A/N1:I'm back! This crime story has been an itch I needed to scratch for a while now, and I'm happy I managed to work out the details. Have fun reading!

"Fuck," she hissed to herself as pressed her hand against the glass shard stuck between her ribs. "You motherfucker!"

Across the room, her soon-to-be ex-husband laughed a rough, manic laugh. "This is where you die, bitch."

Bella spat a mouthful of blood and saliva in his direction, even though he was too far from her for her to be able to hit him with it. "My body count's higher than yours, asshole." Pressing her hand tighter against the shard of glass in an attempt to stabilise her trembling torso, she kicked one of the bodies she was surrounded by out of the way. Her muscles contracted unevenly, making her chest feel tight and her free hand tremble. Nevertheless, she pulled the gun from her belt, and aimed for her husband.

He didn't hesitate to pull his own gun again, aiming for her. "Think you can shoot me before I shoot you?"
"I think you don't realise I'm ready to go down with you," she said, working hard to keep her tone even, as if she wasn't in as much pain as she was. She clicked off the security off her gun.

"You don't want to die," he replied, but his face had lost its colour.

"I agree. I don't want to die. But I will if I have to." Forcing herself to relax into a stable posture so she could take the kickback from the gun better - she normally shot two-handed - she aimed for his face. Face, neck, or chest, I'll take what I can get.

He kept his aim steady, not giving way to his now obvious fear.

"Goodbye, my love," Bella whispered and she pressed down on the trigger. Immediately, she let herself crash to the floor to avoid the bullet he would surely send her way.

When the dull thud of his body on the floor reached her ears, she finally relaxed her cramped grip on the gun. It hit the floor with a metally sounding clink.

For a few seconds, all she could hear was her own laboured breathing, and the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears. Everything was black, and it took her too long to realise that was because she had closed her eyes. She forced them open. Her vision was blurry but she couldn't tell if it was because of the pain or the wetness that poured from her tear ducts. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Her ex-husband - is it an ex-husband if he's dead? Maybe I should think of him as my dead husband… - was bleeding out across the room. His breathing was laboured, and sounded wet somehow.

It took a herculean effort to manipulate her muscles into supporting her to sit up. "Fuck," she hissed again. Her side stung. She released her death grip on the shard and inspected the area as best as she could - turns out it's pretty hard to look beyond tits to see the ribcage. The steady stream of blood had slowed into a trickle. It was acceptable.

She pushed herself off the ground and slowly limped around the room, checking the bodies that had come between her and her husband. Everything that still moved earned itself a nice bullet in the skull. She saved her husband for last.

He was still gurgling, but the light had already left his eyes. Her bullet hadn't gone cleanly into his skull, like she'd hoped. It had hit him in the throat. There was too much blood for him to remain alive for long, so she kneeled next to him, pressed the gun against his forehead and fired it one more time. When the job was done, she closed his eyes with her clean hand.

"Okay," she breathed, releasing the last bit of stress with that one breath. "Cleanup time."
She kicked off her boots first, undid her jeans and shimmied out of them. Her shirt was ruined too, and she took it off whilst a litany of curses left her lips. "Fuck, shit, fucking hell, dumb cow…"

With her shirt off, she could look at the wound better. It looked awful, but she knew pulling out the glass wouldn't help - if anything, it would make things worse. But bleeding into her clean change of clothes would be a bad idea too. She tucked the gun underneath her bra strap, anchoring the handle against her chest. It was uncomfortable, but she didn't feel safe enough to let go of her only weapon.

She ripped her shirt into strips, fashioning an unclean, but effective compress, using whatever strips she had left as a bandage, tightening it around her torso as tight as she dared to. When she was done, she bent back down to take the gun her ex-husband had dropped. She tucked it underneath her other bra strap. The internal image made her chuckle darkly. No one would ever look as stupid and badass as her, in her practical once-skin coloured bra and panties, guns tucked into her bra. "I should have dressed up," she joked to no one but herself.

Limping to what had been her side of the room - her side of the slaughter field - she took out the jerry cans full of gasoline she'd prepared. They were heavy, and she grunted as she forced the cap off. With motions as wide as she could muster with her injured side, she spread the gasoline, dousing the bodies in the liquid and sloshing it up the walls. The sharp smell penetrated her senses and made her feel dizzy.
It was a relief when she finally stepped outside the hangar. It was sunny, and the air was clean. She drew in a deep breath, savouring the smell and taste of it before moving to her truck. In the back, underneath a tarp, there was a clean set of clothes, matches, and more gasoline. She ripped off the tarp and got the matches and the extra gasoline. With a grunt, she dragged the jerry cans back inside to finish the job, then lit a handful of matches and threw them around in the hanger.

Back at her truck, she checked that both the guns were on the safety pal and threw them in the cabin. Then came the daunting task of getting dressed in her clean clothes. Her jeans were the easiest, but her shirt and boots caused her to let a few more curses spill over her lips.

She dragged herself into the truck cabin and took a few deep, deliberate breaths. Every time she breathed in, her side stung so sharp she was afraid she'd faint before she could get away. So she gritted her teeth together, pushed the keys into the ignition and got going.

