A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
So sorry for the long delay. Between RL, this crazy world we live in now, and the long-awaited release of Midnight Sun (What did we all think of it? I have lots of thoughts, lol), time has been scarce. But here we go. :)
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.
Chapter 26 - Interrogation
EPOV
"Before we begin, Isabella, would you like something to drink?"
"No, thanks."
"Are you hungry? Would you like something to-"
"No, thanks."
"Do you need to use the restroom?"
"No."
"Is there anything you need or anything we can provide to make you more comfortable?"
"Agent Brandon, you sound like the concierge at a hotel desk." A sardonic grin curves around the corners of Bella's bruised mouth as she leans across the table toward Alice and lowers her voice as if she's sharing a secret, even though she knows well that every sound she makes is being picked up by the mike next to her. "Except you and I…and your partner behind that mirror there know that were this a hotel, I would've gotten away at least twenty-four hours ago."
In return, Alice snorts and offers Bella a smile.
"After seeing you in action, I won't attempt to refute that."
Despite everything, I can't help smiling too as Bella leans back against her uncomfortable wooden chair once more because God, the woman is dauntless.
"Where is Jake? Will he be here while we do this?"
The smile I'm sporting withers, and I'm unable to suppress a sharp breath and involuntary tightening of my jaw. He has a girlfriend; they're expecting a baby. Yet, Bella still asks for Jake. What's more, she specifically requested that Alice be the one to take her statement, while I'm relegated to the control room and watching through the one-way window.
When I exhale through my nostrils, the mist that ensues obstructs my view of Bella. Regardless of my resentment, that's unacceptable, so with the heel of my palm, I briskly wipe away the gray fog shrouding her from my eyes and refocus.
Meanwhile, seated across from Bella in the interrogation room, Alice maintains steady eye contact with her. Her tone is neutral and professional, yet it contains an undeniable hint of underlying warmth when she replies.
"No, Bella. Jake won't be here for this. We're only taking your statement this morning. Agent McCarty has taken Jake to be formally processed, and then Jake will be awaiting his attorney before we formally question him on the events that transpired. But he has his signed guarantee of immunity, so I promise you, you don't have to worry about that," Alice adds when Bella opens her mouth, apparently clearly discerning what Bella's next question was going to be. "Now, the assistant D.A. here this morning will be acting on both your behalf and that of the government's, since we're on the same side."
Bella quirks an eyebrow. "Is that what we are? Then, why is this necessary?"
She wiggles the fingers on her right hand, with wires velcroed to the tips. Through the one-way window, I groan and momentarily squeeze my eyes shut, guilty and ashamed at the sight even though it wasn't my call. Alice, however, takes in the same scene through a serene, patient gaze. Her posture is neither stiff nor laid-back. She radiates a composed sort of restraint, as if, even though we're up against time here, she'll bow down to no pressures, rush neither Bella nor the process. She is the epitome of calm and in control…and thereby, most likely, the best choice to perform this interrogation after all.
The WitSec Rep, an older individual by the name of Embry Call, sits to the left of Alice. He's practically splayed across his chair, observing Bella through flat, empty eyes, as if he's seen this, done this, participated in this process too many times to be fazed one way or another. The Assistant D.A. assigned to the case, a woman in about her early to mid-thirties, by the name of Cora Cope, sits to Bella's right. In sharp contrast to both Alice's control and Mr. Call's lethargy, Counselor Cope vibrates in her seat as she waits for Bella's testimony to begin.
Nonetheless, Alice proceeds steadily. "Isabella, the polygraph is for your protection as well as that of the government's. No one will be able to refute that you believe what you're about to state, and no one will be able to say your statement was coerced. All right, now, at the risk of sounding like a hotel receptionist once more," she smiles, "I'll reiterate that if at any point during our talk, you have any questions or you need anything, you shouldn't hesitate to ask."
Even though I'm not in the room, through the one-way window, I catch Bella's unsteady series of successive breaths. Her chest stutters as if, for all her put-on bravado, somewhere deep inside, in a part of her soul shared with only a limited few, she does know how to feel fear. My heart clenches painfully at the possibility. I don't want her to feel fear.
