Arrested

A/N for 2018-09-03: Warning #1: back to work tomorrow, so updates will be further apart. Warning #2: There will be some more, short-lived angst in the next few chapters. Then, we move into the beginnings of some romance.

Your commentary on this story delights and motivates me like nothing else - thank you.

~ Erin

Bella remembered Jacob as a sunny kid. He was always smiling when she visited, a practical joke or two ready to be played. Some not so practical. Few wise.

His surly demeanour frightened her in the alley, but it lightened, the further they travelled from it, evaporating by the time they were an hour out of Seattle's city limits.

"Where's your stuff?" Billy had asked her.

She'd looked back at the club, a few blocks away, where Edward had gone.

"We'll get it for you."

"Sally'll know where," she'd whispered, not fully finding her voice yet.

Jacob had disappeared to the club, and come back a few minutes later with her bag and coat. That was when she realized she still had Edward's on.

"Doubt he'll miss it," Billy'd observed drily, putting a hand on her arm.

She'd flinched.

He'd let go immediately.

"That everything?" Jacob had asked, not even looking at her, swivelling his head around, like he was looking—no, trying to smell something.

Bella peered into it. The books, and her clothes were there. There wasn't anything else to get.

She nodded.

Putting her own coat on, she'd folded Edward's, noting the bulge in the pocket. Fingering it, she realized it was a wad of cash. "Oh," she'd said, holding it out. "I need to return this to him—"

"Trust me, you don't," Jacob had said. It was so bitter. It uglied his voice.

Seeing her distress, Billy had said more softly, "he has family in town, Bella. You can mail a cheque. Not a big deal."

She was parsing this connection, making sense of how close that link was. From the same town, and they'd met here. What were the chances?

And Billy and Jacob, finding her? They'd told her about the tip phoned in, but it was a far cry from there to physically locating her. Billy had joked they just sniffed around. She hadn't laughed. He'd explained they walked the streets and asked people. They got lucky.

Really lucky.

Jacob wouldn't let her drive. "You sleep," he said. "I'm good."

Billy had already nodded off in the back. She sat more uneasily next to Jake, trying to remember what it felt like to not worry what a man would do.

Her ordeal had not been long, but it had been powerful. She knew that. She just wasn't sure what the path was back to normal. If there was one.

The weight of the police worry squirmed in her gut. They'd told her that the charges would probably disappear. Foster kids made poor witnesses. She hadn't told them anything about the home supervisors. She didn't quite trust them with that yet.

Didn't quite trust them fully, at all. That was the bare truth.

It was a long drive home, marked by a few stops to stretch legs and eat, but little else. The Blacks were undemanding conversationalists, and she was content to be left in silence.

"You wanna stop by the house?" Billy asked.

She shook her head. She hadn't changed out of the clothes she'd left it, and she wouldn't sully the place with any piece of that, if she could avoid it.

When they pulled up to the Black's, Billy lifted his chin to the bathroom. "Go, make yourself at home."

She scrubbed herself down, piling the clothes into the corner, avoiding touching them when she was dressed. Carrying them out, pinched between her fingers, she asked, "do you have a burning pile?"

"Do you one better," Billy said. "Come outside."

He picked up a small stack of items from the counter, and led her around the house, to the back, where a small fire pit lay.

"Sit," he instructed her, and then more loudly, "Jake, give me a hand here, please."

Jake came out. He and Billy both wore different clothes, she saw.

"Burn those over there," he said, pointing to the wad in Bella's hand. "I'll get this one going."

Two fires?

Jacob's small conflagration was fuelled with the aid of some gasoline, unceremoniously dumped over the fabric on the ground, and then lit. He kicked loose dirt over top once the flames petered out. Then he came back and joined his father.

Billy was humming something tuneless, making his small fire of brush bits, then twigs, and finally, well cut cedar logs. He sprinkled tobacco over it, and then spruce needles. Then he tucked away some of the ash to the side, which Jacob scooped up with a tin cup. It smoked, and he wafted it over himself, muttering as he did, and then Billy, who repeated the movements.

Bella watched silently.

Then they turned to her.

