Hi! Thank you for all the reviews and notifications. I'm sorry that I was not able to respond to reviews in the push to get this chapter down, but know that I love reading each and every one of them.

A shout out to LostIn PA for always being ready to review each chapter. She is fantastic!

Chapter Thirty-Five: I Alone

"Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong."

Mandy Hale

BPOV

Desperation.

It's defined by a state of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behavior, and it embodies what I see reflected in Tyler's eyes. Logically, he is wary, suspicious of my sudden willingness to let him in. Yet emotionally, he is exhausted, weakened by his injuries and our separation. I can see the struggle, the internal battle between his mind and heart. It's affecting his judgment, giving me an easy opening to manipulate him.

I'm not a crier; it's not in my nature. I'm a problem solver. When desolation hits, I look for solutions and think my way through it. I rarely have time for tears. In the past seven years, I have only broken down on the job once. It was a horrific case, the outset being the death of several children. It hit me hard, causing me to crumble into Tyler's arms. My vulnerability shocked and unnerved him.

Watching his eyes move side to side anxiously as he tries to broker my forgiveness made me realize that 'breaking down' was the best way to extinguish his logical reluctance. Now, I have him exactly where I want him.

"This is your chance, Tyler, to prove that you really want to earn back my trust. If you aren't completely honest, I'll walk out this door and never return."

His eyes flash with a combination of fear and hope. "You have my word. Whatever it is. I want to fix us."

"Good. Then tell me about Doc."

His ashen face pales further. "What about him?"

I stand, indicating my intent to leave. "Don't play dumb, Tyler. It doesn't become you, and it insults me."

"How much do you know?"

I laugh, flabbergasted that both Charlie and Tyler believed that I would fall for the same trick. "Nice try. I asked what you knew."

"Okay, okay." His head lowers. "Doc was there when Charlie brought me in for our first meeting."

I sit back on the bed, signaling my approval, luring him to disclose more. "Why?"

"I assume because he was involved with the procedure that took your memory in the first place. Charlie deferred to him most of the time, at least in terms of your medical care. He told me what to watch out for."

"Watch out for?"

"I told you before that I was supposed to bring you in if I saw signs that you were," he pauses, wrestling for the right word, "reverting."

"I know that part. What didn't you tell me?" The longer he stalls, the harder it's becoming to maintain my kumbaya façade, regardless of how much I need him to believe my ploy.

With hooded eyes, his body slumps against the wall. "That there were times I had to take you in."

The ramifications of his confession are difficult to compute. "What do you mean?"

He hesitates. "More than once, I saw the signs they, well Doc, mentioned."

Pressure radiates through my jaw, my teeth clenching in an effort to prevent my expression from faltering. "Like what?"

"You started to question things, finding the cracks in the story they developed for you." A tiny smile breaks free. "You outwitted their every play." Quickly, his face falls again. "Anyway, Doc was the one I took you to when things started slipping."

My head throbs, the black void in my memory mocking me. Nothing I remember fits his words and I suddenly want nothing more than to get back under Carlisle's hypnotic spell to find those pieces. "When? When would we have even had time for that?"

If possible, he becomes smaller. "It was usually after a case, only a couple of times during. I would take you under the pretense of either getting his help or helping him. Through the treatment, he would fill in any gaps so that time felt seamless to you. He's very good at what he does."

Heat engulfs me. "Well, bully for him."

His head shoots up. "God, Bella, that's not how I meant it. I'm sorry."

Brushing off his feeble regret, I remain focused on the goal. "I don't want an apology. I want the details. What was the protocol?"

"There was a number I would call and hang up. Doc would call me back, usually within a day with my directives."

"What was Charlie's role?"

"He was always in the loop, but never there when it happened."

I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. "Was Doc following us around?"

He shrugs. "I'm not sure. Sometimes he would need a couple of days to prepare. I think he was always in the vicinity, but I don't think he followed our every move."

Absorbing the information, I nod. "And what about Leah? What was her role in all of this?"

He looks confused. "Nothing. She's his assistant for…" he pauses, once again searching for wording, "his humanitarian causes, I guess you could say."

Dread bubbles in my stomach. Leah is smart. It's hard to believe that she would be clueless as to his underhanded dealings. "You're saying she wasn't involved at all?"

"Not to my knowledge. Why?"

"Just making sure I have all the players straight," I lie. His apparent ignorance about who Leah is supports his original assertion that he didn't know the names of those involved in the program.

