Thanks to WriteOnTime for beta'ing.

*0*0*

Edward

I turned slowly on my heel and began to pace off the small room one more time. My eyes were burning and my neck was sore from dozing off awkwardly on the plane.

I'd managed to get us to O'Hare by 8 p.m. the night before, and we'd made it onto a 10 p.m. flight to Seattle. Bella was so stressed out that she didn't even argue with me when I slid my credit card across the counter to deal with the exorbitant cost of the flights. With the time change it was after midnight when we touched down in Seattle, although it felt much later to us. We went straight to the station to find Sam. He was off-duty, but the desk officer told us, not surprisingly, that the psychiatrist assigned to do Jay's evaluation wasn't scheduled to come until the next morning.. So we'd found a hotel nearby and slept for a few hours before trudging back to start our vigil.

As the hours wore on, I watched Bella's nervous adrenaline tap out in the face of the system. The desk officer the night before had said that the psychiatrist was coming by to do Jay's evaluation first thing in the morning. It was now two p.m., and there'd been no sign of him. None of this was much of a surprise to me, but Bella was tired and tense. I tried to get her to leave with me once or twice, even just for a quick walk around the block, but she was terrified that if she left, she'd miss the doctor. So we waited. She drank endless cups of bad police precinct coffee, and I stayed as busy as I could on my phone.

I felt like I'd talked to every psychiatric professional in Seattle over the past few months. I'd come as close as I'd dared to ethical violations, trotting out the "Dr. Cullen" whenever I thought it might get me somewhere. But hopefully, if everything fell into place the way I hoped it would over the next several days, it would all be worth it.

Ending my last call, I looked back over my shoulder at Bella. She was slouching in a hard plastic chair, eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall. There were purple shadows under her eyes, and her pale skin was washed out and nearly translucent under the flickering fluorescent light fixture. She was still so beautiful that my heart nearly stopped. I wanted her to open her eyes and look at me. I wanted to feel connected to her again, always. I was a greedy bastard and I never got enough of her. I wanted her to be happy, and to that end, I'd do anything for her, but deep down inside, I just wanted to be the center of her world, the same way she was the center of mine.

When I considered Jay, this man we'd just flown halfway across the country to help, my feelings swung back and forth between pity and fury. The doctor in me pitied him. I'd done a psych rotation during my residency; I knew what he was struggling with, and I knew how difficult the rest of his life would be because of this disease that had set up residence in his brain. Who wouldn't pity that? But on a deeper, purely elemental level, I hated him. I hated him for burrowing into her life so firmly that she still felt obligated to him. But that was the basest part of me, and I wasn't proud of it. I studiously squashed it all down so I could deal with the issue at hand.

I wanted him gone; out of her life forever. If I could make this all work out the way I wanted, he would be. And in the end, what I'd told Bella back in Chicago was true: she needed to be okay with how she left things with him. I didn't want him there— in her head and in her heart— for the rest of our lives. So I would suck down my purely masculine jealousy and irritation and do right by this person that needed someone's—anyone's— help.

The court-appointed psychiatrist finally showed up at three. Sam ushered him through the station and back to the room where we'd set up camp. Technically, neither of us had any say in Jay's case, but I was hoping that if I acted like I knew what I was doing, he'd trust me and talk to us. It had worked for me plenty of times before. Sam held the door for him and the psychiatrist rushed in, rumpled, balding, and exhausted-looking. He had a battered leather satchel over-stuffed with files, which he dumped on the table in the middle of the room.

I stepped forward immediately and extended my hand. "Dr. Cullen," I said with all the professional gravitas three years of residency at Lenox Hill had bestowed on me. The psychiatrist squinted up at me through his glasses.

"Are you assigned to this case?"

"No, not officially," I said, waving a dismissive hand, "Just a family friend, hoping to help."

"Ah, I see. Dr. Horner," he finally said, straightening up and finally shaking my hand. He wasn't exactly warm, but I sensed the softening in his attitude. My professional bona fides had been established, and now his guard was down.