Traffic was hell. Even if her truck wasn't usually very fast, it felt like she was only crawling forwards. "Why the fuck is it busy," she growled to herself, mostly in an attempt to stay awake. The darkness sweetly invited her in every time she closed her eyes. It whispered to her: just close your eyes now, the pain will be gone, it'll be so good for you to drift away…

She made a fist and stomped it against her ribcage at about the height of her wound. It made her gasp for breath and stutter, but at least she was alert now. "Fucking hell," she managed to rasp. She blinked hard to clear the tears that were gathering in her eyes and gritted her teeth together. Just one more exit and then she'd be in her own neighbourhood. All she needed to do was stay awake long enough to make it to Angela's.

Without looking behind her, she indicated to make the exit, and then immediately sent her truck into the right lane. Behind her, someone honked. She ignored it. If she ever got in an accident, her truck was sturdy enough to take the brunt of the damage - it had done so every time before. Actually, her truck was pretty great. It even survived a shootout. Now no one bothered her on the streets anymore. All they needed to see was the bullet holes in the truck bed to know she was not the type of person to be fucked with.

The familiar scenery of her neighbourhood greeted her. She blinked. I hadn't realised I was already so close. Angela's house was next to Lauren's, and in a fit of vindictiveness, Bella parked sloppily across Lauren's lawn. She pulled the keys out of the ignition with shaky hands and pocketed them. With a grunt of pain, she sat up more so she could take the guns next to her and tuck them into her jeans.

The front door to Angela's house opened and Bella took the invitation. She slid out of the truck and cursed loudly when her feet hit the ground. It made pain thrum through her entire body, with her ribcage as the epicentre. Not bothering to lock the truck - people knew who she was, nobody would be stupid enough to take it - she limped towards the door. "Angela?" she called as she stepped through the door, closing it behind her.

"Kitchen."

By now, the kitchen was their unofficial medical room.

Bella held onto the wall and dragged herself into the kitchen. "Hey," she rasped. "I need some help."

"I can see that," Angela murmured, her tone low. She never asked questions, although Bella was sure she had her suspicions. Maybe she doesn't want to know. Ignorance is bliss. "Come sit. What seems to be the problem today?" With gentle yet strong hands, she helped Bella sit on the table.

"Glass stuck between my ribs," Bella managed through gritted teeth. "I bound it off but the bandages weren't clean."

"Did you lose much blood?"

"Define 'much'," she requested, although she knew regardless of Angela's answer, that she had lost a lot of blood.

Angela took out a kitchen drawer full of medical supplies and lifted a toolbox with more supplies out of the cabinet beneath the sink. "How many gin tonic's worth?"

"Three or four, I don't know," Bella estimated.

"We'll make sure to get some sugar in your system after this, then," Angela murmured. "Can you take off your shirt?"

"I can barely breathe."

"Okay, I'll cut it open."

The plasticy smell of gloves filled Bella's nose, quickly followed by the sharp scent of medical disinfectant. She closed her eyes and felt the darkness invite her once more.

"Keep talking," Angela instructed. With a pair of scissors, she cut open Bella's shirt and carefully pulled the fabric off her torso.

"About what?" Bella wondered dizzily, "you don't want to know what happened."

"I do not. How's Charlie?"

"He's - holy FUCK ANGELA!"

"Keep your voice down, Samuel's sleeping," Angela said with a sigh. She carefully snipped away Bella's makeshift bandages and inspected the wound. "That's an ugly one," she commented, mostly to herself. "Glass is wedged in tight."

"Charlie's uh-," unable to finish the sentence because Angela pushed the wound open to pry the glass out, Bella huffed out a breath, "fucking hell Angela, I'm dying."

"You're not dying. Lean back a little."

Bella leaned back as instructed.

"So how's Charlie?"

"He - uh, I…" It was hard to focus when she could feel Angela's fingers - however carefully - poke around in her insides. "He's going to paint the front door a different colour. I suggested - fuuuuuuuck - I suggested," she huffed out another breath, "I suggested he paint it blue this time."

"I'm sure that'll look lovely." With steady fingers, Angela slowly started to pull out the shard.

"Yeah, uh, I… I think so too." Bella stared at the ceiling above her and tried to keep her eyes focussed on the cracks in it. "He uh, might - shit that hurts!"

"Almost done, keep talking," Angela murmured in her confident, soothing voice.

"... might… might get chickens. He's been talking about it a while now."

"Sounds good. Between that and fishing, his freezer will be well-filled." The piece of glass was now fully pulled out, and Angela checked the wound with a flashlight to see if any smaller pieces remained. The blood started flowing again, and she let it happen for a few seconds, hoping it would flush out whatever shards remained. "Lay down for me, please."

Bella blissfully let herself sink down. Her head thumped against the edge of the table, but nothing would take away the sharp, all-encompassing pain in her side. "He's making friends with that… that new doctor," she tried to keep talking, unsure if it was to distract herself or Angela.

"Hmm?" Angela pressed down a clean piece of gauze against the wound to halt the bleeding as much as possible. Stitches would be needed, but until she could set them, this would do.

"He - fffucking hell - he, he, he…"

"Deep, slow breaths," Angela instructed calmly.

Bella complied, forcing her lungs to take in as much air, as controlled as possible, before letting go of her breath.

"He helped out a deputy sheriff - the insurance doesn't cover long term treatment and he uh, he, he,"

"Almost done…"

"He lost a foot in a bear trap."

"That's unfortunate."

Bella glanced down and immediately back to the ceiling. "Jesus. I'm dying."

"You're not dying. Here." Angela pressed down a piece of cloth between Bella's teeth. "Bite down. The stitches will only take a minute."

"Hrrmpf!"

