Apartment One, inactive. Apartment Two, Peter Evenson and Charlotte Platt. Apartment Three, Riley Biers and Elizabeth Masen. Apartment Four, Liam Brennan and Leah Clearwater. Apartment Five, Garrett Rathbone and Kate Stewart. Apartment Six, inactive. Apartment Seven, inactive. Apartment Eight, Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan. Apartment Nine, Jasper Whitlock and Mary Brandon. Apartment Ten, Emmett McCarty and Rosalie Hale.
Mercer drums his short fingers on the podium before him, looking down at his notes. "'The Warehouse 14', that's what they're calling you." He pauses, feeling the room heavy with quiet.
He looks out over a sea of gaunt faces. A week out from the raid, most of the girls had been released from the hospital. Their counterparts were present in full. He could see the survivors among the others, among their loved ones who had come along to this urgent meeting. He could pick them out because their eyes never wavered from his, watching him with an intensity. Watching him like he was their savior. Watching him because he was responsible for catching him. Mercer felt, as always when meeting with victims and their families with bad news, woefully inadequate.
"We have decided, after requesting individual authorization from each of you, to remove the identity protections that we had in place for you. That is, we have gathered you here today so that you can meet one another."
There is a certain degree of murmuring after this revelation that is to be expected. Eyes roam the room, and he watches these haunted souls seek one another out. Some of them knew each other in that warehouse. Some of them saw others leave and were only learning now that those others survived as well. Some of them are scanning the room for faces they will never see again, because they left but were not recovered in the raid.
For some of the families, the only remainder of their children dwells in memories of torture in the minds of these individuals.
That is the hardest part for Mercer. A father himself, he imagines his little girl. He remembers the way that she furrows her brow and sticks out her tongue when she's concentrating. He remembers that she called minnows "nimmows" as a little girl. These little girls and boys, do they cease to exist when they die? Do they live on somewhere in memory, trapped in eternal moments on an endless loop?
He clears his throat. A bead of sweat trickles down the folds of the back of his neck, burrowing and hesitating for a moment in each in succession. It soaks into the collar of his shirt.
"The nickname was given due to an unfortunate information breach. Fourteen of you were indeed recovered from the raid on the warehouse. However, only twelve of you remain."
If the room was quiet before, it has now all the noise of a tomb.
"Two individuals have committed suicide in the week since the raid, Riley Biers and Mary Brandon."
Mercer scans the room carefully for their counterparts. Elizabeth Masen sits with exceptional poise in the front row. She has dressed herself neatly in a pale blue sheath dress, with demure shoes and her legs tightly crossed. Her hair is carefully done, a soft caramel color with a light curl at the end, set off by a white headband. He takes nervous note of her appearance. She is devastatingly beautiful, but she looks like one of his daughter's dolls sitting there just so. Every survivor is a potential risk; they know that more than ever now…
He floats his eyes to Jasper Whitlock, a lean fellow with hair the color of honey. The scarring evident on his neck and hands, under his eye… fascinating to Mercer. Jasper is the sole recovered male with scarring as a result of his experience in the warehouse. His face is contorted in pain, and he is blinking fast. Mercer hurriedly looks back to his notes, wishing only to move forward.
The other survivors have begun murmuring with each other and with their loved ones, faces full of anguish.
"Together with the medical staff assigned to your cases, we have decided to work with you all as a group. We wish to focus more closely on your mental health, and understand that that means more transparency and more contact with your counterparts. At the very least, we hope that you might take comfort in one another coming out of this experience."
"Experience?" A cry rings out from the group. It is Emmett McCarty. He has leapt to his feet, a massive bear of a man that makes Mercer quite nervous. In his interview… the things that he had done… His eyes find Gold and the rest of the officers in a quick flick, noting their at-the-ready attention. They watch McCarty for any sign of violence. Several of the victims have displayed violent tendencies, or at the least extreme flashes of anger.
"I apologize. Your ordeal, or however you might prefer we refer to it." Mercer steps out from behind the podium. "The fact is, folks," he looks out in earnest over the disjointed group. "No one knows exactly how to deal with this case. This… this tragedy is like nothing we have ever seen before, not just in this department but as a nation.
