Internment

A/N for 2018-09-05: This is short, but should bring some relief after the last chapter. I'm not replying to all the reviews, but definitely to all the ones with questions.

Your words fuel mine - so comment away. I am hungry for your thoughts.

~ Erin

She hadn't exactly calmed down, but she'd stopped making noise. Or moving much. Every breath in was tenuously pulled, the release jittery and clenching, like she wasn't ready to let go of the air.

The car ride was a good ninety minutes. Lots of time to realise she had no way out of this.

Her release was in Billy's hands. And she was in the care of someone else's.

"Bella," Mark sighed, "I'd really prefer not to have to carry you inside. Will you cooperate?" He sounded tired. Sad.

She nodded, and followed them, trying to keep her hands still, to not feel them. She was afraid of what she might start remembering, if she did.

The sign outside the facility read "Clallam County Detention Center". It looked more like an office building, than anything else, wide sliding doors opening as they approached. They passed through these, and then another set. When these locked, Mark removed the handcuffs.

"We're going to stay here, Bella, while you go through to the next section. They'll walk you through processing from here."

She nodded, and as they turned to walk back, said, "Please try to talk to him—Edward."

Mark nodded, blowing out a breath. "I'll try, Bella." He words didn't convince her of his intention.

Then the door buzzed, and a voice over the intercom instructed her to move forward, which she did, and the the new doors behind her clicked shut. She felt like she was in one of those glass fun-houses, where you try to find your way out. Except, there was no way here.

Processing, as they called it, was at least bearable. No one touched her, or demanded the sight of her flesh unclothed.

"Any medical concerns?" the officer asked.

Having already had her liberty stripped in so many other ways, she shook her head, keeping her hurts private.

The officer looked at her, a soft smile on his face. "Some bad things happen to you?"

She nodded.

"Hard to talk about?"

More nodding.

"OK," he said, looking down at the paperwork in front of him. "Would you like to talk to one of the counsellors?"

Could they use what she said against her? Probably.

"No."

He didn't seem surprised by this.

"Dinner's kinda early here, so you've missed it, unfortunately, but I can find you something if you're hungry?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

He kept talking, asking questions that she could shrug to, impervious to the meanings they offered and required.

Eventually, she stopped even that gesture, all of it feeling heavy. Exhausting.

Pointless.

Her hope had been a small, but sturdy flame.

Mark's disbelief had completely extinguished it.

He was simply one person of several who had the power to make decisions for her. And he hadn't believed her. What was the point in talking to anyone else, if all she could expect was more of the same?

This dark pool was easy to slide into. It wouldn't disappoint. Its inky depths were well known.

"Bella?"

She stared past his shoulder to the wall, an undemanding pastiche of pockmarked grey.

The man pressed a button and started muttering into an intercom.

It didn't matter. It just didn't matter.

- 0 -

Sam's surly voice was still ringing in his head, making his head ring—angrily. The man had delayed. Wasted precious hours and opportunities for the sake of spite.

"He seemed to think you'd want to help. Her name's Bella Swan. She's been arrested," he'd grumbled into the phone.

"Arrested? Or remanded?"

"Remanded," Sam said.

"Do you know where?"

Sam had snorted out a "ask Billy." Then he'd hung up.

Edward had—while texting Jasper, and emailing Alice with his other hand. Hoping they were close enough to be useful.

And now, the full weight of his wealth set to her cause, he was on his way there.

"They don't like removing juveniles at night," the lawyer had warned him.

"Not particularly concerned with what they like," he'd gritted out.

The lawyer was on his way too, a judicial order in hand.

Billy Black's stewardship had been so far less than satisfactory, it galled him, knowing she'd still legally be his responsibility.

Edward gritted his teeth, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel.

He'd almost yelled at Billy for the stupidity he'd shown. How he could even be competent to care for his own son, let alone her—and now she'd been held for the better part of the weekend. Money was useful, but it wasn't magic, and even friendly judges had to be persuaded at decent hours. Given time to consider and then write orders.

"She goes with us," BIlly said to him, waiting in the darkened parking lot.

"She goes where she wants to," Edward growled back at him.

His human pretense was very, very thin. Gavin, the lawyer, had been dispatched inside to fetch her, visitors otherwise barred by the time of night.

Then Edward stood taller, hearing the man's thoughts.

"She's not well," he murmured.

Jacob growled, not liking that Edward could see what he couldn't—not liking—oh, really?—Edward thought, almost laughing, then feeling a chill his body had no right to. The boy was jealous. This would have been nothing in a human, but in a wolf—dangerous. For her.

"Control yourself," he hissed at the boy.

But it was too late.

Jacob began to vibrate, and Billy pivoted, alarmed by the sensation traveling through the chair. He pushed himself back, mouthing a frantic "Go!" to his son. Jacob needed no second telling, and bolted for the treeline.

The detention centre was remote enough to be a pond of civilization dwarfed by trees.

Billy rubbed his face in his hands, anxious thoughts bubbling and popping.

Edward ignored them, listening more intently to what was going on inside.

There was some mild panic, his—Bella's—he corrected himself, lawyer asking hard questions about the state she was in.

The nurse had been called up, and was checking her, Bella's fluttering hands trying to push him away. She couldn't.

She was dehydrated. Badly. The garbage can by her bed full of food.

She hadn't eaten.

But it hadn't been long enough for it to be so bad—something else was wrong.

Edward's hands twitched.

He closed his eyes briefly, and breathed out in relief when the lawyer told them to just get her ready to go. He'd get her to a hospital himself. The care here clearly wasn't adequate.

A small smile crossed Edward's face. He would get Bella to a hospital himself. With Billy's consent. The old man couldn't drive her there without Jacob, and he couldn't deny that she needed one.

Seeing her pushed outside in a wheelchair, Billy's face fell. "Bella, honey. What happened?"

"They think she's dehydrated," Gavin said, handing over a paper file, "you'll need to get her to a hospital."

Billy apprehended his inability to do so, looking out towards the forest.

"Wasn't your son with you?" Gavin asked, frowning.

"Yeah. He um, he...yeah. He'll be back in a bit." Then he looked at Bella, blowing out a frustrated breath.

Nodding at Edward and Billy, Gavin jangled his own keys, and turned to leave.

It struck Edward, hearing BIlly's thoughts, that as much as he despised what Edward was, he had faith in his good will for this girl. His love for her equalled his deep, and well founded distrust of the Cullens.

"Would you take her?" he asked. What it cost him to ask, was written in the pained lines of his face.

"Of course," Edward said quietly. Bending down, he spoke softly to Bella. Her eyes flicked to him, but then her gaze slipped, and dissolved into an unfocused blinking. She didn't object when he picked her up, listless in his arms, or when he settled her again in his car.

Billy came close. "I'll be there as soon as I can, OK? Just hold on."

Her eyes moved towards him, and then slid away again.

"Just hold on, Bella, OK?"

Edward nodded at him, and closed the door, getting in and starting the car, speeding away.

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