27

She hadn't intended on falling asleep in the car. In fact, she had made it a point to not sleep if she could help it. Sleeping made her vulnerable, weak, and he always took advantage of her when she slept. So, when she woke the next morning in the too big room, with the too bright sun, on the too soft bed, she didn't understand why she wasn't afraid. Normally, she'd wake up screaming, which only made him madder than when she didn't make any noise. If it hadn't been for the fact that Edward was the person holding her against his chest, she probably would have screamed. Instead, she slipped out of his arms, missing the warmth and comfort his arms provided, and eased herself off the bed. She crept across the room, opened the door to the closet, and settled inside the darkness, pulling her knees to her chest.

If she were being honest with herself, she felt very confused. These nice people cared about her, said they loved her, called her their family. They let her shower anytime she wanted and bought her more clothes than she had ever owned. They made her pancakes and grilled cheese, let her help take care of Beth. They just . . . were nice to her, and they wanted nothing in return. Why would they be nice to her and not want anything from her?

It just didn't make sense to her, because he wasn't nice, and he always demanded that she give him . . . more than she wanted to. He was demanding and mean, violent and harsh. She never did anything right according to him, and he reminded her every chance he got that she was useless and stupid, a waste of space.

A nothing.

A nobody.

But not them. Edward and her pancake man, Esme, Jasper and Alice, Emmett and her Rosie. Not Uncle James, who fought for her, kept her safe from him, because she was his family, and he loved her. They loved her, even though she was a nobody and a nothing. They just loved her.

She tightened her arms around her legs as the door to the closet opened, feeling relieved when it was just Edward. No, not just Edward. He confused her the most of all her nice people. He held her hand, kissed her forehead, put his arms around her, and told her she was amazing and important. He called her sweetheart. Nobody else called her sweetheart, just him, and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

"Why are you in here?" he asked, sliding the floor and sitting next to the door.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I like it in here. It's safer, you know, in the dark. It's . . ." She shook her head and gestured toward the room. "It's too big in there, too bright."

"That's fair," he agreed, nodding. "Maybe we can . . . I don't know, make it more comfortable for you."

She frowned. "Why? It's not like I live here."

"Of . . . of course you do," he stammered. "Why would you think that?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Bella," he said, and the sound of him saying her name sent shivers down her spine, which she didn't understand. "You know you don't have to leave, don't you? You can stay here as long as you want."

"I can?" she asked, and when he nodded, she said, "Oh, okay."

Edward smiled and reached for her. "I'm hungry. Let's go get some breakfast."

"Pancakes?" she asked, grinning.

He laughed, the sound sending chills through her. "Of course. Bet I can eat more than you."

"No way," she scoffed, but placed her hand on his, letting him pull her to her feet as he stood up.

Like always, he held her hand as they walked out of the bedroom — her (?) bedroom — across the hallway, and downstairs, where they found Carlisle and Esme sitting with Emmett and Rosie, who was holding Beth, but it was the television that drew her attention. Because there in the middle of the screen was her picture, except it wasn't her. Not really. It was the eight year old her, with wide brown eyes and a face full of laughter. Her hair was in pigtails and there were freckles across her cheeks. She could almost remember when that picture had been taken.

Daddy had taken her and Rosie to a baseball game. They'd stuffed themselves full of hotdogs and popcorn, nachos with the gross cheese, and sodas. They'd yelled and screamed, cheered on the players, and Daddy had caught a foul ball, and let her have it. It had been one of the only memories she hadn't lost over the last eight years, the day she spent at the baseball game with her Daddy and Rosie. He climbed into her window four days later, and suddenly, she was a nothing, a nobody, instead of Daddy's little buttercup.

"Turn it off," Edward said, drawing their attention to them.

Carlisle grabbed the remote and pressed a button, the television turning black a second later. "Hey, honey. Did you sleep okay?"

"That was me," she said. "Why was I on the T.V.?"

