~ Before anything else, I'd just like to say that
my love and thoughts are with all those affected
by the tragedy in Manchester. It's heartbreaking
to think that there are hundreds of families walking
around with less light in their lives; that so many
possibilities and chances were taken by one
evil excuse for a man. It makes everything else,
every forgotten chore or missed bus,
pale in comparison.
Manchester, we're with you 3
~ oOo ~
In the spirit of good moods and sunny Saturdays,
I thought I'd post a day early! I'm on cloud nine
this weekend having finally booked the venue,
photographer, and videographer for my wedding,
so I guess you guys get the benefit. You're welcome ;)
I'd like to say a huge thank you to my wonderful
SunflowerFran and annaharding
Once again, they've done a wonderful job at
making this chapter presentable. I have tweaked
here and there though, so any mistakes are mine :)
This chapter does have a couple of tricky subjects
to cover - violence and details of how Scarlett
received one or two of her injuries. If that makes you
uncomfortable, please shoot me a message and I'll
send you the chapter with that section summarised.
Welcome to any new readers! So glad to have you
with us!
And a massive thank you to
The Lemonade Stand, for featuring Pinky Promises.
There are a bunch of great recc's there, so head on
over if you're looking for some fab fics to read.
Anyways...Happy Saturday! Enjoy!
~ 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 Twenty-Two
The next three weeks passed uneventfully, for the most part.
Scarlett and Rosalie began to heal under the watchful eyes and tender loving care of their loved ones. To everybody's relief, Scarlett's weight increased almost to the point that she looked healthy, her bump growing fast now that she was getting three decent meals a day. The girls began attending twice-weekly sessions with their new psychologist, Irina Denali, and the improvement in their behavior and mind-set was noticeable to all.
The most obvious was Scarlett's fear of touch.
The day she finally allowed her dad to hug her without a flinch, grimace, or outward reaction was an emotional one, with tears shed and declarations of love. It became a regular occurrence to see Charlie randomly stop whatever he was doing to embrace his daughter, the fissures in his heart sticking themselves back together one by one.
Charlie surprised Scarlett with the arrival of the baby's nursery furniture, sending her to Peter's house for a day with Rosalie, Marley, Heidi, and Pippa. He'd managed to redecorate her bedroom right under her nose, keeping the door shut as he knew she wasn't ready to venture in there just yet. She hadn't noticed that when she went to bed, he stayed up each night painting the walls a pretty, sunny yellow shade, and laying soft cream carpet. He'd also switched out her twin bed for a double, and moved it to make room for the crib in the alcove. A small, twin bed sat at the other end of the room, decorated with a bedding set bearing puppies of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Marley had loved it on sight when he'd snuck her in for an early showing.
The day he finally led Scarlett into the room it was unrecognizable. She sobbed her way around it, touching everything and repeatedly thanking her dad. She'd paused in front of the crib, crying into her cupped hands as she took it all in. Marley pulled herself up on the side, trying to peek in over the bumper and bars.
Slowly, a frown took over Scarlett's face. "What's different?"
Charlie chuckled. He'd wondered how long it would take her to notice. "What do you mean, baby girl?"
"I mean…It's the one I saw on the computer, but…there's something different about it. I just can't put my finger on it."
"I think you need to speak to a certain young man over there about that."
Scarlett turned, raising her head to look at Edward. He wore a bashful, slightly nervous expression as he reached up, tugging at the peak of his cap. "Edward? What does Dad mean?"
"Well, I'd already started on it when you pointed out the crib online. I managed to tweak it so it'd look more like that one, and the stain was easy enough. To be honest, it was pretty close anyway. We must have similar taste."
Shaking her head, as though it might help clear the confusion clouding her mind, Scarlett cleared her throat. "Edward, I have no idea what you're saying."
Huffing, Edward let his head fall back slightly and stared at the ceiling as he admitted, "I made it. I made you the crib. If you don't like it, it's absolutely fine. I can sell this, and we can still get the other one, it's no trouble. I just wanted to do something to help and surprise you, so…yeah."
