The phone was ringing when Edward got back into the house, chilled from searching his land for his missing wife.

"Hallo?" he asked, dejected.

"Ye have no found her?" Carlisle asked without preamble.

"No. Sh-" Edward broke off and swallowed against his dry throat. "She's no here."

Neither man said anything for a moment. There's little preparation for conversation structure when one doesn't know precisely where one's wife is.

"The boats were already gone by the time Jasper got there," Carlisle reported on Robert's status apologetically. "And she has not turned up here."

Edward's heart was pounding in his chest.

"Right. Well Jasper and I are going to go to old MacKinnon's house, ye ken, the one right by the stop to Mallaig? Aye, we'll ask if he's seen anything – discreetly of course, the last thing we need is folks with questions. Either way, we'll take the car to the ferry terminal."

"Aye, thank ye," he replied.

"Ye've searched everything?" his uncle asked, "The whole house? All the land?"

Edward snapped at that, "This is mae wife yer talking about! No a lost wallet or a set of keys!"

"Aye," Carlisle agreed in his calm tone. "Look once again…this time, see if ye might be able to find any clues about where she might be. Check the whole house, aye?"

Edward took a deep breath and let it out before he nodded, "Aye," he agreed. "Thank ye."

~O~

After combing through Bella's bedroom, including her purse and suitcase, he was back in the living room, having found nothing remotely suspicious.

As he scanned the space, his eyes landed on the stairway. It was not frequently used since Alice's bedroom was the only thing on that floor. He had not been up there since Alice had asked him to grab one of her pillows for her room at the Isles.

To his knowledge, Isabella had never been up there.

Edward climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He entered the room, stomach in knots upon finding it empty.

It looked just as it had the last time he had been up hear on Alice's request.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath.

If she wasn't at home, at Sleat, or at the Isles, where could his wife be?

Dread was creeping on him, a dread that Carlisle and Jasper would be fruitful in their search of public transit. It was dread that his wife that he happened to be unusually fond of – pretend or not – might have left him and their absurd semblance of a marriage

He was about to turn on his heel when he saw a picture frame on the ground. He recognized it as a picture of their family, easily seeing the bright hair of his mother and sister.

He went to it and as he was bending down to pick it up, he froze.

Hidden by the tall bed lay his wife lying unconscious, blood on the ground in a pool surrounding her thighs.

The town of Uig on the Isle of Skye was as quiet as the rest of the tourist towns in the winter weather, only a few locals were out in the chill, gathered at the only restaurant and bar in the small bay town.

"Have ye been over to Portree lately?" one of the older women said to her companion as they nursed their second glasses of cheap merlot.

"No, not in a couple weeks or so. Why?"

"Did you hear- "

"About MacDonald and his bride? Oh aye."

The first woman looked disappointed that she was not the first to bring the news.

"Quite a story, is it no?" she asked conspiringly, recovering.

"MacDonald and an American lass no one had ever heard of? Aye, quite a wee love story."

"Ye think so?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Think what?"

"It's a love story."

"I mean what else…what? What do you know?" she accused, seeing the look in her friend's eye and knowing what a gossip she was when it came to matters on the isle.

"It's just…interesting don't ye think?"

"What do ye ken?" she asked, lowering her voice so the two other patrons would not overhear any salacious gossip.

"Oh nothing…" she trailed of airily. "Don't you just think it's a wee bit strange? Everyone knows Sleat was struggling to keep its doors open. Hell, it's been struggling since MacDonald died."

"And you think the lass has something to do with it?"

"She's always there."

The woman didn't bother to ask how her friend knew this.

"I dinnae ken. But I would no guess that what it is between them is love."

"Aren't there laws about that sort of thing?"

The two shared a long look.

They each took a sip of their wine. The second woman ran her tongue over her tooth, feeling the sweet wine irritate her enamel.

"Interesting," she said, mulling it over. She would have to ask her husband if he had heard anything as he had been to the Isles Inn last week. Everyone knew MacDonald was close to his aunt and uncle.

With a chuckle and shrug, the gossiping woman suggested, "Well, maybe the lass is pregnant."

~O~

"999. This is the Scottish Emergency line, what is your emergency?"

"My Bella- my wife is unconscious and there is of blood around her thighs."

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"I dinnae ken! I only just found her here."

"Does she have any known medical conditions?"

"I…I dinnae ken. I dinnae think so, but I dinnae know."

