns. Emmett was trying to spend as much time with Rosalie before the baby came. He was also going to use this opportunity to commit her to a wedding date as he wanted to be married before EJ was born.

He spoke to Bella for a few more minutes before promising to call when he reached Denver, then he disconnected the call. He leaned back against the seat as a pain settled in his chest, thinking of his father. The conversation they had was still fresh in his mind, along with the emotions it brought to the surface.

Usually when he had to travel unexpectedly, he contacted his father, and he disseminated the information to the rest of the family. This time, he decided he would call Emmett and ask him to tell the rest of the family, and get his car from his office, as well.

He knew Emmett would sense that something was wrong, but wouldn't force the issue. He would leave it up to Edward to tell him when he was ready. This would give his father some time to cool off. He would call Carlisle later to see where they stood.

In the meantime, he needed to make sure that Alice would be home at night. There was a chance that he would be gone for more than one night. There was no way in hell he wanted Bella to be alone in the house.

*~*~*

Edward arrived in Denver shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon and went straight to the hospital. Shannon had contacted the local office and arranged a ride for him.

The agent sent to collect him was obviously a rookie as he talked for the entire forty minute drive from the airport to the hospital. What was Seattle like? Was it as rainy as he had heard? Had he ever been to Denver before? How long had he been an agent? What was the office in Seattle like?

By the time Edward reached Presbyterian/St Luke's Medical Center, he was ready to knock the guy out just to keep his lips from flapping. The man kindly offered to be his guide for the duration of his stay, but Edward quickly declined. If he spent a minute more in the man's presence, he would not be responsible for his actions.

Wrinkling his nose at the heavy antiseptic smell in the air of the hospital, Edward made his way to the waiting room of the surgical ICU. As soon as he stepped into the room, he caught sight of Tessa sitting in one of the chairs beside a large window. Her straight black hair was wrestled into an untidy ponytail, and her heart-shaped face was pale with the exception of splotches of red around her nose and beneath her puffy eyes.

His gaze travelled south and focused on her swollen abdomen. As her hand absently rubbed the bulge, Edward remembered Bella once lying on the couch, her head on his lap, smiling as he massaged the soft warm skin of her distended stomach beneath the thin material of her T-shirt. It was the last time he had felt his daughter move beneath his hand. The accident happened the following day.

Edward shook away the memory and closed the door quietly behind him. Tessa turned at the sound of the opening door and stared at him with a blank expression on her face. Her lips quivered, then she pulled her body out of the chair and came over to him.

A loud crack exploded in the room as Tessa slapped him across the face, then she immediately burst into tears. Edward reached for her and enveloped her in his arms. She did not resist; instead she wrapped her arms around his waist and collapsed against him.

"I'm so sorry, Tess," he said, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her shaking back. She continued to sob and felt his guilt increase another notch. "This is my fault."

Tessa sniffed and raised her head so that she was looking into his eyes—eyes the colour of a summer's sky met those of jade and held. Silently, they communicated the sorrow and pain they felt inside.

"Yes, it is," she croaked. "But you didn't force him to take the assignment. It was his choice."

Edward led her back to the group of chairs to sit, then took a seat beside her. She reached out and entangled her fingers with his. The level of their friendship brought about a feeling of comfort that not many exes shared.

He and Tessa were once a couple in his freshman year in college. A year into the relationship, they decided to dispense with the other aspects of the relationship and just remain friends. They still spoke occasionally, but the last time he had seen her was two and a half years ago, when he had spent Thanksgiving Day in Atlanta helping Mark out on a case.

Tessa reminded him a bit of Bella. Both were strong, intelligent, independent women with an ability to love whole-heartedly.

"How is he?" he asked, slipping his jacket off and loosening his tie. He dropped the jacket into a heap beside his thigh.

Tessa gave him a pained smile. "He's out of surgery, but they're not sure if he'll make it through the night." She shuddered and squeezed his hand. "They said the knife did a lot of damage on its way in. He went into cardiac arrest on his way here, Edward." She began to sob anew, and he wrapped his arm around her hunched shoulders.

"What about you? Who's taking care of Ryan?" he asked, referring to Tessa and Mark's five year old son.

"My mom," she said, wiping at her tears with a crumpled handkerchief. "She was there when the call came through. I tried to call you, but you wouldn't answer your phone."

