(Thank you to all who read this fic! I know it took forever to get it done, but I am happy and sad that it's over. I have been debating if I want to do 2 Fast 2 Furious...(Let me know if you comment!))
The blaring noise from his alarm woke Edward from a restless sleep. Reaching across the bed, he slammed his hand on the alarm clock, silencing it. Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The sun poured into the room, blinding him. Heaving a sigh, he turned his head toward the window, lost in thought.
Had it been yesterday when he let Emmett escape?
When Jasper dropped him off last night, he went into the bathroom to strip his clothes off. When he saw his reflection he gagged, rushing to the toilet to throw up whatever was sitting in his stomach. Rising from the toilet, he flushed it and stood shakily on two legs. Glancing in the mirror again, he saw his blood-splattered arms. His neck was freckled with Jacob's blood. His white shirt was dingy and needed to be thrown away.
He was in the shower for almost an hour scrubbing away blood that couldn't be seen. Taking the ruined clothes to the backyard, he threw them into a small metal trash can and tossed a match in it. Watching it burn, he knew he would have to decide. A decision on whether he wanted to turn Emmett into the cops or not.
Could he let him escape?
It would be his job on the line. He could never become a cop again. This would go on his record. He would become a fugitive first. He would run and run far. He could race, he could make money. Sighing, he trudged back into his house and promptly fell asleep.
Now it was the next morning, and he had not decided yet. Reaching under his pillow for his phone, he pulled it out and opened it. There were several missed calls from work and two text messages from Jasper. Both were asking him if he was coming into work today and what did he plan on doing about McCarty?
Pulling himself out of bed, Edward sat staring at the floor. Rubbing his hands over his tired face he sighed wearily and stood. Once he was dressed, he found his keys on the hook by the garage door. As he sat in the driver's seat of his car, he gazed through the window and into the well-equipped garage.
He didn't want to come into work today. He could skip a few days of work and hide out until he cleared his head. His decision made, he climbed out of the truck and hurried into the house. Throwing a small overnight bag together, he carefully locked his house up. Returning to the car, he tossed the bag in the passenger seat; it fell with a soft sound. Scooting into the driver's seat, he turned the car on, hearing the engine roar to life and peeled out of the driveway.
He needed to get away. When he arrived, he would shoot his boss a message claiming he was sick or some shit. His superior didn't need to know what was wrong. Edward knew that if he stepped into the prescient, he would lose his job as soon as he brought Emmett in. If Emmett didn't kill him first.
Merging onto the I-110 South, he sighed seeing the usual bumper to bumper traffic. Swerving from lane to lane, Edward kept an eye out. His paranoia at an all-time high. It unnerved him he was afraid of seeing cop cars along the 110. All of them knew what car he drove, and he was afraid they would pull him over and drag him back to the station, sit him down in the interrogation room where they would not only question where Emmett was but his loyalty to the job.
As he drove, he wondered where he would go. He needed a few days to sort his mind. Coming up on the junction of the San Diego Fwy, he made a hasty decision. Taking the right lane, he slowly merged onto the 405, where traffic was at a standstill for almost fifteen minutes. Inch by inch, the traffic cleared as he chased the other vehicles down the San Diego Fwy. His stomach growled as he passed by popular fast-food chains. In his haste to leave the house, he forgot to grab food. Shaking his head, he pushed on until he found the large green sign for Exit 38B.
Slowing to a stop, he discreetly locked the doors and windows to his Supra. Glancing at the red light through his dark sunglasses, he ignored the vagabonds and drug addicts roaming the sidewalk. Given a chance, they would accost him for money. He really didn't feel like arresting anyone this day. The light flicked green, and he took a left down Western Ave.
The traffic was lighter as he drove down the highway toward the beach. It would be a good place to hide for two days. Taking his time, he drove slowly down Western Ave until he turned onto Del Amo Blvd. Edward knew there was a small hotel in the area somewhere. He just had to find it.