"Alright sir, we're going to go ahead and send an ambulance. Where are you located?"

"The Isle of Skye. Trotternish Peninsula. No 22 Fasach."

"Sir, I need you to stay with your wife until the ambulance gets there. If she becomes conscious, make sure to keep her head still until the medics get there. There is a possibility that they will determine the case to be too severe to treat here, in which case we would need to transport her to Inverness."

Shaking hands cradled her pale face as the woman on the line spoke in a calm monotone, seeming to be unable to grasp the fact that his world felt like it was falling apart in front of his very eyes.

~O~

"Carlisle, I found her. The ambulance is coming for her. She's lost so much blood…I can barely feel her pulse. I dinnae ken what's wrong."

There was a pause.

"No, she has not been conscious since I found her."

Pause.

"Tell Esme."

~O~

The paramedics arrived 20 minutes later and 25 minutes later, Isabella was in the back of an ambulance racing down the peninsula. They had not even gotten the chance to ask Edward if he would like to drive behind them or ride in the vehicle before he was in the back of the ambulance, sitting by her head and running a hand down her forehead.

"Her name is Bella – Isabella MacDonald. She's 29. No, I have no clue about prior medical history. We've only been married a month. She works with me at Sleat Distillery."

"Any chance she could be pregnant?"

Edward froze.

The flow of thoughts ceased.

Pregnant?

"Doug!" the woman working on Isabella called to the other paramedic who had been asking him questions.

The man threw the clipboard on the bench and went over Isabella's body, forgetting the question that had just formed a brick in Edward's throat. The other paramedic, Jenny, was shaking her head in frustration as she looked at the cuff around Isabella's arm.

"I cannae get a blood pressure reading on her," she informed him solemnly.

Doug took over in Jenny's spot and tried the same thing Edward had just seen Jenny do but he too shook his head in frustration.

"She's lost so much blood," Doug shook his head.

"And her pulse is so weak. Her body is trying to shut down."

Edward bent down to lay his forehead on top of his wife's cool skin.

~O~

She had not regained sustained consciousness in the 45-minute ride.

The ambulance flew across the roads, shortening a drive that should have taken 2 hours into 40 minutes.

In that time, her pulse continued to drop, and they remained unable to get her blood pressure.

The ambulance had barely come to a screeching halt when the doors burst open and three doctors worked with the paramedics to easily get Isabella's body out of the car and onto a gurney, wheeling her quickly into the emergency room entrance.

Edward tried to follow, ignoring the numb feeling in his legs that made him want to fall over.

"Sir, you will have to go to the visitor entrance and wait for an update there."

Edward shook his head fiercely. "That's my wife, I'm no leaving her."

The woman in scrubs shook her head, her eyes softening at seeing the concern in his face.

"We will take care of her as best as we can. Let us do our jobs and we will have an update for you soon, sweetheart."

Edward had heard it all before.

The best they could was not always enough.

He knew that better than anyone.

~O~

In a sort of daze, Edward had identified himself to the visitor desk, got a sticky nametag printed with Isabella's patient ID, slapped it on his shirt and gone off in the direction of the surgical waiting room.

"Your wife has been taken into surgery, Mr. MacDonald."

How many times had his father heard those exact words?

Only to end up a widower.

It was too familiar of a narrative.

Both of his parents were gone well before their time. Both of them had died from health complications. He was not naïve enough to think that it did not happen.

But God did he wish he was.

He wished he was naïve enough to be able to handle Isabella being in surgery as her body attempted to shut down.

He wished that naivety could lead to a sense of ignorance that might give him peace.

He wished he was naïve enough to be strong.

But he wasn't.

The waiting room was empty, save a middle-aged woman who was asleep on one of the uncomfortable looking couches. She was curled up with her knees at her chest and seemed to have been waiting for a long time.

Edward could not bear to sit in any of the hospital furniture.

He could not bear to pace.

The room was off to the side in an alcove of sorts. From any vantage point, one could not see the door that read "Hospital Personnel Only."

Edward leaned against the wall that gave him the clearest view of the door. The door that someone would sure to be coming out with news. News that his wife was going to be alright. News that would explain why she was bleeding. News that would tell him it was okay.

He ran both of his hands over his face and into his hair as he slid down the wall, tears sliding down his cheeks as he did so.

Never had he been so terrified.

It was too familiar for him not to be.