A million thoughts flew through Scarlett's mind as she turned her eyes back to the crib. Suddenly, she could see it. She could see the intricately carved details that had been missing in the crib on the laptop. And, come to think of it, hadn't the bars been rounded? These were straight and flat, with softer edges which felt silky smooth under Scarlett's fingertips. The solid panel that made up the back of the crib had a sophisticated, curly flourish dead in the center, and smaller, matching ones on the inside of each end panel.
"It's beautiful, Edward," she breathed, awed by the craftsmanship and thought that had gone into the gorgeous piece of furniture. "How? When? When did you make this?" He spent virtually all of his time with her or Marley. When did he get the chance to sneak off to build this? It clearly wasn't a job he could've finished within a mere couple of hours.
He shrugged nonchalantly, though she could see the beginnings of hope in his face as he peered down at her. "Mostly while you slept, or went to therapy. Sometimes I can't sleep and I get restless, so I'd just go across to Aunt Esme and Uncle Carlisle's garage to work on it instead of waking everyone up by rattling around the house." He sighed, cocking his head to the side just a little. "Do you like it?"
"Edward, I love it! It's perfect! So much better than the original, and I didn't think that was possible. It's so beautiful. You're incredibly talented, do you know that?"
It tickled Charlie, as well as Scarlett, to see the tips of Edward's ears flush pink at her praise. "Umm, thank you. That means a lot. I'm glad you like it."
Marley recaptured the adults' attention by tugging at Edward's shirt, then pointing at the crib in frustration.
"This is where the baby will sleep, Marley," Edward told her, lifting her at the waist so she could see better. She grinned up at him, sitting Mr. Eddie in the cot beside the teddy bear.
"Are you sharing, Mars?" Charlie asked, leaning in the doorway with the biggest smile on his face. "I'm sure your baby sister will love—"
"No, brother."
All eyes swiveled towards Edward, his grin faltering. He stammered a few, unintelligible words before looking at Marley, still holding her up so she could lean on the rail of the crib. She had a defiant look on her face as she shook her head.
"No sister. Brother."
Her voice wasn't quite how a five-year-old's voice should sound, but she hadn't had the practice wrapping her tongue around words like a normal child, so it was to be expected. Her 'brother' sounded more like 'brothuh,' but it was clear what she meant. Scarlett's tears halted momentarily as she turned, crouching to be face-to-face with her daughter.
"Sweetie, are you…are you talking?"
Marley nodded, a sweet, bashful smile on her face, but she didn't answer again. She went the entire day before uttering another word.
'Ed-wood,' she'd murmured as Edward tucked her into bed that night. Over the following few days, she began saying a few more words, with more frequency. Irina Denali, the psychologist, said she was feeling more comfortable in her new home; more comfortable with her family, and it was allowing her to open up a little more. Whatever the reason, Scarlett was proud of every word Marley spoke.
Scarlett had attended another scan, and everybody was pleased with the results. The baby was catching up with the sort of size he or she should be at almost seven months. Both the sonographer and Scarlett's OB/GYN had been overjoyed for her when she shared the news at the appointment right after the scan, even though most were disappointed when Scarlett admitted that she didn't want to find out the sex of the baby until he or she arrived.
On the twentieth of June, exactly two months after the girls' rescue, Charlie and Peter took to the cameras to release a public statement. It went viral almost immediately.
Aged by over a decade of sorrow, yet healed by two months of joy, the men appeared completely different from the images of themselves back in two-thousand-four. At Riley's suggestion, and with the hesitant agreement of the girls, Scarlett and Rosalie had also allowed a recent photograph of themselves to be released. It was taken on Archie's birthday, with the girls tucked into his sides. The press had caught wind of Marley's existence after she'd been spotted in the living room window one day, but they'd been surprisingly low-key with their digging and attempting to get information about her. So, despite Scarlett's initial reservations, she said 'yes' to releasing the photo of herself, Rosalie, and Archie – even though Marley's profile was visible in the background.