Twenty minutes later, his stomach growling viciously, he turned into the Redondo Pier Inn. Parking the car, he cut the ignition and leaned back into his seat. Taking a breath, he grabbed his overnight bag and climbed out. Locking the truck, he walked into the modernized lobby with its dark grey coloring splashed with orange. He stopped momentarily seeing the large colorful aquarium filled with fish. Maybe for his two-day stay, he would check out the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach. There were people huddled into groups talking animatedly.
Stopping in line, he waited with shifting feet until it was his turn. Booking a room for the next two nights, he handed over his card, letting the freckled young man behind the counter run his card. When it was handed back to him, the young man gave Edward a tight smile and instructions on finding his room.
Pushing the card in the slot, he watched it blinked green. As he entered the dark room, Edward threw the curtains open glimpsing a line of businesses. The beach was a ten-minute drive. Tossing his bag on the bed, he sat down on the edge and lowered his head.
The fuck was he going to do? He could hear his phone buzzing in his pocket. Leaning back, he reached into the front pocket and retrieved his phone. Seeing the caller was Jasper, he tossed the phone back on the bed.
He was waiting for a call from Bella. He shook his head; he was sitting by the phone waiting on her to call him. She would either listen to him or tell him to fuck off. He hoped it wasn't the latter. He wanted to explain to her why he was spying on them. Flopping back down on the bed, he listened as his stomach growled again, reminding him he needed to eat.
Pushing himself off the bed, Edward grabbed his phone and shoved it in his pocket. Taking one more look around the room, he headed out, making sure he had his key with him. Stepping down the flight of stairs, he decided he could walk around. There were plenty of restaurants to choose from.
Taking a right, a warm breeze past him as he began his journey. Crossing the street, he kept his head down and wished he had brought a hat to cover his head. No one would know he was here, but it was better safe than sorry. The hot sun beat down on the back of his neck as he walked past shops. He paused seeing a Starbucks but shook his head. Coffee and pastries.
As he walked, he smelled pizza and hamburgers. Finding a Smashburger, he shrugged stepping inside the restaurant. The inside was decent for a burger place. There were several families sitting around for lunch with rambunctious children. Being seated a few minutes later, Edward quickly scanned the menu, ordering a double spicy jalapeno Baja burger with fries.
Edward left the restaurant half an hour later, feeling full. Rubbing his stomach, he began his walk back toward the hotel. Arriving, he spoke to no one as he climbed the steps to his room. Inside, he sat down on the bed again, idly scratching his nose. Running his fingers through his messy bronze hair, he flopped back down on the mattress.
He wasn't sure why it was difficult to decide. During lunch, his thoughts were absorbed into feeding himself, but now—alone in his room, he thought again. For the first time in his career, he was finding it hard to do his job.
He knew, of course, the right thing to do was turn Emmett in and move on with his life. They would be reprimanded at work for not showing up and immediately cuffing Emmett. Letting him escape would cost him his job. Staring at the ceiling, he scoffed. He would lose his job, regardless. Except one decision would see him a fugitive, the other—a jobless cop.
What did he have to lose?
The next two days were like the first one. Edward would wake up early, ignore the calls and messages on his phone and eat breakfast. The second day he was there, he spent it at the beach, staring at the waves and catching a horrible sunburn. He stepped out of the shower later that night to see his pale skin bright red like a lobster.
The last day of his sabbatical found himself at the Aquarium. Spending the day with animals whose only decision making was what to eat and who to avoid. Even the hundreds of humans staring at them did not discourage their regular schedule. His sunburn became a problem for him as he slept and wandered around Redondo. Stopping at a CVS, he purchased a bottle of aloe, which he applied liberally that evening. Laying down on the dry cotton sheets, he felt sticky and uncomfortable.
Returning his key the next morning, he sighed making a final decision. He would visit Emmett and talk to him before returning to the station and turning in his badge. Someone else would have to catch Emmett because he was done. Maybe he would speak to Bella, explain to her why he did it. He confessed the night Emmett left to hijack the truck that his feelings for her were real. They still were.