Squeezing his eyes shut again, he tried to stop the flow of tears that had taken over. He leaned his head against the wall, eyes still closed as he tried to steady his breathing.

Protect her.

Please protect her.

Da, please.

As he sat there in fear and uncertainty, he felt the presence of his father. Maybe it wasn't the presence of him, but he felt close to him.

He understood the fear his father must have felt all of those months that his mother had been battling cancer. As a child, he had assumed that his fear had been the same as his father's. It was big and deep and sharp.

But this was different.

This was an even sharper pain. A more paralyzing fear.

At no point did it to occur to him that he was feeling this about a woman who was never meant to be his wife. A woman who had married him to save his business, not for his heart or his love.

As Edward slowly let out a breath, he heard footsteps.

Not wanting to be pulled from his misery but not wanting to be run over if it was a hospital personnel trying to get through, Edward grudgingly opened his swollen eyes.

For a moment, he was taken aback.

From a distance, he could have sworn it was his father approaching him.

After a few blinks, he remembered that his brother had always born a striking resemblance to their father.

Emmett was walking towards him, the same white sticky name tag identifying him with Isabella MacDonald on his chest.

Edward rubbed at both his eyes with the palms of his hands, scrubbing out the moisture that threatened to keep flowing. Emmett slowed his steps as he reached his brother.

"Esme called me," was all he said.

Edward nodded, not looking at him. He stared straight ahead, willing someone to come out of the double glass doors with an update for him.

Emmett said nothing else as he slid down the wall next to Edward. Mirroring Edward, he pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms loosely around them. He was sitting close enough so that his shoulder was touching Edward's.

His brother said nothing.

He asked no questions.

He made no small talk.

He remained silent.

But in remaining silent and in saying nothing, it spoke volumes. They had just gotten into the largest fights of their lives over Bella. Emmett didn't trust her, didn't understand or like the situation.

But he was choosing family above his own opinions.

Edward sat with his head bowed, praying to whatever ancestor, saint or god who had the time to listen.

Da.

Maw.

Please.

After what felt like hours, Emmett finally cleared his throat.

"I may no know much about her, but the lass seems stubborn as hell."

Edward sighed slowly, his head falling back against the wall.

He thought of the woman who barged into his office after eavesdropping on a confidential, financial conversation. A woman who had conceived the most preposterous way to save his family business. The only way to save it.

The woman who had invited him into his bedroom on their wedding night. Into her arms and into his heart.

"Aye. Aye she is."

An hour later, the double doors finally were pushed open.

A woman with green scrubs and a scrub cap came through them. There were light purple smudges under light green eyes. She glanced briefly around the waiting room, seeing only the other woman who was still asleep on the couch and then settled her eyes back on Edward.

He was already scrambling to his feet.

"Mr. MacDonald?" she asked in a clear American accent. "I'm Dr. Williams."

"Aye, yes," he replied.

Emmett was slowly rising to his feet behind him.

"And this is your-?" she asked, nodding to Emmett.

"Brother," Edward supplied hurriedly.

Recognizing the cue from her pointed stare, Emmett nodded over at the nearby restrooms. "I'll just be in the loo."

The doctor waited until he was down the hall.

"Your wife is stable."

Edward's shoulders sagged in relief.

Thank you, Maw. Da.

Dr. Williams' expression, however, did not soften.

"Were the two of you trying for a baby?"

"A wean?" he asked dumbly, unable to form any other words. Somehow, he had entirely forgotten entirely about the paramedic's question in the ambulance, consumed as he was with worry for her.

She nodded.

Edward did not move his head in an affirmative or negative motion.

All he could do was stare at her.

A baby?

"Your wife had a miscarriage. As a result of its abnormal severity, she was hemorrhaging…"

Edward did not hear the rest, did not understand the foreign words that were coming out of her mouth.

A miscarriage?

"How far along was she?" Edward finally asked, blinking and cutting off her sentence.

That curious stare remained in the doctor's eyes.

"We typically see this at 9-12 weeks."

4 weeks.

The two of them had only been married for 4 weeks.

"And no any sooner?"

He had to know if it was possible.

"Not of this severity, no."

Fear not, the next update will not be as far away.

During the day, I manage a cluster of grocery stores. As you can imagine, that has been incredibly time and energy consuming these past 6 weeks. Hence the delay. Be kind to your cashiers and stockers, friends. They're doing their best, as are we all.

Stay healthy and we'll see you soon.