"Don't worry, Edward. She'll be fine. I have no reservations that Alice will be both fair and considerate with the interrogation."
As Jasper speaks, his gaze remains fixed on his portion of the window. Though I know we're both focused on two different individuals within that room, I get the feeling that his eyes, like mine, are observing the scene with what's likely the interest of both a federal agent and a man hoping that the object of his interest emerges unscathed.
"Are you ready, Isabella?"
With a deep breath first, Bella nods.
"Okay, let's begin." With deliberately measured steps meant to mark the delineation from preparation to actual interrogation, Alice reaches over to the video monitor and hits the power button.
"Interview and statement of testimony from Miss Isabella Marie Swan, held at FBI Headquarters, New York City, in the presence of the U.S. Marshal's Office Representative on Witness Protection, Agent Embry Call, Assistant District Attorney assigned to New York County, Miss Cora Cope, and myself, Agent Alice Brandon of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, on the morning of…"
OOOOO
After some instruction and basics, Bella recalls a camping trip.
It was one they took yearly to the Everglades, though this particular year's trip was in the first days of May, a bit earlier than customary for them. Bella didn't question it – she was seventeen. As she describes a cooler evening breeze mixed in with the humidity she was accustomed to, a smile forms on her lips. Despite the imperfection of the smile caused by her injuries, it's the purest smile I've ever seen on her, startling in its beauty.
But the smile is fleeting. It dissipates, and her expression quickly morphs into a blank slate. Her voice also forfeits any emotion and adjusts into a monotone as she describes the conversation she overheard between her parents when they thought she was sleeping. It was a conversation fraught with confusion; she barely understood it without the context she has…we have now – her father taking on a one-person operation to delve into the suspicious death of a friend, while her mother feared what her husband's covert actions would mean for her small family.
Alice takes notes on her laptop, somehow barely taking her eyes off of Bella as she does so. She's intently focused yet compassionate, gently drawing details, while Marshal Call and Counselor Cope question Bella with much less sympathy.
In the control room, Jasper and I listen through the mike and watch through the window.
Bella moves on to the next day, the falling rain as her father navigated their car on the narrow roads running parallel to the river and out of the Everglades, heading toward Miami. She narrates the seemingly benign conversation that ensued in the car, where Charlie floated the idea of Bella and her Mom remaining in Miami – with Billy – for a few weeks, and the bewilderment Bella felt at the suggest-
The door to the control room opens and momentarily pulls me away from the vivid scene being painted. When Rosalie walks in, freshly changed while the rest of us still sport the same dirty, wrinkled, and in my case, bloody clothing we've been wearing for over forty-eight hours, I glare at Jasper accusingly.
"What the-?"
Jasper lifts a hand in defense. "With all the new developments, Haywood wants all hands on deck. All reprimands will wait."
"Un-fucking-believable," I hiss, shaking my head, while Rose lifts her chin high and wordlessly takes a seat alone at the table. Her eyes evade mine and move to the window. "After all the shit she did wrong that-"
"Let it go for now, Cullen," Jasper says. "We don't have the luxury of time."
Nostrils flaring, I turn my back to Rosalie and refocus.
Rosalie is rapidly forgotten when Bella describes the first time the black car rammed them from behind, the mayhem that ensued when her father looked through the rearview and identified the car's driver as James.
"Did he say James' name as a question or as fact?" Alice carefully asks.
"As fact. I know…I knew my father. We were very close, and I knew the difference. There was no doubt in his voice."
"Got it. That's a positive ID," Jasper mumbles while taking notes on his electronic pad.
"Did you see his face, Isabella?" Alice asks.
"No. Not then. I wouldn't have recognized him anyway. I'd never seen him before, and I'd only heard my father mention his name once – the night before. But I did see his face later, though he wore a-"
"We'll get to that, Isabella. Let's go in order here and return to the events in the car, please," Counselor Cope instructs impatiently. Bella starts at her tone, and I fight the urge to storm into that room, wrap my hand around the counselor's throat, and tell her to grow a fucking heart.
