A/N: I always thought it was seven years to have someone declared legally dead, but in the state of Massachusetts, it apparently takes five.

Thanks to Fyrebyrd, Gabby1017, 2brown-eyes, and The Metro Dad for pre-reading this one, and to my beta, SunflowerFran. Please remember, all remaining mistakes are mine.

5 years later...

Edward

"Dad, I don't want to play with the little kids."

I stare at my now, fourteen-year-old daughter and wonder just when she became so grown up. In the last five years, her hair has darkened, her features have sharpened, and despite her bright blue eyes, she looks more like her mother every day.

I sigh and look up at her from my seat on the park bench. "Please, Princess, just play with your brother until Ben falls asleep," I say, patting the back of my three-month-old as he fusses against my chest.

She turns her head toward the swings where her brother Charlie happens to be playing, before turning back to me. "But, Daaad."

"Go." I point in the direction of the playground, and she stomps away as only a petulant teenager can.

"She looks a lot like her mother ... except for the eyes, anyway." The voice coming from behind me makes me grit my teeth in irritation. He's been an increasingly sharp thorn in my side for the last few years, setting his sights on me since his new post at the F.B.I. has him knee deep in my business.

"Agent Black." I eye him as he takes a seat next to me before turning back to watch my children. "They got you on playground duty these days?"

"Nah, just wanted to say hello ... catch up with the family." He hesitates before I spot a grin light his face. "Caught up with your wife this morning, too. She looks pretty damn good after just popping out a kid."

I practically have to bite through my tongue to keep from ripping into him. Though, spouting off obscenities while holding my infant son as my other children look on wouldn't be a very good idea; it could also be quite an expensive tantrum. Bella's idea of a swear jar is a C note per F-bomb, and my older children love to rat me out to their mother.

"I'm quite a lucky man, then, aren't I?"

Black's arms move to rest on the back of the bench, his stance relaxed as he crosses his ankle over his knee. "You know, this could have been my life," he taunts. "The perfect little woman, a few kids that look like their mother and me ... but she just wouldn't give me the time of day." He shakes his head and turns to me. "So, what kind of magical hold do you have over her, anyway? Is it the money? The attention that comes with being your wife? I imagine just dropping your name in this town gets her special treatment."

I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down, not letting him bait me. All I need is to get myself hauled in for assaulting a federal agent, and in front of my kids to boot.

"Well," I start, my voice level. "If you'd taken the time to actually get to know Bella all those years ago, you'd know notoriety and attention are the last things she wants." I turn to face him. "Must be my dashing good looks and charming personality that have her hooked," I say with a mocking grin before I turn back to the playground.

"Or maybe she just likes being with a thug."

"Can't help ya, man. I have no idea why she's with me, but I know I'm the luckiest son of a bitch in Boston to have her in my life." I turn my head to meet his eyes. "But as far as me being a thug?" I shrug. "I own a pub and have financial investments in several businesses in the city and beyond. How you think my being a businessman makes me a thug ..." I shake my head and turn back to watch my kids. "You must be misinformed."

When he doesn't offer a retort, we sit in silence as the sounds of laughter and children playing fill the air. Minutes pass before he speaks.

"I'll never know how you manage to get out of anything and everything we try to pin on you, or how she was able to avoid any charges when they hauled her in for questioning a few years ago. You two must have one hell of a lawyer."

I laugh, remembering the fallout from her 'questioning.' I'm pretty sure Mike Newton is working in the mailroom or scrubbing the fuckin' toilets down at the BPD these days. While I wished I could have made him disappear, it might have been suspect after so many of Boston's finest witnessed me threaten him. Several officers were suspended after my wife was bruised while in their custody all those years ago. And her being pregnant only added to the public relations nightmare for the department.

"We do," I finally respond with a nod and a lingering smile. "But yet I've never had the need for official legal representation ... seeing how charges have never actually been brought against me." I turn to look at him. "Therefore, I am not a thug, as you so eloquently put it."

"And yet you're consorting with them." He opens a folded newspaper I hadn't seen lying next to him on the bench, pulls out a couple of photographs, and hands them to me. "Looks like you're getting awfully cozy with old Marcus Voltolini lately."

The image is fairly sharp, though it had to have been taken with a long-range lens. It shows Marcus and myself, as well as a few associates, gathered for a meal at Didi's. It's become a regular occurrence lately, since Marcus is trying to include me in some of his business affairs.

