Bella's eyes struggled to open. They were well glued shut with sleep, and when she did manage to crack them to bare slits, the lights above made her head swim. As her sight adjusted, she took in the shape and colour of the room.

She wasn't at the Cullen's.

And then a very familiar and terrifying voice spoke.

"You're up."

No, she told herself. It must be the morphine.

As she began turning her head though, she couldn't help but perceive how real everything felt—the scratchiness of the blanket tucked around her, the stiffness of the needle in her arm, the still painful breaths that moved in her reluctant lungs.

Then her gaze reached the voice's source, and Jacob grinned at her.

Two things happened almost simultaneously: she flexed her arms and legs, readying herself to run, or defend herself, finding she couldn't, and she tried to scream for help.

The breath caught halfway to her lungs, penned in by sharp pain and a violent cough, starting a fit of expulsive spasms in her chest.

"Whoa—slow down, you're OK," Jacob said, reaching out a hand, trying to calm her. "Emily!" he called, his voice as panicked as Bella felt.

The door thumped open, and Emily came in, bare feet silent on the carpet. She smiled calmly at Bella, and braced her against her own chest, smacking Bella's back to help dislodge the phlegm in her throat.

When the regular, but tight, whistling wheeze in Bella's airway began to move again, Emily laid her back against the headboard, snapping an oxygen mask onto Bella's face.

Bella made herself stay where she was, only mildly less panicked with Emily's presence. Her arms and legs felt dead, like uncooperative wooden logs: moveable, but only just.

"Welcome back," Emily said softly, light fingers at Bella's wrist. "Been a while," she continued, pulling out a stethoscope, raising her eyebrows, lifting her chin to Bella's chest, seeking permission to listen.

Bella's eyes flicked nervously to Jacob and back to Emily.

"Outcha go, Jacob," Emily said, not taking her gaze from Bella.

Jacob stood, rolling his eyes, and carried his crutch out of the room. "Later," he called from the door, closing it softly.

Emily walked her look from the bruises on Bella's ribs to the wary expression on her face, as she listened to her breathing. "Better," she said. "Can you turn a bit, so I can listen to your back?"

It was exhausting to move, but she managed.

"Good," Emily murmured, smoothing Bella's shirt back down. Then she picked up a glass of water, straw in it, and offered it to Bella, sliding the straw under the oxygen mask.

"Bet you're wondering why you're here," Emily said.

Bella was trying very hard not to, because the question circled painfully close to the fear that she'd been left. Again.

Where were they? Had they...left?

She nodded, feeling her neck ache with the effort.

"Your dad brought you," Emily said. "Said he was planning to take you to the hospital, but he was afraid they'd get to you again there. Even with the restraining order." Here her face clouded, lips tight in a grim line.

Bella mouthed "what?" under the mask.

"Did they hurt you because of...you and Jacob?" Emily asked, eyebrows pulling together.

Bella stared, swallowing nothing. The tremor in her hands wasn't visible, but Bella felt like a twanging string, plucked too hard.

Emily's cheeks had darkened, assuming she'd hit upon the right tack. "I was pretty surprised when he showed up with you. Said Sue'd told him I used to nurse—" she stopped, pursing her lips together. Her voice was slow, quiet when she started again. "Why didn't you ask us for help?"

There were silent tears running down Bella's cheeks. She had it wrong. Utterly wrong. And Jacob was downstairs.

The tremble running up and down Bella's body was becoming visible.

"I'm sorry," Emily said, suddenly chagrined, putting a hand on Bella's, "You've been through hell, and you can't exactly talk. Let me get Jacob for you—"

Bella opened her mouth to protest, to scream, but her airway, so raw, so tight with inflammation, and lungs so weak, stoppered itself with panic, and she was choking again. Emily pulled her forward, turning up the oxygen.

"Calm down, Bella, it's OK," she said, but it didn't work, and Emily rummaged through the box of supplies on the dresser, putting a syringe in one hand, an alcohol swab in another. "You're gonna be OK, just relax."

The prick in Bella's arm was quick, and the blackness that it brought, faster.

The next time she woke, it was dark, and the light in the room softer, a low lamp in the corner shedding its small bloom.

It was Sam who was sitting by the bed, head leaning back over the edge of his chair, soft snores bubbling from his open mouth.

Bella tried saying his name. The air didn't stick this time, but her voice was only a quiet whisper.

"Sam," she tried again, with more volume.

He didn't move.

"SAM!" she said, pushing her lungs to their full capacity.

"Whuh?" he said, sitting up suddenly, blinking. "Bella," he said, "you're up." He rubbed his eyes, pushing his arms down as if to stand up, "Let me get Emily."

With an effort that left her panting, she reached his hand before he could move.

"No," she mouthed.

Sam looked suddenly uncomfortable, rocking himself back and forth slightly in the chair. "I'm sorry," he said, jutting his chin towards her ribs, her arms, and then looking embarrassed, away, "Jacob told me. He warned me, and I didn't listen. We won't let them do it again, OK?"

What did Jacob tell you? Bella thought, a slithering chill curling up in her stomach.

