Posted 2021-05-17; A note from Eeyorefan12: Okay, Bella, tell us how you really feel. ;)

"Welcome back. You've been out of it for a bit," a male voice said.

Like she did with most physical movement, Bella felt like she was stumbling up to consciousness.

"W—huh?" she asked, blinking.

"You fainted," the owner of the voice continued. "It's a fairly common response to stressful situations." There was the scratchy sound of velcro detaching, and the pressure on her arm disappeared. "Your blood pressure's a bit low, but it's not surprising, all things considered. Do you faint often?"

The blinks were becoming less pronounced and her vision clearer. The man appeared to be close to her father's age, his blond hair streaked with silver, tiny wrinkles showing where he'd smiled and laughed. He also looked vaguely familiar.

"Do you faint often?" he repeated.

"No, not really. Just—I don't do well with blood."

Edward, who she now saw was on her other side, rubbed his hands over his face, muttering something.

"Ah, I see." The man—a doctor?—was putting supplies back in a bag. When he noticed Bella trying to sit up, he gently assisted her. "Is there anything else that's physically troubling you?"

Bella quickly glanced at the less raw but still red marks on her wrists and then at Edward, not sure who this other man was or what she could safely say.

"Those will clear up in a week or so," the blond man said, having followed her gaze. "You might give some thought to how you'll explain them, or perhaps consider wearing long-sleeved shirts until they're fully healed."

An insider, then. A doctor who made house calls to the mafia? Or a Mafia member who pretended to be a doctor? The items in the bag looked real enough, as did the initials 'CC' stitched into its side. The flicker of hope she'd felt faded quickly.

The man stood and picked up his bag, nodding to Bella before walking to the door. She watched Edward join him there and she heard a few mumbled words between them, though she couldn't make them out. The doctor briefly pressed a hand to Edward's arm before leaving. A gesture of familiarity, certainly.

"How're you feeling?" Edward asked, returning to her side. As usual, his poker face told her nothing about what he was thinking.

Oh, I dunno, Bella thought. I just watched you nail a man's ears to a wall after I told you he tried to rape me. I'm dandy.

Any doubts she had about him being part of organized crime were gone. She hadn't just witnessed some shady business transaction, she'd come across a full-blown mob operation. While she was still alive, she understood she was alive for now. He'd promised her that no one would hurt her, but watching the cold detachment with which he'd nailed a man to a freshly installed stud, she had no doubt he could dispense with her just as easily. She was rethinking everything she thought she knew about him.

Honesty seemed to be her best option. "I'm terrified of you."

"Yes, I imagine you are." He sat down on the other end of the couch. "I'm sorry, but you needed to see that."

"Why?" she asked nervously.

"Because you need to know that no one will harm you here and that if anyone is stupid enough to try, there will be severe consequences for them."

She blinked. Was he nuts? Quite possibly. Or a sociopath? Her stomach twisted with nerves, wondering if she should even voice her next thought. If this guy was unstable, it could be very, very dangerous.

Screw it, she thought. "So torturing someone is your way of showing me I'm safe?"

Edward laughed, a brief and bitter sound. "Do you know what a pillory is?"

"A what?"

"A pillory."

"No."

"It was a wooden pole or structure in a village. They were pretty common until the nineteenth century."

Okay? She waited for further explanation.

"Jails and prisons were used for some sentences, but the most effective means of deterring crime was to publicly and physically punish it."

She nodded warily. What he was describing sounded like a medieval town's public stocks.

"I think you understand enough of what you've seen to know we can't exactly go to the police."

Sure. As. Shit.

He looked like he was searching for words. Careful words. "Every single one of the people involved in this . . . organization will know what Felix has done and witness the consequence of it. He won't make the same mistake again—and neither will anyone else."

No, she could imagine so. It was horrifying, but it also recalled to her all the times her father had come home frustrated and angry from work, watching criminals he knew were guilty walking away from justice for lack of evidence, witnesses, or correct procedure. He tried to keep judicial failures for the uglier crimes from her, but she knew what the statistics were. Felix had faced justice of a sort.

And she'd been believed. After her cringe-worthy and naive attempt to convince Edward to let her go that night—and what the hell had she been thinking with that?—she understood why he might doubt her accusation, but he hadn't. That was something she didn't take lightly.