"This will drive away any evil that clings to you," Billy said, handing the cup back to Jacob, who waved the smoke towards her in gentle upward drifts of his hands, circling her as he went. Then, pinching an edge of the ash, he dusted it over the backs of her hands with a light finger. "The cold won't touch you," he murmured. "And we will protect you." Then he smudged her forehead, and the tops of her shoes.

This done, he grinned widely, the old Jacob she'd known as a child, suddenly present. "And now, we have the ceremonial cheesecake, which if you really want to work its mojo, give all of yours to me."

It was so poor, and obvious a joke, that Bella smiled.

"Is there really cheesecake?" she dared ask.

"Yup. Sue brought it over while you were in the bath. She forgot the berry sauce, so she'll back in a bit."

She let her smile flicker again, her ease almost expended.

She was home. Or what passed for one. Now she just had to figure out what that meant.

- 0 -

Bella woke, and lay in bed, thinking. No one had tried the lock on the bedroom door. There had been no stray hands in the middle of the night. This was good, she told herself. She still waited for those things. Her logical mind could not assure the more primal one that lay beneath it.

Getting up, she fished through the backpack. She hadn't bothered to unpack it yet. It seemed to great a leap to make, all at once. Maybe tomorrow. Putting on the clothes nearest the top, she tried not to think of when she'd bought them, squishing her forehead together, trying to recall what clothes she'd left at the house in Forks. Not much, she knew, but things that were hers—that had origins in happier times. Maybe they could go by and get some of them today.

Before she stepped into the small hallway, she opened the door a crack, not wanting to be surprised by anyone she'd find there. It was empty, and she slid from her room to the bathroom, locking it also.

She made herself take several deep breaths before she emerged from that, clean now, ready to face the men she'd entrusted herself to.

They were sitting at the table, Jacob hunched over a gigantic bowl of cereal, and Billy with the paper, a cup of something steaming to his lips.

"Morning," he called. "I think this hog might have left some food in the house."

"Checked on your truck too," Jacob smiled, ignoring his dad.

She made her lips turn upwards, approaching the space carefully.

Jacob moved to get up, and she stopped immediately, paused halfway to the cupboards.

"Cereal's just up here," he said, sort of half-up from his seat, watching her reaction. "Eggs in the fridge, if you want those instead."

"Thanks," she said, still frozen in place, like prey, trying to escape the notice of a predator.

Jacob sat back down slowly, and then picked up his spoon, focusing on his cereal again.

She unfroze then, taking precise steps, each motion completed with calculation. Avoiding the draw of their eyes.

She ate just as quietly, and appreciated that Billy used a soft voice when he spoke next.

"I've talked to Mark, down at the station. We're gonna go in and get this police business sorted out, as well as the foster care stuff. OK?"

"Thanks," she tried, working out a frog in her throat. She looked at Jacob, "and for checking on my truck too."

"No problem," Jacob said, getting up to put his dish away.

"I need to get new ID too, and go to the bank."

"Sure," Billy said. "You want to see about school too?"

She shook her head. Definitely not. She wasn't sure what people had heard about her leaving, but if she'd learned anything, she knew the news of her return would be well spread by now, and possibly, the circumstances she'd been found in. She didn't need that whispered about her at school. She'd homeschool, even if it meant repeating the year.

They piled into Billy's truck again, and made their conversationless journey to the police station.

Mark was waiting for them in the back, and with a pang, Bella saw he'd taken what had been her father's desk. She didn't look at Charlie's picture, set on the wall, along with the other's of the area's former sheriffs.

Instead, she dug her nose further into the fleece of her dad's jacket. Jacob had gone in to do a quick check on the house, picking it up on the way out, figuring she'd want something more practical than the one she'd arrived in. The leather had a rough sheepskin lining, which still smelled of old spice, gun oil, and smoke—like Charlie. Like the ghost of what had been her very brief home.

"Pam left the paperwork for you to sign this morning," Mark said, taking them back to the interview room. "Once that's done, you're legally in the Black's care, OK?"

Bella nodded, and BIlly also.

"Obviously, we've cancelled the missing person's report. Now we just need to address the warrants that were made for you."

"Warrants?" Billy asked.

"They laid warrants for several charges, yes."

Bella swallowed. "For what?"

He sort of tried to smile reassuringly, but it only made Bella's stomach lurch uneasily.

"There are multiple claims of theft and assault, and one for drug possession with intent to distribute."

