A/N: Well, this chapter took longer than I expected. I couldn't figure out how best to do the big phone conversation. The wonderful Hev99, my UK consultant, offered to lend a hand and apparently just the threat of fanfiction royalty looking at such shoddy work scared my muse into shape. ;-)

Definitions for this chapter: Münchausen syndrome by proxy "is a mental illness in which a person acts as if an individual he or she is caring for has a physical or mental illness when the person is not really sick. The adult perpetrator has MSP and directly produces or lies about illness in another person under his or her care, usually a child under 6 years of age." (from the Cleveland Clinic). "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is a famous poem by TS Eliot, which is very strange and I adore it. Amber Alerts, for non-US readers, are a nationwide alert system triggered when a child is abducted.

All standard disclaimers apply.

As Children After Play

"I don't like this idea," Edward said, watching as Bella chewed nervously on her lower lip. "This wasn't what I meant at all."

"Maybe not," Jasper said, "but it's a good idea, nonetheless."

Edward merely scowled. Bella was his mate, the love of his life, and he hated the thought of doing anything that would cause her pain, emotional or physical. His original idea had been to call Heidi with a story that Bella had contacted them, but that she was only willing to give up her location and return to Forks if she could stay with the Cullens and her case be processed with all due haste. In Edward's plan, Bella was kept at a safe distance from everyone involved, including the social worker. The family would act as a buffer between her and the rest of the world, shielding her from the emotional pain of having to ask for something that ought to be hers by right—freedom, and peace.

Upon hearing Edward's idea, though, Jasper had hatched one of his own. And to Edward's horror, Bella agreed.

"If it's not me on the phone, it doesn't sound as urgent," Bella said softly, taking his hand in both her warm ones. Edward felt a tremor in his unbeating heart as he looked at her slender fingers, just a shade warmer than his own, and squeezed back gently. Bella and Jasper had a point, though he hated to admit it. He just didn't understand why it had to be taken to the extreme that they wanted.

"If Bella has to talk to the social worker, fine," he said, knowing that his argument would get him nowhere but unable to stop trying nonetheless. "But why do you have to push her into a meltdown on the phone? That's not fair, Jasper. It's not right."

"It needs to be believable," Jasper said simply. "Humans understand and respond to emotion, Edward. If we want Heidi to really get the point and try her best, what we need to do is sell the idea that, for Bella's emotional health, this is the only option."

"I still don't like it," Edward muttered, sitting on the displaced couch in the hall.

"This is for Bella," Esme said, entering the conversation swiftly. "You can help soothe her any way you please once the phone call is over. It will only be a few minutes."

That didn't really make it any better, but Edward knew it was useless at this point to argue with them, especially since it seemed Bella wanted this. He looked at his human girl, her brown eyes big and worried as she watched him and gnawed on her swollen lower lip.

"Will you sit with me, Edward?" she asked, voice small and unsure. "If you need to leave, I understand, but I don't want to do this without you."

"I''m never leaving you again," he said firmly, and he let her crawl onto his lap, nestling against the cold bulk of him.

"Good," she murmured, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder. "I'm doing this for us, you know. For the chance to be finally free."

"I know, sweetheart," Edward said, holding the warm sweetness of her in his arms. "I know, and I won't stop you. I'm done trying to control you. I just hate knowing you're going to be upset."

"If you hold me, I'll be okay." She nuzzled him softly.

"Of course. Whatever you need."

She exhaled slowly, the tension in her body visibly waning as Edward held her. "Can we get this done now?" she asked. "What time is it in Forks?"

"They're eight hours behind," Jasper said, glancing at his phone. "It'll be about one in the afternoon there."

Bella nodded slowly. "I want to use my old phone," she said. "She won't be able to tell where I'm calling from, right? If I use a cell?"

"Not unless she had a reason to track you, which she doesn't," Edward soothed.

Bella took a deep breath. Her eyes were large and nervous as she turned them to Jasper. "Now?" she said. "Can we do it now?"

"Whenever you want," he said, smiling softly at her. "Don't worry, little sister. I won't give you more than you can handle."

