~ oOo ~

Monster chapter here I'm afraid! Some 7450 words. I'm a bit
of a wordy thing at times, it seemed. I'm hoping another early
update will stop you in your tracks with your pitchforks and help
you forgive me for my mean cliffies *hides behind hands*

Some of you are pretty mad still that Scarlett could consider
leaving her baby behind, but she's doing what she thinks is
necessary to keep her precious little girl safe, even though
it's killing her to do it. She just wants her baby to have a family
and a home, even if she doesn't get to be part of it.

That said, I'll repeat my A/N from the last chapter,
THIS HEA WILL INCLUDE MARLEY, I promise.

So, we'll hear more from Charlie and Peter here, and
find out how the investigation is going. For those of you
who got a little confused with the timeline, sorry, that was my
fault.

***This chapter is the same sort of time as the girls' escape,
and shortly afterwards. The FBI are acting quickly now
they're certain of the girls' identities.

The end of the chapter is just an hour after Scarlett and Rosalie
dropped Marley off. Hope that helps :) ***

~ oOo ~

Summary: When two little girls were allowed to walk

home from school one bright spring day nobody could've

predicted the events that followed. The way two families

were torn apart by the vendetta of a deranged man.

Nearly twelve years on, we'll watch as the two girls stolen

away from their homes at eight years old fight to take

back their lives. If only it were as simple as escaping. AU

Pinky Promises

Chapter Eight

Meanwhile, in
Rome, Italy – April 21st (same day as Charlie's phone call)

A crop of short, artfully mussed copper hair emerged from the water first, the suntanned, rippling shoulders of a man who obviously worked hard on his body following closely behind. Droplets of cool water ran down skin stretched taut over a six-pack of the muscular kind as the man stretched out of the water, pulling himself effortlessly up onto the patio. Not unlike a dog, he shook his head to send a shower of glittering beads flying through the air in all directions. They splattered the flagstones with slightly darker spots.

In the muted light of the early morning, Edward Cullen moved stealthily around the villa. He gathered up a towel from a white Adirondack chair before using it to rub most of the moisture from his body, sliding his feet into flip-flops as he entered his home to stop the floor from getting too slippery.

Ten minutes later, Edward left the relative cool of the air-conditioned villa in lieu of heading into the garage that doubled as a workshop.

Dressed only in a pair of pale blue cargo shorts, brown flip-flops and a dark gray baseball cap, he moved with the grace of someone who was comfortable in his body. Someone at ease with his surroundings. There weren't many places he felt this way, but his villa just a few minutes outside Rome, near to where he'd been born, was absolutely one of them.

Warm, forest green eyes roamed over the fine piece of woodwork awaiting him as he stepped in through an unlocked side door, running his fingertips over the smooth wood. "Perfect," he murmured, grinning with pride. It only needed staining before it would be ready to go to Mr. Alvarez, his kindly neighbor who'd requested the table for his newly renovated dining room.

For a short while the only sounds in the workshop were of tools clanking together, thumping against wood or hitting the concrete floor. Then the silence became oppressive, so Edward switched on the radio and got back to work. He'd never been one for silence when he was alone. Paradoxically, if he had company he was more than content to bask in the quiet, but he hated too little noise when he was by himself. He'd often wondered if it was a result of his only-child status.

The morning passed slowly. Italian musical favorites blared from the dusty radio on the side-table, the tell-tale smell of wood leaking from the workshop throughout the morning and into the afternoon, when Edward wandered out for a late lunch break. At one p.m. it was a fairly ordinary eighteen degrees, but the heat was muggy and stifling with only the slightest of breezes to send soft swirls along the surface of the pool. Wiping sweat from his brows with a hand towel, Edward gazed over the rectangular pool, wondering what to do with himself for the rest of the day. His boss, who also happened to be his grandfather, was holidaying with his wife and had given him free rein to do whatever he pleased for the duration of their six-week cruise. He still had five weeks to go. The young man was already getting antsy for something to keep his mind and hands occupied, and he'd promised himself he wasn't going to step foot in the music room. It only frustrated him when he sat at the piano and his hands, his mind, didn't cooperate.

Startling Edward from the humdrum of his thoughts was the phone ringing from the patio table a few feet away. He reached out and snagged it on the third go, just barely managing not to drop it. He grinned lopsidedly when he saw his best friend and his young sons' faces flashing on the screen. "Hey, man."

"Edward! How ya doin', bro?"

"Not too bad, not too bad. Can't complain. How's champ? And baby champ?" Edward leaned back on his free arm, head tipped back to the sun, eyes slipping closed. It had been a while since he'd spoken to Archie. Too long. Guilt pressed on his chest.

"Actually, we're pretty…I dunno. God, this is harder than I thought."