"What?" Bella asked.

He listed out where the claims had originated.

"The supervisors there were giving drugs to other kids to sell. I didn't touch them—"

Mark listened, but didn't say anything until she'd finished. "Before we go any further, I need you to understand your rights, OK?"

Her stomach might as well have flopped onto the floor.

"You're mirandizing me?"

He nodded.

Her blood joined her stomach, pooled in her feet. She felt very, very cold, barely hearing the words. She was imagining another kind of incarceration. One that wasn't so far from what she'd already experienced.

"Do we need to get a lawyer?" Billy asked for her.

"It's her right," Mark said carefully. She knew he couldn't advise, one way or the other.

"Bella?" Billy asked gently. "You want a lawyer, before we keep talking?"

With what money? Certainly not theirs.

She shook her head, trying to focus. To think.

"What assets do you have, Bella, currently?" Mark asked.

"Pardon?"

"I'm establishing if you have the means to flee."

"My truck."

"Financial assets?"

"If my account hasn't been touched, I should have a few hundred dollars there."

"Cash?"

She thought of the money she'd found in Edward's jacket. It wasn't hers. She shook her head.

"OK," Mark exhaled, clearly relieved. "I do need to formally arrest you, Bella, and then I can release you on your promise to appear for court. I'll need a copy of your bank statement today or tomorrow, or I will need to remand you."

She nodded.

He read out the arrest charges, and then stood, indicating she should follow him to the small space at the back to take her picture.

Tears welled up. Charlie had let her and Jake play back here one year when she was younger, taking silly mugshots together. She never thought she'd have a real one here.

The flash was just as bright, and it made her eyes widen, startling under the light.

"Sorry," Mark mumbled, "this ink really stains, so wash your hands well when we're done." Then he went to roll her thumb down onto the paper, and she jerked it back.

The air felt like it was trembling through her lungs.

She hadn't really realized it, but he'd called her name a few times before she answered.

"Anything you want to tell me, Bella?"

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. His words were sort of sliding over her, she could tell, bits of them catching at her attention.

"Something happen to you, while you were away?" He lifted his chin towards her, one hand clutching the other, like she was afraid it would be taken.

She didn't want to lie to him, so she shook her head, swallowing, looking down at the floor.

"Why don't I get you to do this yourself, then. I'll talk you through it."

She moved back to the pad of ink, and paper, rolling out her fingerprints.

When they were finished their business with Mark, he said goodbye, reminding Bella to bring in her bank statement later.

"Does he know?" she asked Billy, when they got to the bank. "Where you found me? What I was doing?"

"No."

She couldn't tell what his expression was. She was too carefully looking at the treeline. "Does anyone else?"

"Just the Cullen boy."

Now she looked at them both, faces grimmer for the speaking of the name.

"What's your problem with him? Or his family, or whatever?" She flicked her eyes between them, trying to parse the minute expressions unfolding.

"They're not safe," Jacob said.

"Safe for what?"

"I need to get back for an appointment soon," Billy mumbled, tipping back in his chair, wheeling it backwards and then forwards, a mesmerizing rhythm.

"Of course," Bella said, recalling herself. She was their guest. Of sorts.

Billy nodded. "If you want more time, you could drive your truck back, save us a trip getting it later."

Mark had provided her with a temporary license. She'd have to make a trip to town to get a proper one, but it made her feel free, knowing she could drive.

"Would you mind?"

"'Course not," Billy said.

"Just watch third gear still. Seemed a bit stiff." She nodded, fumbling and dropping the keys when he threw them. He didn't approach to help her pick them up.

"You got some cash?" Billy asked suddenly. "You probably need some things." He was pulling out his wallet.

"No," she said immediately shaking her head. "I'm OK, I don't need—"

He wheeled over and pressed several bills in her hands. "Yes, you do. If you need gas, or you get hungry, or whatever. I know you're not going to waste it Bella." He turned his back, jerking his thumb at Jacob to go. "Just be home for dinner."

"OK," she said, watching them go.

She felt a twinge of guilt, that relief came with it. She was alone. For the first time in...weeks. At liberty. The word had a new, and profound meaning.