Edward looked contrite. "Sorry, been going through some stuff so my phone was turned off."

Tessa gave him a curious look. Regardless how much time passed between them, he knew he could always talk to her. She would give him her opinion whether he wanted to hear it or not.

He licked his lips. "Bella's back," he said, and went on to give her an edited version of everything that had happened from the time he received the call about Bella's attack to the dream she had the night before. When he was finished, Tessa's eyes were filled with sympathy.

"I know it's hard, but you've got to tell her, Edward," Tessa scolded. "She deserves to know. Besides, you need to talk about Hayley; it's eating away at you. Who better to talk to than the person who was touched by the same tragedy?"

Edward stood and began to pace back and forth across the tiled floor. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Tess, you have no idea how difficult this is. I want to tell her, but I don't know how," he said, frustrated. "All I can think is if we couldn't handle it back then, how can we now? She doesn't remember that part of our life. Is it fair to put that on her?"

Tessa pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. "Is it fair to take away her choice, Edward? She's not a child, and you can't spend your days 'child-proofing' her life. The Bella I remember would never want to be treated like that."

Edward rubbed his hand down his face. "I-I don't want her to hate me again."

Tessa smiled sadly. "She never did. She might have been hurt, she might have even been angry at you, but I don't think she ever hated you,"

Edward huffed. "You weren't there. You did not have to look into her face every day and see the disappointment and loathing."

"I did see her—at the funeral, and what I saw was loneliness and need. She needed her husband, Edward, and to be honest, you were the one that pulled away. You looked like you hated her." Tessa's voice was quiet, but the words blasted through his skull, their pitch magnified. "Hated her for being in that car and for allowing Hayley to die. You couldn't even look her in the face. You wouldn't even touch her."

"But that's not true," he choked out, his eyes wide. "I never blamed her for what happened."

Did Bella really think he hated and blamed her for the accident and Hayley's death? Was that what had created the rift between them? Had he been so blind and selfish that he couldn't see how his actions affected Bella?

"That's my point. Sometimes when we're hurting, we see and feel things that aren't necessarily there. Everything is magnified...like when I slapped you." Tessa's cheeks turned red, and she looked embarrassed. "It's not your fault that Mark is here. It's his job, and when I married him I knew certain risks came with the job. Just like when Bella married you. She knew that one day you might bring your job home." She patted the space beside her, and when he sat, she took his hand in hers.

Edward was silent, his brain processing Tessa's words. Was he really too close to the situation to see what was happening? Had he made Bella feel guilty? Unwanted? Hated? He clapped the heel of his hand against his forehead. How could he be so dense?

The doctor's entrance into the room put a halt to any further conversation. Along with his green surgical scrubs, the man wore a smile meant to be comforting, but it only added to the anxiety of the situation.

"Mrs. Grannum?" His eyes moved between Edward and Tessa, and then to their linked hands. He seemed unsure of what the connection was between them. Tessa made her way to her feet with Edward's help.

"Yes, and this is Agent Cullen, a family friend," Tessa explained. Understanding came over the man's face.

"Ah! Nice to meet you, Agent Cullen. I'm Dr. Banner," he said, holding out his hand to Edward. "I assume you'll want to have a word with the other patient?"

Edward shook the doctor's hand. He knew that Dr. Banner was referring to Jacob Black. He wanted to delay that meeting for as long as possible given how he was feeling now and what happened the last time they had been in such close quarters. The temptation to pitch him out of a window was too great at this time. He needed some time to calm himself.

"Eventually," he said, evasively. "Right now I'm more interested in Mark. How is he?"

Dr. Banner looked at Tessa for confirmation that it was acceptable for him to discuss Mark's medical situation with Edward. She nodded.

"Mr. Grannum is still in critical condition, but he's holding his own." He recited the diagnosis as if he was reading it from a medical journal. Edward frowned. "There was some damage to his heart, but if he pulls through, it should heal. As for the other wound to his lung, well we'll just have to wait and see."

Tessa grabbed onto Edward's arm as the tears began to flow once again. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. Dr. Banner's cavalier way of discussing Mark was beginning to get to him.

"H-his lungs?" she sobbed.