Frowning, Edward coughed pointedly for his friend to continue.

"They er…Dad got a call last night. Some guy from the FBI." Edward's eyes flew open as Archie added, "they've found Scarlett and Rosalie, man. They're alive."

The names of Archie's sisters made the hair at the nape of Edward's neck stand on end.

Scarlett and Rosalie…

Two young girls he remembered so vividly from his trips to England.

They were Archie's shadows, followed him everywhere. Not that he complained. Edward's mouth stretched into a bemused, still-catching-up, rueful grin as he recalled his best friend's willingness to do anything for his little sisters. Being an only child he could only imagine what the bond between Archie, Scarlett, and Rosalie felt like – especially the latter, who wasn't even related biologically to the Swan siblings. Archie never treated her differently, though. Scarlett and Rosalie were like the older version of Rosalie's younger twin sisters, though the elder three weren't as close to the younger two as they were to each other, Edward remembered.

Three pees in a pod.

Edward tugged the bill of his hat round to the front of his head. His silence wasn't just for his own sake. Archie was sniggling. Having known each other for going on twenty years Edward knew Archie would want a minute to steady his emotions.

Though he wasn't in England at the time, Edward remembered all-too-well the agony on Archie's face when Scarlett and Rosalie went missing on their way home from school one day. Archie's face, along with those of the girls' dads, was on every new station throughout Europe. Some even further afield when the search on home ground didn't yield any results. The search grew and grew, yet somehow never quite big enough.

"They're in Montana. Dad said they didn't say much, but they're alive, and we know where they are." Blowing out a big breath, "it's mad. All this time we've wondered and hoped…and now we know. Just like that. It's sorta surreal, actually."

Archie explained the scant information he, Charlie, and Peter had been given, Edward relocating to the edge of the pool where he dangled his muscular legs scattered with dark hair into the refreshing water. It helped keep a note of reality in his mind. The knowledge that the girls were alive and out there was definitely welcome, but an enormous shock. During the childhood he'd spent being passed from pillar to post between Italy and England, Edward had latched onto the mish-mashed Swan-Hale family. In fact, in his teenage years when he was old enough, he'd chosen to stay in England with his paternal aunt and uncle just down the street from Archie and his family. He'd been regarded as an extra family member. A brother to Archie, the sole boy in a group of five.

Absorbing everything Archie had said, Edward asked, "so what's happening? Chuck and Pete are flying out, I guess?"

"Yeah, that's actually what I'm calling about…" Archie trailed off.

Gazing up at the cerulean sky, Edward prompted him to continue.

"I can't leave Carl-Roman and Chase, Ed. Or work. I already took a load of time off when Carl-Roman was sick in January, so my boss would go nuts." Another pause kicked Edward's heartrate up a notch. Where was he going with this? "Feel free to say 'no', man, I won't be mad. It's a lot to ask, I know that."

Sudden comprehension dawned, and Edward's mind shot off at a mile-a-minute organizing thing, making a mental list of phone calls he needed to make, and calling up the name of his grandfather's friend who worked at an airline in Rome.

"I'll go, man. Course I will. Is later tonight all right?"

"You're…you're kidding? You'll go?"

Edward chuckled as he lifted himself up and half walked, half jogged towards the villa, his wet feet slapping against the tiles on the way to the bedroom at the rear of the building.

"I'm not kidding, Arch. Of course I'll go with them. That's what you were gonna ask, right? You want muscle and support in case shit gets heavy?"

Archie agreed in a hushed tone that belied his surprise. Surprise that almost insulted Edward, because why wouldn't he go? Over the years Charlie and Peter had been like uncles to him. They'd supported him throughout almost his entire life. And wasn't he just complaining that there wasn't anything to do until his grandfather-slash-boss returned?

Besides, Charlie and Peter aside, Edward had always adored Scarlet and Rosalie. They weren't just Archie's shadows – they were his, too. Scarlett especially. From the very beginning she'd taken a shine to the dark haired, dark eyed Italian boy her brother befriended at holiday club. The little blonde had often followed him around like a loyal puppy, blue-green eyes curious and so inquisitive when she'd pepper him with questions about Italy, being a boy, his love of the piano when most boys wanted to play football or rugby.

Her enthusiasm and friendliness had been never-ending, never-waning, and Edward had always harbored guilt at not being a better friend to the family when the girls went missing.

So no, if there was something he could do now, there wasn't a chance in hell he'd pass it up.

"So, tonight? Too late? I'll get the earliest flight I can."

Five minutes later Edward hung up, tossing his phone without thought in the direction of the bed. With Archie's grateful assurance that tonight would be fine, Edward powered up his laptop to book the earliest flight out with one hand, while using the other to throw random into a medium-sized, well-worn duffel bag, his packing style haphazard at best.