Instead, my heart drums painfully when Bella describes Charlie Swan's desperate struggle with the steering wheel, his fight to keep the car from plunging into the river as James banged into them over and over, her mother's terror-stricken screams at the fact that Bella was in the car, at her fear not for herself, but for Bella. As Bella describes her mother's sobbed prayers, and a smile shared between Bella and her dad, my own mouth moves around a useless, one-word plea:
"No. No. No."
It's ridiculous when I know from the police reports how this part of the story ends.
Bella's features remain chillingly stoic, her voice inflectionless when she confirms the final hit, the front tires slipping off the road, the car she was in meeting marsh grass and cold, murky water before she lost consciousness.
As she plows forward with her statement, the corners of my eyes sting, my mind nonsensically reeling with a series of terrifying what-ifs.
What if she'd never regained consciousness underwater?
What if she'd been unable to release her seatbelt?
What if her legs weren't as strong as they are, and she hadn't been able to kick the door open through the heavy water, a space just wide enough for her to swim through?
A shudder rolls through me, and I have to momentarily shut my eyes to stave away the disconcerting and almost overwhelming panic.
What if…what if at the horrific realization that her parents were dead, she'd given up?
But she didn't give up. She got out. She's here, telling her story even if it's not to me. She's alive, even if she abhors me.
Yet, at the same time, concurrent with the lull of relief, my blood boils.
James did all this to her. Somewhere in the back of my mind, as I listen to this horror story, I have no idea how I'm supposed to play the rest of my part now, how I'm supposed to face him without beating him to death with bare hands.
All the while, Bella stares straight ahead, her eyes not on Alice but on the wall behind her. The polygraph has remained steady, and this, together with her lack of reaction as she details the night, worries me more than anything so far. She's too detached. It's as if she's left her body, and the only outward sign that she may still be in there somewhere is the minuscule tightening of her fists, almost imperceptible as the moments wear on. My palms rest flat on the glass now, wishing I could reach out and take her hands and release those tight, sharp-knuckled fists.
Abruptly, she turns her head, and her eyes momentarily flicker to the glass she knows is a one-way window. In that split second, it's as if she's looking right at me. Then, she turns and glares at the wall again.
She was out of the water and catching her breath over the wet and muddy earth when she heard voices and sat up straight.
"Kate, one of them got out!"
It takes me a puzzled, half-second to understand where that name even came from. When I do, my heart stutters to a painful, thudding standstill. With forced control, my head swivels and meets Jasper's rounded, shocked eyes.
"Did she…" I breathe, not trusting my own hearing, "did she say…Kate?"
He doesn't reply, but we both know she said it. Yet, Bella doesn't pause to give us a second to absorb it.
She saw something glint in the darkness across the water, and then a sharp, swooshing sound exploded in the tree behind her. When she looked up, there were two across the river – a man and a woman.
Blood pounds between my ears. A sharp heat begins at my scalp and radiates like an impending explosion throughout my entire body.
Kate.
"Rosalie," I hiss without turning away from Bella, "get on the phone with Haywood and tell him," – I try to regulate my shaking voice before continuing – "tell him we need two first-degree murder indictments for Kate Nixon, for the deaths of Charles and Renee Swan, as well as an attempted murder indictment for the attempted murder of Isabella Swan."
"I'm on it," Rose replies, and in the next moment, I hear her murmuring fiercely with Haywood's administrative assistant. "Get him on the phone now."
Whitlock pulls out his cell, his eyes wide as he takes the call from the Assistant D.A. who's inside the room with Bella and has scurried off to a corner.
"Yes. Yes, I know. One of my agents is on the phone with the Director. We'll have to inform her lawyer…"
All the voices sound distant, distorted as if I'm somewhere in that same murky water Bella once escaped from. The difference is, I deserve it. My hands curl into fists against the one-way window, rage tunneling my vision, turning it scarlet. Yet, all my rage is directed at myself. In my periphery, I sense Jasper's gaze, and I know he senses the riot in my head.
I…I fucked Kate.
Jesus.