They chose to settle in Alice's art studio, simply because Alice had put a giant beanbag chair in the room—a piece of furniture that was utterly incongruous in the old house—and Bella wanted to curl up with Edward on it. She held her old phone in her hand, the one still attached to her mother's account, and Edward didn't have to use his sharp vampire sight to know she was trembling. He could feel the nervous shaking against his body as they settled on the beanbag, and he struggled to keep his hands to himself for the moment. After the phone call he could soothe Bella all he liked, but she needed to be emotionally raw when she spoke to Heidi. She wanted him in the room with her, but she agreed with Jasper that she needed to be as raw and real as possible during the call.

"Are you ready, Bella?" Jasper asked, watching her sympathetically.

She nodded, but her face was pale. "I'm ready," she said softly.

"Once you start talking to her, I'm going to push your emotions," he warned. "It won't be pleasant; you realize this, right?"

She nodded.

"Once the phone call is over, I'll do everything I can to alleviate any hurt you may be feeling. Edward will be here for you, too. But you need to tell me now if you think you can't handle it. It's important that you're honest about what you can handle."

"I can do it," Bella said softly. She had to. There was no other option. She had to convince Heidi that her court case needed to be moved up as much as possible. If she couldn't do that, they would be forced to make a decision between two equally bad choices.

A sudden tapping sound of heels heralded Esme's arrival, and she hurried into the room at slightly faster than human speed. "Relax, sweetheart," she said encouragingly. "Everything will be all right."

"I know," Bella said, breathing slowly even as she felt her heart rate begin to climb. "I'll be okay." She flipped open her phone, took the scrap of paper Esme handed her with Heidi's number on it, and haltingly dialed the numbers.

Three rings. Then four.

The holidays were a hard time to be a caseworker with the state. Heidi pondered the difficulties of her job as she stopped at a red light, staring into the bleak, overcast skies of western Washington. She was just south of Sequim right now, and she had a screaming five-year-old in the back seat, a child advocate next to him, trying to calm him down.

The little boy, yet another of her cases, would not be placated. Heidi hated the fact that the order to remove the child had to be served on the day before Christmas Eve. It was always so much more heart-wrenching to sever a family so close to the holidays, no matter how bad the environment was for the child in question. In this instance, an unusually bad case of Münchausen syndrome by proxy had surfaced in the mother, making it absolutely unsafe to leave the little boy in her care. There were no close relatives willing to take the child and refuse the mother visiting rights, so the state was forced to send Heidi to place him in emergency foster care.

"Jamie," Heidi said, glancing in her rearview mirror at the hysterical boy in the booster seat, "I'm sorry, buddy. You know I'm your friend, right? I've come to see you at your home and in the hospital before. Doctor Knotts will explain it to you when you see him next, but it's not safe for you to stay with your mommy right now. My job is to keep you safe, just like a police officer. You're so important to me, Jamie."

But the little boy was inconsolable. "I w-want my mommy-y-y!" he screeched, turning the final vowel into a high-pitched, keening plea. Heidi exchanged a sympathetic glance with the child advocate. Marla's job was to make sure the child's interests were put first in all interactions with state employees and doctors; she was the oversight, the backup meant to keep children from falling through the cracks in an underfunded and imperfect system. Normally, they got along quite well.

This was a difficult case, however. Münchausen syndrome by proxy was impossible to explain to a five-year-old. He had absolutely no idea that his near-constant illnesses had actually been caused by his mother. Explaining things like that wasn't Heidi's job—that was for the counselors and psychiatrists to attempt. His confusion didn't make her task of removing the boy any easier, though.

"You bitch!" the irate father had screamed when Heidi, Marla, and several police officers showed up to remove his son from the home. "You cocksucking whore! It's Christmas, for fuck's sake!"

Heidi was used to being sworn at, called names, and threatened with violence. She didn't care one bit about how the adults saw her. What still hurt—absolutely gutted her—was when the children cried and begged to be returned to their homes. But what was she supposed to do? She believed in her work. If she didn't remove this child from his mother's care, eventually she was going to kill him.

And it was always worse during the holidays.

Thankfully, she had several days off surrounding the holiday, and then a weekend. She'd have time to replenish her stores of energy and patience, to look over her case files and hopefully find new ways to approach the multiple children in her caseload.