Also visible in the photo were Scarlett's eyebrow scars, one far more healed than the other.
Many journalists ruminated over the decision to release this picture, in particular, some correctly deducing that it was because it was similar to the one used in the original campaign.
With the thirst of the journalists somewhat abated, the Swans and Hales could concentrate on themselves and their recovery.
Rosalie began spending more and more nights at her dad's house. The separation was torture at first, but the girls gradually found it starting to get easier. Still, Rosalie and Scarlett far preferred being within eyesight of one another, which was understandable.
~ oOo ~
The twenty-fifth of June dawned warm and sunny with not an inkling of a cloud anywhere in the sky. Scarlett woke first, as had become usual, and was already well into the preparations for a fry-up, including bacon, sausages, eggs, and hash browns, when Edward joined her; this too was a routine occurrence.
In the course of a few weeks, the pair had become close, their friendship rekindling over a shared love of cooking, a mutual appreciation of each other's need for quiet time every now and then, and their fondness for Marley.
With careful maneuvering and cleverly thought out trickery, Edward often managed to get Scarlett to eat more food than she realized, boyishly requesting that she tasted everything before serving them up. Often, Marley also taste-tested their creations, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar with a coloring pad and pencils, content to watch her mother and Edward working together.
Each morning, Charlie, Peter, Archie, Carl-Roman, Chase, Heidi, Pippa, and Rosalie trickled into the kitchen, tucking into the food Scarlett and Edward cooked. Occasionally, they were joined by Edward's Aunt Esme and Uncle Carlisle, or Charlie's neighbors, Alice and Jasper Whitlock with their sons, Clarke and Dave.
Esme and Carlisle had been spending some time renovating their holiday home in the South of France when they heard the news that Scarlett and Rosalie were home, so they'd returned as quickly as possible to support the family they'd been friends with since moving onto the street a decade ago. Far closer to his aunt and uncle than his parents, Edward had been exceptionally excited to introduce them to Marley. Scarlett had stepped back with a smile and a nonchalant wave, allowing him his fun when they'd arrived. They had spent the entire day with the Swans and Hales. Many tears were shed with numerous photos taken.
Alice and Jasper Whitlock had moved into the house beside Charlie's just a year before the girls' abduction, but they'd been friendly and shared barbecues over the fence throughout the summer. When the girls went missing, they'd become a secondary pillar of support for Charlie and Peter whenever they needed help with Archie, Heidi, and Pippa. And later, they had become that for Archie, too. Aside from his Pawpaw or Uncle Pete, Alice and Jasper were Carl-Roman's favorite babysitters. They'd brought their sons – ten-year-old Clarke and five-year-old Dave – over with them one sunny day mid-June and Scarlett bonded quickly with Alice, while Dave and Marley became instant best friends. They sat quietly together in the garden, content to play with the Whitlock's Boston Terrier, Bonnie. She was an elderly lady at eight-years-old, but she placidly chased the ball they rolled for her over and over, until finally, she collapsed in Marley's lap for a snooze in the sun.
Needless to say, Marley had never smiled wider, and Charlie had taken great pleasure in filling his camera roll with pictures of Marley's first meeting with a dog.
~ oOo ~
"Aw, crap!" Edward hissed, yanking his hand away from the knife he'd been using to chop mushrooms. He'd gotten lost in memories of Alice and Jasper's visit. He was smiling to himself at the picture of Marley petting Bonnie when he missed the mushroom and hit his finger instead.
The knife hit the sideboard with a clatter as Scarlett spun, her face drawn with horror at the sound of his obvious pain. Within seconds, she'd rounded the island to cradle his injured right hand in her small, gentle palms. Well versed in tending to injuries as she was, Scarlett knew the small cut on his middle finger wasn't going to need stitches, or anything more than a dip under some water and a clean plaster.