I slept with the woman who killed Bella's parents…and who attempted to kill Bella herself.
Thick bile rises in my throat, threatening to cut off my air supply, and I welcome it. Waves of revulsion, shame, and guilt threaten to knock me over, and I give myself over to them. My knees go weak, and I've got to rest my forehead and my flattened palms on the cold glass before I pass out. I'd welcome passing out as well if it wasn't for the fact that all this is my penance – and it's nothing to what I deserve.
"Edward. Edward, you didn't know," Jasper whispers, because he knows what I've done. I never said it out loud, but he read between the lines.
"Not now, Jasper," I say through clenched teeth. "Not now."
For now, I'll push down those parts of the story that have confirmed what Bella already knows – that I'm the lowest form of scum alive. As if she didn't have enough reasons to hate me, to distrust me, there's no way around this one. I slept with the woman who assisted in the murder of her parents and who assisted in the attempt on her own life.
But Bella isn't done with her statement, and all I can do now is focus so that I can make sure that all those motherfuckers will pay with their lives – even if I'm barely better than them.
Bella ran and hid behind trees, in the darkness, blending with the forest sounds and creatures. She saw them. James wore a ski mask, but Kate, in all her goddamned, typical arrogance, removed hers because it made it hard for her to breathe.
"Then, how can you be sure it was James? If it was dark, and if the man was wearing a mask, how can you be sure it was him?"
Despite the compassion in Alice's tone and the fact that it's a valid question, I'm struck by a momentary flash of anger toward her. How fucking dare she question Bella's facts after everything she's been through? However, as usual, Bella doesn't need me nor my hypocritical indignation and fury to work on her behalf. She answers without hesitation.
"Because even though he was wearing a mask, I saw his hair…and his eyes, and I recognize them as the same hair and eyes of the man I know now as James. And because they spoke to one another, and I heard them clearly in the relative silence of the Everglades. Kate said, 'She's got to be here somewhere, James. We'll put an end to everything if she gets away.' And he said, 'Relax, Kate. We'll find her. She's just a scared kid. She won't get far.'"
Everyone, including Counselor Cope and U.S. Marshal Rep Call, fall silent, processing so much unexpected information even as the clock ticks. The arraignment is in less than an hour.
"It's a strange thing to say, though, isn't it?" U.S. Marshal Rep Call says. "'We'll put an end to everything if she gets away?'" he repeats.
Frenziedly taking notes on a legal pad, Counselor Cope replies without looking up. "Obviously, Kate meant that they'd be forced to put an end to their human drug trial experimentations if Isabella got away."
Alice nods, but a line mars the space between her brows.
Nonetheless, Bella continues.
They spotted her behind the tree, so she took off in a sprint, knowing they were giving chase, hunting her.
When the polygraph swings sharply, Alice's eyes flicker to the erratically jumping lines. Counselor Cope looks up from her pad. Rep Call looks at the lines impassively.
"It's not too much - likely nerves causing it," Alice says.
"It's likely fear," Cope says.
"She may be lying," Call says.
"I'm not lying," Bella hisses. The polygraph evens out, proving she's not lying.
But…she may be omitting. However, one outlier doesn't equal a failed polygraph, so she resumes without further interruption.
James and Kate cornered her by the cliffs overlooking the river, with the moonless sky bathing the Everglades in monotone grays and blacks, hiding her face from them, but not shrouding her enough.
'There's nowhere left to go, kiddo,' James called out to her. 'I want you to know, kiddo, I don't want to do this. I wish your dad wouldn't have…' he trailed off. 'But I'll make this as quick and painless as possible. I promise.'
Here in the present, Bella is no longer expressionless. Her breathing is labored, chest heaving wildly. Her hands grip the chair rails on either side of her as if she's holding on for her life. She's pale, her beautiful caramel color leached from her face. I've only seen her this way once before – on the roof when Rosalie cornered her.
"Damn it, she needs a break," I say. For the first time since this process began, I risk Bella's ire at the reminder of my presence and speak into the mike. "Agent Brandon, Isabella needs a break."
