A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 21 – Loyalties
Edward
As soon as I walk into the examination room, my eyes zoom in on Bella, and for one long moment, she's all I see in that room.
She's like a beacon in the midst of what's shaping up to be a fast-approaching storm; the sight of her, even the sight of the injuries she's sustained, they strengthen my resolve. They're timely reminders of what really matters here, and what matters isn't the gut-tightening pain of watching her turn her beautiful, battered face away from me a few heartbeats later. What matters isn't the knowledge that she'd rather stare at the windowless wall than spend one more second looking at me. What matters isn't the knowledge that she's lost all respect in me.
"Bella…how do you feel?"
It's an inane question, and as is often the case with stupid questions, it receives no reply. Instead, a hush falls over the room at my arrival. It's a room that mimics a hospital room from the white walls to the sparse, cheap furnishings, and to the top-of-the-line medical instruments. Alice is in a corner, seated at a small chair and desk area with her laptop shut in front of her. She glances at me and silently shakes her head, a wordless communication of where things stand. The doctor-on-call clears her throat and breaks the silence with an update.
"Agent Cullen, I was just going through instructions with Miss Swan and Agent Brandon on how to care for Miss Swan's injuries for the next few days…"
All the while, Bella reclines against a narrow bed, eyes turned away and fixed on the wall. She's no longer in her torn dress. Instead of a flimsy hospital gown, she's been given a baggy gray sweatsuit to wear, about two sizes too big for her. They're the kind we're provided at Quantico, minus the FBI logo. The sweatpants have been folded up to her shins, revealing her pristine bandages, and the sweatshirt's sleeves are pushed above her elbows, displaying yet more bandages on her forearms.
"I've given her some pain-killers, so she may be a bit…"
But it's her eyes that burn in my vision even though they're turned away from me. Her right eye swollen shut, that's what I saw in those handful of seconds, just as Emmett warned. Her other eye no longer sports the blue contacts, and the recrimination in her injured, taupe-gray gaze was as potent as it was in that alley earlier, her thoughts as plainly unambiguous if she'd spoken her accusations aloud.
'Liar! Everything was a lie!'
"The sutures should fall off on their own…"
The doctor's voice drones in the background, while Bella reaches down and pulls the white, hospital-grade blanket over herself – slowly as if the slightest movement is jarring. Her chest rises and falls with long, heavy breaths, and I struggle with my breathing and with the concurrent rage and urge to close the gap between us and envelop her in my arms. I could lie to her again, tell her she'll be safe within them, all while I take in the damage my plentiful mistakes have inflicted on the woman who has become…undeniably the center of my universe.
But I won't lie to her any longer. She's not safe, not yet, and my arms will play no part in her security. The memory of holding her…of having her hold onto me under James' stairs is still overwhelming, her heat more visceral than the recollection of fear of discovery and the desperation to get her out of that house. But the proof of that futility lays before me, her injuries a physical manifestation of my failure.
Just as she told me once, she doesn't need a fucking superhero, and Lord knows – as I do now – how ill-equipped I am to play that part. As Alice recently said, what Bella needs is an ally, someone to defend her rights, and that's what I'll be now even if it means pushing her further away, having her abhor me more than she already does. Because I'm not delusional enough to believe they'll be any turning back, any absolution once I force her to hand him over.
And I will force her. A choice between her respect or her safety is no choice at all.
I clear my throat.
"Isabella, would you mind if I ask Alice and the doctor to give us a few minutes to talk?"
When she makes no reply, I take that as her answer.
"Alice, Doctor, please excuse us for a few minutes."
Alice eyes me cautiously before casting her gaze toward Bella.
"Isabella," she says, her tone that of a friend, "I'll be right outside, okay?"
Bella provides no indication she's heard or cares.
Once Alice and the doctor vacate the room and shut the door behind them, I tread closer to Bella's bed, legs weighed down by more than exhaustion. But the closer I get to her, the headier becomes the scent of her life and her vitality and her sweat, all commingled and together, it's a potent mix and another reminder of what the real goal is now.
She doesn't twitch a muscle, not even when I'm standing right at her bedside, though I know she feels me – there's no possible way she can't. Despite her fury and my guilt, the heat between us, the one that sparks and flares whenever we're this close to one another, hasn't diminished one goddamn iota. In fact, despite everything, despite the obstacles that grow between us like insurmountable mountains, that heat only multiplies exponentially. No, there's no way in hell she doesn't feel it when I'm so consumed by it that I find I've raised a hand without even having planned it, stretched it out toward her, the tips of my fingers tingling mere centimeters from the long strands of her tangled, blond hair. Dropping the wayward hand back to my side, I dig those fingertips into my leg instead. Then, I draw in a deep breath and exhale it through narrowed lips, watching the expelled air dance like a summer breeze through her hair.