When I went to him, to let him know I'd learned he was my biological father, he didn't seem nearly as surprised as I thought he'd be, making me think he was aware all along. My brothers, Caius and Felix, were a different issue, though. It took many conversations, a meeting with my mother, and a paternity test to verify it for them. Once it was settled, though, Marcus tried to do what he thought was right at this stage of our lives. While we would never have a true, father-son relationship, he convinced me that conducting business together would be profitable for us both. And it has. So, we meet every so often and discuss what common interests we have and how they can benefit each other.

And while I haven't been welcomed with open arms, especially by my half-brothers, and most of their associates, Marcus has made the effort to build a tentative, if not cautious friendship with me. Though, I fear what will happen when Marcus is no longer of this world, and Caius takes the reins.

"Oh, that? Yeah, he's looking for investors for a new club downtown. Thought I might be interested." I shrug as if uninterested.

"So since your pops is out of the picture these days, you're working with an old enemy?"

"Enemy is such a strong word. We're just businessmen trying to make a buck in a shitty economy. Sometimes we cross paths in our quest to get a piece of the next big thing, but that hardly makes us enemies," I say with a smirk. "Now you, on the other hand, could be called an enemy. Harassing my wife, always showing up to try and rattle me, and when my kids are around, too," I say in mock disapproval, shaking my head.

"Just doing my job, Cullen."

"Speaking of which. How the hell did you manage to get where you are so quick? Thought it took years for someone to brown-nose their way to agent status."

"Well, when my former relationship with your wife came to light, they thought I'd—"

My barking laugh cuts off whatever he was going to say. "I'm sorry. Relationship? What the hell are you talking about? Having lunch between classes and going to split a pizza and see a movie now qualifies as having a relationship?" I'm still chuckling as I shake my head.

Black crosses his arms over his chest, his brow furrowed in irritation. "They thought I might bring a new perspective to the table with the insight I have."

I make a strange sound, an honest to God snort, as I try to contain my laughter. "Insight?" I sigh. "Whatever, man. But you better watch yourself. You keep approaching my wife, and I'll bring harassment charges against you."

"Or what?" He leans in closer. "You gonna make me disappear? Seems to happen to the people around you." He reaches to grab the newspaper beside him and slaps it against my leg before he stands. "Sad, really. It didn't even make the front page."

With Ben finally asleep, I lay him in his stroller and grab the paper. I scan through the pages of the Metro section, and it's not until I reach the obituaries and legal announcements that I find the highlighted article.

Jasper Cullen declared legally dead five years after his disappearance

It goes on to give a brief summary of his life, the half-decent parts anyway, and the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. It's a summary of a misguided, wasted existence, and only a dozen or so lines long.

"And he doesn't even shed a tear," Black says, standing before me.

I shrug. "He's been gone a long time." I look up at him, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. "But it's nice to have some closure. I'm sure Alice will be happy she can move on with her life."

"Oh, I'm sure," he says with a chuckle. "She sure didn't waste any time, either. There's another announcement in there you should check out," he says, pointing at the paper in my hand before checking his watch. "Well, I need to head back. You take good care of that wife and kids of yours. I'd hate for them to get caught in the middle of your business with the Voltolini. Keep your nose clean, Cullen."

I ignore the weasel as he walks away and go back to the paper. A picture of Alice and a man who is apparently her fiancé, grace the front page of the Life & Style section, their engagement proudly announced. She looks good ... healthy, happy.

Alice Brandon-Cullen to wed District Court judge Peter Whitlock

When she came to visit Bella and me a few years back, we were apprehensive about her intentions. But when she began to pour out her heart about what happened between her and Jasper, we realized she was a victim of his reckless life as well. Forced into a loveless marriage and depending on drugs and alcohol to help her cope, she never had a chance. His mistreatment of her was appalling, and it explained so much.

After a successful stint in rehab, she went back to school and started her own business; a woman's clothing boutique. Without the fog of substances pumping through her system, she found she had a knack for business and design. I offered to invest, and she ran with it, making it one of the most successful, new small businesses in Boston.

To see her smiling face in the paper brings one to my own. We may only be business associates now, but it's good to see her genuinely happy after all these years. The fact that her announcement was made the same day Jasper's death was declared is its own kind of irony; closing one chapter in her life and opening a new one. I can only hope this time she's marrying for the right reasons.

"Daddy!" Charlie's urgent call snaps my attention toward where the kids are playing. His eyes are wide as he runs toward me. I put down the paper and open my arms for him, and not a moment too soon, as he collides with me. "We need to go. It's wunch time, and I need to go potty!"

I muss his hair as I stand, smiling. His urgent need to get home reminds me so much of his sister. Only the need to eat or find a bathroom would convince her it was time to leave when she was this age.