Alice nods. "Isabella, do you want to take a quick break?"
Counselor Cope snaps. "We don't have time for a break! The court arraignment is in less than an hour, and we still have to collect the indictments for-"
I slam down the mike button. "She needs a break NOW!"
Alice shoots Bella an anxious look. "Before we move on, Isabella, are you sure you don't want a-"
"No break!" U.S. Marshal Rep Embry Call yells.
"Goddamnit!" I shout, spinning around and preparing to stalk in there to-
"Edward, wait!" Jasper calls out.
"I don't need a break," Bella says. "I'm okay. I don't need a break."
"She said she doesn't need a break, Edward," Jasper says, "and we're almost done." Then, he drops his voice to a quiet yet emphatic whisper and rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "She got away, Cullen. She's here, not in the Everglades."
Drawing in a deep breath, I turn back to the one-way window, not entirely convinced this shit-show should continue before she's allowed a break, but I'm outvoted. I feel Jasper's eyes still on me, wary, and I know Rosalie's eyes are on me as well. But unlike them, I sense that, though Jasper is correct, and we are indeed almost done, and though Bella did get away…the worst of this interview is yet to come. Part of what happened next is obvious – Bella jumped off that cliff. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that much.
But there's more…there's something else, something that's making Bella shake visibly now, and that's what petrifies me because Bella is dauntless when it comes to jumping, to flying, to soaring – she's proved it over and over again and again. There's no way she's trembling at the memory of that cliff jump. There's no chance that's what's making her entire frame quake violently. When she once more turns her dark eyes toward what's a mirror on her side and somehow holds my gaze…I hold my breath.
"When I jumped off the cliff…he shot me." She looks away.
Her words reverberate through every space in my head, shoving out everything else – every fact, every detail I've ever known. I hear them; I understand them. But if I allow myself to feel them, I'll never be able to finish this case the way I'm supposed to.
I will annihilate James the moment I walk into that courtroom.
"Who shot you, Isabella?" Alice breathes. "You have to be clear for the record."
Bella squeezes her eyes shut, shudders, then reopens them. "James Penn shot me when I jumped off the cliff."
"Jesus, God," I choke. "I'm going to fucking murder him."
"You can't, Edward," Rosalie says, "or you'll be no better than he is, and you'll be the one to rot in jail."
I ignore her.
Alice swallows thickly, and her eyes flicker to Bella's thigh before returning to Bella's face. It's obvious now what she was hiding from me before, two nights ago, when I walked into the examination room right after Bella's medical examination. She must've seen it then, guessed somehow at what it was. Now, she has to ask for the record.
"Where did James shoot you, Isabella?"
After a moment's pause, Bella pulls down the left side of her sweatpants, revealing her hip and her upper thigh. There's a tattoo on her caramel skin, words spelled in a circular pattern. Jasper, Rose, and I tilt our heads sideways, and Alice reaches for the camera.
"Isabella, would you mind if I focused in?"
"No. I don't mind."
Alice adjusts the camera's lens to zoom in on the circular words – two words in script:
"Para Siempre," Jasper reads aloud.
"Forever," I translate. "It's…for her parents."
"It's for my parents," Bella says simultaneously, unaware she's proven my conjecture correct. "To honor them."
But, with the camera zoomed in, it's easy to see that, underneath the blank-ink tribute, the tattoo camouflages something – a scar.
A shocked silence ensues, while Bella's trembling refuses to abate.
"Alice, end this," I murmur to myself. "Please."
"Isabella," Alice says softly. "I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, but I need to ask for the record. In addition to this statement, would you be able and willing to give sworn witness, before a jury, that on the night in question, Doctors James Penn and Kate Nixon purposely ran you and your parents, Charles and Renee Swan, off the road and into the river in the Everglades, killing both of them and attempting to kill you?"
"Yes." Bella nods vehemently, her voice strangled. "Yes, I would."
"And would you truthfully testify that it was Doctors James Penn and Kate Nixon who chased you through the Everglades on that same night when you emerged from the sunken car in the river?"
"Y-y-yes," Bella answers.