Sighing, Carlisle and Esme shared a look before he stood up and walked over to her and Edward, putting his hands up in front of him. "I don't want to scare you, okay?"

She nodded, unsure why he would think he would scare her. He was her pancake man. He would never hurt her, right?

"Word has gotten out about you being . . . found, Bella."

"Found?" she asked. "I was . . . found?"

He frowned as he nodded. "The press, the news stations, have been running your story on the news all morning."

"But why? I mean, I'm a nobody, a nothing. Why would they care? Why would anyone care?"

Rosie frowned as she stood and walked over to her, reaching for her hand, her free hand, seeing as Edward was still holding her other hand. "They care, Bella, we care, because you've never been a nothing, or a nobody. You've always been a someone, someone very, very important." Rosie lifted her hand to her face, laying her palm against her cheek. "You were missed by so many people, people who never stopped looking for you."

"Like you and Uncle James?" she whimpered.

"Yeah, like me and James," Rosie cried. "But you need to know that now that the press knows that you've been found . . . alive that people are going to want to . . . to talk to you."

"Why?" she asked. "I can't tell them . . . I can't tell them what I did. I can't, Rosie, I can't!"

"Hey, calm down," she said, releasing her hand and placing hers on the other side of her face. "I know you're scared, honey. I mean, I know you are, but . . . and I'm sorry for this, but you're going to have to tell . . . tell Jay and the police what . . . what Sam Uley did to you. If you don't, they might have to release him."

"From jail?" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"Yes, honey, they'd have to release him from jail," she murmured. "And I know that scares you, because, well, it scares me and Emmett, and Carlisle and Esme, and Alice and Edward, too, but you have to be brave, Bella. So brave, okay? For mom and dad and . . . and for Hope."

She closed her eyes and blew out a heavy breath before saying, "Okay."

—SfH—

Jasper was nervous as hell. He'd called Carlisle as soon as the news started reporting the breaking news of Isabella Swan's sudden and surprising rescue from her kidnapper after disappearing eight years. He had hoped to have kept the under the radar a little longer, give her a little more time to heal in private before throwing her into the lion's den, but of course, it hadn't taken long for her picture to begin appearing on news channels across the nation. Just like he thought she would, Isabella Swan had become national news, and he knew exactly who was to blame.

"Cullen, what the fuck are you doing here so early?" Garrett groused as he came into the station.

Jasper ignored him as he worked on his report detailing his movements over his last three days, knowing the district attorney would want to know every little thing he had done to track down Sam Uley, everything that led to the deaths of Jacob Black and Emily Young, the assault on James Swan.

"Cullen, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Sighing, he pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up, facing his boss and friend. "Fucking Yorke blabbed to the press about her. You realize that, don't you? He saw this as his chance to smooth over the fact that he, Newton, and Crowley fucked their case up from day one, and now, they think putting her out there is going to make them seem like her fucking hero."

"I do," he admitted. "But you know it would only be a matter of time before the press would have found out about her."

"I know, but . . . She needed more time. The last three days have been overwhelming enough for her, and now, she's going to have people in her face all the time."

Garrett nodded. "She's coming in, isn't she?"

Jasper sighed, but nodded. "Carlisle's bringing her in."

"Gotta admit, Cullen, I'm a little worried about you. You've never been this . . . protective over a victim before."

"She's not just another victim, Cap," he admitted, leaning against the side of his desk. "When my brother first told me about her, I thought he was fucking insane to be so worried about some homeless girl he almost hit with his car. I mean, I love Carlisle, but he's a bit of a bleeding heart, you know? But then I thought about my mom, and how she would have wanted us to help her. So I told him I'd find her. Figured we'd get her some food, clean her up, and send her in her way again. When I got the call that patrol had picked her up and I was standing in the lobby of the ER waiting for her, I was . . . I was annoyed because I didn't do that kind of shit, you know? Not my job, but she was important to my brother. Then they brought her in, and I saw her. Like really saw her," he whimpered, feeling stupid for becoming too emotional.