We have each spoken individually, but I want to stress again that the worst thing you can do at this stage is to fall prey to the press." Mercer minorly regrets his choice of the word prey, remembering the tips that their trauma consultants had given. "While you might believe it is important to 'take control of your own story', as I'm sure they're telling you, the real goal here is to keep you out of the public eye. Our case could be hurt by media involvement, and we want all of the focus to be on catching your abuser and his associates."
Mercer licks his lips and continues. He gives the survivors further instruction, asking that they exchange contact information via the sheet in the back of the room. He announces that a support group has been organized, which will meet thrice weekly for the time being. He also gives instructions for what each of them is to do should they have contact with Mr. Hunter or his associates.
"We doubt that Mr. Hunter will reach out to any of you, but we recognize this as a possibility. For your safety, we will be conducting drive-bys of each of your residences, and we will check in frequently as we have been doing thus far. Of course, each of the female survivors will retain their round-the-clock security detail."
Mercer sees resigned faces when he looks up, and eyes dulling without any hope. He is seized by a moment of heroic need, inspired to try and restore their confidence. "We're going to catch this sick man, I promise you all."
Angela's eyes flash to his as he says this, her warning clear. You never promise victims anything, least of all, justice.
EPOV
Once I made my demand, things moved quickly. Not quickly enough, but quickly.
Mercer did have me come back into the station for the meeting with everybody from the warehouse. I couldn't believe two of us had already killed themselves. I mean… I could believe it, but I guess I didn't want to. I have been so caught up in thinking about my time in the warehouse and missing Bella that I haven't had time to process the fact that we fucking made it. We survived. To just throw that away… the fact that we got out is a true gift.
But I get it.
Oh, I get it, maybe more than anyone. Maybe another one of the male 'counterparts' failed even more than I did, but I failed a lot. I failed Victoria, Carmen, Leah, …Bree, Tanya. But I didn't fail Bella.
The meeting was very strange for me. The weirdest part was that I could tell immediately who else came from the warehouse, aside from the fact that we are all between 18-30 and good looking. It's like each of us is a live wire… our eyes shift a lot. We're on edge. We stick close to the walls and keep people within our line of sight. The girls… the girls are so fucking thin. Of the seven who made it out, I was able to meet three tonight. Mary, that was her name, killed herself. And Bella is in the hospital, as well as Rosalie. Leah I knew already. I thought she wouldn't care about seeing me again, or might even actively avoid me. But when she saw me, she came up to me and gave me the biggest hug. She was trembling and crying… it's so crazy that she was able to survive until the raid. I truly thought I would never see her again.
I met Charlotte Platt, Kate Stewart, and Elizabeth Masen.
Those three were some of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life. They were all reed thin, with ghoulishly prominent cheek and collarbones. Their legs were sharp at the knee, and their ankles looked painful under the skin. Pathetic that that reminded me of my Bella, but it did. The three looked like sisters just because of their level of emaciation. Charlotte and Kate were both a very pale white blond, and Elizabeth had a caramel with red sort of hair… hair a lot like mine. Charlotte and Kate were easy to talk to, but Elizabeth was silent understandably. Her counterpart at the time of the raid was Riley Biers, and he killed himself like Mary.
It's no fucking surprise that we had two suicides. In all the effort for privacy, and all of the focus on finding Hunter, no one seemed to consider our mental health. It has destroyed me to be away from Bella for so long, and that's what has put such a spring in my step.
It's an anxious spring as I stride with Carlisle and Jenks through the hospital corridor. The nurse leading us happily has that quick nurse business-like shuffle and I am really appreciating it. At the end of the hall, a guard sits, one leg folded, on his chair. I bite back rage at that… she deserves a fucking armed soldier, ready to kill that sick fuck if he ever showed his face around here. Instead she has rent-a-cop bullshit. But I'm here now.
He stands when he sees us coming, frowning and straightening his belt. I can feel him getting ready to confirm our identity or whatever, but I let Carlisle and Jenks deal with that. I need to see her. I can feel that she's close, like there's something running between her heart and mine.
Before I go through her door, I have a moment of self-doubt and hesitation. I know it only took so long for her to ask for me because she was in such bad shape… and the doctors were worried about her privacy and stress level and more shit spewed by people who don't know us. Who don't understand what we 'counterparts' mean to each other.