"First, I want to tell you…I need you to know that this wasn't how I wanted things to happen, Bel-Isabella."
Other than for her deep, long breaths, she shows no reaction to my words.
"I never meant for you to get hurt in any way. Never."
Nothing.
"Yes, Isabella, yes…" I rake a hand through my hair, "I lied to you. But it was only because for a long time, I had no idea who you were, how you fit, and once I figured it out, I meant to tell you the truth- Isabella, will you please turn around?"
Another wait leads to more silence and a sigh in frustration on my part because Haywood wants his statement. The U.S. Marshal's Office rep should be here in just under thirty-six hours. If they all fail as miserably as I'm currently failing, it's Bella who'll pay. Explanations and justifications have to take a far back seat to the priority.
Apology time is over.
"Let's move on. I'm not sure how much Alice has shared with you so far, so I'll give you a run down, and you can let me know if you have any questions. Agreed? Okay," I continue at her sustained silence. "What we know and can back up with evidence is that James, Kate, Alec, as well as three members of Horizon Pharmaceuticals" – I skip the part where two of them are dead now because that's irrelevant to this conversation – "have been experimenting with unresearched and unapproved drugs on patients in James' practice. Guinea pigs. Three of these patients died."
Pausing to provide her an opportunity for questions or comments, which I doubt will be forthcoming anyway, I take a moment to compose myself, at least outwardly, for the following part.
"What we know about your dad, Detective Charles Swan," – Bella gasps when she grasps where this one-sided conversation is now headed. I continue much more slowly and cautiously, "is that he was good friends with one of the victims, Harry Clearwater. What we believe is that after Harry's death, Charles somehow became aware of what was going on at the practice, and he instigated an unofficial investigation."
Bella remains so eerily still that even the rise and fall of her chest become challenging to detect.
"We further believe that James Penn was somehow responsible for the car accident that killed your parents, and supposedly killed you, five years ago."
"He…was."
They're the first words I've heard her speak since I entered the room; the first words I've heard her say since we fought in that alley. And although I can't see her mouth move, the serpentine sound those two words make as they're uttered, the way they twist her voice and coil around her chest makes one thing clear:
She's seething.
Her hands skim the sheets and bunch them inside her fists, and she twists them with such force that her entire body quivers. The breaths that had become undetectable now grow more pronounced and audible.
"Isabella, we need the whole story. We need you to fill in the missing pieces so that we can lock up James for the rest of his godforsaken life!" The words are spat forcefully, indignation on her behalf making me disregard any previous plans to maintain a stoic exterior. "I want to help you, but-"
Nevertheless, there's a dry, scoffing contempt in her tone when she interjects once again.
"Help me. What you want is information for your case, Agent Cullen."
I pinch my eyes shut.
"I want to help you," I reiterate, reopening my eyes, "but the only way I can do that is by knowing exactly what happened that night. Isabella…we…that is, the government has agreed to grant you immunity."
Slowly, begrudgingly, her head turns toward me, and I force my expression to remain even, fight the urge to cringe at not just her injuries, but at the scornful skepticism written all over her expression.
Still, she says nothing more, so I disclose the rest.
"But you need to provide a full account of what you know of the night of your parents' murder and of what you may know regarding the events which led up to that night. You need to agree to return the funds in all your off-shore accounts…" I swallow, "and you need to provide a full account of everyone else involved-"
The snort she emits, accompanied by a half-formed, sardonic smile as if I've just proved her distrust of me valid – once again – fucking spears me. Once again, she turns away from me.
"Go to hell, Agent Cullen."
"Bella, damn it, look at me."
Her head spins toward me so rapidly that the rest of the words die in my throat.
"Did you really come in here thinking that would work?" The derisive, mocking smile returns. "Let me guess what happened, Agent Cullen. You had just enough information to figure out where to find Jake," her nostrils flare, "but when your fellow agents went looking…they found nothing."
When I offer her a sharp nod, she grins smugly and snorts again.
"And so you figured you'd come in here and gather more information with your charm and your generous offer," she sneers, "more than what you've already gathered with your lies."
"I-"
"Do I look like a double-crossing, backstabbing, traitorous snake?" she enunciates the words slowly and pointedly.
"Bella-"
"I've already asked you not to call me 'Bella,' Agent Cullen. Now, please leave."
When she threatens to turn away again, I take a seat on the bed, lean into her, and force myself into her line of vision. She pushes her head deep into her pillow.
"Get the hell away from me," she snarls.
"Listen to me. Listen to me!" For a few moments, neither one of us says anything while our proximity makes our chests heave wildly against one another. "Isabella," I say once I've caught my breath, "they will find Jacob, whether you give him up or not. But if you tell us where he is, I swear I'll have them treat him fairly," – she chuckles acerbically – "and my director has promised to place you into the witness protection program, where neither James nor anyone associated with him will ever find you-"
"Get out."