~ oOo ~

Hours later, he hopped from a taxi outside Charlie's house, tipping him heavily for making the journey from Gatwick even though technically he'd been off the clock for over an hour. As the cab pulled away Edward turned to face Charlie and Peter's houses, looking between the two with a nostalgic mile. It was dark, being almost midnight, so the warm, flickering glow emanating from the living room window of Charlie's house made him feel at home. Having spent every holiday in England since he was three-years-old Edward felt comfortable standing on the street in which he'd spent a lot of time playing with his friends.

Wistfulness curled in his stomach, Easter egg hunts, joyous summers, Halloween sugar highs, and caroling at Christmas reminding him of the great childhood he'd had thanks to the Swans and the Hales.

Memories of all those thing also reminded him of Scarlett and Rosalie's situation, reminded him that they didn't have any of those things beyond the age of eight.

A gust of wind swept through Percival Road, pushing Edward into action. He hoisted the duffel further up onto his shoulder before walking quietly along the side of the garage to the gate separating the driveway from the back garden. His lips quirked up on one side at the sight of Carl-Roman's miniature slide and sand-pit, both things he'd carved from scratch. The slide was the most difficult, especially when Edward had realized he'd built the frame too big for the plastic chute. Some wooden animals carved into spare off-cuts solved the problem while adding some charm to the piece. Edward was extraordinarily proud of both items.

Walking across the patio, Edward sent up a fervent prayer for Charlie to let him stay the night. It wasn't until he was already on a plane heading for London that he'd had an epiphany. There was no way he'd survive the night in a house with Archie's fiancée, Kristen. From the beginning of their relationship he'd struggled to find an even footing with the woman.

The French doors slid open without a squeak, his flip-flop clad feet making a loud clack as he stepped onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. In the dim light of the solitary lamp in the corner Edward noticed the room hadn't changed a bit since he last visited, just before Christmas. Heavy footsteps on linoleum floors alerted him of someone approaching. He squared his shoulders and smiled weakly just as Charlie appeared in the doorway.

The older man squinted. "Edward? What the heck are you doing creeping in at…midnight?"

"Missed you too, old man."

Charlie snorted, "yeah, sure you did."

"Uh, Archie called."

Immediately, Charlie's eyes visibly teared up, his voice thick when he nodded and said, "I figured. You'd better come in and get comfy, son."

The pair sat at the table until late, or early depending on your viewpoint, drinking coffee and reminiscing, both awed and exhilarated at the thought of Scarlett and Rosalie being rescued after all this time. Nobody had ever said it, but as the years crawled by they'd all known the odds. Knew that with every anniversary of their abduction the chances of the girls being brought home alive were decreasing.

The pair stumbled to their beds – Charlie's upstairs, Edward's the room that had been converted for Carl-Roman when he started having sleepovers – around three a.m., both exhausted.

For the first time in twelve years Charlie didn't dream of his daughter's funeral.

~ oOo ~

"Charlie, the car's here!" Peter yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

A few seconds later Charlie jogged down the stairs, all-but shoving Peter out the door. Edward grinned in wry amusement at the two men as they flew down the path. Archie shook his head beside him, eyes red, smile strained. It wiped the look off Edward's face.

"Hey," he said, clapping a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Everything'll be good, a'ight? Before you know it we'll be back with Scarlett and Rosalie."

Archie breathed long, low, and deep before offering Edward a grateful nod, holding sleeping baby Chase just a little tighter. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

"I'll take care of everything here." He choked out the last couple of words when Charlie came over to say 'goodbye'. "Just bring them back. Bring my sisters back."

For the first time in a long while, when Charlie's eyes met Peter's, they could see mirrored hope. It made their chest feel fuller, backs just a little straighter.

"We will, son. Take care of champ and this little guy."

"Bye Pawpaw! Bye Uncle Peter, an' Uncle Eddie!" Carl-Roman sang from the doorstep then, appeared with an armful of dinosaurs and an Eddie Stobart truck. He stood beside his father and brother to watch Edward climb into the back of the nondescript black van sent to take them to the airport. The driver hesitated long enough to tip his hat to Archie before stepping on it.

A solitary tear rolled down Archie's cheek, dark eyes following the vehicle until it was out of sight.

~ oOo ~

The next hours passed in warp-speed.

Charlie and Peter were so occupied with trying to figure out how this day could have been so insane before seven a.m., they didn't have the wherewithal to pay attention to the scenery shooting by. Edward was the opposite, his eyes fixed on the world on the other side of the tinted windows. It wasn't because of the particularly pretty view, or a fascination with residential areas in South East England, but because, truthfully, he was exhausted. He'd only had a couple hours sleep after a flight that had lost him an hour. Not to mention Charlie's feet clomping down the stairs early that morning. He'd beaten both the birds with their first song and the sun beginning its ascent into the sky.

