Indebted

A/N for 2018-09-02: I won't apologize for the cliffie in the last chapter :-) I promised you angst - and angst you shall have!...except in this chapter. This chapter gives you a wee bit of happiness.

Love hearing your thoughts and reactions. They drive the writing like nothing else.

~ Erin

"She's seventeen, how can you not know where she is?...That's no answer...No, I don't want to file a complaint...I'm not being unreasonable. I'm asking you to find a minor that you're responsible for...yes, please do. Thank you." He hung up the phone, flicking the cord angrily out of the way.

"Still nothing?" Jacob asked.

"No," Billy grumbled.

"She's not the kind to run away."

"No, she's not." He paused for a bit, "I think we should talk to the police here."

Newly minted Sheriff Mark Barclay was disturbed by what the Blacks reported, and then eager to help. With a few phone calls, he had access to her file, eyebrows shooting up when it came in.

"What?" Billy asked.

He blew out a breath. "She's got charges pending. She's wanted."

"What?" Jacob spat out. "Bella? Little Bella Swan?"

"Yep," Mark said, not passing over the paper. "But on the good side, someone saw her, and called it in. That's...really rare."

"Who called?"

"Someone from here of all places, working in Seattle—at a dress shop. Couple days ago."

"How'd they know she was missing?"

"Saw a poster at a shelter where they volunteer. They recognized the name, and then realized they'd seen her."

"Have the police followed up?"

"They won't," Mark said, shaking his head. "Not enough to go on. There are so many missing kids. The chances of finding them, I mean, especially someone her age." He lifted his hands up. "She hasn't reached out, at all?" He watched them carefully.

"Just the one email," Jacob confirmed.

"The social worker sounds pretty useless," Mark commented drily.

Billy snorted.

"She could be waiting until she's eighteen, before she deals with the charges, if the social worker hasn't represented her interests well," Mark suggested.

"Would they have called around to homeless shelters?" Jacob asked.

"No. They don't tend to be...forthcoming with police. They might be to you, though."

"We need to go then," Billy said, nodding.

"It's the best chance of finding her," Mark agreed, "But honestly? Those odds are almost nil."

Jacob looked at Billy meaningfully, who said, "We'll go."

- 0 -

"You," Mac barked at Bella, as she moved towards Jim's office, "downstairs. You're on hold for pretty boy again."

"Again?" Jim called out. It approached a whine.

"Yep," Mac confirmed, pointing Bella to the basement stairwell.

She was only too happy to comply, jogging quietly down the stairs, pausing to catch up on missed breaths just before the door as Mac unlocked it. She didn't want to wake any of the other girls up.

Pushing the door open, the wave of sound hit her. She didn't even hear Mac lock the door behind her.

Someone was shrieking, and other voices were murmuring, trying to offer unheard reassurances.

"I want to go to a hospital!"

It was Sally.

The crowd of bodies was standing, or kneeling around Sally, whose voice was hoarse with wear.

As she got closer, Bella could see why.

Someone was stitching a thick cut on her inner thigh. A man, by the looks of it, shod in dirty shoes and jeans.

"I don't want to nick an artery, so hold still!" he hollered.

Sally shrieked again, a guttural eruption from her throat.

Bella turned and ran to the back, reaching the toilet in time. Then she washed her face and returned to sit by Sally, finding a spot near her head, keeping her own back to the gory business.

"Hey," she said, "I'm back."

There was a wordless sort of grunting acknowledgement, and a sharp squeeze of her hand. Sally's face turned into Bella's leg, and she felt the warm, wet seep of tears there. She kept silence, knowing talk would do nothing, but stroked her hair, and stayed until the stitching was done.

"This is gonna sting a bit," the man warned her.

Bella caught the whiff of rubbing alcohol, and winced, knowing what was coming. Her own face squished up in empathetic pain, when Sally started screaming again.

"If it gets puffy, get her to a hospital." Then, directing his words to Sally, "keep it clean and dry. No working that area for a week at least. I'll come by and take the stitches out then."

The girls were shuffling around, rifling through their belongings, pulling out spare change, cigarettes, little bottles of booze, jewelry, and handing it to the man.

"You got something for him?" Patty muttered to Bella.

"Yeah, sure," she said, and went to the bottom of her sleeping bag, pulling out the purse.

The man's eyes widened, seeing it. "That'll do," he said, almost reverently, taking it, shaking his head at the other offers. "Covers the next few, too."