Vaguely, her mind began to wander as she drove toward Jamie's temporary foster home in Bremerton. The little girl who compulsively chewed her own hair since being removed from a fundamentalist home was doing much better, but her sister was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after witnessing their older sister's lingering death. Then there was the disturbed teenage boy who thought he wanted to be in a gang and kept trying to stir up trouble in his upper-class neighborhood in Olympia. Eventually he was going to pick a fight with someone who wasn't understanding, and he'd be in a world of hurt.

And, of course, there was Bella.

Isabella Swan was never very far from Heidi's mind, though it had been months since anyone in Washington last saw her. The best they could do was plaster her face on the news and hope someone stepped forward. So far no one had. The state patrol was doing their best at building a case against Bella's father, the police chief, but they had stopped short of issuing an Amber Alert for the girl. Their reasoning was that there was no evidence Bella had been abducted; she was most likely a runaway, and teenage runaways were a dime a dozen. Heidi understood their reasoning to a point, but she could not call up Bella's pretty, scared face in her mind and believe the girl was an average runaway. Yes, she'd probably left of her own free will. But really, what else could anyone expect a sensitive, frightened girl to do in Bella's situation? She was terrified for her life, and she had absolutely no way of knowing that Heidi would do anything to help her. Heidi had to admit that she had failed the girl when they first met, and she was desperate not to do so again. But Bella didn't know that.

The fact that the Cullens kept in touch and professed their fervent wish to bring Bella home with them only made Heidi that much more determined to find her. She had a loving home with people who wanted her, and that really was the deciding factor that could make or break just about any young life. If Bella's prospects for returning to Forks were merely to shuffle back into her father's guardianship, Heidi almost—almost—would have wished the girl stayed gone. The problem was, there were definitely worse places in the world for a young girl to end up than with a violent father, as much as Heidi hated to admit it. If she could only know that Isabella was safe, that would be something.

"Daddy will beat you up," Jamie informed them solemnly from the back of the car. His little face was wet with tears and snot, his little baby eyes narrowed viciously as he glared at Heidi through the mirror. "Daddy said never to go with anyone but family or the police."

"The police were at your house," Heidi reminded him. She was used to the raw emotions of children of all ages and she did not take offense at the little boy's threat. Children who lived in dysfunctional homes learned dysfunctional behaviors, and they were remarkable mimics of the things their parents said and did. "They took you, and they gave you to me. You did nothing wrong, Jamie."

"Daddy beat up Joey's daddy," the boy continued, almost conversationally. "There was blood everywhere. His nose swelled up like a cartoon and it got all purple."

"It's not nice to talk about hitting people, Jamie," Marla said as they approached the city of Bremerton, which would be Jamie's new home until the mess with his mother was sorted out. The couple they had selected were used to children coming to them at all hours of the day and night, most with no possessions. They were used to fury, or hysterics, or raw grief, or the shut-down quiet that always made Heidi worry the most for a distraught child. Hopefully they would be able to settle this boy down in time for him to have at least a semblance of Christmas.

"Fuck you," he said, very clearly.

And really, Heidi couldn't blame him.

The child advocate led a very unwilling little boy to the door as Heidi gathered the paperwork for the foster parents to sign. It was raining again—always raining, it seemed—and Jamie had no jacket, but he didn't seem to notice as he slunk dejectedly into the strange house at Marla's urging. Heidi shared a glance with his new foster father, a quiet and religious man she'd come to know well during her years with the state of Washington.

"Poor soul," he said, ushering Heidi inside. He knew the drill backwards and forwards by now, and it only took a few minutes to complete the necessary forms and hand over the tracking sheets they would use to log Jamie's time with them—his sleeping and eating habits, his moods, any outbursts, and anything else the state might want to know. "Thank you for bringing him, Ms. Fischer."

"Thank you," Heidi replied. She turned to Jamie, who was staring sullenly at the living room where two other foster children were staring right back at him. "Jamie? Marla and I have to go now."

He did not answer, and when she touched his shoulder he pulled away. It was disheartening, but Heidi tried to tell herself she was used to it. He was hurting, and the presence of the people who had taken him away from everything he knew wasn't wanted right now. She understood.

Returning to the car, Heidi breathed a long sigh of relief.