"Then, let's get you home. We can't miss lunch, now can we?" I ask him as I take his hand. Kaitlin takes the lead and pushes Ben's stroller ahead of us toward home. Alec, my almost constant shadow, silently brings up the rear, several paces behind, always on the lookout for any trouble.

"Nuh-uh," he says, shaking his head before it pops up to look at me. "Think Mommy's home yet?"

"She should be. She and Aunt Rose had a few things to do before we left for our trip."

"And we're goin' on the airplane tonight?" His green eyes shine up at me, brimming with excitement.

"Yes. As soon as everything is packed and ready to go, we'll leave for the airport."

"And we're going to see Aunt Jane?" He's almost bouncing as we walk.

"Yeah, little man, we're going to see Aunt Jane," I say, and Kaitlin turns back to me, a small smile on her face.

Over the last few years, in the handful of visits we've had with her, Kaitlin has grown close to the woman who is her grandmother. She always looks forward to visiting with her, though, she has no idea of just how closely they're related. Jane was told from the start that Kaitlin has been raised as my daughter. And until we feel it's a good time to share the story of her painful beginning with her, it will stay that way. When it was discovered that Carlisle wasn't my biological father, we felt comfortable introducing her as my aunt Jane, when in reality she's my cousin.

The sight of our packed bags greets us at the door, and Charlie shoots off like a rocket toward the bathroom. He barely misses his mother as she turns the corner.

"Sowwy, Mommy! Gotta pee!" he yells as he zooms down the hallway.

"Please sit!" she yells in return, making me chuckle. "What?" she asks me as she moves to lift a now awake Ben from the stroller. "You know when he has to go that bad and stands, he makes a mess, which I have to clean." She nuzzles and kisses our son.

I step toward her and wrap her and Ben in my arms as Kaitlin takes off up the stairs. "But how will we raise him to be a manly man when he sits to take a piss?" I whisper in her ear.

"Manly man?" She looks up at me, her eyes narrowed.

"Yeah."

"Edward, he's not even five," she says with exasperation.

"Which means we need to be teaching him now."

She smiles, raising a brow. "Then you're volunteering to clean the bathroom when he's done?"

I smile and kiss her forehead. "You're absolutely right, álainn. He's not even five yet. We have time."

"Uh huh. That's what I thought."

After lunch, baths, and packing the car, we finally leave for the airport. A quick call to Emmett confirms they're not too far behind us, their chartered flight departing tomorrow morning. The long trip to Sicily will give our kids plenty of time to sleep and hopefully not be too affected by the five-hour time difference when we arrive. If they can sleep the entire flight, they'll wake in the early morning hours, and we can go straight to the house to see Jane.

One of the first things I asked of Marcus after finding out he was my father was if I could move Jane out of the care facility and into a private house. With his blessing, I found her a seaside home overlooking the ocean. We hired a full-time staff and made sure she could spend her days visiting with her neighbors, many of whom are around her age and have nothing to do all day but visit and swap recipes and stories about their families.

The kids love going to see her, if only for the beautiful scenery; not to mention Jane and her new friends like to dote on them, giving them candy and small trinket gifts. They also get the attention of men and women who are surrogate grandparents of sorts.

Esme, while still involved in our lives, is quite the jet-setter these days. Being only in her early sixties, she feels like she has a new lease on life and travels much of the year. When we chose our new home, it had a guesthouse on the grounds, and she's been living there since shortly after we moved in, even though she's rarely there for more than a few months at a time between her travels. So, having the attention of Jane and her friends has been good for the kids.

After takeoff, the children get settled for what I hope is the rest of the night. Well, except for Ben. He'll likely be up in a few hours wanting his mother's attention. Kaitlin is camped out on the small sofa, her tablet and headphones hooked up so she can watch a movie. Charlie is already sleeping soundly in the center of our ridiculously small bed, his thumb in his mouth; something we're desperately trying to break him of. And Ben is in the travel bassinet beside us, squeezed into the small space between the wall and the mattress edge.

I slip out of my jeans and into flannel sleep pants, trying to get comfortable for the ten-hour flight.

"So, you spoke to Emmett earlier? They're still leaving in the morning?" my wife asks quietly from behind me.

"Yeah. Why?" I fold my pants before stuffing them in my bag.

"I don't know. Rose just seemed put out about not being able to fly with us this time."

As I crawl into the empty space on my side, I reach over our sleeping son and grab my wife's hand.

"And I hope you explained having all of them with us this time with a three-month-old was just too much?"

"I did, but I could tell she was still irritated about having to charter a flight."

"Bella, Rose is great, but she has a hard time keeping her kids under control."

