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Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.

Ch. 21 – Safe House

Bella

The morning looms grey and gloomy, dark clouds threatening the city below like vengeful wraiths floating fast and furiously above an unsuspecting populous. Peering up at the sky, I peek past the dull shine of the silver skyscrapers and dare those murky ghosts above to release their wrath on my behalf, to send a storm for the ages, one that'll be spoken of by weather forecasters for years to come.

Nothing happens.

Pushing my forehead against the double-reinforced window panes in this sterile holding room, I run my fingers absently over my bracelet, shut my eyes, and recall those days when the difference between sun and clouds meant something tangible in my world – perhaps it meant a day on the beach with friends versus an extra day of hitting the gym mat hard. Either way, they were both great options. A faint hint of a smile lifts the corners of my mouth as I draw in a deep breath and pretend for a moment that the air I inhale isn't the crisp HVAC air of a government office building in New York City's concrete jungle. Rather, it's the air back home, warm and balmy; better yet, it's the damp forest air of the Everglades, from a day before everything went to hell in my world.

"Jake, if we could open these windows-"

"Don't even think about it, Bells," Jake growls. "Not even you can make that type of jump and survive."

He makes me chuckle despite the fact that everything did go to hell in my world, despite where we now find ourselves, despite the fact that no one's walked into this damned holding room for hours to let us know what's going on, and despite how he…Anthony slash Edward, lied to me.

"I was just going to say, if we could open these windows, what do you think the air would smell like?"

"Like rot and feces – it's New York City, Bells," he retorts dryly. "Don't worry. We'll be out there again real soon. You don't have to resort to digging your face against a shut window to imagine what fresh air smells like."

"Mm."

I keep my forehead against the window anyway. After a few moments, I find myself wondering what it would be like to spend the next couple of decades locked up in a small room, with only an hour or so of fresh air daily, having to ask permission for everything, including running, and completely forbidden from jumping…from escaping. The thought is stiflingly claustrophobic.

Since the moment in the alley when Agent Cullen's fellow agents drop-kicked me to the ground, a part of me knew a long stint in an orange jumpsuit likely awaited me. Strangely enough, it was the least of my concerns, certainly nothing in comparison to my fear for Jacob's well-being, now that I'd been caught. And it took a far back seat to the fact that I'd been betrayed by the first person I'd allowed myself to trust in…a long while, by the one person in the world I'd stupidly believed would be one-hundred-percent on my side from now on. A long stay in jail was little more than a vague worry after that. So when he…Anthony slash Edward offered me a way out of my predicament, I couldn't have cared less.

"You okay, Bells?"

Following Jake's voice, I slowly pivot my head, dragging my bruised cheek against the window. The cold pane acts as an ice-pack and soothes me – physically, at least; emotional release is a pipe dream I don't even bother wishing for anymore.

Jake leans against the white wall, with his dark arms crossed against his chest, one leg bent, and his sneakered-foot planted against the wall. His ebony eyes watch me uneasily; he's probably worried that I may unravel again the way I did after I provided my statement.

I won't.

Sighing, I jerk my chin toward the locked door. "What do you think is taking them so long? I'm getting hungry. Agent Brandon looked pissed when she charged out of here with that big guy a while ago." I bite my lip. "Do you think something went wrong?"

My concern isn't for me; I don't care for myself one way or the other and not because I'm some selfless creature. But honestly, what is there waiting for me beyond these four walls? My parents are gone, and the only family I've known since then – Jake, Uncle Billy, and the boys – were all lost to me the moment I got caught. That's why Agent Cullen could've offered me the world on a silver platter to get me to provide my statement, and he would've gotten nowhere. However, the smart, little agent that he is, he found my weakness and exploited it well, literally made me an offer I couldn't refuse: my statement for the assurance that Jake wouldn't be prosecuted, for the guarantee that Jake would be safe.

Nonetheless, other than for the afore-mentioned gymnastics restrictions, I see very little difference between spending the next couple of decades in a cell or spending them pretending to be someone I'm not, without family, without true friends, without…

Anyway, the point is, I need to make sure Jake and his family will be okay.

Jake pushes off the wall, shuffling over to me, and I turn and limp to meet him halfway. When he wraps his huge hands around my shoulders, offering me a soft, reassuring smile, I remember that this is why I once thought I was in love with him. In those days, when I was a carefree girl who could dream of hearts and kisses and roses rather than of masked men with guns, the juxtaposition of Jake's muscular, tall frame with his teddy bear smiles used to melt my insides.