"She was fragile and delicate, and I could see the fear in her eyes. I've looked in the face of women who have been brutalized before, Cap, but she's different. She's beautiful and brave and I knew I had to help her." He shook his head, dragging his hands over his face, trying to rid himself of his tears, not that Garrett hadn't seen them of course. "And then we realized that she was Rosalie's little sister, and she became family. Our family, and we take care of our family, you know? I just wasn't prepared to learn what I have. Predators like Sam Uley should be taken out back and slaughtered for what they do to little girls like Bella Swan."

"Well, I don't disagree with you there, Cullen." Garrett shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Just promise me that if you need a break, a few days or whatever, you'll take them. It doesn't make you weak to need some time for yourself."

"I will," he lied, knowing that he wouldn't. At least not until they had Sam Uley locked away for the rest of his life, or someone killed him. Either one would be fine with him.

Garrett gave him a look that clearly stated that he knew he was lying, but he didn't call him out as he turned and walked into his office, closing his door. Jasper settled back at his desk and went back to his report.

—SfH—

Garrett had his doubts that this girl was going to be as special as Cullen had been saying. In fact, he seriously doubted that she was. Cullen was good cop — a damn good cop — but had concerns his mental state lately. Ever since his parents had been killed, he'd been cold and heartless, refusing to work with a partner. In the last three years, in fact, he'd been through half a dozen partners, each of them requesting reassignment after three months.

Two hours after he arrived at the station, Cullen knocked on his door and said the girl was there. Garrett needed to see this girl for himself, see why everyone who came into contact with her seemed to be ready to fight to the death for her. Not like little girls hadn't gone missing before. Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Dugard, Gina DeJesus, Amanda Berry, Michelle Knight, and the list could go on and on. So why was Isabella Swan different?

Cullen stood up as the backdoor to the station opened, and Carlisle, Emmett, and Rosalie walked in, with Edward and a small fragile girl with long dark brown hair that hung around her face behind them. Garrett had met them all a few times, of course. Mostly he knew Cullen's family though small talk. The four brothers were close, something Garrett had always envied. He wasn't particularly close to his own family.

"Hey, honey," Cullen said, walking over to where Edward and the girl stood, him with his arm wrapped around her, like he was holding her together.

The girl tilted her head back, her hair shifting from her face, and Garrett found himself stifling a gasp. She was beautiful, he agreed. Her eyes were a rich chocolate brown, but there was a darkness in her eyes that had him concerned. She was small, not just thin, but tiny, fragile like Cullen had stated. There was faded bruising on her neck, scratches on her face, and dark circles under her eyes — eyes that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Are you okay?" Cullen asked, speaking softer than Garrett had ever heard him speak to anyone.

She shifted her eyes around the room, before shaking her head.

"Everyone back to work," Garrett snarled, causing everyone to jump and look at him. He glared at all of his detectives before they turned away from her, pretending to do their jobs. Clearing his throat, Garrett walked across the room, making sure he was standing far enough away as to not scare her. "Why don't we take this to the conference room?"

Cullen tensed, but nodded before he held his hand out to the girl. "Come on, honey. Nobody's going to hurt you."

"Promise?" she whispered, her voice as soft and delicate as she appeared.

Cullen smiled. "Of course. Remember what I told you? We take care of our family."

"And I am your family now," she whispered, smiling.

"That's right, honey. Our family." He stretched his hand out to her even more.

She shifted her eyes to Edward, who gave her a subtle nod, before she lifted her hand up and placed it in Cullen's. Garrett took a couple steps backward as Cullen led her past him, her eyes shifting to him for just the briefest second, before she turned away. And as Garrett followed them to the conference room, he was suddenly afraid of what he was about to hear, because saving that little girl became the most important thing in his life. Cullen had been right: she was different.

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