"I can drive for a while," Marla offered, and Heidi gladly handed over the keys. They had a good hour's drive ahead of them, and it would be dark before they reached Olympia.

But even as she slouched in the passenger's seat, rummaging in her big purse for the apple she'd tossed in there this morning, Heidi couldn't seem to keep her caseload from her mind. So many kids in need of help, hurting in so many different ways. Poor Isabella Swan had perhaps the worst story of them all, and yet the state felt she was not a high priority because she was so old. Children aged out of the system precisely on their eighteenth birthdays. Bella was seventeen now. To the state's mind, why waste resources on a girl who had less than a year to go before she was legally an adult? Overworked psychologists claimed that the damage was already done by seventeen. She was a lost cause. Better to reach the younger kids who still had a chance at a semblance of normalcy. To a certain point, Heidi understood. But she could not remember the soft sound of Isabella's stuttered words and make herself believe the girl was beyond help. Those big brown eyes called to her—she could see Bella as she had been in the hospital after giving birth, exhausted and frightened. At the time Heidi had thought the fear came from shame about her pregnancy, but now she could think back on the vivid memory and see it for what it truly was. Those eyes were begging her to understand—to help. To see Charles Swan for the monster he was.

And Heidi had failed.

Well, she wouldn't fail again. Not this girl. Not a second time.

The buzz of her phone in her pocket alerted Heidi to a call, and she forced her mind back into the present. The sky was darkly grey, rain pouring steadily on the car as they rolled along with the holiday traffic, headed south to Olympia. Marla drove competently in the state-owned car, and Heidi slowly dug for her phone. Was it another case? Another child she might potentially have to remove from its home?

The call was from an unknown number with an out-of-state area code. Heidi wondered idly if it was perhaps a client visiting family for the holidays.

But when she answered the phone, she did not expect the voice on the other end of the line.

At first there was silence, the static of a weak cell signal, and the soft sound of breathing.

"Hello?" Heidi prompted. "This is Heidi Fischer with Washington State Child Protective Services."

The breath caught, almost as if the person on the other end was afraid.

"Hello?" Heidi asked again, not sure whether to be worried or annoyed. "Are you there? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," someone finally said. The voice was incredibly soft, halting and hesitant. "I can hear you." Even through the cellular connection and the static-y crackle, Heidi knew it.

"Bella," she gasped. "Bella Swan, is that you?" Her heart leaped into her throat. After months of no leads, was the girl finally giving in and contacting her?

"Yes," the small voice said. It sounded so fragile, so close to breaking. "It's me."

"Bella, honey, you have no idea how worried we've been about you!" Heidi exclaimed.

A wet sniffle was her answer. "No," Bella said softly. "My dad isn't worried about me."

"Bella," Heidi soothed. She was a little unused to talking so gently to a child so old. Usually the teenagers were sullen and angry, their emotions too tumultuous to trust her and let her in. Bella was in some ways very young for her age, and in others extremely old. It made finding the right way of talking to her rather difficult. Heidi tried to project as much warmth and reassurance as she possibly could, hoping Bella wouldn't take it as patronizing. "Bella, Bella, I'm not talking about your father. No, honey. I mean the Cullens. I've been in contact with them quite frequently, and they're so worried about you."

A muffled choking, sobbing sound interrupted Bella's attempt to answer. She was silent for several moments as if pulling herself together before saying quietly, "No, they're not."

"Yes, they are, Bella. They're frantic. Honey, where are you? Please, Bella, tell me where you are. Are you safe? Are you hurt?"

"They have M-Mason," Bella said, the frightened stutter returning to her voice. It was a sound Heidi remembered well from Bella's trip to Olympia to see her. "They don't w-want me."

"They want you," Heidi said, willing the girl to believe it. If she didn't, there was absolutely no impetus for her to return home. "Bella, please. Where are you?"

"I'm okay," Bella said, though her words were not terribly convincing.

"I can't help you if you won't let me," Heidi pleaded. "That's not helpful, Bella."

"I don't want to tell you."

"Why, honey? Please, if you go to the police no matter where you are, they can get you back to me."

"No," Bella said, and it was perhaps the most forceful thing Heidi had ever heard from her. It wasn't loud or angry, but it was certainly firm. The girl sounded like she had absolutely no intention of returning to Washington.