"We protect our own," Sam continued. "They can't hurt you here."

But Bella wasn't thinking about the Cullens, she was wondering where Jacob was.

"Jacob's downstairs," Sam said, "Emily made him get some sleep. He's barely left since you got here," he added, "I knew there was something between you, I just thought—I didn't realize what they'd been doing. If I'd known, I never would've—"

Bella held up her hand, feeling it shake and fall before she wanted it to, and Sam stopped.

The room was growing fuzzy at the edges, her eyelids heavy again, and she felt the pull of forces beyond the control of will, sucking her back into the darkness.

This sleep was more disturbed, and jarred by blurry, minute wakings.

When she could next hold on to more than a sliver of consciousness, the slant of the clear sunlight told her it was midmorning. Charlie was sitting in the chair now.

"Dad?" she tried, not certain of what her throat would do. It produced something recognizable as a word, and Charlie started up from the magazine he was looking at.

"Hey," he said, coming to sit beside her, an uncertain hand over her own.

Bella realized that the oxygen mask was gone. She blinked, and didn't fall asleep.

"How long?" she asked, finding more of her voice.

"Since?"

"I've been out of it," she mumbled. Her tongue felt fuzzy, the words sticky.

"'Bout three days since you got sick," he said. He frowned, looking at her.

"Why'd you bring me here?" she asked, clearing her throat, or trying to.

Charlie handed her a glass of water, "just a bit," he said, worried.

She clenched her jaw, being told what to do, but took the water, sipping slowly. Holding it made her hand tired, and Charlie took it back quickly.

"Billy's always telling me the Cullens aren't welcome here. Seemed like a good place to start," he said darkly.

"They didn't hurt me," Bella said, teeth still tight together.

Charlie didn't say anything for a minute, looking down at his hands. Jacob had finally come clean, told him what had happened the week before, and the pieces had all come clunking together.

"I get," Charlie said softly, "that you're probably embarrassed, that you feel like you cheated on Edward, Bella, but I think the cat's outta the bag on that one now." He looked at her, at the horrified widening of her eyes. "I don't hold it against you honey, I just—why would you stay with him, when he hurt you like that? What kinda hold do they have on you?"

He barely let her pull her features together before he spoke again.

"No one loves you if they hurt you like that, Bella." He shook his head, as if trying to shake off what his mind was supplying.

"It wasn't Edward," Bella said. She was so angry, but the tears were sliding down her cheeks. What had Jacob told them? Why wouldn't they believe her?

Charlie looked at her, "I don't care which one of them did it, Bella, if he let one of his brothers hurt you—what difference does it make?" His voice rose, angry, despairing.

"Jacob hurt me, Dad," she said, for the last time, hoping and doubting, deeply, at the same time, that it would permeate, but knowing that his views were so rigidly set, they couldn't absorb the truth.

Charlie stood, carefully putting the glass down. "I've got to go," he said.

It occured to Bella that he was dressed for work.

"Wait," she said, voice still weak.

"What?" he asked, his own voice tight with barely contained rage.

"Please don't leave," she asked.

A little bit of the rage slipped away. "You're safe here, Bella. No one will hurt you."

Her throat was so tight with grief, with fear, that she could barely say more.

"I'll come back later, OK?" Charlie said, gripping her hand, and then turning and walking from the room.

She stared at the open door, willing herself to stand, to follow him, prisoner to the weakness of body. She could barely lift her arms without exhausting herself.

Emily came in, a small bowl in hand. "Hey," she began, chattering on, sitting beside Bella. The words slid over her like water, running away into rivulets and puddles that her mind couldn't hold onto.

"Bella?" Emily said again, waiting for some sign of intelligent response.

"Sorry," Bella mumbled, not sure for what, still trying to pick up what was happening.

"Can I get you to eat something?" Emily asked.

Bella looked down at the bowl.

"Soup," Emily explained, unnecessarily. "Try a bit," she encouraged her, holding up a spoon, eyebrows raised hopefully.

Bella looked at it, stomach turning, but steeled herself to eat, knowing she needed to get herself out of here. That the Cullens, if they hadn't left, hadn't abandoned her—and those felt like big if's—couldn't help her here.

She took the spoon, and after finishing what she could slumped back against the pillow. "Thanks," she said. "Don't suppose you can get me a phone?"

Emily looked away awkwardly, mumbling, "maybe later," as she stood. "Jake wants to see you."

"No!" Bella said, "please don't leave me with him!" Her voice rose with panic and fear.

"Bella," Emily said reproachfully, "Jake would never hurt you. No one here would."

"Then it won't matter if I'm not alone with him," Bella said.

Emily's face was dark, with anger, and some pity. "I know that you've been hurt, but we don't deserve your mistrust, Bella, Jacob least of all."

"Yes," Bella said, swallowing, hoping this didn't thrust her into the sphere of complete discrediting, "he does. He hurt me, Emily." She looked at her, pleading, imploring, knowing Emily was the only one who would understand just what the wolves were capable of, regardless of intention.