"Come here," she urged softly, tugging him along behind her to the table, where she pushed him towards a chair. His eyes followed her as she moved around the room on silent, sock-clad feet, all-but drowning in not only his gray jogging bottoms, but a pink t-shirt of his, too. He'd seen her wistful expression when she saw the windsurfer motif on the front last time he'd worn it, so, once it had been washed, Edward had happily gifted it to her. She missed the beach, she'd admitted, and he'd been only too willing to give her the fabric representation until they could go to the beach for real.
"Shit!"
"Sorry," Scarlett mumbled. Edward's mouth was turned down in a boyish scowl as she dipped his finger in a small bowl of cold water, cleaning the blood from around the cut before drying it with a tissue, holding it until the bleeding stopped. "It'll be okay in a minute."
Bemused green eyes watched Scarlett glide back to the scene of the crime, scraping the bloodied mushrooms into the bin before wiping the board and putting it into the sink for a proper clean. The knife went in, too. Edward considered her as she deftly managed the rest of the meal preparations seemingly without effort, her multitasking skills allowing her to cook a loaf of bread, mind the sizzling bacon, and turn the sausages on the grill.
"You know a lot about injuries, huh?" Edward asked after a few minutes, anticipating the way Scarlett tensed. It was a stupid question to ask really, because they both knew he'd heard her recount of how she'd received every injury, every mark she'd gained in the past twelve years, accidental or otherwise.
"Self-preservation." Scarlett's whisper was so soft that he barely heard it from a few feet away. But the words, when they did reach him, sent a shiver down his spine. He was glad Marley had chosen to sit in the living room that morning, watching cartoons on the big flat screen with Mr. Eddie. "Rosalie's better with them than I am…" Scarlett trailed off.
She didn't need to finish the sentence. Edward did so in his head.
Because Rosalie's been patching her up for years.
With his brows furrowed, he asked, "will you show me?"
When Scarlett turned to face Edward, it was with a wince. Her eyes were tumultuous, her expression etched with fear. It was so easy to see the battle waging in her stormy eyes, and Edward immediately wished that he could take back the words.
"I'm sorry, forget I said th—"
Before Edward could finish his apology, Scarlett took a tentative step towards him. Wordlessly, her gaze pleaded with him not to reach out, though deep down she knew he would. He'd always been tactile.
Scarlett moved to stand beside Edward, and it was then that she realized she hadn't put the plaster on his cut. She quickly picked up the blue band-aid she'd removed from the first-aid kit, sticking it to the side of his finger. He smiled in thanks, then watched in confusion as she tamped back her fear to crouch in front of him, tugging up the too-long left leg of Edward's borrowed joggers.
Marring her skin was the telltale, faint white line of a scar. Edward couldn't help himself, and dropped to the tiles in front of her. His hands moved swiftly towards the mark just as Scarlett expected they would. Soft, slightly calloused fingertips swept over the three-inch-long line, tracing the jagged shape feather-lightly.
"How? When?"
"I was ten. He threw a vase." At his horrified expression, she hurried to elaborate, "it smashed on the wall. A shard caught my leg."
Having hung around and worked on construction sites since being a young boy, Edward had seen many injuries like this one, thought the stitching was always far cleaner, the lines less crude.
"Must have been a shitty doctor that stitched it up," he muttered through clenched teeth, disgusted she'd had to suffer through something like this when she was still just a baby.
That disgust was increased tenfold by the wry statement that fell from Scarlett's lips. "I'll tell Rosalie you said that."
It took a few moments for her words to sink in. When they did, Edward's heart all-but shoved itself from his chest, large hands gripping Scarlett's upper-arms desperately.
"That's a sick joke, Scarlett. Cazzo." He spat the curse in Italian before realization kicked him in the gut. Scarlett trembled in his grasp, eyes wide as she gazed at him with an eerie numbness that made Edward sick to his stomach.
"It's not…I wouldn't joke…not about this, Edward."