Tossing his overnight bag in the passenger seat of the car, he left the parking lot. Backtracking the way he came in, he found himself turned around but saw the large green sign for I-405 S in Torrence. The traffic, while not heavy, was still congested. A couple of years back he thought about leaving Los Angeles somewhere else. Somewhere that was less crowded.
Looping around, he followed the traffic to the I-110 before he was stopped. Looking ahead, Edward leaned his head back and sighed. Half an hour later, he slowly drove past a two-car collision. As the freeway opened up, he maneuvered past several cars. He debated on whether to take an exit and deal with the red lights or keep pace with the rest of the crazy Californian drivers.
Half an hour later saw him pulling up slowly toward Emmett's house. It seemed like years since he'd been here. Parking the car, he turned off the engine. His eyes scanning the entire area. Just as he was closing the door, the garage doors swung open revealing a pissed off Emmett.
In his hands, Emmett was holding a shotgun. Pointing it directly at Edward, he held his ground. Edward fumbled around for his own gun and cursed realizing he left it at his house. He was unarmed in every way possible. Emmett was going to kill him.
"The fuck you think you're doing here Edward?" Emmett snarled, hiding behind the gun.
"We need to talk Em," Edward exclaimed, holding his arms up in defense.
"The fuck we do! You're a cop, Edward."
"I know this Emmett, but we still need to talk. Can we not do this out here?" Edward asked, lowering his arms showing the garage.
Emmett stared at him for a minute. If Edward had to guess, he was deciding whether or not to shoot him. Holding his breath, Edward waited patiently for Em to decide. When McCarty lowered his gun. Edward released a breath and slowly edged toward the driveway connecting to the garage.
Following Emmett inside, he blinked against the dim lighting from the dust-stained windows. Surveying the garage, he could see tools of all kinds with knickknacks from ages past. In the middle of the small garage was a black 1970 Dodge Charger R/T. It sat there gleaming like a prized possession in the dirty garage. Edward watched as Emmett walked opposite to him, his gun perched neatly on his shoulder.
"You wanted to talk, so talk."
Edward stopped in front of the passenger door, keeping his hands to his side, he wished he had a gun with him. "I know what I did was fucked up…."
"You're damn right it was fucked up. You fucking lied to me, Edward. You lied to everyone and then when it was a matter of life or death you tell Bella who you are. You could have told me sooner!" Emmett snapped, interrupting him.
"I couldn't let anyone die, Emmett. That's why I told Bella. She needs her brother alive! If me confessing is what took her to listen to me and save you, damn it I was going to do it!" Edward snapped, nearly shouting at Emmett. It surprised him the gun had not moved from his perch on Emmett's shoulder.
"Where's Bella and Rose?"
"Gone. Bella doesn't need to be around scum like you." Emmett sneered, as he continued his walk around the car.
Edward wanted to say something but held back. If Bella was gone, then she didn't forgive him. She was still angry with him. He would have to move on and forget her. A woman like was dangerous and beautiful. Eyeing the car, Edward wanted to look inside it and see what it looked like.
"You know something about this car?" Emmett said, his voice changing somberly. Edward's head snapped up at the change of conversation. "My dad and I built this car when I was a kid. It was the only thing me and him did that I can remember. When he was killed in a stock race accident by Kenny Linder, I locked it up."
Edward realized that Kenny Linder was the man Emmett nearly beaten to death. He was avenging his father with his own hands instead of letting cops and lawyers handle it. Saying nothing, he watched as Emmett lowered his gun, running his hands over the roof of the Charger.
"There are not a lot of things that scare me, but this car does. I have never driven it. Nor will I." he confessed, not meeting Edward in the eyes.
Edward didn't know what to say to Emmett. He kept his eyes on the gun in case Emmett changed his mind. He didn't feel like dying today as he was unarmed.