Over-tired, Edward let his stinging eyes shut, pondering the situation. Archie and his boys would be spending time between his house, Charlie's, and Peter's, where Peter's daughters were staying with their paternal grandparents. Heidi and Pippa were already with Peter's parents, so Peter hadn't had to worry about them that morning when he'd walked over in a hoodie and pale blue plaid pajama bottoms.

Charlie and Peter's Construction firm, SH Construction, would be overseen by the latter's father while they were away.

Shuffling around to get comfortable, Edward recalled Peter's call to his dad earlier on. Once Roy and Mary had been suitably filled in Peter had requested that they kept what they knew to themselves until he knew for sure what was happening. It wasn't just his feelings he had to consider. He didn't want his youngest daughters to ever feel heartbreak, so he'd wait. It was a hard decision to make but in the end, he was certain it was the right one. Until he had more facts Heidi and Pippa didn't need to be worrying.

The houses, when Archie couldn't be there, would be watched over by their neighbors. Alice and Jasper – occupants of one-sixty-one, to the left of Charlie's house, had promised to keep an eye on things. There had been plenty tears shed there, too, when Edward had gone with Archie to fill them in. They had moved in the summer before the girls' disappearance, newly-wed with big dreams and an unblemished world-view. They'd adored the girls, Edward and Archie too, and had even made a hole in their fence to match the one between Charlie and Peter's homes so the children would have a third garden in which to play when they wished. In the time since, they'd welcomed two boys of their own, and couldn't fathom the joy at finding out Scarlett and Rosalie were alive after all these years. They'd promised to do anything they could, and were anxiously awaiting news.

Unsurprisingly, Charlie and Peter's thoughts were in line with Edward's.

Rain pelted the van as it sped down the motorway towards Gatwick, wind howling, heart-beats thundering within. Charlie was hit by a maelstrom of memories. Days before the girls' abduction, Archie had gotten the call he'd been praying for – he'd gotten the job as a lifeguard at the local pool. For weeks after the girls went missing Archie had told Charlie about the nightmares plaguing him, dreams of the girls splashing in the pool, squealing when the wave machine tossed them around.

The screams when it sucked them under and never let them go, Archie unable to move his legs to save them.

Charlie's chest tightened as he remembered his son, so lost without Scarlett and Rosalie. Most boys his age would have hated being followed around by two glittery pink fairies. Not Archie. He loved them both equally, blood relations be damned. They were born a couple of hours apart when he was eight-years-old, old enough to remember the day clearly. Tina had gone into labor two weeks late, and Penelope had insisted on going with her and Peter despite being thirty-eight weeks pregnant herself. Not two hours later Charlie had had to drop Archie with Edward and his aunt and uncle down the street to rush to the hospital.

For the next twenty-four hours Penelope and Tina had alternated between chatting, laughing, and battling contractions in their rooms next-door to one another, often sneaking out when the nurses weren't looking to bundle into one room. At eight a.m. on the twenty-third of March Tina was ready to push. By lunchtime the same day both Scarlett and Rosalie were laying in their respective father's arms swaddled in newly-knitted blankets with caps atop their heads, initials sewn into the hems.

It was a sign of things to come, Charlie mused ruefully, casting a forlorn glance out of the window as they headed into the terminal where they were due to catch their plane. From the day the pair were born they'd been best friends. Sisters, in their eyes. He knew they always saw each other as more than just friends, their personalities so entwined it was impossible to separate them for long. During their time in school teachers had often made comments in parents' meetings about their inseparability. One had even dared to suggest they be put into different classes. A heated discussion between two angry dads and the headmaster later, and the girls were moved – together, into another teacher's classroom. Nobody would have questioned the bond if they'd been related biologically, so why should people just because they had different surnames, different blood?

The van slowed to a halt. Charlie found himself praying fervently for Scarlett and Rosalie to still be together, for them to have managed to rely on their bond to keep them both strong.

Renewed hope was all he had left.

~ oOo ~

In the departures lounge Charlie, Peter, and Edward listened in horror to their escorting officer, PC Richardson, explaining what he knew. It wasn't a whole lot, but it was enough to send their tempers through the roof, hearts racing.

The girls had been found, but had gotten away in the midst of an explosion on the ranch where they were being held. There was a warrant out for the arrest of the man believed to be responsible, just one of the other crimes he was thought to have committed being human trafficking. It was a possibility the men had considered over the years but never wanted to believe. To even consider their girls being kidnapped to be sold like cattle was enough to bring them to their knees.