"There's a good girl," Angela joked. She steadied Bella's torso with her left arm, pressing down on her ribcage with her elbow while pressing the wet pieces of flesh together with her hand. With her other hand, she sewed the stitches in as quick as she could. When she was done, she cleaned the wound again with some disinfectant and some gauze before binding it off. "There there, all done." But when she looked up, Bella had fainted.

The cup of coffee in her hand did nothing to calm her anger when she saw Lauren and James stride up the path to her front door. Or, well, James kind of floated. He had the kind of walk that made it look as if his feet never hit the ground. Lauren, however, all but stomped down on the stones. Bella smiled into her coffee before pulling her face together. James was stupidly protective of Lauren, and she did not want to get stabbed for the second time this week.

James had a front door key, so Bella waited in the kitchen for them to appear. She smiled, but only out of duty when the pair stepped inside. "Good morning. Coffee, Lauren?"

Lauren smiled her wide, spiteful smile, the one that made her look a little insane.

Then again, you gotta be insane to wanna be the third wheel in a vampire twosome. She must think they really love her.

"Good morning, Bella," James greeted her, his voice a little rough. Bella smirked at him. "Smells good, huh?"

"Mouthwatering," James said, smiling wide enough to show his teeth. "Finally gonna let me take a bite?"

"Nah, keep your teeth for women who appreciate them." It was easy, almost effortless to flirt with James. The fact that it was a surefire way to piss off Lauren - the every territorial Lauren, poor lamb - only added to Bella's pleasure.

"Like me." Lauren pressed herself close to James' side and kissed his jaw.

God she's desperate.

"Like you," James echoed as he playfully clacked his teeth together. Lauren giggled.

Ugh, if I'd been a vampire I'm sure I could've smelled her by now, Bella thought to herself with distaste. To distract herself, she started the conversation. "So, to what do I owe the honour of a personal visit?" She flashed another smile at James and moved in her chair, making sure she spread her scent around the kitchen once more. It was his weakness, and she was prepared to use it against him. "Am I getting an extra cut? I gotta be honest, it would be nice to paint the truck again."

"No," Lauren replied in a sweet tone. "You're not getting an extra cut. I'm getting part of yours."

Bella gripped her mug tightly to keep herself from throwing it at Lauren's face. "Really?"

"You fucked up her lawn, Bella," James cut in, his tone appeasing. "It costs money to repair. Don't want the HoA coming for us, right?"

"I was dying," Bella countered, feeling sour and angry enough to fuck Lauren over some more. "I needed to park and get to Angie's so she could fix me up. I can't help it you two live next to each other. Would've done it to any other neighbour, it's nothing personal."

"You know what lawn upkeep costs, Isabella?" Lauren's tone soured, but she kept up the effort to sound sweet - probably trying to please James. Stupid cunt.

"I wouldn't know," Bella replied airily, "can't be too much since you keep replacing yours."

"I am not the one trashing it all the time." Now Lauren sounded really sour.

"Gee what a problem."

"Bella…" James cut in again, his tone now lower and more threatening.

"Fine!" She let go of her coffee mug and rubbed her hands together in an attempt to take the itch to slap Lauren away. "Here." She pulled some bills out of her pocket and placed them on the table. "Take the money. God knows you're too stupid to make any of your own."

Lauren was ready to spew out a furious reply but before she could, James curled his arm around her. "Baby doesn't have to work when she's with me." It was an obvious attempt at damage control, and it worked. Lauren melted in his arms and took the money from the table, then stuffed it in her bra. "Glad I don't have to." She kissed James' cheek again. "Thank you bear."

"Excuse me, I'm the one who gave you the money." Bella raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah yeah whatevs, thanks bitch."

"I'm so happy to hear I have your gratitude," Bella replied, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Was there anything else..?"

"No, nothing." James started to push Lauren towards the kitchen door.

"Great." Bella waited for them to leave her house before mumbling a few more curses under her breath. Lauren couldn't hear them, but James could, and the thought that he had to pretend he wasn't hearing them made her smile to herself.

Not such a bad start of the day after all.

"How am I looking, doctor?" Bella asked Angela jokingly.

"I'm not a doctor yet, Bella," Angela sighed, "your wound looks fine. Take it easy for a few more days, okay?"

"Will do." Bella pulled her shirt back down and hopped off Angela's table. "Am I cleared to go do some paperwork?"

"Sure. Want some tea before you go?"

"Nah, Lauren also has tea and I'll happily raid her stash."

"What happened between you two that's made you hate each other so much?" Angela sighed.

"She started it," Bella mumbled, vexed. "I'm just finishing it."

"Is some high school feud really worth all this trouble?" Angela handed Bella a cup of tea despite her earlier decline.

"It affects my work."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry I can't talk to you about it," Bella murmured, taking a sip of her tea. "It would be much easier that way."

"I don't want to know." Angela's tone was soft and friendly, yet curt.

"I understand." Bella finished her tea in a few large gulps and placed the mug in the sink. "Thanks for the tea, and the checkup. I appreciate it." She started to make for the door

"You more than most," Angela murmured in a low tone. "Keep away from strenuous activities!"

"I promise I'll stay out of the field!" Bella said as she closed the door behind herself. This was an easy promise to make, knowing that they wouldn't have another auction for a few weeks. They were still collecting girls, and most of the time, Lauren and Victoria were the bait.

Of course, they had men too, every once a while, but overall girls were much more popular and more profitable. And even then, auctions were only marginally responsible for their revenue - it was the private assignments that raked in the money.