Those days are long gone, in so many ways.

"Bells, everything's going to be just fine. We've got everything in writing and signed by the director. They can't renege now."

Oh, Jake, honey, take it from personal experience, anyone and everyone can always renege.

"I suppose you're right."

Jake studies me carefully. "Hey, you know you don't have to do this alone, right? When it's time for you to relocate, we can come with you – Leah, the baby, and me. Matter of fact-"

Before his imagination runs too wild, I lift a hand and wrap it around the one he has on my right shoulder.

"Jake, you're not safe where I am – not anymore – no one is, and…I don't want to hide anymore. At least, this way, I won't have to hide, not really." A sardonic smile lifts one corner of my mouth. "At least, I can thank Anthony slash Edward for that much."

Jake's brow furrows. "That guy…Masen-"

"Cullen. Special Agent Edward Cullen."

"Whatever. What's his story?"

"His story? His story is…that he's an undercover FBI agent, willing to do whatever it takes to catch the bad guys."

I offer him a shrug, ignoring the tightening in my chest. Yet, the way Jake holds my gaze wordlessly for a few heartbeats before he speaks again makes me suspect I haven't entirely fooled him with my feigned nonchalance.

"You know, when Cullen and his partner showed up in Hialeah, Paul and the rest of the guys came pretty close to taking them out. Can you believe them agents rolled up in a huge, black SUV? I mean," he snorts, "don't these damn feds realize they give themselves away the second they show up in those? And by the way, where the hell do they always manage to find a big, black SUV?" He pauses thoughtfully. "Anyway, yeah, Paul and them had even discussed where to stash the SUV."

Despite his ensuing chuckles, I find myself shuddering, and Jake stops laughing. When I turn away from him and make my way back to the window, I feel the burn of his gaze follow me.

"That was a pretty big risk he took. I'm semi-joking, but let's be honest," he whispers under his breath, "my dad would've known how to cover it up, and I'm sure Cullen knew enough about my dad to know that."

The rain has started rolling in, but rather than the furious storm I was hoping for, the drops fall in a light drizzle, in a pitter-patter that pelts rhythmically against the window. Still, I trace their tear shapes through the glass frame.

"Like I said, he'll do anything for his case. Maybe he'll earn a medal for this."

Jake's footsteps approach. When he finally speaks, he's right behind me.

"The thing is, Bells, it just seems to me like he's gone about things pretty strangely, some might even say stupidly if his aim is a medal." He pauses as if waiting for my input, but when I provide none, he resumes. "I mean, take when he came looking for me. He could've lied, then brought me in by force, and then lied to you to get you to give your statement. Instead, he extended the immunity and protection provisions to my family and me."

My gaze focuses too intently on the raindrops, making my eyes cross. The drops gather and blur into something resembling a waterfall.

"A cooperative witness is better than a non-cooperative witness, don't you think?" I provide by way of an explanation. "He's not a stupid man, Jake. He knows I would've eventually figured out he was lying to me – yet again."

"Just a few days ago, you were willing to trust him enough to let him in on everything."

"That was before I knew who he really was."

"You mean before you knew he wasn't a demented doctor willing to sacrifice people's lives for the big bucks? You trusted him more then?"

"He lied to me, Jake," I hiss, my voice quivering.

"Yeah," Jake agrees breezily, "and you lied to him."

"Because I had to," I snap.

"Bells, he's an undercover FBI agent, emphasis on the undercover – lying is pretty much a life and death requirement of the job."

I whip around and glower at Jake. "Why are you defending him?"

"Whoa," Jake lifts his palms as he retreats a step, "I'm not defending him. I'm just thinking out loud and wondering why, with all the shit we pulled – and you've got to admit, we pulled some crazy shit," he chuckles, "neither one of us will be spending the next ten to fifteen behind bars, why we weren't threatened into confessions, and instead, we were offered the government's full protection and immunity." He shrugs. "It's just not what I expected, that's all…and honestly, it makes me wonder why Agent Cullen seems to be making things harder for himself than they need to be."

My chest heaves, heart racing anxiously at the direction the conversation has taken. The seconds pass, yet I have no answer, and Jake continues pushing for one.

"What happened in that room before? Why did you let him hold you like that if you don't trust him?"