Dr. Banner looked sympathetic. "Yes, when he was brought in, his left lung had collapsed. The knife punctured it."

Tessa leaned into Edward as the news seemed to be just another crushing blow added to the ones she had already taken. Over the top of her head, Edward glared at Dr. Banner, who began to look uncomfortable. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat.

"If you like, I've arranged for you to pay your husband a short visit," Dr. Banner said, taking a step towards the door. "He's heavily sedated, so he won't know you're there."

Tessa looked up at Edward, and he smiled encouragingly. He knew she was scared, but it was important for her to see Mark. She needed to confirm that he was still with them.

"Go, I'll be here when you get back," he reassured her, nodding towards the door. "I'm going to go see someone, and then I'll come back here."

Tessa's eyes widened as she understood who the someone was. She had enough information about the history between him and Jacob Black to be worried.

"Behave yourself," she warned, giving him a fierce look. "Mark would be pissed at you if you killed him this time."

Edward grinned, not at all surprised that Tessa knew about the incident in the prison. "Don't worry. I've got everything under control."

But as the door closed behind Tessa and the doctor, he wondered if he really had everything under control. Would he be able to control the urge to inflict violence on Jacob Black when he faced him again? Or would he allow his anger to get the better of him?

*~*~*

Edward showed his ID badge to the two guards standing outside Jacob Black's room and waited patiently as one of them patted him down while the other examined the contents of his bag. Coming across his weapon, the man performing the body search gave him a censored look. Edward withdrew the weapon and handed it over to him, handle first. The man nodded and continued his search. Not finding any more concealed weapons, he gestured for Edward to enter the room.

As Edward entered the room, he put a mental picture of Bella and the other members of his family in the forefront of his mind. He needed to remind himself of what was important, lest he give into the urge that increased in intensity with every step he took.

The brightness of the room surprised him. A part of him expected it to match the soul of its lone occupant—dark, dank and rotting of decay. However, it was no different from any other hospital room. Again, the strong, antiseptic smell washed over him, and he felt his stomach roll ominously. He took a few shallow breaths to minimize the assault on his senses and prepared to wage battle.

"Hello again, Edward," Jacob's mocking voice called to him. "Have you come to finish what you started?"

So, we're on a first name basis now, are we? Edward thought as he took up residence just inside the now closed door. He leaned against it and crossed his arms across his chest. He took in the sight before him and almost choked on the irony of it all.

Jacob Black was lying in bed, his left shoulder bandaged, a look of innocence on his face. Anyone not knowing the true nature of the man would swear that he was one of the most benign creatures in the universe. Jacob reminded him of a sting-ray. You never knew you were in danger until you got too close and it struck.

Edward gave him a smug smile. "I think someone else beat me to it."

Something dark and angry flashed in Jacob's eyes as he continued to stare unblinkingly at Edward. His nostrils flared slightly with each inhalation he took. It was obvious to Edward that Jacob was trying to appear cool, but his anger was getting the better of him. Edward's grin widened as he wondered how much it would take to push the man over the edge. It seemed like since the last time they had met, Jacob was quickly losing his cavalier approach to his situation.

"What do you want?" Jacob demanded, flinching as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed.

"I have a few questions about the...incident."

Jacob shrugged slightly, favouring his damaged shoulder. "I already told the police what happened," he snapped, glaring at Edward. "Don't you people communicate?"

Edward ignored Jacob's outburst. "I'm not the police, so why don't you do me the favour of answering the damn question?"

Jacob made an impatient noise and exhaled sharply. "If you insist."

"I do," Edward said, never once breaking eye contact.

"Like I told the police, I was being escorted to breakfast when this guy starts waving his arms and screaming obscenities at me. Next thing I know, he pulls a knife and tries to have a go at me,"

Edward pursed his lips. "So, was this before or after you provoked him?"

Jacob stared at him in disbelief. "Provoked him? Have you been listening to me?" he demanded, angrily. "He attacked me. I never even spoke to him. He's just this crazy guy who tried to kill me."

Edward leveled him with a cold look of disdain. "However, you survived, and with minimal injury I might add. Your guard on the other hand, not so lucky. He might die."

A crafty look came over Jacob's face at Edward's reference to Mark.

"My guard or your agent? To whom do you refer?"