"Felix will not be near you again while you are here. No one will hurt you."

He'd said it so many times, and she'd been trying to convince herself to believe him, but there was a weight behind the words now. Was it possible that he included himself in that promise?

"Could you please stop handcuffing me when we leave the room?" she blurted out.

"Only if we can trust each other," he said, looking at her directly. "I understand if you can't do that with me," he added softly.

"I'll try," she said. He hadn't tried to hurt her. He hadn't tried anything else, either, even after her "offer" in the alley would have suggested she'd be willing to bargain on that score. No, if anything, it appeared he was simply trying to make this experience as bearable for her as possible. His motive for doing so wasn't as clear.

"Okay," he said, rubbing his hands on the tops of his thighs. "We'll lose the handcuffs. Do you run?"

"Pardon?" She tried to follow his non sequitur.

"We've been pretty cooped up here, and I'm used to running every day. I usually run trails but we have a gym with an indoor track." He sounded hopeful.

"No, I don't run," she said. "Except from shady guys in alleys." Jokes, Bella? Really? She wasn't sure where that little quip had come from—a sense of relief, maybe—but she couldn't deny that the smile she got from the mobster in return was gratifying.

In fact, he laughed, this time with genuine humor. "Swim?"

"Yes, but not in cold water," she said, shivering as she imagined being in a lake or the ocean.

He was still chuckling. "The pool's heated. Are you up for that?"

"Um, sure." She wasn't, but she also wasn't sure saying no was a good idea. If the guy needed to let off steam, and it seemed pretty obvious that he did, she wasn't going to get in his way.

"Okay." He stood up, going to the suitcase by the table, rifling through its contents and stuffing a couple items into a small pack. "Let's go."

At the door, Edward stopped her, holding up a bandana. "I'm sorry, but I do need to blindfold you, so you don't—"

"See things. I understand." She still felt shaky from what she'd witnessed earlier. The idea of being blindfolded wasn't helping, but if it kept the man with the nail gun happy, well then.

It was nerve-wracking, walking blindfolded, even with his hand at her elbow. He'd only had her out of the room a couple of times and during both of them she'd been so nervous that she'd barely registered being in motion. After several tentative steps down what seemed to be a long hallway, Edward gently pulled her to a stop.

His tone was reassuring. "I'm not going to let you fall. It's completely flat for the next twenty yards."

"Okay," she said, resolving to believe him.

True to his word, he made sure she didn't falter, patiently narrating the changing terrain of the floor and the short flight of stairs they walked down.

She smelled the chlorine, hearing the watery echo of the door clicking shut behind them. Then she heard the sounds of a keypad and assumed he was locking them in.

She blinked at the brightness when Edward pulled off the blindfold. The room they were in was massive, housing what appeared to be an Olympic-sized pool. Along the walls, high windows revealed blue sky, sun, and the tips of tall coniferous trees. She hadn't seen the outside in days and she almost cried, catching a glimpse of it now.

"There's a bathroom there," Edward said, redirecting her attention by pointing to the right. "I brought a suit for you." He held out the small bag.

"Thanks," she mumbled, taking it and walking to where he'd indicated. At the door to the room, she paused, wondering if he wanted her to leave it open.

"You can close it," he said.

Shutting the door, she almost burst into tears. She was alone for the first time in days. Her breathing picked up, the air not coming fast enough as she sucked in gulps of it, trying to muffle the sounds of her panic and fear in her hands. She let herself do this for a few minutes, finally forcing her breaths to come more regularly. Looking in the mirror, she studied the developing bruise on her cheek and the new ones on her arms.

You're going to be fine, she told herself, because you need to be. If you fall apart, they're never going to let you go, so keep your shit together.

"Swimming," she mumbled sardonically, opening the bag Edward had given her. Two pieces of a swimsuit fell out.

Oh no.

She loathed swimsuits on general principle and bikinis even more so. Her normal swimming attire was a rashguard and shorts.

I am not going to lose my shit over wearing a bikini. I am not going to lose my shit over wearing a bikini.

Her self-talk wasn't helping, so she avoided looking at herself in the mirror as she put the suit on, then wrapped the towel she found on a shelf around her lower half. When she emerged from the bathroom, Edward's clothes were draped over the back of a lounge chair, his lithe form already cutting through the water.