"You know," Emmett spoke again, his eyes trained on Edward. He could see the malice lurking in their depths. "You hurt my sister. On the way back home, she tried her best to keep me from putting a bullet in you. I hate seeing my little sister cry—especially over some asshole like you."
"I apologized," Edward said lamely.
"And sometimes an apology isn't good enough!" Emmett snapped, setting the gun on the roof of the car.
Edward backed up instinctively. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as sweat broke over his brow. He would duck if Emmett shot at him. Though he hoped he didn't. Edward was relying on weeks of friendship to keep him alive.
"I know it isn't. I know I should have come clean, but I had a job to do, Emmett."
"Get out," Emmett snarled, grabbing the gun again.
"What?" Edward asked confused.
Emmett cocked the gun across the car, "I said get out. I don't wanna shoot you in here."
Narrowing his eyes at him, Edward marched out of the garage, slapping the doors on his way out. He could hear the shuffling of Emmett's boots behind him. He knew the gun was still up and ready to shoot him.
"I'm out, now what?" Edward turned, his arms outstretched.
"Now I think I am gonna shoot you Edward," Emmett sneered, taking a step toward him. "You come into my life with my family and into my home and you betray me. You fucking LIED to me."
"I was doing MY job!" Edward shouted.
"I don't give a fuck what you were doing! You still betrayed me," he shouted back.
Neither of them heard the front door slam shut as Bella stormed out screaming at them. Before either of them could acknowledge her, they heard the sound of an engine coming their way... and fast.
Slowly, Edward turned to see Eric's white Jetta come to a screeching halt on the curb. If things were bad, now Edward was afraid to see what was coming.
"Eric! What are you…?" Emmett began, lowering his gun.
"Please Em, I didn't mean too. I need help. I didn't know that would happen. He's…" Eric crawled out of the car, his clothing dingy. His face tired as if he hadn't slept in days.
Everyone stopped and listened as more engines came over the hill of the road. Two motorcycles sped toward then, guns in their free hands. The deadly sound of bullets hitting the road, houses and the sound of breaking glass had all four of them ducking for cover.
Dropping to his knees, Edward reached into the car, looking for something. Sliding through the front of the car, he pushed the button of the glove box and found a spare gun he didn't know was there. Hoping to God it was loaded, he slipped out and fired off two shots.
He didn't even see they filled Eric with bullets; they extinguished his life. The motorcycles raced off down the road and away from them. Throwing himself into his car, he turned the engine on and threw the gear into reverse. Whipping out of the driveway, he shifted gears and pushed his foot down on the accelerator.
Behind him was the sound of a semi-V8 engine revving up as Emmett sped past him. Giving chase to the black motorcycles, Edward blinked against the harsh wind that whipped around him. The chase went on for a couple of miles as the three weaved in and out of traffic. He never lost them as he sped past them. Pushing the NOS button on the steering wheel, his head jerked back as the car sped up.
The car hopped over a hill as he continued to drive. He wondered if Emmett was on the move as well. He knew he had fucked things up when he confessed who he really was a few days ago, but he had tried to set it right. Now, instead of making things better, he was chasing down James Baker and Laurent. He watched Eric die, and he did nothing to stop it.
Jerking the wheel to the right, he swerved as bullets came flying toward him. Nearly falling into the passenger seat, Edward tried to reach for his gun. The surrounding cars were breaking as the bullets kept being fired. Hopping over another hill, he threw half his body out the window, his gun curved tightly in his hand as he pulled the trigger.
Out of nowhere, Laurent was behind him in a game of tag. Before Laurent could pull the trigger and shoot at him again, a black Charger swooped in and handled Laurent for him. Edward didn't see Emmett getting out of the Charger and watch as Laurent rolled down a hill and watch him die.
Still following James, they landed in midday traffic surrounded by pedestrians and cars. Weaving in and out of traffic, Edward panicked seeing James twist his body to aim his gun at him. As the bullets hit the car, Edward pushed down on the brakes, making the car come to a screeching halt. Smoked billowed behind him as he aimed his gun and pulled the trigger three times.