"She was never in the room during the procedures. That's all I know."

My mind whirls with his confession, my worry about Leah drifting into the background. "But you were!?"

His eyes widen as if just realizing what he admitted. "Yes."

"You watched what he did and yet can claim to be my best friend? You're unbelievable."

"I didn't like it." Scooting closer, he holds my eyes. "It looked painless. I would have gotten you out of there if he hurt you."

The blurred line he's created to cover his own guilt is astonishing. "I guess that depends on your definition of hurt," I shoot back.

"Fair point," he whispers.

"What did he do?" Mentally, I prepare to take notes, the details will be important for Carlisle. If he knows exactly what Doc did, he might be able to undo it.

He exhales. "It was never invasive. It seemed like a type of hypnosis."

"Tell me everything," I bark.

"There were key phrases he would use over and over, like—"

His description pulls on me. "The past is the past." It's my mantra, a comfort when the frustration of not remembering starts to get to me. It kept me grounded, focused on the present. Bastards.

"Yes," Pity fills his eyes. I hate it. "Sometimes he would say them in combination with a shot."

"A shot?"

His fingers twitch against the bed. "I don't know what it was, but he used it when the 'crack' was big."

Listening to his narrative, any feeling I had for Tyler disintegrates. He is now nothing more than a pawn to use to my advantage. "Do you remember all of the phrases?"

"Yes," he mouths.

"I'm going to bring you a paper and pen. I want you to write it down. Every step. Every word."

His hand reaches out to grasp mine. "Consider it done."

I struggle not to yank it back. Instead, I squeeze gently, before slipping away. "Good." Taking a regulated breath, I switch gears. "Do you know why Doc was in Afghanistan?"

"No." Not able to contain my disbelief, he quickly continues. "I swear. I was shocked when Edward told me that we were with him."

The earnestness in his voice gives me some internal pause to believe him, at least on that point. "Any ideas why he was there?"

"None. Last I had heard he was in Africa."

"Doing what?"

He sighs. "I get that with everything you've learned, this will be hard to believe, but Doc's humanitarian causes aren't complete bullshit. From what I was told he was bringing medical care to remote and hostile locations there."

"How sweet." No matter how pretty the package, a psychopath is still a psychopath. Doc can promote his good guy persona all he wants. I see who he is now.

He expels another lowly breath. "I never said it erased what he did to you. I'm just telling you what I know."

Scooting forward, I stand up. "Yeah, well, I have little patience and understanding for the man who stole my life." I need a break, my façade now paper-thin. "I'm going to get you something to write with."

He stands too, trying not to grimace with the movement. "You'll come right back?"

"Yes."

He relaxes a bit. "Good." As soon as my hand touches the door handle, he stops me again. "When can I get out of here, Bella?"

Turning, I appraise the pitiful man before me. A shadow of the person I used to depend upon. "Let's see what you write down first and then we'll talk."

His eyes darken with disappointment. "That's fair."

"I'll be right back." Closing the door behind me, I lean against it, rubbing my hands over my face.

The reprieve I felt in Edward's arms has all but dissipated, exhaustion once again taking hold. Walking down the hallway, I find myself disappointed that Edward didn't come to meet me. Even a brief moment in his arms would help.

I never realized how grounding someone's presence could be until I met him. I can't help but smile thinking about our time earlier. I don't regret expressing my affection, the words flowing from my lips just as naturally as I have always gravitated towards him. Yet hearing them back was life-altering. For the first time, I don't feel isolated. I always had Tyler, so I wasn't alone, but that's not the same as feeling loved. That is what Edward brings to me.

A rumbling of voices catch my attention, the tone, and tenor increasing as I get closer. "I said she's busy," Edward roars. "You'll just have to wait."

Walking into the fray, I stop short, my breath abruptly stolen when I spot Charlie sitting on a chair surrounded by Edward, Jasper, and Emmett. Embry is leaning against the wall in the corner, his face stern, although I can tell that he's trying to blend into the scenery, intimidated by the man before him.

This is bad.

Drawing on all of my training and abilities, I casually enter the room as if his presence means nothing. "Charlie." I nod walking directly to the desk to grab a paper and pen. "A half of a day, huh? And here I thought you never left Langley anymore. You could have at least given me a clue that you were on this side of the world."

"Is being here a problem?" Like always, his firm and noncompromising voice feel familiar. Where others cower at his tone, I have always felt comforted by it. The sensation helped to make sense of a history I couldn't remember. Now, the familiarly that was once soothing is simply repulsive.