The thing is, so many victims of abuse or violent crimes are in it alone. But what happened in the warehouse happened to pairs of us. Yes, there are sick pieces of shit like Victoria's counterpart before me who enjoyed captivity and what they were told to do. But for those of us who suffered, we had a partner for every moment of that suffering. It kept me sane. I only questioned my sanity when I lacked that partner relationship, someone else to worry about.
But I am clear of all doubt, now. I know she wants me here. I'm ready to see my girl.
I guess when I go through the door, I'm expecting something else.
All of my time back in the real world, going back to shaving and dressing myself and being able to look in a mirror every day… I forgot what we looked like in that place. Or rather, I forgot what Bella looked like.
What I see lying in that hospital bed is truly horrible, a sight that both infuriates me and makes me into a scared little kid again.
Bella's beautiful, wild hair is strewn on her pillow, framing her face in a pretty way, at least. But that is where the beauty ends. Her face is gaunt, much worse than Charlotte and the girls I met today. I can clearly see her bone structure; her eyes are sunken deep and ringed in blue. The bruising extends to the bridge of her nose, giving her a greenish yellow mask. Her lips are raw looking, and she has plastic tubing coming out of her nose. The arm her IV is in has a huge black bruise around the needle site, as well as on her other arm where it must have been before. The hospital gown is tiny and still hangs off of her, despite her position lying semi-down.
Her eyes meet mine and a dim light flashes in them. Joy flashes to her face and she grins, a horrible ghoul grin but my girl's grin still. She tries to heave herself up… the machines that surround her begin to chirp in alarm. The nurse is at her side in an instant, trying to force her down.
I want to go to her, I want to comfort her, but…
Her belly.
It is massive, where she is terrifyingly small. "Edward," she gasps, the smallest little cry. I am hovering just inside the door, wanting to go to her but frozen at the sight of what I did to her. Her stomach is… monstrously huge. She cannot stand, there is no way. I am startled into movement by Carlisle and Jenks stepping in behind me.
Her face warps instantly into distrust and fear. The whites of her eyes flash as she cups an arm around her belly, looking at me warily for a sign of alarm. I smile at her, weakly. "Bella, Bella bunny…"
I go to her then, sickened by my hesitation outside the door and within. I touch her like the most delicate china doll, engulfing her in my arms without lifting her up from the bed. I clasp her hands in mine, smiling through my tears and holding them up to my mouth.
"I missed you so fucking much, baby girl."
"I missed you too," she laughs through her own tears, sniffling and looking at me through her eyelashes. I sit quickly in the chair the nurse brought beside, squeezing Bella's hand reassuringly, but oh-so-gently. I can feel her finger bones moving under her paper-thin skin.
I glace at Carlisle and Jenks. "Bella, this is my father Carlisle Cullen, and my lawyer Mr. J Jenks."
Her hand freezes, where it was previously gently rubbing mine. It begins to tremble and she begins to shake like a fucking leaf all over. She looks at me wide-eyed, trying to use our silent communication as if we were still back in that hell. I want her to fucking speak to me, I want us to be normal. But I blink at her, willing her, no, he is safe, they are both safe- you are safe.
She studies my face a moment more, and then tries to still herself. Putting on a brave face, she smiles at Carlisle. "Hello, Mr. Cullen," she begins, but her voice is so quiet and small it's little more than a breath of air. I frown at her, and look back at my dad. He nods, and they both leave the room. They can talk with us later.
I look back at her. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"I just… oh, Edward, I just missed you so much and… I don't want to tell you because I don't want you to be angry with me…" she trails off sheepishly, but I squeeze her hand.
"Bella, tell me now." When I ask this of her, her eyes snap back up to mine and she looks visibly relieved. She was in the same boat as me this whole time, just looking for and lacking a sense of direction.
"I don't like fathers."
"Okay. Mine is a doctor, so he wanted to ask you a few things, and possibly take over your care because of the baby. I don't want to overwhelm you, but he's a really great guy." It feels strange being able to speak openly with her this way, at normal volume. I struggle not to say too much.
She nods, furrowing her brow and thinking on this. She looks at me again, studying my eyes carefully. "Is that what you want?"
"Yes. I trust him."
She lets out a shaky breath, since she already knew this. "Okay. I trust you."
"Bella, why do fathers scare you? Why does my father scare you?"
