The cold she'd come home with hadn't gotten any better, and when Charlie woke her up on a rare, sunny Wednesday—rare even for early July, Bella was groggy and exhausted.

"Come on," he said, "Billy's invited us over for lunch."

Billy.

"Oh," she said, clearing her throat, making her voice solidly level, "I'm not really up for it, Dad. I think I'll take a pass on this."

Charlie sat down on the edge of her bed, a slight frown starting just between his eyebrows. "I think you can handle eating," he said gently. "We won't be there long."

She shook her head. "No one else wants my cold, Dad."

"Probably not, but they'd like your company," he countered. "You get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs in a bit."

Bella bit her lip, watching him leave. He had that look about him. The kind that let her know he meant business. He wouldn't give up on this easily.

As she was coming down the stairs, she could hear him on the phone, "maybe next time, Alice," he was saying, and hanging up.

A shiver went down her spine.

Alice had been her backup plan, in case he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Good, you're ready. Let's go," Charlie said. He had his keys in his hand, and a paper bag on the table that smelled of freshly purchased baked goods. She peered over it, a worried clench in her belly. He'd prepared. Gone shopping.

He was very determined.

"Dad," Bella said, using her best, most I'm-eighteen-and-an-adult voice, "I'm not going. Um...give everyone my best."

Charlie stood, keys dangling, half-moving towards the door, then turned to face her.

"Bella," he said, voice quiet, and tone too serious to match his casual stance. "I'm going to be honest, I'm really disappointed with you. Embarrassed, even."

Bella stared, stomach sinking.

"Jake was there for you when you were barely yourself. Got you through some pretty tough stuff, and now, he's really badly hurt. And you haven't even gone seen him." He looked at her, gauging her reaction, the pale face, the nervous tremble she thought she was hiding.

He grimaced, knowing what was really behind this.

"You're a better person than you're acting right now. Get yourself together, go see him."

Bella was scrambling for something that was safe to tell him.

"Dad," she said, "Jake," she sighed. "It's—"

"Edward," he said. "Kinda obvious." He was turning a dangerous shade of pink. It would be red soon. Then she was really in for it.

"No," she shook her head, sitting down at the table, "it's not."

Charlie snorted.

"Jake kissed me, Dad," she huffed out. This was true. It was on the dangerous edge of what else was true, but she could say it without losing control. "I told him to stop, and he wouldn't."

He couldn't possibly argue with this.

But the smile that blossomed on his face made all the blood drain from hers. "Good for him," he chuckled. "Edward could use some...healthy competition."

She just stared.

The emphasis on healthy was unmistakable.

"Let's go," he said, "Jake could use a friend."

"I punched him, Dad," Bella continued, shaking, but not moving. She held up her now casted hand to illustrate her point.

He had taken several steps towards the door. "Should we go see if he wants to press charges then?" he quipped, putting on his shoes.

She blinked, and felt the mortification of tears, ready to fall. God, not now, she thought.

He looked at her, and as much as he wanted to, couldn't ignore her anger, or his own, rising up to meet it. That bastard, Charlie thought. He'd done more than hurt her. He'd completely derailed her closest friendships too. When was the last time she saw a friend? Beyond the Cullens? Or Jake? Not that she saw him much. Frickin' control freak.

He had finished tying his shoes, and stood, not wanting to give credence to prolonging this exchange.

"We're going. You don't have to do more than show up, but we're going. I don't care if Edward doesn't like it. He isn't in charge of your life."

He held the door open for her, gesturing to her to go ahead of him.

"You think this is about Edward," she said, the statement almost a question.

Charlie muttered something obscene under his breath.

This was not the way he'd wanted to have this conversation.

He put his keys down, closing the door, and sitting down.

He pointed wearily to the chair across from him. Bella joined him, but warily.

"I saw the bruises on your arms," Charlie said.

Bella's stomach twisted in on itself. Edward had warned her. She just hadn't thought he'd bring it up. Not yet. Not this way.

"It wasn't Edward, Dad," she said, jaw tight, face flushing angrily.

God, he's got her so wound up she's even lying for him. It was so clear on her face, the strain, and the stress.

His hand was a tight fist on the table.

"Then who?" he asked. "Hmm? Who else do you even see?"

She closed her eyes, feeling shaky. "Jake, Dad. It was Jacob." She said it so softly, he could hear the shame wafting off of her.