"Not in the least, I'm just wondering why." The fact that he was this close is concerning. Does that mean that Newton's not far behind?

"You were in trouble. As soon as I could find a reason to get closer to your last known location, I took it." He looks between the three men, before focusing back on me. "I came as soon as I could so that we could finish our conversation."

"Fantastic, but I am in the middle of something right now." It's true that I don't want to leave Tyler hanging. The longer I wait, the more he might start to re-think his helpfulness. Moreover, if walking out of this room again also helps to fuck with Charlie, all the better. "Just give me a few and then we can catch up."

"I came here because you asked me," he argues.

I smile brightly. "Appreciate it. But I think you have enough people to keep you company while I finish up. Right guys?"

Jasper flashes a smarmy smile. "Absolutely."

Emmett stalks around the chair, clenching his gun. "He's not going anywhere."

Catching Edward's eyes, I glance at Emmett hoping that he understands my silent message. Emmett is good but impulsive. Given his current state, they need to watch him closely. I don't need any reckless disruptions.

"We got this," Edward says, acknowledging my concern.

"Perfect." Walking away, I glance over my shoulder. "You understand, Charlie. The job always comes first. Isn't that what you taught me?"

"I taught you to—"

My feet carry me down the hall before he can finish the sentence. As soon as I'm out of sight, my body almost collapses the quaking hard to control. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Putting my hands against the wall, I will my body to relax.

I needed more time. I needed more leverage.

"Bella." Edward's hands warm my shoulders as his body leans into mine. "Are you okay?"

Turning, I look to him for strength. "I'm not ready."

"Yes, you are." His fingers lightly caress my cheek. "They know you can defeat them, that's why they're afraid of you. That's gives you an advantage."

"But it's different with him," I whisper. "Charlie has always held a power over me."

"That was before you knew the truth." When I try to argue, he leans his forehead against mine. "I have never met anyone with more strength than you. I've been in constant awe of your abilities since the moment I saw you in that room. You can do this, Mira."

Closing my eyes, images of Embry, Emmett, Leah, and Angela wash over me. I can't fix this if I crumble. Regardless of the origin of my training, it has served me well, and I need to rely on it now more than ever. "For them," I mutter gathering strength.

"Hey." Edward kisses my forehead. "Don't forget that you aren't alone, there is also a group of people in that room ready to fight for you. He can't hurt you, not anymore."

Standing on my toes, I reach up to kiss him. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We're in this together."

The quaking slows. "Together."

"Did you get anything helpful from Tyler?"

"Yes. In fact," I hold up the paper, "he's about to give me more."

"Let's hope it gives us the leverage we need." He glances behind him. "I turned off the speakers as soon as Charlie showed up, so I don't think he has a clue about what you're doing."

"That's good. Charlie will use everything he can to throw us off track." With logic kicking back into gear, I realize that the mere act of Edward coming after me will intrigue him. "Shit! He's going to be suspicious of you chasing after me."

Holding up a file, he smiles. "Oh he'll be suspicious, but not because of me. He's going to be dying to know what's in this file and why you need it."

My concern dissipates along with my previous doubt. All I needed was his faith. "You're amazing," I smile in return, slipping the file out of his hand.

"I love you, Mira." He brushes my hair back. "You got this."

"I got this."

Letting go, he slowly walks backward. "It's time to finish this. We have a getaway to plan." With a mischievous wink, he turns to leave.

Taking a concentrated breath, I center myself. "Let's finish this." Marching into Tyler's room, I shove the pen and paper at him. "I want it all."

"And you'll have it." He glances at the open door. "Let me out of here, Bella. I can't help you locked in this room."

"We've been through this, Tyler. You have to earn your way free. Write everything down and only then will we talk about your release."

"I guess I'll have to accept that," he glances behind me once again, "at least for now."

He'd be stupid to make a move given his physical state. He'd be on the ground before he finished blinking. Nevertheless, maybe he needs a reminder. "I'm giving you a chance because of our history. Don't take that for granted." I lean in. "I'm a survivor, Tyler. Don't forget that. Think twice about the side you want to land on."

He swallows. "With you, Bella. Always with you."

I point at the paper. "Then prove it. I'll be back for that soon." My hair swings as I turn away from him, refusing to glance back before slamming the door behind me. Finding myself in a moment of déjà vu, I lean against it.