"This is Isabella Swan," I motioned to Bella, and she hurried out of her seat and to my side. "She's also a family friend."

Dr. Horner's eyebrows furrowed together as he glanced up at her. "Isabella Swan…I have your name in the file, don't I?"

He turned to rummage through his briefcase, finally turning up with a manila folder. "Ah, yes. The charges currently filed against Mr. Anderson pertain to an assault on you, is that correct?"

"It was an accident," Bella said in a rush. "It really was. I let the charges stand because Sam…Officer Uley…said that it was the best way to get him some help under the circumstances."

"So his mental state has been in question for some time?"

"Yes, since last December, although there was some minor stuff even before that."

"How were you acquainted with Mr. Anderson?"

Her eyes flickered to me nervously and I gave her an encouraging smile. She could do this; I knew she could. She drew a deep breath and kept talking. "We dated for four years. We lived together up until February."

Dr. Horner's eyebrows shot up. "So, are you the family contact?"

Bella shook her head quickly and I felt her hand tighten on mine. I knew how hard this part was for her— refusing to be responsible for him. She was so goddamned caring. She wanted to take care of everyone, even when it was impossible. "Not really," she said. "Jay doesn't have any family. And I…obviously we're not together anymore. I live in Chicago now. I have since the incident. I'm not…" she trailed off and I could sense her wavering, so I squeezed her fingers again, trying to will myself through our skin, letting my strength be her strength. "I can't be there like that for him anymore," Bella finally said in a hurry. "But I wanted to come now, just to make sure that everybody really understands his problems. After this, I won't be back."

Dr. Horner rubbed his eyes wearily, and I thought for a minute how hard it must be for him to work these cases day in and day out, knowing the odds, knowing the difficulties. But he didn't judge Bella, thank God; he just smiled sadly, and nodded in understanding.

"Well, thank you for coming, Ms. Swan. In situations like this, with the patient largely detached from reality, it can be difficult to get a complete history. I'll want to have a long talk with you after I see Mr. Anderson. Can you stay?"

"Yes," she said, "as long as you need me to. This is all I can do for him, so I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Thank you," he nodded tightly. "Well, let me go speak with Mr. Anderson. I'll see you in a bit."

"We'll be here," I said, reaching out to wrap my arm around Bella's shoulders.

Dr Horner gathered up his paperwork and left the room, and we settled down to wait. I pulled her in against me and the fight went out of her. She went boneless and rested her head against my chest, her eyes fluttering closed. I wrapped my hand over her fist, pressing it against my chest, and stroked her knuckles with my thumb until her fingers relaxed.

"What are you thinking?" I murmured against the top of her head.

She sighed before answering, "I'm telling myself not to feel guilty about what I just did."

"Bell, you know…"

"I know, I know. I can't help him any more. Just what I'm doing now. I'm just afraid for him."

"It's hard," I said, "The system is far from perfect, and frankly, Washington is one of the worst. But we're doing what we can to give him the best odds."

I felt her nod against my chest. "It'll have to be enough."

"Right."

"I'm so glad you're here, Edward. You know that, right?"

"We're in this together," I said, ducking my head a little to kiss her temple. Her skin was always so velvety. "Everything. We're in it all together, right?"

"Right," she sighed. I kept stroking her fingers until I felt her relax completely against me. I knew she wouldn't sleep, but at least I could get her to rest a little.

Dr. Horner came back an hour later, sighing heavily as he settled himself in a chair at the table. Bella sat straight up like she'd been shocked.

"How is he?" she asked.

"I can't discuss specifics of my initial diagnosis with you."

"I know that. Just…how is he otherwise?"

My hatred of Jay clawed at my gut, but I shoved it down. There was no place for that now.

Dr. Horner gave her a small smile. "It could always be worse. And I suspect that he'll respond very well to the appropriate treatment."

"Are you going to request the seventy-two hour hold?" I interjected.