Bella settled into the admittedly comfortable office chairs Lauren had picked for their office and grabbed the folder she'd been working on. Her eyes slid over the photos, names and ages of the girls currently in stock. Once she found the one she'd been looking for, she slid her finger between the pages and pulled another folder close. This one held all current requests that were not time sensitive. "Where are you, where are you," she murmured as she flipped through the requests impatiently. "Ah, there you are." She took out the card and quickly read the information, the words echoing in her mind: Girl not over twenty, red hair, preferably light eyes. Weight under 75kgs, height around 170-180cm. Must be intelligent and willing to work. Change can be discussed upon satisfactory employment.

The girl in the folder stared at her. Bella put her hand over the photo and dialled the number on the request card.

"Hello, Mr. Beark? This is Mariella Jenkins, I'm calling about a request you made for us to find someone for you?" False names were a necessity in this line of work.

It was quiet on the other side of the line for a few seconds. "Yes?" came the reply eventually.

"We may have found someone for you. Her name is Nora, shall we book an appointment for a viewing?"

Again, it was silent for a bit. "I am currently not in the area."

"Would you like us to keep her aside for you until you are?"

"If possible, yes."

"Of course, of course," Bella said, keeping her tone light and friendly, "we have an auction in a few weeks, in case you would like to look at our full stock."

"Please."

"Where shall I send the information?"

"The Canada address. Thank you, Mariella."

Before Bella could answer, the line was cut. She took Nora's papers out of the available folder and put them in the requests, adding the note that Beark might attend the auction and to keep Nora unavailable until then.

There really wasn't much else to do with her day, so she went through the folder with requests slowly, and tried to find one or two girls that would fit each request. It was slow, dumb and boring work, but it kept her occupied.

"Bella? You in here?" James walked into the office without knocking.

Bella looked up and pushed her work aside. Once James was at home, it was impossible to get any work done. He's such an attention whore. "I'm here."

"Hey so, Lauren, Vic and I talked about it and we think you deserve some time off." He leaned against the doorpost, his body language casual though Bella read the tightness in his voice without much effort.

"Do I?"

"Yes, you mentioned wanting to visit your dad for a bit? We think you should go tomorrow or the day after. You're not much use to us when you're injured anyway."

"I did a whole day of administration work," Bella protested, gesturing at the folders on her desk. "I can do that while I recover."

"Bella…" James sighed and stepped closer to her. "Look, we'll be fine without you. Take some time off. Mourn your husband, visit your dad, whatever."

"I don't want to," she mumbled, already feeling defeated. "Why do you need me gone?" They let me kill my husband and then suggest I need time off because of it. The asshole of the year award goes to…

"We don't need you gone, Bella." James splayed his hands on the desk and the wood creaked under his strength.

"It's just so you can catch your breath a bit." His eyes were dark and hungry.

I thought he went hunting yesterday, she thought when she noted the eyes. "Fine." It was useless to argue with James once he'd made a decision anyway. "I'll call my dad, see when I can come over. How long should I stay away?" The question sounded bitter, but she couldn't help herself.

"Twoish weeks?" James suggested. "Be back before the auction."

"Will do." She got out of her chair, ignoring the sharp pain that emanated from her ribcage, adding, "I'll make sure to be gone by tomorrow night."

The road sign of Forks welcomed her into the cloudy, rainy city. It made her feel light and welcome, yet blue at the same time. Forks had been her safe haven when Renee married Phil, and Charlie had really stepped up as a dad when she moved back. At the same time, she had never managed to fit in with the kids at school, or anywhere else in Forks. The city was static - people almost never left, and those who did never returned.

Everyone knew everyone, and it had been like that since the stone age. Forks didn't change, and neither did its citizens.

Green scenery passed her by as she drove to Charlie's house.

She parked behind the police cruiser. As she got out of her truck, a light drizzle started. "Of course," she snorted amusedly to herself. "It always rains here."

The front door - now painted a sky blue - opened and Charlie appeared in the door opening. "Come on Bells, before you get soaked."

"I can handle some rain, dad," Bella retorted without any malice in her voice. She pulled the rucksack she'd brought out of the cabin, locked the door and quickly stepped inside.

"You're pretty soaked already," Charlie sighed.

"I'll go wash up." She let her rucksack down and untucked her gun from her belt. As was the habit in Charlie's house, she unloaded it and put both the gun and the bullets away in the designated kitchen drawer. Her fingers were shaky as she did it, and in her mind's eye the hanger she'd filled with bodies - including her own husband - flitted by. She blinked and hastily shut the drawer, forcing the thoughts from her mind.

"There's my girl." Charlie sounded proud and Bella bit her tongue to keep herself from speaking. She could never tell him what she did for a living. He would disown her. He would hate her forever. This was something he would not be able to forgive her for.

He thought she was a private eye. And she worked hard to keep it that way.

"Caught any infidel husbands lately?"

Bella laughed, hiding her awkwardness behind it. No infidel husbands, just killed my own. "I'm between cases right now."

"So you got some time to visit dear ole dad eh?"

"You got it," she joked, side-stepping around him, towards the living room and the stairs.

"Oh before you go up - what do you want to eat?" Charlie was inching towards the phone stacked on a few takeout menus on the kitchen table. "I was planning on ordering in."

Smart. "Chinese?"

"Alright." He sank down into a chair and took the phone. Bella just heard the start of the conversation as she made her way up the stairs.