"Hey, Marie! You going to talk to me too?" Laurent yells from his room.

"Shut the fuck up, Laurent. I don't have time for you right now." Pushing off the door, I head towards the muffled voices in the front room.

"You've healed well, Embry. I'm glad." Charlie's chair has turned in his direction.

Embry is shaking, his eyes fixed ahead. Edward is standing close to a tense Emmett, Charlie's focus on Embry no doubt pulling on his loosely held control.

"Don't address him," I snap, announcing my return. "You don't get to play a role in ordering his death and then pretend to care that he survived. We're past niceties, Charlie."

"I'm just catching up with my trainee, nothing more." His eyes continue to scan Embry, evaluating his injuries.

"I don't care. You can deal with me."

Charlie slowly spins a wide smile on his face. "Always the leader."

"You taught me well."

"Uh huh." He scans the others. "Quite the team you're building, using everyone's strengths to your advantage. Embry's computer skills, Emmett's loyalty," he pauses, looking between Jasper and Edward, "and two of the CIA's brightest stars. Too bad they're both AWOL right now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jasper bites back. "I had a family emergency."

"And I'm on an assignment," Edward adds.

Charlie laughs. "If only it were that simple. You missed your rendezvous point, Edward. And, Jasper," he looks him up and down, "as soon as your partner disappeared not too many people believed your story. It's a shame really. You both could have had a bright future in this business."

"Fuck you," Edward hisses. "The hypocrisy you spout is thick. You're the one who made sure I was assigned to this case in the first place."

He looks surprised. "Did I?"

"Knock it off, Charlie. We all know you did," I chide. I don't like the game he's playing.

"Are we really going to just stand here and take his bullshit," Emmett growls, pacing behind the chair.

"No," I respond. Charlie swings his attention back to me. "I'm not in the mood for diversions. Let's just get on with it."

"There's no diversion, Bella. I'm just assessing your team."

"We don't need your assessment," Edward retorts. "You're not in charge here. Remember that."

His narrowed sight hones in on a new target. "Don't threaten me, boy. This really doesn't concern you."

"It doesn't?" Edward taunts. "Then why the hell did you get me involved in the first place?"

Leaning back, he smirks. "Because I needed a scapegoat." I know he's lying, his intent to push buttons. I just can't figure out what purpose it serves.

Edward's body stiffens. "I'll say again, fuck you!"

Watching his outburst pleases Charlie. "Regardless of your loose tongue, at least I can be satisfied that you've performed well."

"I would have performed a lot better if you would have let me in on the actual mission," Edward pushes back. "And the reason you picked me in the first place."

Charlie's eyes blaze towards me, disappointed that I shared our conversation. I watch as his armor strengthens, his eyes darkening. "What's the matter, Agent Cullen? Family reunion not going well?"

"You son of a bitch!" Edward jumps forward, but Jasper quickly stops him.

"Enough," I yell. He's not going to talk with everyone around. He faltered on the phone. I need to get him there again, but I can't do that with an audience. "Everyone out. I need to talk to Charlie alone."

"Bella," Edward hisses. "I don't think that is a good idea."

"I said leave us!" The room stills. "That's not a request, Cullen." Charlie can't see how much I care about Edward, which means refusing to cater to his request.

"We should go," Emmett grouses, experienced enough to know not to challenge my order.

"I'm not—" Edward starts to argue.

Jasper pulls on his arm. "She's got this. Let's wait outside."

Edward stares me down, but when I don't relent, he follows the others to the door. "Fine. But I'll be right outside."

Charlie tilts his head with a smirk. "Maybe you should take this time to work out your issues with Daddy. Seems like a touchy subject for you."

Edward starts to turn, but Jasper yanks him back, pulling him out the door. I hold my tongue from defending him, reminding myself that Charlie is testing for reactions, looking for everyone's weakness. I refuse to let him know that Edward is mine.

Once they are gone, I pull a chair close to his and sit. "Well, that was quite the show." He silently holds my stare. "You want to play the waiting game, fine, but I thought we were past this."

"We're never really past anything in this line of work. You should know that." Assessing the room, he looks towards the ceiling and the lights, probably searching for cameras.

"It's safe."

His eyes drift towards the computers. "You sure?"

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. So, are you going to tell me why you gave Edward such a hard time after everything you told me on the phone?"

"Did you tell him everything?"

I lean forward. "You going to answer every question with a question?"