Indignation consumes me as I open my mouth, but still lacking justifications for my behavior…as well as for Anthony slash Edward's behavior…what erupts is just plain truth – sensical or not.

"Because…because every time I see him, for those first few seconds…he's just Anthony, and I'm just Bella, and I forget what he really is and what I truly am to him – an FBI Agent and the witness who'll win his case." Hanging my head, I cradle it and chuckle morosely. "Because I'm stupid."

After a few moments, I feel more than see Jake take my hands and weave his fingers through mine. He waits patiently for me to look up, and when I do, he smiles again. I'm so grateful that despite the short-lived relationship between Jake and me, after my parents' death, when I was first hiding in Hialeah with him and Uncle Billy, when I was bewildered and lashing out and pulling and pushing everyone all at once…Jake and I were able to salvage the best part of our relationship – our friendship.

"You're not stupid, and you know that, Bells. Therefore, that can't be why you allowed him to hold you."

For one, long minute, he holds my gaze as if he's willing me to admit something to myself more than to him. But when a throat clears from the direction of the door, I'm startled out of our conversation. What's more, even as I instinctively look over, I already know who it is, and my heart thumps the way it always does for those first few seconds before reality intrudes. When I do sweep my gaze toward him, Anth- Edward's eyes bore into mine for what feels like an eternity.

The reality is that our gazes are likely locked for less than a handful of seconds before his eyes flicker to Jake's and my entwined hands. When they jump back to me, the emerald in his irises appears darker somehow. Slowly, almost as if begrudgingly, his gaze pans to Jake, and when he speaks, his voice is strangely inflectionless.

"Jacob, I've been informed by Agent Whitlock that you've indicated a desire to return to Hialeah."

Jake nods once, and Agent Cullen nods in return. He stands stiffly by the door, his broad shoulders rigid, his entire stance inflexible as if he's purposely keeping something inside him tightly contained. Dark circles rim his eyes, almost as dark as the bruised skin along his jaw and right cheek. As he continues in that same, cool tone, a couple more agents walk into the room behind him. Agent Cullen doesn't move a muscle in acknowledgment.

"Very well. We've been given the okay to take you back. Now, I was also told it's been explained to you that, although your testimony isn't as crucial to the case as is Isabella's, it's still important since it corroborates Isabella's story as well as what you saw when she arrived in Hialeah afterward."

"Yeah," Jake says shortly.

There's another stoic nod by Agent Cullen. "What that means is, you may not be in as much danger from any person or persons who may not want you to testify at the upcoming trial, but we'll still have to be on alert and on guard for a variety of reasons. Therefore, a team of agents will accompany you and remain with you until after the trial."

"Yeah," Jake smirks, "it's been explained. My father won't be thrilled by that."

"Nonetheless, those are the terms of the agreement as required by Isabella, and they make sense, and frankly, she's the one whose input matters here, not your father's. Understood?"

"Understood," Jake sneers, "and for my girlfriend and my unborn kid's sake, appreciated. Thank you, Bells," he adds pointedly, eyes still on Agent Cullen.

"Jake," I say in reply, though I wish I could say more, but Agent Cullen resumes his instructions, his tone now somewhat less glacial.

"Okay, then. As I said, you'll have a team of agents escort you back to Hialeah and remain there with you and Leah until the case goes to trial, and then for as long as is deemed necessary afterward. You'll be given further details and instructions on the way. Are you ready?"

It hits me then: this may be my final minutes with Jake until the trial, and then after the trial…

It must hit Jake at the same time because, beside me, he draws in a deep breath and exhales it in a long gust. When he replies to Agent Cullen, his voice holds none of the bluster it held a moment ago.

"Yeah. Yeah, just…just give me a minute with Bells, will you?"

Anthony slash Edward nods languidly, and then, with a deep breath of his own, he turns around, ushers, the agents in front of him out of the room, and shuts the door again.

Immediately, Jake pulls me into a bear hug that constricts my lungs. For a couple of minutes, we simply hold one another.

"Bells, this isn't goodbye," he whispers fervently.

"Jake…I think it sort of might be."

He shakes his head, pulling back. "No way. We will see each other again. We're family, Bells, and you're not alone. Always remember that. You've got me, and everyone back in Hialeah, even my Dad. Always remember that."