Edward felt like a complete and utter tool, fighting nausea at the thought of ten-year-old Rosalie having to stitch up Scarlett's leg. It was a heart-breaking image, one he wished he could get rid of. Seeing the truth in her eyes was more than Edward could take, so he pulled Scarlett gently towards his chest and sighed heavily when she settled, somewhat hesitantly, against him; her bump a firm, grounding presence between them. Their breathing evened out, hearts beating in time with each other in a thumping rhythm that echoed in Edward's ears. The steady thrum of his pulse resonated through Scarlett's body as she leaned her cheek against his neck, inhaling the sandalwood, freshly cut grass scent she was beginning to recognize as solely him. Wrapping her arms loosely around Edward's torso, Scarlett shivered with pleasure at the warmth seeping from his body into her bones, warming her from the inside-out.
They sprung apart with twin gasps, both looking down at the bump jutting from Scarlett's midsection before meeting each other's wide eyes.
"Did you feel that?" They asked in sync, laughing shakily when they both nodded in response.
"Oh my God…" Scarlett breathed, hands flying to rest to one side of her belly. She quickly tugged the material up, revealing her bump. A few seconds later, she visibly jumped, a squeal stealing its way from between her lips. "Here, feel this!" She snatched Edward's hand from mid-air, pressing it between both of hers at a spot on the right of her bump. Edward's heart raced as he waited, then spiked at the obvious pressure beneath his palm.
"He's kicking?" He asked whisper-softly.
Scarlett nodded quickly, excitement plain as day on her face. It was infectious. Edward couldn't help but grin, even as he fought the telltale prickling at the backs of his eyes. "Yeah. I didn't feel this 'til right at the end of my pregnancy with Marley."
"Well, you're, what? Seven months now?"
"Yeah. Oh! He's kicking again."
The pair sat in silence, grinning crazily at one another and not daring to move their hands until the baby within Scarlett's belly ceased his or her movements, settling down once more.
When Charlie's footsteps became audible on the stairs, then on the kitchen tiles, five minutes later it was blatantly obvious something had happened. The wide smiles on Edward and Scarlett's faces were too bold to ignore. Of course, he'd been excited for his daughter. Delighted in fact, that she'd been able to feel the life move inside of her. But he'd also been jealous of Edward, and resolved to stick closer than ever to Scarlett so that he might get the chance to feel his unborn grandchild move, too.
~ oOo ~
Over breakfast, Charlie reminded the entire group – Scarlett, Rosalie, Peter, Edward, and Archie – that Riley would be over soon with a forensic artist. Riley and his team were having no luck in finding Garrett Smith or his accomplice, the man who'd help kidnap the girls, and he'd explained that they would need Scarlett and Rosalie's help. That was where the artist came in. The hope was that this man, whoever he was, would have some idea of Garrett Smith's whereabouts. Or at least he may be able to shed some light on where he may have gone. The authorities were working on the assumption that if he was trusted enough to help take the girls twelve years ago, he might still be trusted enough to be helping Gareth now.
Daunted by the thought of having to describe the accomplice for the second time in a month, Scarlett and Rosalie ate sparsely and quietly, clearing the plates away in the same manner. Only Carl-Roman and Marley's antics brought even the smallest of smiles to their faces. Their fathers, brother, and friends were all struggling with the sudden silence of the girls. They'd been getting used to them participating in conversation, so it was a jolt back to reality having the girls revert to their mute, still natures.
Riley arrived at quarter past eleven with the artist in tow. Despite the crowds of news outlets having dwindled drastically, a few still occasionally hung out, calling questions about the girls, the case, and the suspect. They all wanted to know the same thing; where is he?
It was a question Riley hated to admit he couldn't answer.
Peter let the two men inside, leading them first to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and to warn them of the step backwards the girls seemed to have taken. After deciding not to call Irina just yet, Peter, Charlie, Riley, and the artist joined Scarlett, Rosalie, Archie, Edward, Marley, Carl-Roman, and baby Chase in the living room.
"Good morning, Riley!" Carl-Roman cried, grinning at the agent as soon as he spotted him. The train set on the coffee table was forgotten as the little boy leaped up, running to offer Riley a fist-bump. Riley couldn't help the smile that stole over his face as he returned it willingly, even making the prerequisite exploding boulder sounds as the boy's fist crashed into his before playfully spinning off. "Are you here to see me?"