Edward was prepared for this line of attack and schooled his features to give nothing away. If anything, he looked slightly surprised.

"Meaning?"

Jacob looked insulted. "Don't give me that. Kit Carson—if that's even his real name, is not a guard. I could smell 'agent' on him as soon as he stepped through the door of my cell," he spat. "Next time you want to put a spy on me, use someone with more experience and more intelligence."

Edward held onto his anger and laughed instead. "If I put an agent on you, you would never know. Paranoid much?"

Jacob glared at him, hatred shooting sparks from his dark eyes. "Liar!"

"Speaking of liars. If I investigate this incident, what do you think I'll find?" Edward asked nonchalantly as he examined the tips of his fingers.

"You'll find a deranged human being who needs to be put away for the rest of his life," Jacob retorted angrily.

Edward grinned, and Jacob gritted his teeth when he realised what his words implied.

"Yes, I would, and I intend to make that person spend the rest of his days rotting in a stinking hole," Edward promised. "But for the record, if I find out that you had anything to do with this, I'll be back, and it will not be pleasant."

Jacob snorted, amused. "Is that a threat, Agent Cullen? Because you can't touch me, and you know that."

Edward shook his head, gripped the door handle, then opened the door. He was done with this conversation. There was only so much he could take, and he had reached his quota of bullshit for the day.

"I'm not the one you have to worry about. If my math is accurate, you have a lot of other reasons to worry. I know for a fact that you messed with some of those people in there. Now they know that you're not invincible, they'll want a piece of you." Edward smiled, but it was devoid of humor. "The only question left is who's going to get to you first, and how many pieces will be left when they're finished?"

Edward looked Jacob up and down, a triumphant smile on his face, and watched in delight as the man grew pale. The ramifications of the situation was now hitting home.

"Have a good day, Jacob. We'll talk again...soon."

*~*~*

It was two in the morning, and Edward was lying awake in bed staring at the off-white, textured acoustic tiles in the ceiling of his hotel room. He had dinner with Tessa earlier, but after escorting her to her room and returning to his, had lay there unable to sleep. He considered calling Bella again, but he knew she had had a hard day and was most likely asleep by now. Peter, the little boy she visited in the hospital, had not improved, and she worried constantly about him. In addition to the ache in her head and leg, she was in a considerable amount of discomfort.

He draped his arm across his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. It did not work. He was tired, but nothing he did seemed to give him the rest he needed. He felt like he was tossing and turning for hours. There were just too many thoughts going through his overtaxed mind.

The discussion with his father, Bella finally admitting that she loved him, his fight with James, Mark's injuries, Tessa's warning and advice, and last but not least, his conversation with Jacob Black. It was too much for him. His instincts were telling him there was something wrong there, but he would need to go to the prison later and speak with the man who had tried to kill Jacob to confirm his suspicions. He found it a little too coincidental that a man gained access to a weapon in a high-security facility like ADX Florence and gone after one high profile prisoner in particular. He used to believe in coincidences, but not anymore. Something was seriously wrong with the entire attack.

As he examined his theory, he felt his body sink further into the mattress. He sighed as the first fingers of sleep began to pull him under. It was subtle at first, but eventually he felt himself floating away. The day's events had finally taken their toll. With the exception of the one bright moment in his day, everything else reminded him of a domino effect; push one and the others collapsed around you. It could not get any worse, right?

Wrong. He had almost completed drifted off when the ringing of his cell phone jolted him into an upright position. He grabbed the instrument off the bedside table and tried to quell the anxiety growing inside him. His first thoughts were of Mark.

Glancing at the phone's display, he was relieved to see that it wasn't Tessa, but an unfamiliar number with a Denver area code. He answered, steeling himself for the bad news to come.

"Is this Special Agent Edward Cullen?" an unfamiliar male voice queried.

"Yes," Edward replied, the feeling of dread multiplying a hundredfold.

"Sir, this is Agent Robert Carmichael. I'm sorry to call you at this hour, but we need you to come down to the hospital ASAP." Agent Carmichael paused, and Edward heard a flurry of activity in the background. "Uh...there's been an incident."

One thought immediately came to Edward's mind, and he prayed he was wrong. "What incident?" he asked, hoarsely.

"Jacob Black, sir. He's escaped."

The day had officially gone to hell.