"A good deflection technique can do wonders." His lips curl as the mask falls. "It's good to see you, Bella." His eyes reflect an emotion that's hard to describe, almost benevolent.

In this moment, however, I can't seem to find it in myself to care. "I wish I could say the same."

Undeterred by my less than enthusiastic response, his smile widens. "Fire and ire. It's run through your veins since the moment you were born."

The alarming nature of the comment forces me back against the chair. "You say that like you have firsthand knowledge."

With no hesitation, he responds. "I do."

A shiver runs through my body as I struggle to grasp his ploy. "How is that possible?"

"Because I was there." For the first time that I can remember, his eyes fill with tears, it's unnerving. This is not the Charlie I know. "I've known you your whole life, Bella. You're my family."

"You're lying!" Jumping out of my chair, I push it away roughly. "What kind of game is this?"

He stands slowly. "It's no game."

Scanning his features, I search for signs that we are blood, but beyond both of us having brown hair and brown eyes, I don't see a resemblance. "In what sense, Assistant Deputy Director Dwyer?" I snarl, purposefully emphasizing our different names.

He steps forward, but I quickly back away. "Swan was your mother's married name."

My fists clench. "You knew my mother?" Everyone had a story except for me, like so much of my life, where I came from was simply blank.

His face darkens. "She was my sister."

It takes a moment for my brain to catch up. "If she's your sister, then I'm—"

"My niece."

He takes another step forward, and in return, I take another step back. "I don't believe you." I run through my limited memories. Never once did he treat me like family.

"Charlie's a hard man, but I always saw something in him when he talked about you."

Tyler's voice mocks. He and others have pointed out that I was his favorite, but that is different from him showing me warmth and compassion.

"You meant something to him. I think, at the end of the day, no matter what company evil he played a role in, you mattered more to him.

"No," I yell, trying to quiet the voices in my head as much as I'm wanting to stop Charlie's attempts to advance. "It's not true."

"I know this is difficult to comprehend, especially after everything you've gone through, but I swear to you that I'm telling you the truth." Recognizing my unease, he thankfully creates distance between us. "How about this? Why don't we take a blood test? I'm sure Carlisle can do it right now."

I laugh, scooting further away while my brain flips through every interaction and exchange, searching for proof of his claim. "You think I'd trust those results? I don't trust him either."

"I don't blame you." He smiles sadly. "Then I guess all I can do is ask that you go against everything you were taught, and just take my word for it." With an intensity unmatched, his eyes penetrate mine. "I wouldn't lie about this."

Struggling to find the truth in the lies, I realize that the only way to assess his claim is to follow him down this rabbit hole. "Fine, then where is she? Why haven't I ever met her?"

The question upsets him, a storm of emotions swirling over his face. "She died. A long time ago." I watch as he tries to shake free of the sentiment plaguing him. "It's the reason we're in this fucking mess in the first place."

Dead.

My heart splinters. Although I'm grappling with his tale, I couldn't help but spin an image of a world where I have a mother. It hurts to know that even within his story, I'm alone. Resentment seeps through the fractured holes left behind. Tired of my twisted reality, I strengthen my resolve to pursue the details of his tale no matter how unlikely they seem.

"Why would her death have anything to do with this?"

"It's hard to know where to start."

"The beginning is always good," I retort.

He nods slowly. "Renee, your mother, was my little sister, the bright light in our family." Sitting back down, he runs a hand through his hair. "I loved her."

"How big is your family?" I question trying to get the whole picture of my possible heritage.

"Just our parents, Renee, and myself."

"Are your parents still alive?"

He frowns. "No, they were killed in a car crash when I was in college. Renee was still in high school at the time."

It is not lost to me that his story is eerily familiar to the one he fed me about my "family" when I woke up. "What happened to you two after they died?"

"I was old enough to become Renee's guardian." His hand roughly rubs his neck. "It was my job to take care of her."

His body language is telling. "You feel responsible for her death," I hypothesize.

His body vibrates. "It was my job to take care of her," he reinforces. "I failed in that."

The vulnerability of his words is unsettling. Charlie never admits to failure. "What happened to her?"

He clears his throat. "I joined the CIA after college. You know from experience that once you do, personal time tends to disappear. Renee was in college by then. She seemed established, happy. I was wrong."

"How?"