The water was hot and the bathroom quickly steamed up. She breathed in the humid air and slowly relaxed her shoulders. There was something about being here, being at home, that made her feel small again, like a child. The urge to run downstairs and allow Charlie to baby her - even though he wasn't really the type of person to baby anyone, and had hardly ever babied her - was strong.

I am okay. I am strong. I can overcome. The words sounded like lies echoing in her head, yet she repeated them as a mantra for safety. Ian had taught them to her.

Ian…

With her eyes closed, she could still feel his hands on her, his lips caressing her skin, his reverent whispers, how he'd held her the first time she was driven to abhorrent deeds. His voice whispered in her ear; You are okay. You are strong. You can overcome.

Before her lips could curl into a smile, her mind offered her an entirely different image of him: Ian laying in a pool of his own blood, gurgling weakly as the light left his eyes. The memory of the gunshot she'd fired made her physically weak. Her legs were trembling, though it was not with fear or guilt.

She let herself sink down to the floor and pressed her forehead against her knees. "He's dead, he's dead, he's dead," she whispered, marrying the image of a dead Ian to her words. He was never going to come back. He was never going to hurt her - or anyone - again. "I am okay. I am strong. I can overcome. I am okay, I am strong, I can overcome, I am…"

Her breath started to quicken. She lost her grip on the words and with it, her control over her own mind. Against her will, the scene of his death played out before her eyes again. The colours of her memory were oddly oversaturated, like a film with a bad filter.

"Go away…" she moaned miserably to herself. She'd wanted him dead, and he objectively had deserved to die, yet the fact that she had been his killer haunted her. People like him don't deserve a place in this world, she told herself.

"Bella?" Charlie's concerned voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. "You alright?"

"I'm fine." It came out weak, like she'd been crying even though her eyes were dry.

It was quiet on the other side of the door.

"I'm fine," she repeated, now stronger. Willing strength into her muscles, she forced herself to get up and turn off the shower.

"Okay…" Charlie's tone made it clear he was not convinced, but understood this was not the time to force her to talk about it. "Dinner's getting cold."

"I'll be there in a few." She stepped out of the shower and dried herself off quickly. As always, Charlie'd forgotten to throw the towels in the dryer, so there were rough and scratchy. Bella used the sensation to force herself to be very aware of the now, pushing all other thoughts as far back as she could. "I am okay. I am strong. I can overcome," she mumbled to herself while she threw on a warm sweater and a pair of joggers. She twisted her hair in a bun and set it in place with a clip, then rushed down the stairs. I don't want to keep Charlie waiting… or eat cold Chinese.

The inside joke brought a slight smile to her face. She stepped into the kitchen, throwing herself down on one of the chairs. "Smells good dad."

"I ordered it all by myself," he joked.

"I'm impressed." She was happy to return the joke and keep the atmosphere light. That was why she was here after all - to get away from the darkness and madness of her other life.

Charlie chuckled and slid her a plate. "Got any plans while you're here, Bells?"

Bella shrugged. "I brought some books I haven't read yet. Maybe go on a hike or two. Go fishing with you, obviously."

"I tried to get a few days off, but we're pretty swamped right now," Charlie said with a half-full mouth of food. He swallowed and added, "but we can go fishing on Saturday or Sunday. Maybe watch a game or two when we come back."

"Yeah." Suddenly ravenous, Bella inhaled her food, almost forgetting to chew. "Why's work so swamped?"

"There's this group of kids," Charlie put his cutlery back on the table, getting ready to talk about something he was somewhat passionate about, "they're encouraging each other. Repeated vandalism, yaknow."

Bella laughed. "Vandalism? In Forks?"

Charlie shrugged, "it's a nuisance, not an exception. Kids figure out how paint cans work every year 'round springtime."

"I don't see how kids with spray paint are vandalists," she said. He mentions it for a reason. There's more.

"Well…" He uncomfortably looked at his plate before looking up again. "It's aimed at the new folk. They're an exemplary family, they don't deserve this."

"Ah, Forks once again fails to acclimate to newcomers," she murmured quietly, not necessarily for Charlie to hear.

Charlie sighed. "Dr. Cullen and his kids, they're good folk. Kids all have fantastic grades, are polite and never make a nuisance."

"Small-town culture doesn't change, dad, that's why you're still here." The joke fell flat and Bella regretted the words as they came out of her mouth. "I mean…"

"I get it Bells, you didn't have a great time here either."

"I did not," she confirmed. "But you do." She turned in her seat, stretching from side to side against the uncomfortable itch the wound in her side still caused. Angela said it was itchy and painful because it was healing, but Bella wasn't so sure. "Ouch," she groaned when she turned a little too hard. Instinctively, she pressed her hand against the wound, groaning again when it came off her sweater bloody.
Nothing escaped Charlie's observant eyes. "Is that blood?"

Bella resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her joggers - now that he'd seen it, there was no use smearing it on her joggers to hide it. "Yes," she sighed. "It is." Before he could ask, she gave him the answer to the question she was sure he wanted to ask. "I got stabbed while trying to find someone who did not want to be found."

Charlie moved out of his seat to grab the first aid kit he had stashed beneath the kitchen sink. "I wish you had a safer job," he said, his tone disappointed. This wasn't the first time he vocalised his dislike for the danger Bella frequently put herself in.

And he doesn't even know what I actually do for a living. "I'm good at my job." That wasn't a lie. "And I like it." She wasn't sure how true her second statement was. With Ian gone, there was no one tethering her to James and his cartel. I wonder how long it'll take James to realise I'm a liability now that they can't hold Ian's safety over my head anymore… or mine above his.