"Isabella, it's only a matter of time 'til they find him, and without this, they'll prosecute you, regardless of why you did what you did, and you'll have no protection from-"
"Do you think I went into this expecting you or anyone to provide me with protection?"
"Whether you expected it or not, it's what I'm here to do, and Jesus, I know I haven't given you any reason to believe me, but all I want is to keep you safe."
She scowls at my avowal, shaking her head. "I've told you before, I don't need fucking heroes. Now, I said, get out."
"Damn it, Isabella," my voice shakes, "a representative from the U.S. Marshal's office will be here in just over twenty-four hours to take your statement, and if you don't give them what they want…"
She glares at me wordlessly, but the flames burning in her gaze provide her answer plainly: she'll never give him up, no matter what, and I've betrayed her once more.
When two raps resound against the door, I get to my feet before the doctor walks in.
"Agent Cullen, I need to finish up with Miss Swan."
Still locked in Bella's unwavering gaze, I nod and blinking a handful of times, force my eyes to break the connection.
"If you change your mind-"
"If I were you, Agent Cullen, I wouldn't hold my breath."
With a defeated sigh, I walk tiredly toward the door, then turn and take Bella in over my shoulder.
"Get some rest, okay?"
She pinches her uninjured eye shut and swallows hard, but makes no other reply.
OOOOO
Alice, Jasper, and Emmett are waiting outside of Bella's examination room, all three with anxious expressions.
"Well?" Alice asks.
Filling my lungs, I expel the air in one long gust.
"She won't give him up."
Jasper throws up his hands while Emmett sucks his teeth and mutters an oath under his breath. Alice doesn't appear at all surprised.
"She's barely spoken since we arrived, but there was one question she asked."
"Which was?" I ask although I'm pretty sure I know it.
"She asked if I knew whether Jacob had been found."
"And what did you tell her, Alice?" Jasper enquires.
"I told her the truth as it was at that moment," Alice shrugs. "I told her I didn't know."
"Agent Brandon…Alice," Jasper sighs as if it pains him to reproach her, "why did you confirm for her at all that we were attempting to apprehend Jacob Black?"
"She's not stupid, Jasper. She knew Edward knew about Jacob."
"So naturally, she deduced we'd look for him as well," Emmett says. "Damn, the woman isn't just a bad-ass, she's smart as hell as well."
"She must've spoken with him within the past forty-eight hours, alerted him to the argument she and I had back at my apartment, and…God," I breathe, raking a hand through my hair.
"And they likely had a contingency plan in place," Jasper finishes.
Dropping my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose.
"What the hell do I do now? I can't…I can't just let her…"
Unfortunately, no one has an answer.
"She's loyal to him," Alice says after a couple of minutes of silence. At first, her words merely serve to send a selfish yet unavoidable spear of jealousy slicing through me, which magnifies the hole I'm in because I can't overpower her loyalties.
But then…I look up sharply.
"Wait a minute, if she'd gotten away earlier when we were all chasing her…where would she have gone? What would've been her safe house? With Jacob gone, who would've been left to help her?"
We all look at one another.
"William Black," Alice answers, "her mother's godfather – and Jacob's father."
"William Black was approached at his home in Miami the moment his son didn't turn up," Jasper says. "I'm told he's denied knowledge of everything, and with no concrete evidence linking him to anything, we can't bring him in. Besides, he's…a well-connected individual in Miami, and not someone you poke too hard unless-"
"Unless you have the right instruments with which to poke him."
"Such as?" Alice asks.
I scrub my jaw hard with the back of my hand, lost in thought…in instinctive realizations. With a sharp nod, I share my conclusions.
"He knows where his son is."
"He probably does," Jasper agrees after a few heartbeats, offering me a mirthless grin. "However, getting him to share that information would be a completely different story."
"And even if he does share," Emmett adds, "do you really think bringing Jacob Black in by force will get you anywhere with Isabella at this point?"
"She'll shut down all the more if she believes Jacob Black is in danger," Alice agrees.
"Unless…that carte blanche, Whitlock," I say, quirking a brow, "how much protection does it actually provide?"
I watch as understanding dawns across his expression. "There's only one way to find out, Cullen, and as I've mentioned, the clock is ticking on it."
"McCarty, are you up for a one-day trip?"
"To where, Miami?" Emmett grins.
Alice inspects her watch. "Jesus, Edward, the USM rep will be here in a little over twenty-four hours. And what are you going to do? I'm sure Black and his people all know by now that Bella's in custody. If you show up there as an FBI agent when I'm also sure they all know you as one of the doctors in James' group…"
"Billy Black and his people don't play games, Edward," Jasper warns.
"I'm counting on all of that," I nod decisively. "Let's go, Em. We don't have time to lose."
A/N: Thoughts?
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