"Yes, yes. That goes without saying. Although, with the weekend coming up, it will turn into five days, rather than three. That's actually a good thing. On Monday, I'll file the request for a ninety-day involuntary commitment."

Bella exhaled in relief and I squeezed her shoulders. I knew she was worried that after all this, he'd be held for three days and then kicked out on the streets again. I had doubted that would happen, but I knew his words made her feel better.

"How long will it take to get a judge to okay that?" I pressed.

He focused on me and his voice slipped into a more business-like tone. "Assuming I can get him to look at it right away, and I think I can since it's a Monday, he'll sign off on it on the spot. There's very little doubt about the situation in this case. Mr. Anderson does have the right to appear and make a case against involuntary commitment, should he choose to exercise it, however."

"Can I see him while he's on the temporary hold?" Bella asked. It was all I could do not to scream out "No!" Selfishly, I didn't want her anywhere near him, but I held my tongue.

"Yes. I suspect with the shortage of beds, he's going to be detained over the weekend at Harborview Medical Center, anyway. You can see him there, if you like. Why?"

"I don't know if it will do any good, but maybe I could try to convince him not to fight it," she said, twisting her hands in her lap.

"It would certainly help if you could, Ms. Swan. Then the obstacle will be finding an available bed for him."

Now it was my turn to interrupt. "I may be on to something there. I need to make some phone calls."

Bella looked up at me questioningly.

"Just let me see what I can do, okay?" I gave her a little smile and she nodded.

"Now, Ms. Swan," Dr. Horner began again, "If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss Mr. Anderson's history with you."

"Of course. Anything you need to know. I'm ready."

I kissed the side of her head and left her to tell Dr. Horner Jay's long history while I stepped out to finalize my plans.

*0*0*

Bella

By eight that night, the seventy-two hour hold had been issued. Jay had been transferred to the psych ward at Harborview Medical Center until the long-term situation could be addressed. Both Edward and Dr. Horner convinced me to put off seeing him until Sunday, in the hopes that he may have settled down and become less agitated by then.

There was nothing left for us to do at that point, so we went back to our hotel, ordered room service, and finally fell gratefully into bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt miles better. Things with Jay were by no means settled, but the process was started, and with any luck, soon he'd be someplace safe and I could finally stop worrying. The sun was out; it was a rare, lovely day. After we'd showered, we ordered room service again and debated how to while away the time until Sunday.

"Well," Edward said, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. I watched his t-shirt stretch taut over his abdomen and debated just dragging him back to bed for the day. "This is your home town. Do you want to show me around? All the fun stuff from before my time?"

I shrugged, "Seattle's not my home town; Forks is. To be honest, outside of college, my time in Seattle wasn't really very happy. Certainly nothing I'd want to relive."

"Okay, then, why don't you show me Forks?"

I looked up at Edward across the table. "Forks is almost four hours away."

"And? What else are we going to do? Do you want to go back for a visit?"

I thought about that for a minute. Then the answer was overwhelmingly clear. "Yes, I want to go back. I want you to see it."

A slow, soft smile spread across his face. "Alright. Let's hit the road."

The minute we left Seattle and were on the highway, I felt better. Seattle was oppressive. It had been when I lived there, although I always assumed it was Jay and our dysfunctional relationship making me feel that way. But so many gloomy years seemed to have tainted the whole city for me. Seattle was the place I'd been trapped in my unhappiness for so long, and it would probably always be that for me. I didn't miss it, and I certainly didn't want to spend time there.

The drive to Forks made me feel re-energized. As soon as familiar landmarks started appearing, I was pointing them out to Edward. That inevitably led to telling him stories, and soon, I was spilling my life story— road trips home with Alice; the trip I made with my dad when he took me to college for the first time, and all the fear and anxiety that went with me; I even found myself remembering long-ago shopping trips to "the city" with my mother, stuff I hadn't thought about in years.