He clears his throat again, leaning back in the chair. "His name was Phil. When we talked on the phone, she was head over heels about him, and he seemed like a standup guy. What I didn't know was that he was a controlling son of a bitch." He pauses, choking on his words. "I don't know when it started, but it was too late by the time I found out."

Dread trickles down my spine. "Found out what?"

A tear slips from his eye, the shocking act shaking my disbelief to its core. If this is a con, it is Oscar worthy. My mind wrestles with the likelihood that the horror story he's weaving is the truth I've been searching to find.

"I made a surprise visit to their house. They had been married for several years." He smiles at me through watery eyes. "You were three." He pauses, lost in a memory. "Anyway, she had a black eye with no good explanation. I knew right then that it had to be him."

My stomach twists. "He beat her?"

"Yes. I begged her to walk out the door with me, but she claimed it was just a mistake. That it was just a bad day. So I left, intending to get her out another way, but then—"

"Then," I push anxiously.

Another tear falls. "The call came in the middle of the night. The police received a disturbance report from a neighbor." He leans against his clenched hands. "She was already dead. He beat her to death."

"Jesus." My already fractured heart shatters. I don't even know what she looks like, and yet, somehow my mind recreates the gruesome scene based on his words alone. "What happened to Phil? Did they prosecute?"

"He never made it to trial. Pissed off the wrong person in jail, bled out in his cell with a shank in his gut. " The flare of fire in his eyes tells me that he had something to do with that. A part of me breathes a sigh of relief, regardless of the fact that this man might also be my father.

"And what about me?" The picture created now includes a little girl with dark hair. She looks like the girl in my recovered memory, only younger.

"You were asleep, thank God. Child services placed you into emergency foster care while placement options were explored." He pushes out of the chair and starts pacing. "Renee never made a will or identified a guardian." Stopping, he kneels down in front of me. "I was ready to take you. I wanted to take you, but…" he stalls.

"But," I press hoping that he shines a light on how this tragic story led to me becoming a part of a CIA spy program.

He stands, reestablishing his anxious pacing. "Every lawyer I talked to said I didn't stand a chance in hell of getting custody. A single CIA agent, who spent more time in the office than at home, especially since you were a traumatized toddler who'd seen God knows what in that house. They all said it was hopeless."

"Then why not quit?" I argue, unaffected by his proclaimed hardship.

He laughs bitterly. "That would have made more sense. But hubris is a funny thing, and back then I had a lot of it. I loved my job and was determined to find a way to have it all. Then I was asked to oversee a new training program, and it was like God himself offered me the perfect solution."

"I'm guessing this is the part of the story where you sold me to the devil." No sense wasting time as it is becoming clearer by the second that he is the reason behind my enrollment into the program.

He shakes his head. "It wasn't like that. I would have never gotten you involved if I thought this is where we would have ended up."

The sincerity reflected in his words does nothing to temper my rage. "Then what was it like?"

A proud smile breaks through the sadness. "I always knew that you were special. Crazy smart, self-reliant, and tough. It was exactly what they were looking for, and—"

"Hold on." His use of pronoun grates against my waning control. "Let's just put it all out on the table, Charlie. It wasn't 'they' it was Billy Black. He was the mastermind behind all of it, wasn't he?"

His eyes widen. "How do you know that?"

I laugh shaking my head. "Nice try. That's a different conversation. I'm just saying that if your intent is to tell me the truth, then tell me the fucking truth."

His fingers twitch, struggling not to react to my refusal to share information, but smart enough to know it won't do him any good. "Yes, Doc was the one who set up the program."

"Thank you," I sneer. "Now you can continue."

He stares for a moment before starting again. "As I was saying, I also saw this as a chance to make sure that the past didn't repeat itself."

The explanation baffles me. "In what way?"

The muscles in his neck tighten. "I'd be damned if you were going to become your mother. I wanted to make sure that you could take care of yourself."

His distorted explanation is unexpected. "You really expect me to believe that you saw the CIA as the only way to do that?"

"Your mother had one of the kindest hearts I'd ever known. She saw the good in everyone. And the only thing it got her was a death sentence." He pauses. "Even with all of your strength, I saw that same weakness in you. And it scared the crap out of me."

Oh my god.

"I don't like to kill people," I stress, purposely standing a bit taller with my arms crossed.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Charlie closes his eyes. "Okay, tell me again why it is so hard."

It was the trait he detested, the one he berated me about on more than one occasion. I hated disappointing him, but I could never get past my disgust at taking a life. Now, the intensity of his reaction suddenly makes sense.