"Thanks Kim," Patty said, her smile small and flickering. "You got what you need for everything else?"

He looked a bit furtive, and Patty nodded, passing him a small bag of pills.

"Thanks."

"No problem," she said, watching him go.

Sally had sort of curled up into herself, sleeping bag loose over her legs, and it looked like she was trying to get to sleep. So were some of the other girls.

Bella didn't bother asking what had happened. She had enough of an idea. The details wouldn't make any of it better.

"Who's he?" she asked Patty, lifting her chin towards the closing door.

"Former military doctor," she mumbled. "Didn't come back right from the gulf." She tapped her head, and then shook it. "Needs a lot of pills, but he's better than Mac, with a needle and thread."

"Mac?"

"Shitty sewing skills," she said, flexing her eyebrows, and lifting her skirt. A vivid weal ran up her leg, in a similar spot, a criss-cross of scarred stitching lines still visible. "Least Kim uses some topical anesthetic when we've got it."

Bella wondered how many girls had died here, from cuts too bad to stitch, or ones poorly strung together, and infected. Or just disappeared altogether. And not to happy endings.

"She'll be OK," Patty said, turning away, finding her own spot on the floor.

Bella thought about Edward's words again: you don't have to go back.

Maybe she shouldn't. Just say yes, and see what happens. It wasn't a matter of deciding whether or not to risk harm. It was a matter of determining when, and how it happened: with him, or at the end of another man's hands.

- 0 -

He'd never seen her so terrified, as when he told her she could stay. That she didn't have to go back to her keepers.

He felt like an idiot after, realizing the position he'd put her in. She had no reason to trust him—and more to fear him than she could possibly understand.

The beast growled, rumbling in his frame, as he shoved it down with his better thoughts. With protective feelings that made no sense to him.

He'd bought her—twice. Returned her, twice, to creatures whose only interest in her was to make profit through her fragile flesh.

He would not return her to them again. That was absolute.

He wished he could be content with his choice, but he wasn't. He coveted her. The idea of freeing her, and never seeing her again made him wretched.

But it was right, and he wouldn't let her suffer for what he wanted again.

He could be wretched, but not her.

The smells of the neighbourhood assailed him, as he stepped from the car, and he picked them apart in strands: rotting food, diesel fumes, fluids of bodily origin, and a scrim of mist settling city dust over it all.

Then a scent, whirled around a building and invaded his nose.

He froze.

What were they doing here?

The source was a few blocks distant, at least. He lifted his face, testing the air. Yes, at least that far. He kept walking, moving fast enough to look purposeful, but not so fast as to attract attention.

He was both relaxed by, and enervated by her scent, when it reached him.

But then it came mixed with the other smell, and he growled.

Almost banking the corner, he skirted a group of panhandlers, speeding himself towards her.

- 0 -

They'd walked out of the dark and into the shallow pool of light thrown by the club and street lights.

Her eyes had widened in recognition, and then contracted with her face, in shame and terror. She looked down.

"Bella?"

She didn't dare lift her gaze.

But Mac had noticed. "Sorry man, Birdy's spoken for. Take your pick of the others." His gaze moved over Billy to Jacob, evaluating the boy's solid, but so far relaxed stance.

"Bella?" Billy asked again.

"Please go," she whispered, afraid for what would happen to Billy, or Jacob, if they persisted. Afraid of what would happen to her.

"What're you doing here sweetheart?" Billy cried. It was just above a whisper.

"Working," Mac answered for her, pushing the other girls aside to get to her. "Told you, she's spoken for. Pick someone else, or move on."

"She's family," Billy growled at him.

Mac laughed. "Well congratulations. Now get."

Jacob moved closer to his father, shifting himself to be almost between Mac and Billy.

"You want to stay here, Bella?" Jacob asked.

She said nothing, simply breathing seemed risky enough.

"You don't have to, you can come home with us." His young face was all earnestness.

Mac was done, though, and pointed away from the group. "Walk or be moved. Your choice."

Bella doubted the movement would be gentle.

Then Edward walked into the spread of light.

Jacob and Billy stared at him, their eyes growing saucer sized.

"Your customer's here girl, go," Mac called.

She pled with her eyes, willing Billy and Jacob to leave, then turned and walked towards Edward.

They followed.

"Oh no, back off," Mac snarled.

"It's fine," Edward said, making rare contact with Bella's hand, sliding her behind him. Like he was protecting her.