"Lift your shirt," Charlie said, sounding chagrined although Bella knew that it was only because he was concerned.

She bunched up her sweater, keeping her chest covered and regretting her choice to forego a bra when she'd put on her clothes. "I'm sure it's not so bad." Truthfully, she had no idea what the wound looked like, and no desire to find out.

Charlie sucked in a concerned breath between his teeth. "Bells, we should go to a hospital."

Dropping her sweater, she repeated her earlier statement; "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"It looks pretty infected to me. Come on, get your stuff."

"Dad…"
Halfway through putting his jacket on, Charlie turned to look at her. "Bells, come on. Your health is not something to gamble."

"I don't have health insurance." Human trafficking wasn't exactly a nine-to-five corporate job with cushy benefits.

"I thought you'd gotten one of those… independent thingamajigs last year." He stood almost frozen on his spot.

"I lied," she mumbled, looking at the floor. "I knew you'd be mortified that I didn't have insurance so I…" In hindsight, I should've just told him I couldn't afford it or something. "Angela usually patches me up."

"I'll pay for the hospital, then. Come on," Charlie insisted.

"Dad, god knows what it costs to go to the emergency room on a Sunday night. I don't want to bankrupt you. No hospital," she stood firm. "It probably isn't even that bad."

"You haven't seen it."

"Give me a mirror or something then," Bella sighed. "And when I've seen it, will you let it go? Please?"

Charlie shook his head in disbelief and took his jacket off again. He left the kitchen with large strides. Bella listened to the clock tick while he was away.

"Here." He returned with his shaving mirror.

She took it from him and pulled up her sweater again to check the wound. It was swollen, the area surrounding it red and irritated. When she carefully put her fingers on the skin surrounding the wound, it was hot. "Oh."

"Yes, oh. We're going to the hospital."

"No!" In the hospital, they'd ask more questions. Questions she wouldn't be able to answer. They would note her other injuries - inflicted by both her job and her now-dead husband - and put one and one together too easily. I don't even know if I have my real ID with me.

"Fine." Charlie stepped towards the telephone.

"Wh-what are you going to do?" Bella asked nervously.

"I'm calling Dr. Cullen," Charlie replied in an angry, determined tone. "If you won't go to the hospital then -" in a split second, his tone changed completely, "hello Dr. Cullen, this is Charlie Swan. I'm so sorry to disturb you at this hour, especially considering -" He got cut off by the person on the other side of the line - Dr. Cullen - but Bella couldn't hear what the doctor had to say.

"Yes, of course I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't…" Charlie looked at Bella as he finished the sentence, "... an especially pressing matter. My daughter's visiting and she injured herself, I was wondering if you could drop by…" the end of his sentence trailed off insecurely, as if he felt foolish for calling the doctor.

"I - yes. Thank you, Dr. Cullen." Charlie hung up. "Dr. Cullen is coming by to inspect you. He'll be here in about ten minutes."

"Great." It took effort to keep sarcasm out of her voice.

"He's a very devoted doctor, and you should be thankful he's willing to do a house call, especially at this hour." His tone was stern, almost admonishing.

"I'll make sure to convey my gratitude," she murmured, looking at the floor. I hope he won't ask too many questions. The less Charlie knew, the better. She wondered if she could convince him to leave the kitchen while the doctor treated her.

"You should report the person who stabbed you," Charlie then said, after a minute of silence.

"I doubt I'll come across them again." Ian's dead, after all.

"Yeah, well…"

A car parked by the curb in front of the house. Bella looked out the window and identified it as a Mercedes without much effort. It had tinted windows, just like the car James and Victoria used.

The doorbell rang.

"We're not done talking," Charlie warned her as he went to open the front door for the doctor.

"Okay dad," she said, thinking of ways to dodge that conversation already.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen. Thank you so much for coming."

"It's no problem, chief Swan, I'm happy to help," the doctor replied in a smooth, warm tone. "Where's the patient?"

Bella analysed the doctor's voice. It was warm, friendly and sincere. It seemed he truly did not mind doing a housecall for Charlie.

"In the kitchen, right this way…" Charlie led Dr. Cullen into the kitchen. "My daughter, Bella." He gestured at her.

She rose from her seat and winced in pain. "Thank you for coming, Dr. Cullen."

"I'm happy to help," Dr. Cullen repeated in that same, warm tone. He shook Bella's hand when she offered it.

So cold… She shook his hand with confidence, ignoring the cold of his skin as she noted the similarities between him and James in the back of her mind.

"What seems to be the issue today?" Dr. Cullen placed his bag on the kitchen table and subsequently drove Bella backwards towards her chair. Had it been James doing it, Bella would have felt threatened. With Dr. Cullen, however, she found herself stepping back without fear and sinking down into her chair. "I got stabbed a weekish back," she explained, "and uh, it just started bleeding again. Dad thinks it's infected."

It was almost imperceptible, but Bella could see Dr. Cullen draw in a deliberate breath through his nose. With her eyes glued to his face, she now noted his eyes - a rich, burnt amber. Not a colour she was used to seeing with his kind. His eyes remained steady in colour even as he took in the scent of her blood. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Charlie quietly leaving the kitchen. Good.

"Let's take a look at it, then."

"Um. Yeah." Bella pulled her sweater up again, bunching it awkwardly at her underbust. Thank god I'm in the ittybittytittycomittee.

"Hmmm," the doctor hummed. He knelt in front of her. "May I?"