"Damn it, Alice, that's enough," I hiss.
"They're almost done, Edward," Jasper says, "but Alice needs to confirm this. You know she does."
"Isabella, was it Doctor James Penn who shot you and again attempted to kill you?"
"Yes," Bella says, shaking so hard that her fingertips tap noisily against the wood table. "It was."
"They've got to stop," I say.
"I know it's hard to watch, but-"
"It's not just hard to watch, Jasper! She's falling apart, and Bella never falls apart!" I grip my hair in both hands, groaning and trying with all my might not to interrupt the interrogation.
"I think we can stop here," Alice finally says.
"No! Miss Swan, after the incident, did you see Doctor Penn or Doctor Nixon again?" the WitSec rep asks, displaying no emotion nor sympathy for either what Bella's going through now or what she went through then.
Bella shakes her head, her lips the color of chalk. "N-no. N-n-not…not until I saw Kate in Hawaii, a couple of years later, and…and then a few…a few…months ago, when I…I became a student in James' Med Ethics class-"
Counselor Cope consults her watch.
"You know what? This is as much as we need for the arraignment. We'll continue with the rest later, with how Mr. Black fits into the picture and the jewel thefts and money-laundering, but for now, Isabella, you've done beautifully." She looks at Bella with an excited smile, which fades when she finally appears to notice the shape her client is in. "Miss Swan, you can take a break now, while I appear in court for Doctor Penn and Doctor Nixon's arraignments. I'll be back in about an hour or so to get the rest from you, okay?" With a quick pat to her hand, the Counselor stands. "You can take her off the polygraph now."
With that, she walks to the door, and I fly out of the control room.
"Edward, wait!"
"Agent Cullen," Counselor Cope grins when she meets me out in the hallway, "This was even better than we could've ever- Agent Cullen?"
Ignoring her, I continue into the interrogation room.
"Edward!" Whitlock calls out. "Edward, you have to get to court!"
Bella is still seated on the hard chair, her head in her hands while Alice kneels next to her and strokes her back.
"Breathe, Isabella. Breathe. You're not there anymore. You're-"
"Bella!"
Alice turns startled eyes toward me, but without waiting for her reprimand or waiting to gauge Bella's reaction, I cross the room and slip my hands under Bella's arms. When I pull her off the chair, Alice moves aside as I kneel on the floor and gather Bella onto my lap.
For a few moments, her entire frame shakes violently. Her palms push against my chest weakly.
"Stop. Stop…"
"Bella, please…" I plead. "Please."
Slowly…hesitantly at first but then with more strength…Bella's palms skim upward, and her arms around my neck. Then, she turns and wraps herself completely around me.
"Anthony…" she exhales.
The incorrect name breaks my heart; because I know she knows it's the wrong name, but she can't make herself call me by my correct name. It's yet another reminder of all the ways I've wronged her. But for now, I ignore it.
"Shh." I stroke her hair, run my hands through the tangled, blond strands. "Shh. It'll be okay, Bella. I swear to you. It'll be okay."
Her body still quivers.
"It'll be okay. He can't hurt you anymore. Neither one of them can. Bella, I know I'm not your hero, but I won't allow it. I swear I won't allow it ever again."
She fists her hands around the back of my shirt, close to my nape, while her legs tighten around my waist. I reinforce my hold on her while at the same time being as careful as possible with all her injuries. All the while, I'm vaguely aware that we've got an audience, but I ignore them too. I ignore everything and everyone except the woman melting against my arms.
Gradually…little by little…her shaking subsides. She begins to calm and relax. Her steadying breaths warm the nape of my neck; her heart beats against mine, and the way its rhythm begins to slow calms me right along with her.
I draw in a deep breath. "You'll be okay. You'll be okay. Just let it out," I murmur gently, wanting her to obtain the release I can feel she desperately needs. "Let it out. I've got you, and I won't let go."
Her grip on my shirt tightens all the more, legs wrapped around me so firmly, I'm reminded how strong they are. I'm finding it hard to breathe, but that's fine. And just as I think that her tears, the release that'll help ease her pain, must finally be coming, she stiffens, and her fists release their hold on my shirt.