The room was filled with amused titters, only Scarlett and Rosalie remaining blank-faced.
"Not quite, buddy," Riley admitted, gesturing at the balding, mustached man at his side. "I've brought a friend to meet your aunties. This is Mr. Bryant, and he's going to draw some pictures with them. Is that okay?"
Carl-Roman's eyes – Scarlett's eyes – narrowed as he appraised the man, stopping at the briefcase in his hand. "S'that got colors in it?"
Mr. Bryant's mustache twitched. "Sure does, kiddo."
Torn between wanting to help the girls feel more at ease, and wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, Charlie looked to Peter for help. His brows furrowed, mind ticking over ways to distract Carl-Roman.
Mr. Bryant came to the rescue. All eyes were on him as he pulled a pair of children's coloring books from his briefcase, moving with Carl-Roman to the window-seat, where he placed the book, a pack of coloring pencils, and then explained that there was a competition for the best picture in the book. Eager to win the sweets Mr. Bryant promised, the boy sat and quickly set to work coloring a cartoon farm. When Mr. Bryant turned back to the others in the room, he shrugged wryly. "I've seen a lot of children get bored and need distracting."
Praised for his initiative, he sat himself on the sofa opposite Scarlett and Rosalie. Riley joined him.
"Scarlett, Rosalie, this is Kim Bryant. He's a forensic artist from my division, back in the States."
Rosalie mustered a tiny smile, her eyes flashing as she alternated her gaze between Peter and Kim. "It's…it's great to m-meet you."
Kim's answering smile was sad as he returned the sentiment, including Scarlett even though, as yet, she'd only stared at him pensively. "Now, I know neither of you are chidren, so I won't treat you as such. We'll try this on paper first if you're comfortable that way, and if need be we'll use my computer. Is that all right with both of you?"
Both girls nodded, nerves increasing tenfold. Charlie and Peter stood to one side of the room, tense and unhappy with the entire situation, while Archie joined Carl-Roman, and Edward sat in an armchair adjacent to the sofas with Marley and Mr. Eddie in his lap. Blue-greens and baby-blues watched as Kim pulled paper and pencils from his case, setting the black leather bag on the floor beneath the table before sitting himself on the edge of the cushions, a small, sad smile playing beneath his mustache.
"Okay, do you think you could take a look at these sheets and tell me if any of them seem familiar, please?"
Rosalie slid forward on the sofa, one hand still clasping Scarlett's as she glanced at the sheaf of paper.
~ oOo ~
An hour passed, but the group was getting nowhere. Rosalie struggled to keep herself together, attempting to remember a face from over a decade ago while also trying to keep Scarlett from melting into a panic attack. Thankfully, patience was something Kim had in spades.
"What about this one?" He gently coaxed Rosalie to look at the sheet of noses once more, the frustration clear on her face when she met his eyes.
"Nothing. I don't recognize them at all—"
"That one. Third from the left in the third row."
Many eyes shot to Scarlett in surprise. Since Kim arrived, she hadn't spoken a word, sitting stoic and blank-faced beside an increasingly worked up Rosalie. Now, however, her lips were pursed grimly, eyes locked on the paper, her free fist clenched atop her folded legs. Sensing that this may be his chance to get her cooperation, and relying on his thirty years of working for the FBI, Kim took a chance nobody expected.
"Will you show me?"
Scarlett watched him slide a blank sheet of paper across the table, a pencil rolling after it. Her eyes flicked from the tabletop to Kim's face, questioning and wary, but not mistrustful. A few seconds passed before she sighed, long and low, edging her way off the sofa to sit cross-legged on the carpet, a mirror image of Kim's position. To everyone's surprise, she gingerly reached for the pencil. Clasping it in an awkward hold reminiscent of a toddler's, she looked around at the supportive faces spread throughout the room.
Brows almost joined in concentration, the blonde gripped the pencil and lowered it shakily to the paper, her mind conjuring the face of the other man responsible for ruining her life.