"I know," she says with a sigh. "And little Anthony is ..."

"An absolute monster," I say with a quiet chuckle, making her smile.

"Yeah, I guess so. I still feel bad."

"Don't," I say, reaching over to brush her hair behind her ear. "He's four and is still a holy terror. I wasn't going to start off our vacation with grouchy kids because they can't control their son."

"You're right," she finally agrees.

"Of course I am," I say with a smug grin. "Besides, maybe we can sneak off for a few minutes and test how soundproof the lavatory is." I waggle my eyebrows causing her to roll her eyes and smile.

"Like that's going to happen."

"You know," I whisper. "We've yet to spend time in this bed, just the two of us."

She smiles. "Yeah, I remember you promising me something like that quite a long time ago. I guess dragging kids with us everywhere we go kind of puts a damper on joining the mile high club, huh?" Her voice is just as quiet, so as not to wake the boys.

I bring her knuckles to my lips, placing a kiss there. "But I wouldn't have it any other way." I look down at the sleeping boy between us and the tiny one just beyond my wife. "You know I don't like going anywhere without them."

"Which is only one of the reasons I love you."

"Only one?"

"Yeah, only one."

"What are some of the others?" I ask with a cheesy grin, feeling momentarily carefree.

"Oh, you know, the fact that you're wealthy and handsome, powerful, and with your last name, I have people tripping over their own feet to help me." Her straight face morphs into a smile when she can't contain her giggles. "Well, that's apparently why I'm with you, according to Jacob Black."

I flop onto my back and groan as I stare up at the ceiling, my cheerful mood vanished. "I can't believe he approached you. He's going to be a problem, Bella," I say as I turn my face to look at her.

"I know. But he's no worse than any problem we've faced before." Again, she reaches for my hand. "You forget, with you by my side, I can do anything." This time it's my knuckles at her lips. "Which is another reason I love you."

"I can't guarantee he'll back off any time soon. He seems hell-bent on charging me with something."

She shrugs. "And so what if he does."

"So what if—"

Her finger comes to my lips, silencing me. "If he does, then it'll be my turn to be there for you. Edward, you've been my protector for the last, almost fifteen years. I'll do everything in my power to stand by you if it comes to that."

"And you won't be swayed by that weasel's charm and good looks? Let him convince you I'm no good for you?" I ask, joking yet completely serious.

When her eyes meet mine, I'm stunned at the emotion I see. "Edward, I feel like we've walked through hell to get where we are. I know the things you've done, what we've both had to do, to get where we are, to have the life we have, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let someone take it all away from us. There's nothing he could show me that would convince me you're anything but perfect for me." Her fingers leave mine and trace over the ink on my chest. "I will love you and no other, right? Forever?"

"Forever, álainn."

A/N: Bear with me, this might take a minute. But some, I hope, exciting news toward the end... ;)

I'd like to take a moment to once again thank all the people that helped me with this story. It was a group effort in many ways.

First, thank you, April, for helping me way back when, back when this was a slice from the middle of the story, and helping me brainstorm ideas to expand it. While it didn't end up being what I thought it would, it wouldn't be what it is, either, without your help. And thanks for always being there to bounce ideas off of. It's been my pleasure to work on this with you.

Gail, your unending support and cheering is always a bright spot in my day. Thank you for always being my cheerleader.

Andy ... what can I say? Thanks for being a cheerleader on this side of the screen. ;) And, by the way, your suggestions I didn't end up using for the boat scene make me question your mental stability. LOL!

May, thanks for coming in so late in the game to pre-read. Your insights and suggestions were so helpful, and the extra perspective made this even better.

Fanny, while your real life responsibilities took you away from this, I'll always value the help you gave me early on.

Fran, this wouldn't exist without the contest you put together. You asked me early on if I'd rather write or judge. Writing a Mobward was never on my radar. When I doubted if I could write a mob story, your encouragement was all I needed. Thank you for the push and for all your hard work on this.

And finally, my readers. Thank you all for each and every review, follow, favorite, even you lurkers, and for giving your free time to read my words. You guys are awesome!

If you didn't guess already, there's a very good chance we'll hear more from these two. An idea for a sequel is working its way into my brain! So if you enjoyed this, be sure to have me on alert. I have a few other stories I'm dying to write, so it may be a while. But I'll definitely be around. And don't forget, outtakes are ALWAYS a possibility.

To stay informed of any upcoming projects, and to see the pics to go with each chapter, come check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics. For those of you going to TFMU in June, I'll see you in Atlanta! For everyone else, I'll see you soon!

Lots of love

~Sunshine