"Oh yeah, sure." Is it just me or is he way too hot to be a doctor? Fucking hell. The poor kitchen light bounced off his marble skin and illuminated the doctor as if he were an angel. His golden hair only added to the illusion.

"Lean back a little for me," Dr. Cullen instructed as he scuffled closer on his knees.

Bella obediently leaned back, holding onto her sweater with steadily growing clammy hands. It should be illegal for doctors to be this hot.

"Thank you." Dr. Cullen studied the wound for a few seconds before carefully touching the hot, swollen skin. His cold fingers were a relief for Bella, and she sighed. "That's nice."

Dr. Cullen chuckled. "You might be my first patient to ever say that."

"Really?" His touch was light, careful and soothing. She slowly relaxed under his touch, but didn't release her grip on the sweater.

"To be fair, they're mostly drugged or unconscious by the time I get to treat them," Dr. Cullen light-heartedly answered.

"Oh?"

"I'm a trauma surgeon," he clarified. "And I agree with your father, your wound is infected. It looks like the wound tried to heal over the stitches, instead of underneath. Who stitched you up initially?"

"Uh…. a friend…" Bella mumbled reluctantly.

"I see." Dr. Cullen's tone was neutral, non-judgemental. "Well, I think it's best if I remove the old stitches and set some new stitches in." He pulled back from her and checked the contents of his bag. "You may want to put a bra on so we can take the sweater off." Again his tone was completely neutral.

Still, blood rushed to Bella's cheeks. "Of course," she mumbled, supremely embarrassed. "Be back in a sec." She rushed out of the kitchen, ran upstairs and dug through her bag until she found the most utilitarian bra she had and put it on. She threw her sweater in the laundry, looking at it for a few seconds and hoping it wasn't ruined. It was one of her favourites - it had been Ian's.

"Fucking hell," she whispered, angry at herself and the tears that gathered in her eyes. "Can we not do this today, body?" She blinked the tears away and forced her breathing to even out before walking down the stairs again. She passed Charlie in the living room, who only looked up to meet her eyes briefly, before focussing back on the tv. There was a game on.

In the kitchen, Dr. Cullen was all ready to go. He'd put on a pair of gloves and placed everything he would need on the table. "Would you like me to sedate you?" he asked when she entered. His eyes completely skipped over her half-naked form, not really looking at her. Polite vampire.

"Um… I'm good, no thank you." She retook her place on the chair. "I'd prefer to just be over with it."

"I understand." Dr. Cullen knelt back in front of her and politely tapped one of her knees. "Spread please."

Holy fucking hell! Her heart rate shot up even more and she felt her cheeks burn. "Uh. Yeah." She spread her knees apart to make space for him. Her mind was already running away with the image of the angelic doctor between her legs. She forcibly put the thoughts away.

"Can you stretch your arms above you?" he asked without looking up, his eyes on her wound.

"Uh, yeah…" All other words seemed to have run away from her. She stretched her arms upwards and groaned when it pulled on her wound.

"Now fold them behind your head," Dr. Cullen instructed. "This is going to be cold."

She had barely folded her arms behind her head before he wiped the wound clean with a rag drenched in disinfectant. "Fuck!"

"I did warn you," he chuckled.

"Ugh," was her ineloquent answer.

"Hold on tight, it'll be over in a few minutes."

In response, she clenched the muscles in her legs unconsciously and if she'd been aware of him between her legs before, now she was hyperaware. He sat on an angle, and with one of her knees she could feel his hip. She moved her foot to the side, only to accidentally kick into his. He made no sound or gave any indication he'd felt it, and she shoved her foot underneath his. It made him shift, only to anchor her foot in place. His other knee now pressed firmly against her thigh, centimetres from her crotch. Part of her wished he would move. God, I'm a mess. If a random vampire about to cut her open made her this turned on, she was further gone than she'd originally thought.

"Don't squirm," he warned, "this will hurt." His voice had lowered both in volume and tone to a seductive purr.

Bella's heart rate maintained its insane speed. "I'll try not to," she breathed, squeezing her eyes closed. It didn't shut out the images her mind kept feeding her.

Dr. Cullen just hummed. With a steady hand, he opened the wound enough to take out the stitches Angela had set. "You're doing great," he murmured, "Keep your breaths slow."

Bella breathed in a shaky breath and released it equally shaky. "I'm trying."

"You're doing great," he repeated, "almost done…"

Her skin stung and prickled as he stitched her back up. It was over before she could take another breath.

"There you go," he whispered, maybe more to himself than to her. He pressed another piece of gauze drenched in disinfectant against the wound, keeping an even pressure. His cold hand felt like a blessing on her skin.

"Fuck that feels good," she sighed, relaxing her muscles slowly.

Dr. Cullen chuckled, and opened his fingers, pressing his entire hand against her ribcage now. His thumb brushed against the underside of her bra. "You can relax your arms now." His voice was almost a whisper.

She let her arms sink down slowly, placing one hand over his on her ribcage, and the other one on her thigh. When he retracted his cold hand from her ribcage, she pressed down, keeping it there. He obediently pressed down again, looking at her with an intensity nobody but Ian had looked at her before.

Bella shifted in her seat, allowing him the space to come closer to her, inviting him wordlessly. The doctor started to raise himself up, using the space she'd given him. They were almost nose to nose. His knee now pressed firmly against her groin and she fought the urge to rub herself against him.