On that third time, his bullet hit James. The motorcyclist spun out of control before he laid it over and scooted across the pavement.
Getting out of the car, his gun tight in his hand, he maneuvered through traffic, trying not to get hit. Rushing over, he skidded to a halt and lowered down to check James's pulse. Not finding one, he stood up and looked around the busy area. James was dead and there wasn't anything he could do about it now. He knew his boss wanted James, and he wanted him so that Emmett wouldn't be the guilty party.
A screeching of brakes turned Edward to look toward the hill. Upon it sat the black Charger. A shiver ran down his spine hearing the roar of the engine, but his mind knew he was fucked if Emmett had half a mind to shoot him. Sprinting toward his car, he ordered someone to call 911, while he hopped in the car to give chase to Emmett.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he slammed the door and punched down on the accelerator. The car took off chasing Emmett, who was far ahead of him. His car hopped over another hill as he caught up to Emmett. As they came to a slow stop, he looked over at Emmett, who looked at him.
"I used to drag this strip back in high school. That railroad crossing is a quarter-mile. On the green, I am going for it." Emmett said, turning his head toward Edward.
Edward couldn't believe this. They would race, now? Of all the time Emmett should try to leave Los Angeles, he wanted to race. He listened as the Charger's engine revved loudly. Taking the hint, Edward did the same and prepared himself for a quarter-mile race.
When the light turned green, the wheels spun as Edward hit on the gas. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the front end of Emmett's car lifted off the ground. He drove that way for several feet before it lowered back down, speeding away from Edward. Panicked as if he was going to lose, Edward pressed the NOS button on the steering wheel again. The car lurched forward, gaining speed, but he still didn't pass Emmett.
They were neck and neck when things begin to slow down. Edward could hear the tinkle of the signal for the railroad. Over the roar of the engine, he could hear the train horn blaring. Shifting gears, he pushed the accelerator until he was almost punched through the metal frame of the car.
On his right side, Emmett's car began to sputter as the engine and knobs malfunctioned. The race started out between two friends then became a race to see if they would live through this. Worry was etched on Emmett's face as the train raced closer to them. Pressing the NOS once again on the wheel, Edward realized he would have to hope and pray he made it.
As the train came closer, his heart seemed to fall out of its protective cage and land on his lap. He watched the train and sailed across the tracks mere seconds before the train could crash into them. Wooden beams from the railroad crossing slapped the car as he leaped.
Slowing the car down, he turned to Emmett, who was staring at him in relief. Edward felt fear shoot down his spine as a large transport truck slammed into the side of the Charger. The Charger flipped and flew into the air. As it landed, it rolled several times before landing upright. Edward hit the brakes and swerved to a stop. Getting out of the car, he raced over the smoking and damaged car.
"Emmett!" he shouted as he ran the driver's side. Inside, Emmett was sitting upright with blood pouring down the side of his head. Edward couldn't tell if he was in shock or angry.
Edward stood back and Emmett tried to climb out of the car. When he was halfway out, Edward lent him a hand and helped pull him out. Off in the distance, they could hear sirens coming toward them. Emmett gripped his shoulder as they looked at one another, trying to figure out what to do next.
Turning back toward the sirens, Edward was at a loss for a moment. He had his opportunity to hand Emmett over to the cops and be on his way to a promotion. A promotion he wanted badly. However, Emmett felt like family to him now. He couldn't abandon him to the cops, Edward could never live with himself if he did.
Reaching into his pocket, he handed Emmett his keys. Emmett took them, looked at them before looking back at Edward, who shrugged.
"I owe you a ten-second car," Edward said.
Emmett nodded and limped toward Edward's car keys in hand. In seconds, the engine flared to life as the car spun around and headed away from Edward. Edward stood there watching Emmett drive out of his life. The sirens were coming closer and for a moment, Edward didn't care. He would take the fall. He would let his family go even if it meant to protect them.