"But why?"

Softer now—tremulous again, as if her words were made of thinnest spider's silk and the gentlest touch might snap them. "You'll make me go back to him."

"Oh, honey." Heidi felt her eyes begin to smart and she blinked forcefully. She never cried over her cases. What was it about this one teenage girl that made her feel for her so deeply? "No, Bella. I know he hurts you. Doctor Cullen showed me the tape he made of you, and the photos. I know. I understand why you felt you had to leave, and I'm not angry with you. I'm so proud of you for deciding to call. But you misunderstand me—I'm not sending you back to Chief Swan."

"He's the law," Bella nearly whispered. "What can you possibly do?"

"He's the law in Forks," Heidi corrected. "I work for the state. In that tug-of-war, the state will always win. I promise, Bella. Come back and I'll see to it you go straight to the Cullens. Not your father."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Heidi desperately hoped that Bella was considering her words. The girl needed to come back where she was safe and cared for. No matter how old the state felt she was, she wasn't anywhere near ready to take care of herself yet, especially as a runaway with no money.

Unfortunately, when the answer came, it wasn't the one Heidi wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry," Bella murmured. "I can't."

"Why can't you, Bella?" Heidi pressed, trying to keep her voice gentle. She desperately did not want to spook the girl into hanging up. "I gave my word, and I never go back on a promise."

"I just can't," Bella said. She was crying now; Heidi could hear the wet, heartbreaking sound even though Bella was trying hard to hide it.

"Tell me why. Tell me what the problem is, honey, and we can figure it out."

"I just can't," Bella repeated. Her breath caught in her throat, thick and raspy with tears. "They won't ever do anything to him; he's the chief of police. I'll have to live every moment afraid. I can't—you can't make me do it. He'll get me because he'll never go to trial, and you can't protect me. The Cullens can't protect me. No one can..."

"Oh, Bella. Bella." Heidi tried to find words to reassure the girl, but the truth was that her fears were quite realistic considering her situation. They had two huge hurdles to face—a family court hearing that would determine whether Bella stayed in her father's custody, and a criminal trial accusing him of child abuse. Heidi herself was more confident about the outcome of the first than the second. Proving parental incompetency was not the same as proving criminal intent. Removing Bella from her father's care would be the easy part. Putting Chief Swan in jail so he could not come after her or the Cullens in retribution would be much, much harder.

And really, Bella had every right to be afraid. A preliminary hearing to decide whether there was enough evidence to charge Charlie with a crime had already been postponed twice. Heidi could only imagine the kind of hell Bella's life would be, looking over her shoulder constantly, terrified to leave the Cullens' house or sight lest her father was waiting to exact his revenge. Sadly, Bella was right. Heidi could not expect her to come back to Washington without some sort of real reassurance that she was safe from her father.

"You can't make those kinds of promises," Bella whispered. At first Heidi felt uncomfortably like the girl was reading her mind, but then realized that she was just addressing Heidi's lack of an answer for her fears. "You know it as well as I do."

Yes. Unfortunately, Heidi did know. But that didn't mean she was willing to give up.

"Bella, let me make a few phone calls," she said. "You're old enough to understand that I can't work miracles, but let me see what I can do. You've got people on your side now, people willing to fight for you." She paused. "If I call you back at this number, will you answer?" Payphones were fast disappearing, but they weren't all gone. There was no telling where Bella was calling from.

"Yes," Bella said, though her quiet voice did not sound hopeful. "I won't ignore you, but you can't help me."

"Don't count me out just yet, honey. Let me see what I can do."

Bella was inconsolable for hours after the phone call with Heidi. She latched onto Edward, holding him with all the strength in her fragile human body, and refused to let go. For his part, Edward did not for one moment ask her to. He let her huddle on his lap on the beanbag chair, stroking her hair and back softly, handing her tissues from the box at his side every once in a while. She cried openly—Bella, who tried so hard most of the time to hide her tears. Edward's heart broke as he watched and listened to her pain, her frustration and sorrow equally intense.

Jasper promised in words too soft and swift for Bella to hear that he had barely pressed her emotions—most of Bella's pain was all hers and not induced. He also assured Edward, who could likewise feel it, that he was doing his best to soothe their human family member now, as he had promised. But Jasper could only do so much, and Bella's pain was intense. Jasper kept her from an all-out panic attack, but that was about all he could do.