Emily shook her head angrily. "Those boys have been up at all hours for you, fought alongside those creatures for you. Got hurt to save them. And you—" she shook her head in violent disbelief. "Scuse me," she said, picking up the bowl and leaving.

Jacob's entry was almost silent.

Seeing him standing at the door, Bella closed her eyes, and curled over onto her side away from him, hoping his presence would not become malignant.

"Hey," he said softly.

She said nothing, focusing on hoping. Breathing.

Then she felt him lay down behind her, sliding one arm under, the other over her body.

She shuddered, telling herself nothing would happen. Not with Emily nearby. Her mind refused to invest in this fantasy, throwing flashes of memory into the forefront of her consciousness.

"You cold?" he asked, tightening his grip.

She shivered from another feeling, entirely.

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, undaunted by her silence.

"Why'd you lie, Bella?" he asked softly.

She said nothing, hoping, that if he found her unresponsive enough, he might just leave.

"You said he didn't hurt you," Jacob continued. "What did he do, Bella?"

He thought Edward had hurt her? What the hell kind of denial was he in?

"Emily said your legs were bruised. Did he—?" He didn't finish. He didn't want to. Instead he kissed her neck, and listened to her breathing as it became shallower and raspier.

"Doesn't matter," he said, "you're safe now."

They stayed like this for some time, she in silence, and Jacob peaking. He took her wordless responses as the result of the pneumonia.

Then she felt him hardening, his erection pressed into her tailbone. He'd kept kissing her neck and shoulder between his questions, and now he whispered, "Make love to me."

She froze.

His hands pulled her closer to him, his hips gyrating slowly against her. One hand slid under the waistband of her sweatpants, pushing between her legs, and the other under her shirt, cupping the softness of her breast. His fingers curled into her, and she tried not to move, feeling the fragility of her tender flesh, so tentatively held together by stitches.

"It won't hurt this time," he murmured. His hands kept working, and Bella's tenuous air became even rarer, pulled through the tight straw of her constricting throat.

She felt him slide her sweatpants down. When he pulled his hand away, she flinched, a painful twinge accompanying his exit. Something hard and wet began nudging against the backside of her thighs.

Her body refused to move. She could only shiver, otherwise rigid with terror.

Please no, she thought, not again, even her mind's voice trembling with fear.

"Make love to me," Jacob said again. His movements became more energetic, and he groaned into another kiss at her neck, both hands under her shirt, fondling whatever flesh they found.

Downstairs, Sam's face puckered, hearing Jacob's words.

Emily hadn't caught it, but Sam's hearing, keener than hers, had. They'd been talking about rescheduling their plans. They'd hoped to go away, just for a weekend, but with Bella there, they had put their plans hold again.

"Is she—?" he started, "Um, should they, be . . . ?" and he looked at Emily.

"What?" she asked.

The flush in his cheeks spoke for him.

"No," Emily murmured, standing and skipping lightly up the stairs.

She didn't knock, pushing the door open with a muffled thwack into the wall.

"Jacob," she said, in a tone that was all exasperation, "Enough. Out. Now." She pointed, an authoritative eyebrow arched, leaving no mystery as to where she wanted him.

"Sorry," he murmured to Bella, kissing her still frozen form on the neck, and pulling up her pants under the cover of the blanket. "See you later, I guess."

"Not at this rate," Emily mumbled, turning to follow him out. "I'll be right back, Bella," she called, closing the door part way.

She whirled on Jacob in the hall, hissing, "What the hell are you thinking? Are you blind? Stupid? Or just an idiot?"

She didn't leave space for him to answer, launching into another spitting volley before he could open his mouth. "She's been sick, Jacob. Life-threateningly sick. You don't come running in like a dog in fucking heat when someone's been ill like that—not to mention whatever the hell they did to her. And they did something." She didn't mention the stitches she'd seen when she'd cleaned Bella up. "You don't touch her until she asks you to. You clear?"

Jacob huffed out a breath.

Emily was less than impressed with this response.

"I'll have Sam order it, if I don't hear what I need to right now. Do right by her Jacob. She deserves it."

"Fine," he mumbled, crossing his arms, moving to go back inside.

"Oh no," she said, "go home. Get some space. Take a cold shower. Whatever. I'm done having you underfoot right now. Come back tonight if you have to."

"But—" Jacob started.

"No," Emily said, "I don't run a hospital or hotel. Out," Emily said, finger illustrating the way.

Jacob shook his head, but listened, knowing there was no choice.

Once he was gone, Emily checked on Bella, finding her pale and silent, still curled up on her side.

"Do you need anything?" Emily asked.

Bella shook her head—a fractional movement.

"OK," Emily said, checking her pulse, finding it too fast again. "I've sent Jake home. Your dad'll be back later today. Do you want me to have him bring you anything?"

Bella only shook her head again, closing her eyes. Withdrawing, Emily realized.

This, Emily had seen before, and she narrowed her eyes, beginning to make sense of what was in front of her.

She left Bella, promising to return within the hour, and walked slowly down the stairs, trying to find the words for the hard news she needed to give Sam.

And Charlie.