"Weakness?" I ask confirming that I heard him correctly.

"Yes!" His hands flex, trying to calm his anger. "This world is full of predators and prey. I didn't just want to teach you ways to defend yourself. I wanted you to become the weapon. Then no one could touch you."

Horrified, I step back until my legs brush the back of the computer desk, my body shaking. "What am I supposed to say to that, Charlie?" He looks at me strangely. "Don't you hear how twisted that sounds?"

"I just wanted you safe," he stresses. "I couldn't lose you too."

"So you sent me into a field that puts my life at risk every day? How does that even make sense?"

He shrugs. "I believed in the CIA and I knew that this program would give you the means to protect yourself better than I could alone."

Through his warped justifications, a single word catches my attention. "Believed? You don't believe in the CIA anymore?"

"I told you, hubris is a funny thing. At the time, it seemed perfect, especially since you were so young. It felt like it would be forever before you would be ready for an assignment. I believed that I had time."

I'm struggling to follow, his story weaving in and out. "Time for what?"

"I told you that there was no way for me to get custody. I needed a solution and I needed one quick. I never really thought past that, to when they would activate you."

My mind works to understand his logic. "Wait, did you or did you not want me to become an agent?"

"I wanted you trained. As for becoming an agent, I thought you'd have a choice."

"Cause the CIA is known for letting its agents make a choice," I scoff.

"Experimental programs are different. You have no idea how many dissolve before anything becomes of them. As you developed though," he exhales, "man, were you magnificent. You took to the training more than I'd ever dreamed, and I could see you excelling as an agent."

"So much for having a choice," I grumble.

He shakes his head. "No matter how amazing I thought you were, I would have given you a choice. But as the years went by, the program became something else. Doc had a vision I didn't expect, and then you started to push back against his control." He stops, hauntingly chuckling to himself. "Which, I guess, is exactly what I wanted you to learn to do."

My whole life has been a series of calculated manipulation. "Let me see if I've got this straight. You wanted me close, and you wanted me trained. Then you realized the program was more than you bargained for," fury ignites in my veins, "but what I still don't understand is at what point did you decide that instead of getting me out, it was better to just erase my memory?"

"It's not that simple." He throws his hands out. "Doc was intent on keeping the project running. He was willing and had the ability to take out any loose ends. He was going to do anything it took to make it a success, his reputation depended upon it."

My head pounds trying to correlate the man in my memories to the man Charlie is describing. The two pictures are still difficult to align. "Who the hell is he exactly?"

"Back then he was the Deputy Director of the Special Activities Division, but he spent most of his time focused on the Special Operations Group. Given his education and background, the Director gave him a lot of leeway as long as his projects didn't bring any negative attention to the department."

"So he was given the freedom to ruin lives as long as it was kept quiet. That's fantastic."

"As with most things in the CIA, yes."

"Yup, noble business you got me into, Unc," I spit out sarcastically. "Doc wanted to tie up loose ends, so what? You're not exactly a wilting flower. I find it hard to believe that you would just cater to his demands, especially after your whole 'I wanted you to be a weapon' speech."

His eyes narrow. "Don't take my strategy to mean that I wouldn't fight for you, because I did, but I also knew that Doc wasn't going to let you go easily. You were his lone success."

"In what way?"

"The goal of the program was to create the perfect spy. You were the only one in the program who met that criterion. Everyone else excelled in some areas but failed miserably in others. Look at Embry, he's brilliant with the tech stuff, but can't fight to save his life."

Automatically, I move until I'm toe to toe with him. "You keep Embry out of your mouth. You have no right to speak ill about him or anyone else in that program."

He doesn't yield to my proximity. "I'm just speaking the truth. Isn't that what you asked me to do?"

Standing taller, I push against him. "There is a difference between truths and opinions."

Huffing, he steps back. "We'll have to disagree on that. Now, do you want the rest of the story or not? You're letting your emotions interfere with your goal, Agent Swan."

"Fuck you." I step back as well, hating that he's right. "Continue."

"Given that you were their star, they were willing to go to extremes to keep you. I tried to buy time to come up with a different plan, but Doc insisted on staying close to make sure you didn't get off track again. Then fucking Laurent found out about the program, and all hell broke loose."

"Is that when it went from relocation to getting rid of the evidence?" I snarl, names of dead classmates flashing in my mind.

"Yes. And I was doing everything in my power to get you clear, especially since it was Newton."