As Edward listened, asked questions, and laughed at my stories, I found myself feeling really glad we'd decided to do this. All he really knew from my past was the bad stuff, starting with the death of my father, and finishing with the disaster of Jay. But there was a lot of good in my past, too, and I wanted him to see it. I was more than just my heartbreak and bad choices. I wanted him to see the me that existed before all of that. Hell, I wanted to see her again myself.

We took our time on the drive, stopping for lunch in Edmonds before we got on the ferry, and taking breaks at several places along the 101 to enjoy the view. When we hit Port Angeles, I convinced Edward to stop for the night. It wasn't that late, but I explained that both the accommodations and the food would be better there than in Forks. Edward scouted up a lovely little B&B on his phone, and we were given a beautiful room with a plush white bed and a spectacular view of the Strait. After a leisurely stroll through PA, and dinner at a little Italian place that I remembered from high school, we made very good use of both the view and the bed.

Forks was shockingly unchanged. It was like time stood still there. The True Value hardware store still had the horse kids could ride on for a quarter out front; the diner still had the dirty blue and white sign advertising the blue plate special; the Thriftway still advertised double coupon Wednesdays on the roadside sign. It had been almost five years. The last time I was there was when I'd come to sign the last papers on the sale of my dad's house. And here it all was, practically suspended in time.

There was something else I was unprepared for. I had been missed. We stopped for coffee at The Shot in the Dark, the only thing like a coffee shop in Forks. I stepped out of the car and turned to say something to Edward, but I was pulled up short by the sound of my name.

"Bella?"

I turned to see Carol Kramer just about to climb into her car. Carol had worked as a check-out girl at the Thriftway since well before I'd been born. She'd worked all through her marriage, the births of her children, then her grandchildren, and past the age when anyone else would have retired. Her apron was folded over the top of her purse, telling me that, inexplicably, she was still working there.

"Mrs. Kramer…hi!"

"Bella Swan," she tsked, crossing the parking lot to pull me into a quick but firm hug. "What brings you back here, sweetheart?"

"Oh, um…just visiting for the day, I guess. We were in Seattle and had a little free time. And I wanted to show…oh, Mrs. Kramer, this is Edward. Edward, this is Carol Kramer. I've known her since…"

Carol shook Edward's hand eagerly. "I've known this little bit her whole life. I knew her momma when she was still around, and I knew her father, God rest his soul."

"It's nice to meet you," Edward murmured politely.

"Bella, you should take a drive past your old house while you're here. There's a young couple with a baby that lives there now. They've fixed it up real nice."

"I'll do that. I'd like to see it again." The thought of strangers living in the house I grew up in, the house my father had died in, gave me a momentary pang.

"Sweetheart," Carol said, her eyes quickly getting glassy with tears. "I sure do miss your daddy. He was a good man. We don't see the likes of him too often in life."

I opened my mouth to say something polite, but nothing came out. My throat closed up painfully and my own eyes burned. I felt Edward squeeze my hand.

"Don't mind me, sweetpea!" Carol said, waving her hand. "I'm just a sentimental old lady! Now, where are you these days? I heard Seattle?"

"No. No, not anymore," I said, finding my voice again and swallowing back the sudden tears. "I'm in Chicago now. Since February. I work at a literary magazine there."

Carol's face lit up with her smile. "Well, isn't that just fantastic? You were always a special one. We all knew you'd do big things."

I blushed and stammered, and tried to think of a polite, neutral response.

"And she is," Edward said quietly at my side. I smiled at him gratefully. Carol didn't stay long. She just wished me well and told me again how happy she was to see me before climbing back into her car.

"They miss you," Edward said, once she'd gone. "And they miss your dad."

I let out a long, shuddering sigh. "I miss him, too. I wish you could have met him. I wish he could have met you."

"Me, too. So, do you want to go see your old house?"

"Yeah," I said finally, "I think I do."

The house was just as Carol described it, cleaned up and tidied, with a coat of bright white paint and flowers all along the front walk. Children's toys were scattered across the yard, and there were yellow curtains in the windows. It made me sad to see the changes, but at the same time, it was nice to see life moving on in the place where my life, in a lot of ways, felt like it ended for a while.