For ruining Rosalie's life, and the lives of their families.
It had been twelve years, yet Scarlett was still perfectly able to recall the man. His unclean smell and narrow face would be forever ingrained in her memory. After all, she'd faced him many times within her nightmares.
A thin face with lank, greasy black hair clinging to his head and narrowed eyes pressed itself behind Scarlett's eyes. Her hand began to fly across the page with startling speed and accuracy. Details, which most eyes would have missed were captured on the page, lines appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Grimacing, Scarlett recalled the way one of his eyebrows had a nick in the center. A scar.
Without a word, Kim tossed her a small white eraser, watching with raised eyebrows as the man came to life at Scarlett's hand.
The silence was loud when the scratching of the pencil on paper ceased.
Blue-green eyes bolted open. She'd been drawing with her eyes closed, trying to remember every detail.
As soon as they landed on the face in front of her, Scarlett's eyes overflowed with tears. Riley knew then; this was him. The Accomplice, as he'd been dubbed.
Kim told Riley, with a wordless look over his shoulder, to stay back. He returned his gaze to a teary-eyed Scarlett, glancing down at the drawing. The details were compelling. In his fifteen years working as a forensic artist, Kim had never seen such talent from someone with no formal training or years to hone their craft. As his eyes moved over the picture, he realized a glaringly obvious feature was missing.
"Scarlett, is there a reason you haven't drawn his eyes?"
Scarlett shuddered violently. "I c-can't…"
Rosalie sat forward and wrapped a trembling arm around her sister, soothing her with a gentle reassurance that they were home, safe, and surrounded by people who'd protect them.
"It's okay, Scarlett," Riley interjected. He stepped forward, placing a hand on his colleague's shoulder. "She's done. We can fill in the rest."
Unknowingly, in letting her off the hook, Riley did the exact opposite. Hearing him say that 'she's done,' Scarlett felt a punch to her gut because she knew she wasn't. The drawing wasn't. Something about leaving the sketch unfinished left an awful taste in her mouth. Glancing up at Charlie, she saw tears in the eyes he'd passed down to her. His pain was clear as day, as was the lingering surprise that his daughter obviously had an incredible latent talent. She'd been good at art at school but hadn't had the opportunity to work on it in the years since her abduction. And yet, despite this enormous, twelve-year gap between opportunities to draw, Scarlett had retained her talent.
In the knowing, almost proud, look Kim gave her, Scarlett was suddenly sure he'd expected her reaction to his request. Will you show me? With a bolt of clarity, she remembered Edward's words to her, earlier that morning. He'd asked to see a scar; she'd shown him. She'd trusted him not to judge her, so why should this task be any different? It was just a different scar, after all.
"I…I'll try."
Kim smiled in encouragement, mustache twitching. If it weren't for the way her stomach was tying itself in knots, Scarlett might have smiled at the sight of his thick walrus mustache dancing with the movement of his smile.
Hand visibly shaky, Scarlett's eyes instinctively slid shut as she added the final touches to her drawing.
From her side, Rosalie shivered as the thin, shrewd eyes took up residence on either side of the nose Scarlett had pointed out, then recreated perfectly. Across the table, Kim fought a shudder of his own, the sinister tilt of the man's lips combined with the evil expression Scarlett captured in his eyes creating a frighteningly striking villain.
The room fell still and silent once more in time with the muted tap of the pencil hitting the table. Scarlett shifted herself up onto the sofa and attempted to bury herself in the cushions while Rosalie moved to embrace her. In the meantime, Kim turned the drawing so that he, and Riley, could see it in its entirety.
"Are we done now?" Peter asked from across the room.
Riley met his eyes and nodded. "Yes. I think we are. Thank you for your help, girls. We'll keep you updated, I promise."
Neither Scarlett nor Rosalie separated their bowed-together heads to acknowledge him, not that he expected them to. Their eyes were closed tight, lips moving in almost silent whispers to reassure one another that they were now safe.