PC Richardson, a portly man of around fifty with gray hair, a round face, and pale blue eyes, explained that there were agents specializing in this kind of case on the hunt for Scarlett and Rosalie all over Montana.

Currently, the FBI weren't sharing much information with the British police, PC Richardson grumpily informed them, but he promised to share anything he received. It was a comfort but painful at the same time. What dad wants to hear that their twenty-one-year old daughter is out in the Montana wilderness with only a friend for company and protection? That wasn't even mentioning the lack of information on the girls' physical or emotional states.

Then men's discussion was interrupted by a woman calling for all business class passengers to begin boarding. Hoisting duffels over their shoulders, Charlie, Peter, and Edward shared a tremulous smile before following PC Richardson onto the first of three places which would, hopefully, reunite them with their girls.

~ oOo ~

The flight from Gatwick to New York was horrific. Unexpected turbulence meant nobody was allowed to stand for more than a few minutes at a time before the seatbelt lights flashed on. Charlie and Peter spent the entire journey thinking of worst-case scenarios for what they may be faced with in the coming days, each one more painful than the last. The worst by far was the one in which they got there too late, the girls lost once again.

The dull roar of the jumbo jet engines along with the other passengers was enough to keep out the heart-stopping reality – the girls they got back, if they got them back, wouldn't be the same girls they'd sent off to school twelve years before.

They'd sound different. Act different. Look different.

In Charlie and Peter's minds they were still the bubbly eight-year-old girls obsessed with pink and princesses and fairy wands that they'd always been.

When Charlie thought of Scarlett he saw rosy cheeks, a toothy grin, and his late wife's untamable curls in the same shade as his own.

Peter imagined his eldest daughter with short, wavy red-blonde hair, two missing teeth in the front of her mouth, and a baby doll on her hip, always.

It hadn't settled in, for either of them, that when...if…they got their girls back, they wouldn't be the same.

During the flight, in-aircraft WiFi allowed PC Richardson to check in with his colleagues. He updated the men, unsurprised to note that his news of a witness being placed into WitSec garnered thoughtful, slightly shocked expressions. They wondered what part this witness could have played in the girls' lives, whether he or she was on their side, or the side of the suspect. It was just another thought of many driving them mad with nervous anticipation on the way into New York.

Peter gazed out of the window at the clouds around them, feeling every bit as terrified as he had all the times the police thought they'd found a trail only for it to turn out to be nothing, or for it to run cold. Since his phone rang with Riley Lawrence on the other end his heart hadn't returned to its normal rhythm, his body tight as though it was a string being stretched taut with every mile he travelled. Instead of loosening as the miles were eaten away by the enormous place the string was stretched further, every second bringing them closer and closer to the make or break meeting with the faceless FBI agent.

Their worry had only increased since PC Richardson admitted the girls were AWOL.

Scarlett and Rosalie were out there, alone, and nobody knew where they were or what sort of state they were in after the explosion. Peter couldn't be sure, because it was a long time ago that he was in school and geography wasn't his favorite subject anyway, but he was fairly confident there were all kinds of dangerous animals roaming Montana. Images of crazed, foaming-at-the-mouth bears with slashing claws bulldozed through his head, the snarling of rabid wolves hot on their heels when a crackling voice came through the overhead speakers.

"Could everyone please ensure that their seatbelts are fastened and secure for our descent into JFK. It's three-twenty local time and a cool sixty degrees. We hope you've enjoyed flying with us…"

Peter's light green eyes met Charlie's blue-green in the adjacent seat, longing, fear, and terror very much prevalent in both sets. Above all, though, they clung to their hope as the jet carried them down towards New York and the answers they were waiting for.

~ oOo ~

"Charlie, Peter."

The men stared at the agent standing before them in the arrivals hall. He had short, sandy brown hair and ice blue eyes, his posture confident, head held high, expression bordering on excited. The lines around his eyes told tales of sleepless night and hard work while the grin on his face screamed delight at the recent developments. Riley Lawrence was about three inches taller than both Charlie and Peter, putting him at about six-two, the same height as Edward. Something about his eyes intimidated them.

Charlie nodded in greeting, shaking the proffered hand before Peter did the same, then Edward.

"It's good to meet you. This is Edward Cullen, my boy's friend, a close friend of the family."

Edward and Riley shared a nod as they shook hands, then the agent stepped back to greet the officer escorting them.

"PC Richardson, I presume. Do you have the paperwork I requested? Thank you."

PC Richardson didn't hesitate to slide a folder from the bag slung around his shoulders, handing it over to Riley as they began discussing transport arrangements. Instead of looking through the folder like Charlie, Peter, and Edward expected, Riley simply tucked it into a bag of his own before leading the party through the throngs of people. "We have a car waiting. Myself and my team will fill you in as best we can before the next flight."