We also took a drive down Calawah Way, to the Forks Cemetery, to visit my dad's grave. Edward hung back a few feet while I laid down the flowers I'd brought and sat for a few minutes. I felt silly trying to talk to him, but I had no idea when I'd ever be back here, so I felt like I should try. I took a deep breath and started whispering, while my fingers stayed busy clearing the grass from the headstone. Once the words started, though, I couldn't seem to stop them.

"Hi, Dad. It's me. I'm back. Um…I don't know if I'll come again. I moved away. Chicago. Can you believe that? Yeah, things in Seattle didn't go so well. I was unhappy for such a long time there. I just missed you so much, Dad. And I gave in to it. I know you wouldn't have wanted me to, but I couldn't help it. But things are better now. Chicago is great. I'm with Alice, and I know how much you loved her. I have this great job and…I've met somebody. Edward. He's amazing. Dad, I'm so sorry you couldn't be here to meet him. I mean, I'm sorry that you're not here for a million reasons every day, but I think I'm sorriest that you'll never know him. Because he's so wonderful. I love him, and I know you would have, too. Well, he doesn't fish, but he likes baseball, so you'd have done alright with each other. Anyway, I just wanted to come one more time to tell you that I love you, and I miss you. Every day. And I'm okay now. Really okay."

My face was wet with tears and when I tried to draw in a breath, my whole body shook with the effort. Edward was there in a flash behind me, gripping my shoulders, pulling me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I let myself cry it out; not the abject misery and loneliness I'd felt in the past. Just a sort of dull, aching sorrow that I'd probably always feel when I thought of my father. But it was also cathartic; coming back, telling him about all the changes in my life, telling him I'd moved on from this place.

"You ready to go?" Edward murmured against my ear, a little while later.

"Yes. I really am."

When we left Forks that afternoon, I didn't look back.

We goofed off for another day in the area, before heading back to Seattle and grim reality on Sunday morning. I wanted it done and over, so I asked Edward to drive straight to Harborview Medical Center.

"Bella," he said after he cut the car off, "are you sure you want to do this? You don't know what he'll be like, and seeing him this way might just upset you more."

"It's okay, Edward. I think I need to. So it's really done in my mind. I'll do what I can, and then we'll go."

"Just so you know, I'm going in with you."

"Edward," I inhaled sharply. "What if that sets him off?"

He wrapped a hand around my right wrist and raised it to his face, pressing his lips on the fine white scar there. "That's exactly why I'm going with you, Bell."

I had to concede that he had his reasons to be nervous, so I didn't argue anymore.

On the eighth floor, where the psych ward was located, Edward exchanged a few brief words with the nurse on duty, working the "Dr. Cullen" angle again, and she led us to the end of the hall.

"Mr. Anderson has been started on medications, but they likely haven't had a chance to do much good yet," she explained, as she fished her security card out of her pocket. "But he's still pretty calm, all things considered. Much better than a few days ago. I'll stay just inside the door, in case things get out of control."

I swallowed hard.

"Bella, I'll tell you again that you don't have to go in. You never have to see him again, if you don't want to," Edward said at my side, his voice low and urgent. He was looking at me; I could feel his eyes on the side of my face. But I kept my eyes on the door.

"I know that, Edward. I do. But I need to do this."

He exhaled heavily. "Okay, then let's go."

The nurse swiped her security card through the slot by the door and keyed in a code. The lock popped and she pushed her way in. "How are you this afternoon, Mr. Anderson?" she said brightly, bustling in. I followed her slowly, Edward right at my back, his hand heavy on my shoulder.

The room had two beds and a sink in the corner. There was a straight-back chair next to each bed, and a window in the wall in between the beds. One bed was empty, still neatly made-up, but sitting in the chair next to the other bed, looking out the window, was Jay.