My eyes sting. My bottom lip quivers and my throat is so dry that it's painful to swallow. Still, as usual, though my heart is breaking, that's as far as my display of emotions runs. Instead, I meet Jake's glassy eyes with dry ones of my own. He smiles one of his teddy bear smiles.

"Love you, Bells. And I think…I hope…that despite how stupidly he's handled some of this, you've got someone-"

The door opens again, and this time, Anthony slash Edward strides in impatiently with a handful of agents, including Agents Brandon, McCarty, and Whitlock. Agent Cullen's eyes find mine.

"I'm sorry," he says with a gentleness that was absent before, "but we really do have to get going. Jacob, these are Special Agents Nolan and Cheney. They'll be accompanying you back to Hialeah, and then remain with you."

Jake and I release one another with no more fanfare or goodbyes. He nods at the agents and then walks out of the room as they follow.

"Isabella, I'm Agent McCarty," the big, muscular guy says, "but since I'm one of the agents who'll be guarding you, why don't you just call me Emmett?"

His grin is infectious, and despite the uproar of emotions welling inside me, I find myself grinning in return and agreeing.

"Very well…Emmett."

"And you know I'm Alice Brandon." Agent Brandon draws in a long breath, and when she releases it, she appears somewhat uneasy, even hesitant. But then she offers me a smile. "And since I'll be guarding you as well, just call me Alice."

"Okay, Alice."

Edward clears his throat, and when he speaks, I'm inwardly grateful it's not to offer that we proceed on a mutual, first-name basis. We've been there and back.

"All right. Isabella, as Agent-in-charge, Agent Whitlock-"

"Jasper," Agent Whitlock smiles with a nod of his head.

"-will be accompanying us to your…" - he clears his throat yet again - "your safe house this afternoon."

Agent Brandon's…Alice's features tighten, but then she approaches me and reaches out to help, remembering my injured foot.

"Are you ready, Bella?"

No. I'm not. Not at all.

But, just as Agent McCarty's….Emmett's grin is infectious, so is Alice's quiet reassurance.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."

"Isabella, can you walk, or would you like a wheel-"

"I can walk on my own," I answer Anth- Edward's…Agent Cullen's question without looking at him.

OOOOO

The windows on the big, black SUV are tinted black. I can see out, but I've been informed that no one can see in. Nonetheless, as we take off, I smile to myself when I recall Jake's musings just a short while earlier regarding feds and their big, black, conspicuous SUVs.

On the ride, I watch the damp, city streets blur by, trying not to think too much of the past, the present, or the future. It's not an easy endeavor, and so I'm left with very little to do beyond counting raindrops and wondering what my fellow motorists and pedestrians alike think when they see the big, black SUV with the shiny, opaque windows. And all the while, I run my fingers subconsciously over my bracelet while consciously avoiding the rearview mirror…and the possibility of either catching or not catching Agent Cullen's gaze on me.

I'm so caught up in avoiding his gaze that it's not until the SUV begins a slow creep into an underground parking garage that I realize I vaguely recognize the street we're leaving behind. My brow furrows as I search my memory, eyes narrowing as the vague recollection of that street sharpens – though I'd seen it only once and in the dark on a night when I'd planned to pour my heart out. Meanwhile, Agent Cullen pulls into a spot in a dark corner and parks.

"Wait a minute; why are we here?"

I peer at Alice, who sits beside me, for an answer. She holds my gaze and jerks her chin toward the driver, but instead, I look to my other side. Agent McCarty's infectious grin is missing as he also gestures toward the front of the car. My gaze sweeps to the front passenger seat, but Agent Whitlock's gaze remains front and center. Slowly, my eyes trail to the driver, who draws in a long breath before pivoting slowly to meet my gaze.

"Isabella, there was a…miscommunication. The agency and the U.S. Marshal's office will need some more time before they can provide you with what will be your official safe house until the trial."

When I merely stare at him for a few moments, he swallows and takes my silence as an encouragement to continue.

"Until then, you'll be staying here, with Emmett and Alice as your twenty-four-hour security detail. When I'm not…keeping up with my cover, I'll be here to assist as well."

Still, I stare at him, and he plunges forward.

"There's another, smaller vehicle which remained parked outside. Two additional agents are in that car, and they'll be rotated with other agents in three, eight-hour details for additional security. You'll be completely safe," he finishes.

Yet, I continue staring at him until I finally, finally find my voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

A/N: Thoughts?

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