"I can't," she whispers.
"You can't what?"
Slowly, she pulls away just enough to meet my gaze. Despite all the pain etched in her features…her taupe eyes are as dry as the desert.
My brow furrows. "You can't…?"
"I can't…cry. I can't release this pain," – she presses a fist to her chest – "ever."
Before I can even try to comprehend her meaning or the ramifications of such a statement, Bella stiffens yet again. The trembling resumes once more. Her face pales, and her heart rate spikes. With her free hand, she nudges me away.
"Agent Cullen," she says clearly and purposely, while simultaneously attempting to disentangle herself from me, "just let me go."
When I simply stare at her, dumbfounded, her voice grows louder, and a sharp edge joins the volume.
"Let me go."
"Bella, please," I plead again, trying to maintain my hold on her.
"Let me go! LET ME GO!" she screams, and as shoves me and pulls away, she falls to the floor.
"Bella!"
Before I can pick her up, she scrambles backward and away from me, her eyes full of terror.
"Stay away. Please!"
"Jesus, Bella, what-"
All of a sudden, Jacob is in the room. He scoops her up and wraps her in his arms.
"It's okay, Bells. Calm down. It's okay," he coos reassuringly. "He wasn't trying to frighten you."
"I know. I know."
Whitlock and Emmett enter the room behind Jacob, and we all stand around them. Alice looks at me, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern. When Bella pulls away from Jake and walks off to the mirror, glaring at the now empty control room, I shake my head and fist my hair, totally lost at this point.
Jacob finally looks over at me. His eyes fall to my weapon, unconcealed and holstered to my side. And at that moment, it all falls into place. It must've nudged her at some point, reminded her that it was there, something she'd forgotten momentarily: that I'm a federal agent, and I carry a weapon at all times.
The only other time I've ever seen Bella as pale and frightened as she was a few minutes ago was a day ago, on that roof, when Rosalie pointed a gun at her…the way James once held her at gunpoint.
The stuttering…the violent shaking…
"You're frightened of guns?" I ask in a whisper, though I know the answer now.
Bella's only reply is to wrap her arms tightly around her midsection. Jacob is the one to speak up.
"Before that night, she never was. She's a detective's daughter for God's sake. Charlie taught her how to handle a gun when she was just a kid, for safety purposes. He never thought that… She was never afraid of guns, but ever since that night, she has dreams…nightmares that the guy in the mask is chasing her and-"
"Jake, stop. You don't know what my nightmares consist of, not anymore."
Her eyes remain on the mirror, and in her reflection, I see the terror in her eyes. It hasn't diminished. If anything, the topic of her nightmares somehow fills them with even more dread.
"No one but me knows what my nightmares consist of lately, the new one that…and that's how it'll remain – just a nightmare." She nods with a resolution, and when she speaks again, her tone is cool and composed. "Agent Cullen, you're right; you're not my hero. And for both our sakes, don't ever try to be again."
It's as if some powerful, heavy-handed being has punched me in the gut; all air leaves my lungs at her refusal, at the distance she's once again renewed between us. Yet, what did I expect, especially with everything I've learned this morning? I'm anything but her hero. I'm the man who's forced her into so many decisions she would've never taken—the man who's forced her to give her best friend up to the feds.
I'm the man who slept with the woman who killed her parents and tried to kill her.
"As I said before, I know I'm not your hero, Bella."
She offers me a short nod of agreement, followed by silence. She's done with me.
At that particular moment, there are still so many items up in the air:
What do all the risks I've taken over the past seventy-two hours mean for my career?
How will the arraignment go?
Beyond that, how will the trial end?
One fact, however, is as clear to me as if I saw it through a crystal ball. Better yet, it's as clear as if it'd been decided conclusively, indubitably by one of Billy Black's diviners, with a series of colorful beads, ivory cowrie shells, and dried up coconut shells all finally falling into the correct order:
Hero or not, I will make James and Kate pay for everything they've taken from and done to Bella.
A/N: Thoughts?
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