Edward cradled her in his arms, finally rising and taking her to the library, the room she loved best in this big house. He hoped the ambiance would soothe her as it had many times before. Rosalie wordlessly followed him and kindled a fire in the grate, her eyes sad but not accusing, and she left after kissing Bella softly on the crown of her head.

"It's okay now," Edward murmured, knowing his words would do little good. "You're safe, Bella. Lovely, sweet, brave girl. You're fine."

"I don't want to see him," Bella said, her words garbled with tears. "I don't want to see him ever again!"

"I know you don't. I know." Edward wished with his whole heart that he could tell her she didn't have to see her father again for the rest of her life. If she begged, he suspected he'd give in and take her away where they couldn't be found. But running from the problem hadn't worked the first time, and he doubted it would work now. Bella needed to go back and face her father across a courtroom, to point to him and tell a jury exactly what the bastard had done to her. Only then would she be free of his influence, the fear hanging over her like a funeral pall. Under the circumstances, he couldn't quite bear to promise her she'd never have to see him again.

"Edward," she pleaded.

"What, baby?" he asked. "Whatever you want, it's yours. You're in charge now—you know that."

But she did not elaborate, instead tucking her head further under his chin as if trying to dig her way inside his skin. His sharp collarbone couldn't possibly be comfortable for her to lean on, but Edward refrained from trying to move her. No force in heaven or on earth could compel him to upset her right now.

Eventually, distraught by her continued tears, Edward began to talk. He kept his voice pitched low, just loud enough for her human ears to hear the soft, velvet words he murmured to her—only her. He told her everything in his heart—that she was his world, his light in the darkness. That he would give her anything she wanted, for real this time. Nobody would ever force her to do anything—never again. He spoke of his feelings, wishing he had the mouth of a poet rather than a musician. He knew he could make her understand better with a piano composition, but that just wasn't an option right now. His words were clumsy, stumbling from his mouth with little order, but he felt them to the depths of his soul—a soul he hadn't believed he retained until this fragile human girl shook it to its core.

He recited poetry—sonnets from Shakespeare, the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. "Do I dare/Disturb the universe?—I know the voices dying with a dying fall/Beneath the music from a farther room." Bella's tears did not dry, but there was a listening sort of silence from her and he hoped she found his voice soothing. Finally, finally she drifted into a light sleep, her breaths slowing, her eyes slipping closed. Edward knew that violently emotional reactions were not good for the child growing within her, but he couldn't possibly be mad at her. Not after what she'd gone through.

"I told you this was a bad idea," he mumbled, just loud enough for the others to hear.

"It had to be done," Jasper replied, his mind-voice full of remorse that Bella had become so upset. "Heidi has a chance to follow through now. Let's wait and see what she does. She said she would call Bella back, and I believe her when she says she doesn't go back on her word."

Edward bit back a sigh, gazing at the girl sleeping fitfully in his arms. She was everything to him—without her, his world went dark. He hated having to put her future in the hands of someone else. But what else could he possibly do? The law was the law. He could only hope the Heidi was able to find some way out of their predicament.

Charlie Swan stared dully at the screen in front of him, barely acknowledging the flashing colors of the game. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and it was shaping up to be the first Christmas he'd spent without Bella—ever. She always came to visit him for the holidays, her mother sending her on a plane from Phoenix, her suitcase full of shorts and t-shirts as if Renee hadn't lived for years on the Olympic peninsula. Charlie remembered when she was young, having to pick her up from an airline employee whose job it was to wait with unaccompanied minors. It was absolutely pointless. Isabella knew better than to misbehave, even when she was little. She knew the consequences for causing trouble.

Except, it seemed that all he'd taught her had gone out the window the moment she met those Cullens. They'd somehow convinced his daughter to run away—he knew they had. Bella wouldn't do that shit on her own. She wasn't that stupid. They'd obviously tricked her into it, and Bella was gullible enough to believe them. Whatever it was they'd promised her, he hoped they hadn't delivered. Serve her right for deserting him, and attempting to get the courts interested in him. Well, it wouldn't work. He was the fucking chief of police. Nobody would ever believe he would abuse his daughter. He'd simply tell them most of the truth—that Isabella did not care for his brand of discipline and, like most teenagers, she had a mind of her own. She was incapable of following rules and accepting punishments, and so she had run away.