His explanation was swift, his tone curt, as they marched through the sea of people.

Charlie spotted a man cradling his baby daughter, a woman beaming at them from close by. It put a lump in his throat he couldn't swallow.

"When you get to my office you're going to hear things that will upset you." Riley pauses his quick strides to look between Charlie, Peter, and Edward simultaneously. "Can I trust you to keep your calm as much as possible? Any delays could make a huge difference to how this plays out."

It took less than a second for the three men to nod in agreement. As much as they knew it would kill them to hear details of the girls' disappearance and the lost twelve years between then and now, the thought of hindering the investigation was abhorrent. It would break them.

"Good." Riley resumed his fast pace.

When the men reached the waiting car outside, four of them hopped in quickly – PC Richardson left in a car of his own. The black car melted into the traffic before they could blink.

"This is my driver, John. You remember his face, you remember his voice, ok? You want your girls back, eyes?"

He received vehement nods, chuckling ruefully like he expected them, and pulled the pale yellow manila folder from his bag.

"All right. If you do everything we ask you to, I'll do everything in my power to get them back to you. Wherever they're hiding, we'll find them."

Despite having spoken to this man a total of two times, meeting him for the first time just fifteen minutes previous, Charlie, Peter, and Edward couldn't help but trust him. It was pure gut instinct, but what else did they have?

"I don't think you understand. We'll do anything, Mr. Lawrence. Anything at all to get our girls back." Peter said firmly.

Riley's eyes met his for a beat, lips twitching upwards just a touch. "Call me 'Riley'. I think we're past the formalities."

With that, he cast his eyes down to the information in his hands, the details of the British police's case, and they stayed that way until John pulled up outside the FBI headquarters. Security guards signed them all in, then Riley led the trio through what seemed like endless corridors and elevators until they finally arrived at a pair of heavy wooden doors. After warning them that the room on the other side would likely be mayhem, Riley ushered them through.

He was correct.

The entire section was alive with loud chatter into phones and headsets, the sound of many fingers beating keyboards so thunderous that Edward had to stop himself from covering his ears. It was then, standing amidst the center of the investigation, that Charlie realized just how big this was, not just for him and Peter, but for the world. When Scarlett and Rosalie went missing their faces had been on the news on and off for months. It got so bad one day Peter removed all the TVs from his and Charlie's house and they didn't return for over six months. The expansive news coverage the case had had was brilliant in terms to spreading awareness, but it didn't make the family's lives any easier seeing their much-missed girls plastered across TV screens every few hours, day after day, week after week. The newspapers were the same.

"Come on, we've got some things to show you before we make a move." Riley moved through the chaos without pause. Hesitant, Charlie, Peter, and Edward followed. When they reached the large area at the back of the room where boards were covered in photographs and spidery writing with key information beside them, Charlie felt his stomach churn in revolt.

Right in the center was an unfamiliar picture of Scarlett and Rosalie.

In the twelve years they'd been missing, he and Peter had spent countless hours scouring photos of their girls. They'd seen them all. Run their fingers over their cheeks, their hair, their smiles. But not this one.

It was the most recent photo of them, taken just a day before the ranch blew up. In this picture Scarlett's hair was longer, curlier, slightly darker, and Rosalie's face had lost that baby-roundness she'd carried as an eight-year-old.

Charlie's fingertips traced Scarlett's too-slender cheekbone, nausea punching him square in the gut the moment he spotted the tiny pink line above her left eyebrow. A scar. One he'd never seen before, never kissed better after a football accident with her brother, or a bump after falling down.

"Charlie, sit down a minute," peter urged softly, a hand on his best friend's shoulder, the other clenched in a white-knuckled fist at his side. He too had spotted the photo, but his immediate concern was Charlie, and the fact that he looked about ready to rage at anything and everything. "Let Riley explain, ok?"

Inhaling deeply, Charlie allowed Peter to guide him into a chair, Edward catching Peter's pointed look and moving to flank him just in case. Around them, agents had realized who they were, had stopped to look at the broken fathers whose girls they'd been working hard to find. For the parents among them it was a startling look into the reality of what abduction did to people. This was why they did the job they'd chosen. Why they poured their blood, sweat, and tears into their work.

"This picture was taken by an undercover agent recently. We didn't know then that these girls were your daughters, though we'd started to suspect," Riley exhaled, knowing he might have two, possibly three, irate six-foot men on his hands at any given moment. One quick glance behind them assured him that he'd have backup.

Riley turned to a large, free-standing whiteboard to point to the images of a fair-to-gray haired man and a woman stuck side-by-side.

"Three months ago I planted two agents on a ranch in the south of Montana. They're two of the best, quick-witted and sharp as a tack. I trust them implicitly."