She ran her errands first, getting her bank cards, and statement, which she dropped with Marc. The line at the motor vehicle branch wasn't too long, and they promised a new license in the mail. Then she drove to the hospital, and to the walk-in clinic attached to it.

When she got to the question about the purpose of her visit, she left it blank, not daring to commit what had happened to the written word.

The nurse was a stickler though, and pointed to the blank space. "Need this filled in, honey. Otherwise we can't help you." She was chipper, handing the clipboard back with a smile. Like she'd asked Bella to write her favourite colour.

Faced with this, Bella wrote down the barest concerns in her messiest writing.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "Bad handwriting."

The nurse arched an eyebrow at her, and pursed her lips, but said nothing more.

When her name was called, she sat in a small room, opening the door when the nurse closed it, moving the chair so she could see out of it, and be near an exit. Just in case.

Carlisle Cullen paused, seeing this new and defensive arrangement. "Hi Bella," he smiled softly, surprised. "I thought you'd gone to Seattle?"

"I did."

"Visiting?"

"No," she shook her head. "Moved back."

"Ah," he said softly. "How's your hand?"

"What?"

"Your hand," he said, gesturing to her left one.

"Oh," she said. It was shaking. She'd not really thought about seeing a doctor, not before today, and what she might discover was making her insides melt together in the most unpleasant ways.

He pulled down the chart, and read the notes she'd made. He paused over them, his eyes not moving, clearly thinking before speaking. "Can you talk a little more about your concerns today?" He asked this gently.

"I think they're pretty clear."

"OK," he said slowly. "Let's start with some blood tests then. Have you had a pap smear recently?"

"No, never."

"Then it would be good to do that too. We'll need to take some swabs for the lab."

She nodded, trying to make all the feelings shrink inwards.

They caught on something though.

"I met your son." She blurted this out. Like he would understand the significance of it.

"Oh?" Carlisle said, glancing at her as he plucked items from a drawer, setting them on a tray. "Which one?"

"Edward."

"How'd you meet?"

It was the most innocent question.

She had an answer that didn't seem so innocent.

"Um...just in town."

Carlisle had made what was meant to be cursory eye contact, but he paused, witnessing the stricken expression on her face.

She looked down. "He helped me." Her words quavered as they emerged. "I don't know how to reach him, but maybe you can tell him thank you, from me." She didn't want to mention the money now. It would seem strange.

Carlisle was very still now, hands resting on his lap, listening. "Happy to. He'll be here this week." Then he paused, still watching her. "Sounds like you had a difficult time while you were away."

She sort of snorted, but even this was uncertain. "Yes. You could say that."

Carlisle looked at the tray of things he'd collected. "OK. I'm going to start with the blood work, if you're ready?"

She nodded, pushing up her sleeve. There were faint marks of bruises there. Mac's hands weren't gentle, and he'd towed her around with a grip better suited to a wheelbarrow.

Carlisle's eyes registered these marks, but said nothing, collecting the samples quickly.

When he slid the curtain shut in the room, she let her hands shake openly while she slid off her jeans. Then she made herself be very, very still, laying down on the table. "I'm ready," she called.

He pulled the curtain back. "Do you know how to do a breast exam?" he asked. "Checking for lumps?"

She shook her head.

"OK, I'll show you how. Can you lift up your shirt?"

She did, revealing the solid band of bruise that ran around her chest. It had faded, but the discolouration was visibly consistent. Deliberate.

"That looks painful," Carlisle murmured. "How'd that happen?"

She shrugged, feeling her bones slide uneasily around in her flesh. "It's fine," she mumbled. She was staring at the ceiling, very carefully avoiding seeing his face.

He showed her how to check for lumps, demonstrating on one side, asking her to try on the other.

Moving to the end of the table, he took in her rigid posture, and said, "can you try to let your legs relax, Bella?"

She did, marginally.

"You'll feel my touch now," he warned her, and then his hands moved away, replacing the blanket over her. "I can't do the exam today," he said, coming to sit around by the side of the bed.

"Why?"

"Because you have some lacerations that are healing, and I don't want to disturb them."

"Oh." There was a lot packed into that one word.

"I'll let you get dressed." He pulled the curtain shut.

It felt like he was covering up something unsightly.

She took her time, trying to remember in what order everything went on.