Charlie only wished that he could tell the whole truth—that he'd restrained Bella in such a way that the bitch couldn't possibly have left the house on her own. Then everyone would know who was really at fault here—the Cullens. Whether they were all in cahoots or it was just that no-good boy, the pretty one he'd found in her room, Charlie neither knew nor cared. The important fact was that someone had come into his house and taken something that belonged to him. Bella was his—his! Not theirs. He owned her. Without him, she was nothing. Less than the dirt he tracked onto the carpet every night. He'd sent Renee part of his hard-earned paycheck every month, paying state-ordered child support for the girl, hadn't he? Didn't he deserve a return on that investment? A few months of his house being clean and his meals prepared wasn't nearly enough to pay back everything Isabella had cost him.

Though she'd been gone now for months, Charlie still believed she would return. One of two things would happen. Either the police would find her and haul her back home, or she'd come crawling back on her own once she realized that life was hard and she couldn't deal with it on her own. She was weak—weaker than Renee, even—and couldn't possibly hope to succeed in the world as an adult on her own.

But she's not alone, part of his mind insisted. It was the uncomfortable voice that came to him from time to time, the one he always managed to drown out with enough booze. Charlie took a swig from the bottle at his side, his mind wandering without his permission to the night he'd caught the Cullen boy in Isabella's room. It was the only time she'd ever tried to stand up to him, to tell him to stop. The boy had obviously caused her bad behavior—that wasn't surprising. Bella was as gullible as they came. What was surprising to Charlie was the strange light in her dark eyes when she looked at the pretty boy. She looked...almost pretty, and that was certainly never something he'd ever expected of his mousy, uncoordinated daughter.

Renee had never looked at him that way. No woman ever had.

The old phone on the wall in the kitchen rang, and Charlie cursed as he groaned to his feet, stumbling toward the incessant sound. Usually he'd just as soon let it ring, but since Bella left he'd had to play the concerned father for the local media and various law enforcement teams searching the country for her. It was not wise to leave the phone unanswered under those circumstances.

Grumbling all the while, he finally reached the phone. Swaying a little unsteadily on his feet, he lifted the receiver. "Yeah?" he said, hoping he didn't sound too slurred. Fuck, it was only seven in the evening. He shouldn't have to worry about that for another couple of hours at least.

"Chief, glad you're home."

Charlie made a face and wished he hadn't picked up the phone. It was Garrett Garcia, the lawyer on retainer with Forks Police Department. He took care of any and all legal matters for the department, and he was good at his job. He'd been more or less representing Charlie since that nosy social worker started poking around after Isabella's disappearance. Garcia wasn't a bad guy, but Charlie had no wish to deal with the bitch from the state and the lawyer seemed to think that was a bad idea.

"No news from my Bella," Charlie said, leaning against the wall. Garcia had never once asked him if he abused his daughter. He seemed happy to work on the assumption that the charges were false, no matter how much he disliked Charlie's way of handling them. "This will be the first Christmas I have to spend without her."

"Sorry, Charlie, but we've got bigger problems."

"Like what?" Charlie asked, narrowing his eyes as he stared into the filthy kitchen, dishes overflowing on the counters and in the sink, old pizza boxes and takeout containers littering the floor and spilling out of the trash can. God damn it, Bella was supposed to deal with things like this!

"Like a new court date."

Charlie made a dismissive sound. "They've postponed the preliminary hearing twice now. I'm sure they'll do it again."

"Not for that." Garcia paused, sounding a little uncomfortable. "This is a family court date, Chief."

"I don't understand."

The lawyer tried to explain. Charlie hated the slightly patronizing ring in his tone, but the man was working for him for free, so what was he supposed to do? He didn't have the money to pay a real lawyer. "The preliminary hearing is for your criminal trial. That's the kind of court you see on TV, the kind you've testified in. Family court is different. This isn't about criminal charges. It's to determine whether the state has reason to terminate your parental rights. Everyone will sit together at a table in a private room—you, the judge, the social worker—and you'll—"

Charlie stopped listening. Rage churned like the alcohol in his stomach, exhaled like fumes through his nose. Now, on top of trying to press criminal charges, they were trying to take Isabella away from him, too? To terminate his rights to the girl? Oh, no. No. That was not going to happen. She belonged to him, goddamn it, and no bleeding-heart judge or fucking social worker was going to mess with that!