Charlie and Peter nodded stiffly. Edward marveled at his surroundings, at the crime movie set come to life.

"I can't share details of any other case regarding the suspect, but I can say we first believed his family may be involved somehow. We now know we were not only incorrect, but he also doesn't have a family, as such.

His hand moved to the right, where he placed his fingertip on the edge of a mug-shot. Instinctively the men knew who they were looking at. They froze, eyes fixed to the six-by-four of the gray-brown haired, hazel-eyed scum.

This was the man who'd made their lives hell.

And then, something nobody could have predicted. Charlie's eyes sharpened with recognition.

Riley, Peter, Edward, and the two agents hovering nearby stared at Charlie. His lips moved into a scowl, the cogs of his mind almost audibly whirring as he tried to place the face.

"No…" he finally whispered. "No!"

The eruption was sudden. He stood so quickly that his chair flew backwards onto the navy carpet with a thud. Heart shooting off at a sprint, eyes wide and chest rumbling with a furious, animalistic growl, he roared, "it can't be!"

Anguish washed over him thick and impervious, warring against fear and confusion. The ear-splitting wave of memories and thoughts assaulting him made Charlie's head feel like it was going to implode. The agents surrounding the volatile man looked to their boss for instruction. Riley eyed Charlie, then the photo of the suspect.

"'It can't be', what?" He asked. Riley tore down the photo, taking two large steps to land him toe-to-toe with Charlie. With every deep, fury-riddled breath Charlie's chest almost brushed his, eyes not quite level but fierce in their intensity. "Charlie. 'It can't be', what? What can't it be?" A thought sprung to mind. "Do you know this man? Charlie!"

"Yes! Yes, I know him. Or I did, years ago." Agents watched as Charlie fumbled his wallet from his pocket and pulled a worn photo from the clear sleeve. Riley's eyes widened as soon as he laid eyes on it, two familiar people in the center, as well as one who looked eerily similar to…

"That's me, and that's him. My wife is in the back row, third from left."

"I see that." Riley scanned the photo, seeing a much younger Charlie standing tall and proud with a mischievous grin on his youthful face. Then he eyed the suspect beside him, and the oddly familiar blonde teenager in the corner. "This is your wife?" He asked for clarification, disbelieving his own sight because it he hadn't known better he'd have been certain it was Scarlett standing in the back of this forty-year-old picture.

"Yes," Charlie's voice softened noticeably. "She died in ninety-nine. A collision with a drunk driver. Pete's wife…she was in the car, too."

Riley's mind flew off with this new information. Charlie and his late wife attended school with the man responsible for the kidnap of his daughter and the daughter of his best friend – coincidence? His rarely-wrong intuition told Riley it wasn't.

"Did you and he get along? Were you friends, acquaintances? Enemies?"

Charlie scoffed. "He was weird. Always following Penelope, that's my wife, around. She hated him, said he freaked her out. She was always nice to him, though. She couldn't be nasty to anyone if she tried. I never spoke to him other than to tell him to leave her alone. When me and Penelope started dating he stopped bugging her and left well alone."

"Did you see him after you left school?" Riley waved someone over, a man wearing a bright pink shirt with piercings in both ears and his nose. "Write this all down, Johnny. Did you ever see him again at all? College?"

"No, never."

"All right. Please excuse me for a moment."

Before Charlie could blink Riley had turned on his heel and was striding purposefully towards an office with his name emblazoned on a gold plaque adorning the door. Charlie sank into the chair somebody had righted, breathing as though he'd just run a marathon. As the residual adrenaline leaked from his body he looked up to Peter, eyes so heart-wrenchingly sad that his friend found it difficult to meet them.

"It was him, Pete. Smith," he spat the man's name coated in venom, "is responsible for all this."

Peter and Charlie had been friends since they were teenagers. They'd struck up a friendship despite their six year age gap and it had lasted a lifetime. It was through Charlie and Penelope that Peter had met Tina. The women wound up working together at a nursery while Charlie and Peter began their own construction business. Archie and Scarlett had been christened as Peter and Tina's godchildren just as their three daughters had become Charlie and Penelope's.

As Charlie glared hatefully at the photo of the FBIs suspect he found himself questioning every decision, everything he'd said. In a startling, terror-filled moment the agonized father wondered is this my fault? Could I have stopped this? Did I provoke him?

"Stop beating yourself up, Chuck. It's not worth blaming yourself. It's not your fault. We need to concentrate on getting our girls back."

Saying the words felt surreal, because though he'd wanted it for so long, it had never been so close. In all the time the girls had been missing their goal had been to get them back safe and sound, but there had always been a niggling worry.

They might not.

Their case could have been one of those remaining unsolved. Their daughters might never have been found. There was also the very real fear the girls would come home, but not alive or well – a notion nobody allowed themselves to dwell on.