Charlie had seen it too many times. Women, terrified of the men they depended on for any number of things, so much so that they blamed anyone but. Best friends. Brothers. Fathers. He'd seen it all.

He wasn't letting Jacob be thrown that way.

"No!" he said, and he punctuated this with his fist, thumping into the table. "You are NOT going to lie for the man that beats you! Jake would never hurt you, and you know it!"

Bella was stunned. She could barely breathe.

He didn't believe her.

"'Scuse me," she said, standing, going to walk back to her room, deathly pale, now nauseated.

"No!" Charlie said, and stood to block her. "You want to make accusations like that, then you stand by them, and you make them to his face! Let's go."

This time, he wouldn't be refused. "In the car. Now," he said, feet planted wide.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, Bella. Now." He'd put his hand on her shoulder, and was using the leverage of his height, and weight to move her out of the house.

"No," she said again, pulling her shoulder away from him.

He did it so quickly, that she found herself breathless, good arm pinned behind her back, face down on the table.

His voice shook with feeling: grief, anger, and a hopeless rage he wouldn't wish on anyone. "I'm sorry, Bella. No. You're going. Either in the back of the car, or the front. I am not NOT going to let my daughter protect the man who's hurting her."

Bella said nothing, trying to grapple with her own grief.

He didn't believe her.

She couldn't say that line enough to make it believable to herself.

He hated Edward that much, that he would rather think he was hurting her, than believe Jacob could.

She felt an extraordinary pang of sympathy for him.

She could hardly believe it herself.

"Front, or back?" he growled, not letting go.

Fine, she thought, resolving herself, stuffing her many griefs away.

"Back," she said.

And so it was, Charlie frog-marched her from the house, anger waning, nerves trilling. He was so over the line, he wasn't sure what to do next.

Get your shit together, he told himself. If she has to face the lie she's telling, maybe she'll be able to say what's really going on.

When he opened the back door of the cruiser, she didn't fight him, but got in. He couldn't miss her tremble now.

She said nothing on the drive there, and neither did Charlie.

By the time they arrived, she was pale, looking small and shaky.

Charlie felt exactly the same, wondering what the hell he was doing, and if it was all going to blow up in his face. He frowned, opening the door, and Bella got out without comment.

"Well you two look terrible," Billy said, all smiles when he saw them. "Good to see you, Bella," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Jake's missed you."

"Hey," she said quietly.

"He can't really walk well, without help," he said, "maybe you want to take him out for a bit?" he asked, gesturing to his wheelchair.

Bella knew, from what Carlisle had said, that he would be well enough by now, and her stricken face confused Billy.

"Don't worry, he won't knock you over or anything," he said, slapping her on the back. This sent her stumbling in the direction of Jacob's room. She stopped, just short of it, to see Jacob coming out, one leg, and one arm secured in braces, the other arm holding a crutch.

"Hey," he said, "you took long enough to visit."

She nodded, trying not to panic.

Nothing will happen, she told herself, not with Billy here. Or Charlie.

Charlie had sidled up beside her.

"Lookin' dangerous, Jake," he said, raising an eyebrow meaningfully at Bella.

"Thanks Charlie," he grinned back, not taking his eyes off of Bella.

Charlie paused a minute, eyeing them both, "you gonna go for a walk?" he asked. "Get some air?"

"That'd be great," Jake said, "been pretty cooped up."

"There ya go, Bella. Be a friend. Take him for a walk." Then he patted her on the back, and walked away.

"Yeah, take your invalid friend out for a bit," he winked, still grinning at Bella. "Like walkin' a dog."

He held out his arm, noting the tremble in hers as they linked theirs together.

When they were down the stairs, Bella mumbled, "not too far. I don't think I'll be much help if you do fall."

"Don't worry," he whispered back, "all for show. Come on." And then, he was turning her slowly, steering her in the direction of the woods that banked the rear of the property. He kept his pace appropriately slow, and it took them some time to reach the treeline.

Testing his grip, Bella tried moving her arm away, but he kept it locked in place. "What?" he quipped, "you gonna leave the invalid to fend for himself?"

She said nothing, accepting she couldn't get away, feeling like she was being led to her execution.

"He wasn't too hard on you, was he?" Jacob asked. "After I left?"

Her lip trembled, answering him. "No," she said.

"Good," Jacob breathed out. "I was kinda worried."