"They can't take my daughter from me!" he snapped into the phone, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be playing the role of the distraught father. All he could repeat in his mind was that Isabella was his. She belonged to him. He owned her. And the state wanted to take her away, legally? Make it so Charlie couldn't see her, couldn't tell her what to do, couldn't discipline her and mold her into a proper young woman? Oh, no. That was absolutely unacceptable.

"Look, Chief, I know this is upsetting, but haven't you been receiving letters in the mail about this? You had to know it was going to happen at some point. It's just that they've set a date now." The lawyer sounded a little unsure, and Charlie immediately tried to pull his usual facade over his fury. So sue him that he'd been pitching every letter from the state into the trash without opening it. He didn't want to hear anything they had to say.

"I just...why now?" he lamented, controlling the anger in his voice. "It's Christmas! And isn't it a moot point anyway? Isabella is missing. Wouldn't it make more sense to not even bother having a trial or whatever-you-call-it until she comes back?"

"Well, in a way," Garcia hedged, "but the social worker's real set on getting this done right away. As soon as possible. Since she found a family court judge that's amenable, we only have a short time to prepare. The courts are closed between Christmas and New Year's, but your family court date is January second. That means we've got a little over a week to build a compelling case as to why your daughter should remain in your custody."

"I shouldn't have to fight for the right to my own flesh and blood," Charlie whined.

"Sorry, Chief." The lawyer sounded distinctly uncomfortable. "Look, when's a good time to meet and go over our strategy?"

"I don't care," Charlie said morosely. "There's no reason to have Christmas without Bells here."

"I have a family, too," Garcia said. "Does the twenty-sixth work for you?"

"Sure," Charlie said blankly. He had absolutely no idea what they could possibly do or say to make anyone believe Bella was better off in his care—nor should he have to. She belonged to him. Whatever he chose to do with her behind closed doors was nobody else's goddamn business.

And, Charlie vowed, when he saw that girl again, she was going to pay dearly for the hell she was currently putting him through.

"Bella. Bella, honey."

Esme smiled, her beautiful amber eyes sparkling as she stroked the sleeping girl's pale cheek. Edward watched, his brow furrowed in concern, as his mother gently woke her.

"Esme?" Bella blinked sleepily, narrowing her eyes at the light of the fire. "What—?"

"Heidi just called Carlisle," Esme said, her voice full of barely-contained excitement. "You need to be awake because she'll probably try to call you soon. Oh, honey—you did it!"

"What did I do?" Bella asked hesitantly, sitting up on her air mattress and rubbing at her squinted eyes. Her voice was still bleary and full of sleep.

"You got through to her," Esme said, cupping Bella's cheeks in her hands and kissing her forehead. "Baby, I'm so proud of you! I know it wasn't easy, but you did it. We have a family court date in just over a week. Bella, they're going to terminate your father's custody. You'll be ours, honey—ours for good."

Bella's dark eyes widened, and she stared first at Esme, then Edward, as if willing them to confirm the news, confirm that this wasn't just a dream. "I'd ask you to pinch me," she murmured, "but I don't think you would."

"Absolutely not," Edward growled.

Bella threw her arms around Esme's shoulders, gripping her tightly. "Esme," she said, her voice swollen with the tears she was sick of crying. "Mom."

"Yes, honey," Esme confirmed, holding her close. "We're one step closer to that goal. I'll be your mom, and you'll never have to worry about Charlie again."

Right. Just one step closer. There were many more to go, but at least now, for the first time in a long time, the goal actually felt like it was within reach.

Freedom.

A/N: For those who haven't seen, I've posted a couple chapters of a new Bella/Edward hurt/comfort fic! It's called Wisp, and can be found under my profile. I'm super excited about it, though ACAP is still my first priority right now. I can't come this far and abandon it now! Mwah! Loves you, duckies!