Jacob pushed Billy closer to Edward.

"Not here," Edward said quietly to Jacob, and tilted his head, walking back the way he came, Bella just in front of him. He shrugged off his jacket, settling it on her bare shoulders.

She could hear Jacob's hissed in breath from behind her.

Edward guided her into the first alley they encountered, catching her arm as she almost tripped. "Careful."

Stopped, with Jacob and Billy still a distance away, he turned to her. "You know these people?"

"Yes."

"Who are they to you?" His voice was gentle, but it demanded an answer.

"Family," Billy growled, getting closer.

"Are they, Bella?" Edward asked.

She winced, hearing him use her name. This ugly world, so full of horror was sliding over, infecting the old one she'd preserved, and she knew there was nothing now that wouldn't be touched by what the last weeks had wrought.

"Of a kind."

"Bella," Billy reprimanded her. "We are here for you." Then he looked at Edward, and a wave of hatred so ugly and wretched crossed his face, it made Bella miss a breath, to see it. "I don't know what the hell you're doing with a Cullen, Bella, but you need to come home with us. Please."

"Do you want to go with them, Bella?" Edward asked. His fingers brushed hers, and she shivered, but not from cold.

When she spoke, it was to Billy. "I can't. They'll come," she said, looking back towards where they'd been, "and I can't risk them hurting you."

"Trust me, they can't hurt us," Jacob said, chuckling, like this was laughable.

"He's right. They won't," Edward said to her, turning and finding her eyes.

Bella's eyebrows dove into a deep V. "You don't understand. They can, and the police, they—"

"We know about the police, Bella. We can sort that out," Billy said.

Here Edward shot her a questioning look.

She kept her gaze on the ground.

All these people, wanting to help, but the one offer she would risk, wasn't there again.

"Can you give us a minute?" Edward asked Jacob and Billy.

Jacob snorted. "As if."

"Is she harmed?" Edward almost growled at him.

"Has he hurt you, Bella?" Jacob asked her.

"No," she said vehemently. The question horrified her. Then she realized it shouldn't. "No," she said again, more quietly.

"Just a minute to talk in private. For her," Edward said, the emphasis on the last word sounding strange to her ears.

Jacob's face was a twisted scowl as he hissed this out. "If it's more than that, it's the end of you. Privacy or no." Then he looked around the alley, as if establishing some significance to the place.

Edward nodded, these terms not surprising him.

Billy spoke, as Jacob pulled him away. "We'll be just around the corner, Bella."

Once they were out of sight, Edward dared to lay a hand on her arm. It was the lightest of touches. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"You know them." It was an accusation. The hatred had been clear on all their faces.

"In a way, yes," he spoke carefully.

"How?"

Edward's lips pursed together. "Our families are...old acquaintances."

She was readying words when he spoke again.

"I can erase your debt, Bella. Easily." He held up his hand when she went to interrupt. "And I'm sorry I haven't done it already. It won't make sense to you, but it was to protect you. The Black's protection is greater, though."

She put what she'd heard into words that framed her reality. "You want to buy me."

"No," he said, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it pained him to hear this. "I will erase what they think is their claim, because I want you to be free of it, of any obligation to anyone."

How could you be free of an obligation, when someone bought your freedom?

"I can only hope our paths cross in a way that you want. Nothing more. But I need to know, if you want to go with the Blacks, or if you want me to make you safe elsewhere."

"You'd take me with you?" she asked.

"If you want, yes."

She felt like her heart stopped.

He would take her with her.

And do what? Her well fed distrust asked.

Over her justified fears, home screamed her name, even though it was the faint and fleeting one that Forks had been. The thought that people might care for her, because they'd cared for her father, made her heart ache, strained and pounding in her chest.

"With them. Yes. Please." She choked the words out, trying not to cry, taking in air in sobbing gulps.

Then his arms wrapped around her, so cold from the night air, the hardness of his muscles a shock over her own rigid form.

He released her almost instantly, his face pained, pulling back. He nodded towards the alley's entrance, where Jacob and Billy were coming towards them.

"Wait," she said, turning back to Edward. She had to ask. Had to try. "Sally," she whispered to him. "Can you help her?"

"Of course," he hushed back, staying unnaturally still. Like he was holding himself back.

She had a feeling he would have said yes to anything she asked in that moment.

"Thank you," she breathed, and then moved towards Billy, who now folded her into his arms.

"Let's go home," he whispered, his voice as broken as hers.

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