Bella's jaw felt glued shut.

When they reached the tree line's deep shade, Jacob discarded all pretense of injury, wrapping his arm around her back, and pulling her into a kiss. "God I've missed you," he said. His lips were insistent, pushing at the stubborn clench of her mouth, tongue probing for entrance. When she tried to yank herself backwards, he tangled his fingers tightly in her hair, not letting her move.

"Stop!" she said to his lips, trying to twist her face away. Catching him unawares, she used her knee to reinforce the message.

It lacked the result she'd hoped for, and his hands were just as tight on her arm, keeping her from moving back.

"Why?" he hissed, partly angry, but mostly trying to keep his voice down from Charlie and Billy hearing, "why do you keep fighting it?"

Her squirming was useless. He had her pressed to him, showing her just how little effect her knee had had. "Your reaction is just as obvious," he said, feeling her resistance "Your body knows what it wants, even if your head doesn't."

"I don't want to be with you, Jake, and I didn't before!" she hissed, still trying to move away from him. His grip remained insistent.

"Are you afraid to tell him?" he asked.

"Tell him WHAT?" she spat out, "That you raped me?"

His eyebrows lifted, and he stared for a moment. He still didn't let go. "That's the way you're spinnin' it, huh?" He blew out a surprised breath. "We made love, Bella," he said very quietly, "and I get that you're afraid to tell him, but telling him that won't exactly uncomplicate your life."

She was angry now, shaking under his grip. "You don't have to hold people down to make love to them, Jacob. That's when it becomes rape."

His eyebrows moved higher, and he brought his face closer to hers, speaking softly, "rapists don't usually take their victims to the hospital, where they have every opportunity to tell someone what happened. And rape victims don't usually put themselves in the hands of their rapists, or sleep beside them, either. Or come to visit." He stopped, swallowing. "They have fucked with your head so much, you can barely even see it."

"Bella, Jake!" Charlie's distant voice called, "Lunch's ready!"

Thank God, she thought, feeling Jake's hands loosen. Before she could move away, though, he pulled her back to him, his hand digging into her hip. "Why don't I make telling him easier for you?" he said, grinning suddenly, and then put his lips to the jointure of her neck and shoulder in a powerful kiss that became a painful suck, raising the flesh to a welt.

He held her good hand in his, freshening the bruise there, making her eyes water.

"There," he said, "now you have a conversation starter your leech won't be able to miss."

Then he turned around, as if nothing had happened, holding out his arm for her to take again. "Don't want Charlie getting suspicious, hmm?"

She followed numbly, trying to tug up her shirt to hide the mark he'd left.

Charlie was sitting by Billy at the table when they came in.

Bella's face, much as she tried to mask her feeling, was paler than pale, and Charlie's lips pulled down slightly, listening to her numbed silence.

She made only the most essential noises during lunch, artfully picking apart the food on her plate.

"Not feeling well, Bella?" Billy asked, unaccustomed to her taciturn behaviour.

"No," she said, "bad cold."

Charlie, pursued by a wisdom he needed better possession of, didn't prolong their time together. The house was soon full of their subdued farewells.

"Don't be a stranger, Bells," Jake called.

She didn't respond.

Bella sat in the front on the way home, and when they pulled into the driveway, got out without a word to her father, walking inside, and going straight to her room. He waited nervously, downstairs, listening to the shuffling sounds he could hear through the floor.

When she emerged about an hour later, it was announced by the thunk of her duffel bag bumping down the stairs.

"Bella—" he called, his shoulders falling, "come on, don't you think this is a bit much?"

She looked at him, wishing she didn't want to cry.

"I told you that someone was hurting me, and you shoved me in the back of your car—your police car, and made me go see him. I don't think there's anything left to say."

He might have said something. In fact, she was pretty sure he had, but her ears felt like they were ringing, and the sun was too bright, as she took her bags out to her truck.

When she felt Charlie's hand on her back, she jolted away, hands up, ready to defend herself.

He backed away, his own face pale with worry, and a well deserved fear.

He'd fucked up royally. That much was clear now.

And she was leaving.

When she reached the shadowed crunch of the Cullens' driveway, Edward was there, suddenly, and she stopped the truck, exhausted, and relieved.

There weren't words, just tears from her, as he opened the door, turning off the ignition, holding her, murmuring desperate "I'm sorrys," over and over and over again.