He was sitting, looking very focused over his notes. She had the sense this was for her benefit.

"Is there anything you want to tell me about, Bella?" he asked, looking up from them. His eyes, she could see, were almost black. She squinted a little. Hadn't his been lighter before?

What kind of people had eyes that changed colour?

His next words jarred her back to the present. "The blood tests will take a week or so to come back. Would you like to include a pregnancy screen as well?"

Oh God. She hadn't even thought of that particular complication.

Her face flexed, almost out of control. "Um, sure."

He nodded, too slowly. The scratch of his pen seemed loud. She realized he was mulling over something. "Do you want me to get someone for you to talk to, Bella?"

"What?"

"A counsellor, to speak with?"

"No, I'm fine."

His pained look spoke to her less than convincing performance, but he nodded, respecting her words and scribbling something onto a card. "If you change your mind, you can reach them here." His information was on the reverse.

She took it wordlessly, nodding her thanks, and leaving.

When she reached her truck, she sat inside and locked the doors, the sobbing and choking and breathing wanting turns all at once. She let her body express its distress, trying to corral the greater one exploding in her mind.

- 0 -

She'd really wanted to say no, but Billy and Jacob hadn't really given her the opportunity, just said, "come on, time for dinner," and then jerked their heads towards the door.

The short drive down to the beach was a surprise.

"Dinner's here?"

"Council meeting's here," Jacob clarified. "To welcome you."

"Me?"

"Of course," Billy said, then frowning a bit, spotting Sue and Leah, thinking about something, "Should we have warned you, so you could...I dunno, dress up or something?"

This was the least of her worries, and she actually smiled at Billy's concern for her vanity.

"No, I'm just...surprised."

"OK Good," Billy said, grunting as he tried to lurch forward in his chair. Bella stepped behind and helped push him over the rough ground.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," Bella replied. It was nice to be useful. Even in a small way. She'd find more, as she settled in, she determined. Maybe that would help.

Maybe.

There were many introductions, most of them to young men shaped like Jacob. Large. Built like burly tanks. At one point they sort of crowded around her as Jacob introduced them, and she felt her breathing pick up, stepping back, trying to politely move away from their mass.

"Gezuz," Leah muttered, "quit scarin' her."

Jacob had looked sharply at Bella, stepping to put himself in between the group and her form.

Leah rolled her eyes at him and walked away back to where her parents and BIlly sat. "Come get bored with me, Bella," she called. "They're talking fishing."

Bella was only too happy to accept, sitting beside Leah on the log there. The smoke from the barbeque was being blown all around, and contented herself with smells that had nothing to do with the city, or its ugly happenings.

One of the boys, Paul, came and sat beside Leah, eyeing Bella. "Jake said you were hangin' with a Cullen in Seattle."

"Pardon?" Bella asked, the food she'd just swallowed pausing uneasily in her throat.

"That must've sucked," he snorted.

"Hey Paul," Leah said, just across from Bella.

"What?" Paul asked, his mouth full of hot dog.

"See if you can stuff the other foot in there."

He rolled his eyes at her.

"Cullens have a bit of a bad rap around here, kid," he said familiarly to Bella, "but the secret of your former company is safe with me."

Sam barked at Paul then, telling him to come help with carrying something, and Paul moved to go, snatching another hot dog from the platter in front of them before jumping lithely away.

No one demanded more words of her, letting her sit quietly amidst a generally calm babble of unimportant conversation. So when Harry Clearwater spoke her name from the peak of more formally shaped oval, she looked at him nervously, hoping this wouldn't change.

"We welcome you, Bella Swan, as one of our own, and we offer you the protection of our tribe."

She glanced at Billy, beside her, who leaned down and whispered, "It's OK. Just a formality."

She nodded, a near imperceptible twitch of her head.

Harry was still talking, but now relaying a story well cadenced with age and repetition. Things about spirits and wolves and cold ones.

She listened, sort of, exhaustion starting to liberate thoughts she wanted safely caged up.

When Billy leaned over with a quiet, "You ready to go home?" she sort of jumped in her seat, only half present.

She answered by standing, and helping push him back to the truck.

She thought it was odd, at home, when Jacob slipped outside, almost as soon as they got in, but was so tired, that she only locked her bedroom door, and let herself fall fast asleep.

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