"Why especially him."

"Newton's a whole different breed. He's relentless." Following, an invisible line on the floor, he begins his pacing again. "As soon as you got word to the CIA where you needed a pick up, I scrambled to intervene."

"You made sure Edward was sent instead."

"Yes. I was hoping to give you an upper hand." He stops to look around. "And that's exactly what you've created." I look at him incredulously. "Seriously, think about it. You've built a formable team. Grabbed Laurent and found Carlisle. And I imagine that somewhere in those back rooms you have Laurent and Tyler stored away for your advantage. You've done everything I've hoped and more."

Ignoring his blatant attempt to get info on Tyler and Laurent's whereabouts, I push forward with my own desire. "You know what would have been more helpful, Charlie? Having my memory back, or better yet, not to have it taken in the first place."

"I never wanted that to happen." At least, he has the decency to look contrite. "I wasn't able to come up with a plan in time to prevent it. But, I've been doing everything I can to fix it."

I snort. "Seven years. That's quite the long-term fix it strategy."

"Yes, it is!" His nostrils flare his own frustration building. "The goal was and is to get you out and clear. I don't want you running for the rest of your life."

The fervor in his tone intrigues me. He has a plan. "And you think now is the time?"

"I think we have an opportunity if we play it right."

With my hands on my hips, I evaluate him closely. "I don't want to just be free. I want to tear it all down. I want redemption."

"I couldn't agree more. That's why I'm here." His face breaks into a crooked smile. "Wait, does this mean that you believe me?"

I chew on his multifaceted question. Do I believe him? Given his emotional reaction, it is probable that he is my uncle. As for the rest of his story, I don't know yet. I do believe, however, that he wants to get Doc, and given the stakes in this game, for now, I'm willing to use that to my own advantage.

"Yes."

Relieved, he walks over to place his hands on my shoulders. "I believe that we can finally take Doc and Newton down, but we need to do it together."

I pull out of his grasp. "I said that I believe you, but that doesn't mean I trust you." He's not going to take over this operation. I won't allow it. "How can I let you in, knowing what you did to Embry?"

He shakes his head. "I know you care about him. You always have, but this is about your survival, Bella."

"Then go to hell. I'll choose him over the person that tried to kill him any day."

"Jesus Christ, I didn't try to kill him! I have a lot of sins, Bella, but not that one. Doc ordered Newton to start killing, not me."

"But you didn't stop it."

He holds my stare. "No, because as much as I hated what they were doing, you were always my sole concern. Hate me if you want, but I did what I did because I love you, even if it meant sacrificing the others."

You rebelled and got the others to follow. The haunting words haven't stopped echoing in my ears since Tyler said them, and now Charlie's meager explanation just confirms the fears that drive it. "It is my fault."

His head tilts in confusion. "What's your fault?"

"Their deaths!" For days, the thought has weighed heavy on me, knowing that my choices lead us down this path. "They are all dead because of me. Because I rebelled. Because I'm your fucking niece. I cost them their lives."

"Oh, Bella." His arms reach out. "Their death is not on you."

Crossing my arms, I reject his attempt to console me. "How do you figure? I was the one who kept pushing back against Doc. How does this not land on me?"

Grabbing my shoulders once again, Charlie forces me to look at him. "Because you didn't ask for this either. You are just as innocent as they were. If the blame lies anywhere it lies with Doc and," his hands squeeze gently, "me. I want to try to close the box that I opened, Bella. Let me help you."

The regret radiating in his eyes appears sincere. Still, I hate what he did; I hate what he allowed; and most of all I hate him, blood relative or not.

"Please, let me help you," he repeats, tightening his grip. Beyond his armor and air of command, like Tyler, the influence of his desperation is clear.

In a moment of realization, some of the weight that has been strangling me lifts. He's right, the blame doesn't lie completely on me. Nonetheless, I still feel responsible to finish what they started, and as much as I hate to admit it, Charlie might be the man with the resources and intel to do it.

"Okay." His grin returns, but before he can celebrate, I yank myself out of his grasp. "But before we do anything else, I want my memories back."

The smile doesn't dissipate as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash drive. "I can help with that." Holding out his hand, he motions to the door. "I think it's time that I paid a visit to an old friend. Are you game?"

Carefully, my hand meets his. What kind of Alice would I be if I didn't jump down the hole completely? "Yes."

God help us all if this doesn't work.

Up next, a Carlisle and Charlie reunion. :)