"Are we all done here?" Charlie stepped back in the kitchen and the second he did, Dr. Cullen pulled back from Bella and stood up in a split-second. It looked as if nothing had happened between them. "Certainly," he said in an even tone, cleaning his equipment off and putting it back in his bag. "I have no doubt Bella's injury will heal quickly, although it might scar." He glanced at her and in that moment, Bella could read the hunger in his eyes. She swallowed.

"Be sure to keep it dry and clean, and it should heal within a few weeks," he advised as he looked away again.

"You can take aspirins or Tylenol for the pain."

"No antibiotics?" she asked.

Dr. Cullen breathed in through his nose again. Bella could see his nostrils flare. His eyes darkened for a moment. "No, that won't be necessary." When he looked at her again, his eyes were back to the previous shade of burnt amber.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen." She stood up and shook his hand.

"Thank you," Charlie echoed.

"Don't mention it, I'm happy to do it," Dr. Cullen replied, the control back in his voice. "Please call me if the infection persists, you get a fever or if anything else changes."

"Of course, Dr. Cullen," Bella said, feeling her embarrassment grow. It's just like you to read into things like this. He's a doctor, and he was doing his job.

"Good night, then." He looked at Bella one last time before taking his leave.

The next morning, over breakfast, Charlie cleared his throat in a telling way. "So, Bella…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she immediately declared, not looking up from her plate.

Charlie sighed. He took another big bite of his omelette, then hummed, as if he was trying to figure out a way to get her to talk. It took him a few minutes to decide on a technique. Then, he put his plate away and sat down on the chair next to her. He splayed his hands on the kitchen table. "Sweetheart, I'm worried about you."

So he's going to guilt-trip me. Great. "You don't have to be worried about me." She kept her eyes on the table. No doubt his eyes would be overflowing with honesty and she just wasn't able to defend herself against that.

"You came home with a mysterious stab wound that you didn't tell me about, then proceeded to raise hell when I tried to get you medical care, Bella."

"Yeah, well…"

"Don't lie to me." It wasn't a threat, more a warning.

Bella lifted her eyes, meeting his. She bit her lip. "I don't want to lie to you. Please just let it go." Begging might be the only thing that can keep him away from my secret life.

Charlie placed his hand over hers comfortingly. "I'm worried about you. This isn't the first time you come home injured."

In her mind's eye, all the injuries Ian had given her passed by. "I know." Maybe I should tell him.

"You know I will happily help you move back if Seattle isn't safe for you anymore." Charlie's tone was quiet and filled with care and love for his daughter. "I know you don't like Forks, but I can protect you here."

"Dad, please," she whispered, dropping her head again. "Just drop it."

Charlie sighed again and gazed out the window for a few moments. Then, he let go of her hand, carefully sliding his fingers away from hers. For a split-second, Bella thought he was actually going to grant her her request and let it go.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

No such luck, she sighed internally, before realising she could use her slipup to guide Charlie in a different direction. "Ian and I split up."

Her words made Charlie take her in with new eyes, before outright asking the question that had been on his lips many times the past years. "Did he hurt you?"

Tears sprung to Bella's eyes without her even trying to bring them forth. "Yes." Her voice was nothing but a whisper. She wasn't sure if it felt good to finally be able to make that admission, or if it just made her even more sad. Some taste in men I have.

Charlie balled his hand into a fist, unable to control himself. "He the one who stabbed you?"

Hot tears started to stream down Bella's cheeks. "Yes."

"I'll kill him," Charlie growled, unable to hold in his anger.

I've already done that. "Please, dad, let it go. I don't… I can't… I just want to heal and have a good time with you." It was a weak plea, although it was the truth. "Please?"

"You can't go back to him." His tone made Bella look back up at her father, and what she saw terrified her. There was a silent rage in his eyes. She had never seen him so determined to hurt another human being. I now see where my violent tendencies come from.

"He left, and I changed the locks before I came here," she tried to placate him. "The house is in my name. I'm not going back to him. I'll file for divorce when I'm back in Seattle."

"I'll take time off and come with you," he said, his tone determined.

"No! Dad, I can't ask that from you." How am I going to lie my way out of this? "Angela's coming with me. Maybe I'll spend some time at her house when I get back."

This seemed to pacify Charlie a little. "Does she still have that massive dog?"

"Yeah, she does," she murmured her reply, masking the miserable laughter in her voice. As if a dog would stop Ian. If anything, he would've liked the additional victim.

"Ask if you can borrow it until you're sure he's not coming back. And file a report against him with the Seattle P.D.," he instructed. "Keep your gun loaded and by your side. If he's coming for you again, you can say it was self-defence."

It was hard to hold back a laugh - though I'm sure it'd sound like the cackle of an insane woman - when she heard him say that. "Thanks dad." She patted his hand. "Can we let it go now, please? I'm… I'm not ready to talk about it."

Immediately, he softened. The rage leaked from his eyes and he scooted his chair closer to quickly and a little awkwardly closed his arms around her. He kissed her hair and mumbled, "of course, Bells. Whatever you need."

"Thanks dad." She patted his arm and slid from his grip. He took the sign and took his distance again. They had never been a huggy family.

"So uh…" she sought for subjects to switch to in her head, settling on his growing ambition to become self-sufficient with his food supply, "chickens?"
Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, chickens. Maybe we can build a coop together."
"I'd like that."

A/N2:The next part will be uploaded somewhere late April/begin May. Since the chapters are much longer than I usually write (and I'm determined to make this onto a twoshot), I need a little more time to write part two.

As always, I'm eager to hear your thoughts and read your comments.