I sucked in my breath at the sight of him. He had to have lost at least twenty pounds. His cheeks were sunken and hollow. His bone structure had always been sharply defined, but now his face was nearly skeletal. His hair had grown out and was a shaggy mop, tucked untidily behind his ears. Oddly, it reminded me a little of how he wore it in college, when we first met, and I felt the first real pang of emotion since I walked in the room.

For all these months, the image of him that remained in my memory was of that last night— of Jay, raging and incoherent, completely unpredictable in his fury. But this shell of a man, with a pale blue hospital gown hanging unevenly from his shoulders, was nearly unrecognizable.

He turned his head to look at us and I watched his blue eyes squint, trying to discern who we were. He just looked exhausted and confused. Nothing more.

Edward leaned into my ear and whispered, "He's probably on a mild sedative, to keep him calm." I nodded my understanding.

"You've got some visitors," the nurse was saying, bustling around his bed, straightening up the sheets.

His wavering gaze finally locked on me. I made myself look back. I could see him process it, working through the noise crowding his head. Finally, he spoke, his voice just a hoarse rasp.

"Bella?"

"Yeah," I said, moving towards him. "It's me, Jay." Edward started to move after me, but then he seemed to think better of it and stayed where he was by the door. I glanced back at him over my shoulder. His face was hard and set, his eyes intently locked on Jay.

"I knew you'd come back," Jay murmured, as I lowered myself hesitantly into the chair next to the other bed, a few feet away from him.

"Just for the day. How are you, Jay?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, half in frustration, half in confusion. "No one will listen to me. I was so close, B. I almost had him. And they won't let me finish. But you can talk to them for me. You can tell them that I have to go."

I took a deep breath, knowing what happened next would make all the difference. "They only want to help you, Jay."

"But Eleazar is going to get away. You know what he's like, B. Tell them. Tell them that he was after me, so they understand."

I glanced quickly at Edward for guidance, if I should stop or keep going. He gave me a small, tight nod of his chin. Keep going.

"Jay, you'll have plenty of time to worry about that. These people are trying to do what's best for you. Can you help them do that?"

He scowled at me, not angry, just puzzled. In the bright afternoon sunlight coming through the window next to him, I could see a scar on his right cheek, new and pink, and I wondered what else had happened to him during all this time. "They want to help me?" he finally asked.

"Yes, they do. They only want to help." I knew he thought I meant help him with his paranoid crusade against Eleazar, but I tried not to feel too bad about the deception. Whatever worked. Hopefully soon, the medications would start to work and he wouldn't even realize or care that I'd been lying to him.

"Help," he repeated slowly.

"They want to help you," I insisted, leaning towards him. "So will you help them out? Just do what they ask you to do?"

He looked at me, and for just a moment, it seemed like the fog had cleared. He was there. "Do you think I should, B?"

I nodded hard. "Yes, Jay, I do. They want to help you, so will you let them? For me?"

He paused, still just staring at me. "For you. I will, Bella. You know I'd do anything for you."

I exhaled hard. "Thank you, Jay."

"Will you be there with me?"

My chest twisted uncomfortably as I shook my head. "No, Jay. I have to go."

"Go?"

"Back home. I don't live here anymore."

He thought about that for a minute, looking at his hands, which lay limply in his lap. "I think I remember…B, did I hurt you?"

His voice was soft and uncertain. "You didn't mean to, Jay. It's okay. I'm fine."

"You're okay?"

I smiled at him, "Yeah, I'm fine. I have to go. But will you promise me to let them help you?"

"I promise. When will you come back?"

I quailed and glanced at Edward. Jay hadn't seemed to have even noticed his presence. He was probably so used to doctors and nurses coming in and out all day at this point that one more wouldn't register. Edward gave me another little nod of encouragement. I still didn't know what to say, but I started talking anyway.

"I'm not sure," I lied. "But you'll be okay, Jay."

"Okay," he said, glancing back out the window absently. I felt like whatever flicker of connection we'd had was fading fast. He was already gone.

"The medication makes him groggy," the nurse explained gently. "He should rest now."