~ oOo ~

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening Charlie, Peter, Riley, Edward, and another agent – the pink-clad man named Johnny – spent time going over every new detail. The link between the suspect and the victims' family threw a completely different spin on the investigation. A far more personal spin than they had anticipated. They also discovered a possible, albeit tenuous, motive. With Charlie's limited memory of Garrett Smith from their school years they uncovered a strange obsession with his late wife. The connections the FBI had were unprecedented and they managed to access records of therapy sessions he'd attended briefly during his final year at school. It wasn't strictly legal, but Riley was keeping it on the down-low and had made the men promise to never breathe a word of his actions.

According to the notes, he spoke often of a 'P.E', although he never mentioned who he or she was to him or their full name. Now, it was obvious. He also showed signs of mental instability, something Charlie, Peter, and Edward didn't want to hear. It put all sorts of things in their minds, not least shooting the scar on Scarlett's face to the forefront of Charlie's.

Could he be the one responsible for the mark on his daughter's once-flawless face? The idea was chilling.

Riley showed the men more pictures taken by his undercover agent on the ranch. It was Charlie's birthday the day before, over twenty-four hours now since the ranch had exploded into a fireball of debris. Two shocked father and one proud childhood friend learned of Scarlett and Rosalie's bravery in using a ranch hand's truck to get away, and they were relieved to finally discover who the man under the agents' protection was – the man who'd helped them.

Air crackled around the group as Riley showed them a candid shot of a silhouette in the window in the dead of night. It was taken from a fair distance and was slightly blurred by sheets of rain, but the shape of a woman in the darkened room was clearly visible. The soft glow of her hair said it was more than lightly Scarlett, the coloring only just too light to be Rosalie's, though they couldn't be a hundred percent sure because of the poor photo quality.

Although, Riley hesitated as he sighed and pointed to the silhouette again, drawing attention to the lump at her side. Charlie and Edward leaned closer, Peter hanging back a little, frowning.

"What is it? She's holding something?" Charlie asked, peering up at Riley from beneath knotted brows.

Riley wore an impassive expression, though inside he was feeling far from impassive.

"I have something to tell you, Charlie. Something that you might find shock—"

"Sir! I've got an agent on line one, needs to speak to you. It's urgent!" Someone hollered from the chaos.

Riley's head snapped in their direction, and clearly he knew the distinct voice because he apologized and told the trio of confused men to wait before disappearing into the melee.

While they waited, Edward held the photo up to his face, trying to make out the grainy shapes. It was almost definitely Scarlett. But what was that she was holding? It looked lumpy, possibly a pillow or stuffed toy?

But no…it appeared to be wrapped around her, maybe?

Edward shook his head and huffed, annoyed.

As he did so the bright lights above caught the photo just right, and he thought…he thought he saw a small face. Twisting it this way and that, his heart began to race, and he felt sweat slickening his hands.

"Charlie…Charlie look. I think…I think this is…"

"All right I'm getting us on an earlier plane. I need you to grab your stuff and get moving." Riley blew through the small area they'd taken over like a whirlwind, scooping sheaths of paper into an open messenger bag before shooting Charlie, Peter, and Edward the stink-eye. "Are you coming?"

They leapt to action, tugging on coats and stumbling over each other to follow Riley. They all-but ran through the FBI building, all three British men relatively fit but panting by the time they fell into the back seat of John's black car as it joined the flow of traffic effortlessly.

"What's going on?"

"That thing I needed to tell you about that I thought you'd find shocking? It'll be easier if I just show you, I think." With that, Riley fished his high-tech phone from his wool coat pocket, pressing a few buttons and zooming in on something before hesitating for a beat. He peered at Charlie, seeming to be assessing him. "I need you to understand, we don't have any answers for you regarding this just yet, but we're working on it, ok?"

Charlie looked to his best friend, who nodded reassuringly despite his worry, and to Edward, who shot him a small smile and gestured for him to take the phone being held out to him. Inhaling a deep breath, he nodded and reached out a shaky hand. He kept his eyes on Riley until the phone was facing him, but as soon as his eyes fell to the screen his mind went black.

He saw the curl to her hair, though it was the wrong color.

He saw the button nose he remembered all-too-well, the curve of cheeks he'd kissed goodnight so many times, but not enough.

He saw beautiful, bright eyes in the face of an angelic child.

His eyes. The eyes he'd only ever seen on him and his baby girl. They were right there, in the face of this tiny girl.

"Who? Who, who is this? What's going on?"

"Her name is Marley. She's five-years-old, apparently, and she was left at a medical center an hour ago in central Montana. We have strong reason to believe that she's your granddaughter, Charlie. She's Scarlett's daughter."