Placing her towel by Edward's, Bella slipped quickly into the chest-high water. It was warm, and she sighed at the physical comfort of it.

"Everything okay?" he asked. He'd stopped swimming a few yards away.

"Um, yeah," she said, assuming he meant the swimsuit. She could feel her blush returning when he looked at her. He glanced away quickly as she crouched down a few inches.

"I'm just going to finish some laps," he said before resuming his efficient crawl.

He was fast.

Just looking at him made her feel uncoordinated.

Very slowly, she began her own breast-stroke down the length of the pool.

"Here." Edward was waiting for her when she reached the end. He pulled off his goggles and handed them to her, "You'll strain your neck trying to keep your eyes out of the water like that."

"Uh, thanks," she said, taking them. Her neck was already sore. She swam for a bit, but when Edward was still going strong after fifteen minutes, she gave up on trying to do laps. She hadn't swum in a long time and already she knew her muscles were going to remind her of that tomorrow. She paddled lazily for a little while, finally winding up on her back, floating. It was peaceful having her hearing obscured by the water, and she found herself trying to pretend that everything was normal.

"Bella?"

She jerked her head up out of the water. "Yes?"

Edward sat on the edge of the pool, breathing quickly, but without strain. His lean body reflected a musculature that was conditioned for use, not vanity. She caught a glimpse of a second tattoo near the center of his chest, wondering if it was a military one too. The blue "Semper Fi" on his forearm had always been obvious enough. All markings meant something—even if it was only a poor decision after a night of drinking. She had the impression Edward's had not been one of those; he seemed too disciplined in his habits for that.

"I'm going to use the hot tub if you'd like to come with me."

This sounded a lot like a command phrased as a request. "Sure." She swam for the steps and then realized he'd see her in the bikini once she stood up. "Um . . . would you mind passing me my towel?"

He hid a brief smile. "Of course." He snatched it up and passed it over, turning away as she wrapped herself up in it. "I'm sorry about the swimsuit. The person who went shopping for you is—"

"A girl with a great body and no issues. I could tell," Bella said. "I'm ready."

He didn't hide the smile this time. He waved to indicate the way to the hot tub, which was set around a corner from the main pool. The view here was unobscured and Bella gasped. The windows were ceiling to floor, and they revealed a majestic stand of stately conifers, sunlight illuminating their heavy needles and crisp cones. She felt like crying, seeing so much of the outside.

"I think you're probably okay to see that there are trees where we are. You surmised enough from timing alone."

"It's really beautiful," she said, meaning it. And it made her think of home. Oh, home. And Dad, and . . . she took a steadying breath. She was not going to cry.

She focused on the water instead. It was deliciously warm, though it stung when the scrapes on her wrists and back came into contact with it. Her cheek ached, but she could ignore that for now. She could feel Edward watching her.

"Maybe keep those out of the water. The heat isn't the best for cuts." Edward reached over and gently lifted one of her hands from the water, lightly depositing it on the tiled edge.

How did someone who conducted such brutality act this way, too? And how did he hold that line? She watched him lean back again, wondering at the cognitive dissonance he must struggle with and what it must cost him. How horrific. What an enigma he was.

"Everything is on track for you to go home on Friday."

She tried very hard not to weep at his statement. It was Monday. Just four more nights.

You can do this.

She felt the tears fill her eyes.

"I'm really sorry you've had to go through this, Bella." He sounded it, too.

Fuck. She hated crying. Especially in front of jerks like him-and he was a jerk no matter how much kindness he showed her. It was this realization that added the bite to her next words. "You mean you're distressed by the fact that your criminality has affected someone in a way you have to witness. It must be terribly upsetting for you . . . unless you're just an asshole."

She could practically feel his eyes on her, and she lifted her gaze to meet his, silently challenging him to respond.

His jaw worked like he was chewing on something. A nicely composed reply, she mused.

"Yes," he said, surprising her. "I am that." Then he stood up, picking up her towel and holding it out to her. His face wore the cold detachment she'd seen the other night and earlier today; it made her inexplicably sad to see it, especially knowing that this time she'd been the one to put it there. "I need to get back to work."

As she walked back to the room beside him, blindfolded but uncuffed, Bella cursed her traitorously candid mouth, knowing she'd truly gone and lost her shit in the worst way possible.

She hoped it didn't come back to bite her in the ass.

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.