I nodded and got up, crossing back to Edward. "Bye, Jay," I murmured, just before the nurse ushered us out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind me, the tears started, welling up out of nowhere and taking me completely by surprise.

"Hey, hey, hey," Edward murmured, pulling me into his arms quickly. "It's okay."

I wept into his shirt for several long minutes and he just held me, his hands rubbing slowly up and down my back.

"I'm sorry it upset you so badly, baby," he said.

I shook my head against his shoulder. "I'm not even all that upset. Not like how you mean. It just feels like such a…release. I had no idea how much I was still hanging onto this."

He held my while my sobs turned to sniffles and then stopped altogether.

"Better?"

I nodded. He swiped his thumbs along my cheeks to dry my face.

"Let's get you back to the hotel," he murmured. "You need some sleep."

He led me down the hall and out of the hospital, out into the sunshine.

*0*0*

Edward's low voice woke me up the next morning. I stretched languorously in bed and rolled to my side to look for him. He was sitting in a chair by the window, elbows resting on his knees, phone to his ear.

"I see….no, that makes perfect sense….yeah. Well, I really appreciate this, Dr. Green…Steve, okay, fine." He smiled into the phone. "So you'll get the file today?... Great. When will the transfer happen?...Okay, great….No, I think that's it….thanks, again, Steve….yeah, we will."

He ended the call and exhaled heavily.

"Hey, there," I murmured, my voice lower than I expected from sleep. His head snapped up.

"You're awake."

"I'm awake. Who were you talking to?"

"Well," he said, standing up and stretching. His t-shirt pulled up and I saw a delectable section of stomach. I was about to climb out of bed to get to him, but he was moving in my direction, which was just where I wanted him. "I just got Jay committed to Greenwood Psychiatric Hospital."

I flopped back on the bed, all thoughts of licking my way down Edward's abdomen momentarily forgotten. "What? This morning?"

He smirked down at me. "It is nine-thirty, sleepyhead. The judge signed off on the ninety-day commitment half an hour ago."

"But…how?"

"I made contact with Dr. Green last month. Greenwood is the best private facility in the state."

I sat up sharply, "Edward, he can't afford private care."

He held up his hand to stop me. "Ten percent of the beds are set aside for state cases."

"How did you get him in, though? Isn't there a wait list or something?"

"When a bed vacates, they log onto the state database and get assigned a patient randomly. Dr. Green knew that one of the state patients was getting discharged this weekend. He told me to call early on Monday, before the secretary got around to the paperwork, and we could by-pass that part. We didn't line-jump anyone. His name could have come up randomly the same as anyone else's. Dr. Green was willing to extend a professional courtesy to me, and I accepted."

I stared up at him for a moment, trying to figure out how I felt about this.

"Bella, it's the best hospital he could hope for. He'll get three months of the best psychiatric care available. And the doctors at Greenwood are more likely than most to realistically assess his condition. When the ninety days are up, if they feel like he needs more care, they won't hesitate to recommend another ninety-day commitment. They'll take good care of him. And he's in. It's done," Edward pressed.

Finally, I nodded, my shoulders falling. "You're right. I couldn't ask for a better outcome, Edward."

I reached out and snagged his hand, tugging him towards me. He kneeled on the bed and then lowered himself down next to me. I laid back down and tucked myself into his side.

"Okay?" he said hesitantly.

"Yes. More than okay. Thank you, Edward."

"Do you want to go see him again?"

I paused for a minute before shaking my head. "No, I don't. We're done here. Can we just go home?"

I felt him smile against the side of my head "Yeah, let's go home, baby."

*0*0*

A/N: I researched this section for quite a while, and the legal stuff is more or less accurate. Some of the details regarding hospital procedures are an educated guess.

*0*

I told you last week that I've finished writing this. There are three chapters plus a short epilogue still to post. I want to pick up the pace posting the last three chapters, hopefully doing them on three consecutive days. The magnificent WriteOnTime and I are going to take a little extra time this week to do the beta and clean up, so they're all ready to go at once. Thanks for your patience and endless thanks for reading.