She won't answer, or even look at me. Like working with a small child, I let the silence stretch on, waiting for her to fill it in her discomfort. But Bella is a creature of the silence, and our relationship is as well. I have to break it.
"Bella,…" I begin, but then it hits me full force. Of course.
But this one was already destroyed.
I could tell even while she slept. I saw the scars and knew. Cigarette burns. Small crescent moons that I now know are self-inflicted on her thighs. Other irregular scars, all over her, that spoke to years of abuse. But when she woke, oh, when she woke.
It was the shaking and the little cries that gave it away. And those big old brown eyes that melt like a victim's. That's what she is. A victim. I don't know how he found her, but he found a girl who has already been conditioned for him to be perfectly obedient.
"Are you fucking kidding me." My voice is low, dangerous, and furious. It makes her start to cry, of course. "Bella. It was your dad?"
No reply. She is shaking so hard that her hand bounces out of mine, flying up to cover her face.
When I reach out to her, I intend to comfort. Take her hand and explain our situation, and the role that she must (must!) play if she wants to remain alive. But when she flinches and raises her hand to shield the blow she's expecting, I nearly lose it.
Someone hurt this little girl.
I want to comfort Bella, but I want to destroy her father. Was he blocking her requests to see me? Is that who was keeping me from my girl? I start to see red, and struggle to stay calm. I need to stay calm for her, I fucking know that.
She sneaks a peek at me, some time having gone by. Her eyes are red and swollen and I wince again at her appearance. I make a quick decision.
Time with her right now, time reconnecting, time actually getting to speak like human beings… that's more important. I am in this room with her now, so I know that she is safe. I can wait.
"I'm sorry Bella, for getting so upset. Let's talk about something else for a minute, okay?" Like a child, she nods slowly and sniffles, looking up at me hopefully. "How is the baby?"
A smile floods her face, and she beams at me. The transformation is so quick and complete that it startles me. "Edward," she says. "There are two! Twins!"
I am floored. I have to smile too, hers is so contagious. It was hard to not hate the parasitic character of her pregnancy when we were captive… but sitting in a hospital, it feels like we're a couple of expectant first-time parents together, with total goofy grins on our faces.
I am worried about the safety of her pregnancy, and the toll on her health of course… but I believe that under Carlisle's care, the… three of them will be fine. That's so fucking crazy to think.
"I can't believe it," I laugh, letting her hand go a moment to run mine through my hair. "I can't fucking believe it." I look at her carefully, seriously, "I can be a father out here, Bella. Those are my babies in there. He can't take them from us."
She looks back at me, suddenly wise beyond her years, nodding. "I know," she said. "That was my worst fear, once I realized I was pregnant." She looks down at her swollen belly, as if she is remembering. "I think… I think that might have been why we were there."
"Yeah. I've met some of the police working on our case, and they think the warehouse might have been part of a larger trafficking organization. Like, a uh…" I pause, unsure how candid to be with her in this state. But then I remember that's exactly what landed us in this position in the first place, spending near a week apart. "Like a breeding facility. They were selling the babies off to the highest bidder. Designer babies, essentially. But the fucker running our warehouse was abusing his power. Damaging the goods, I guess." I try a weak smile, but it's not funny.
She is watching me, rubbing the inside of my wrist in a soothing circle. "It's a boy and a girl," she says quietly.
"I don't care, so long as they're healthy. But that's awesome, one of each."
We talk much longer, and I ask her for details of every moment since the raid. I blacked out to a certain degree, from freaking out when they took her to just being generally overwhelmed. Spending nearly three years in two rooms did that to me, destroyed my ability to adapt to new situations for the first few days at least. It's still tough, but each day that I force myself out into the world it gets easier. I tell her about that, and my mother and sister. They have been a godsend since I got back. Bella listens to information about them with rapt attention, soaking up all that I have to tell her.
After some time, I stand and wave Carlisle and Jenks in. Carlisle introduces himself, and makes a pitch for taking over her medical care in conjunction with the OB. She accepts after looking to me again. Jenks introduces himself, but as she was not avoiding me like I thought, there is no need for any legal discussion as to my rights to our children.
"Listen, Bella." We've been talking for awhile about less consequential things, but my father has gotten very serious. "I've spoken to Esme, Edward's mother, at length about our situation here." He smiles weakly at her, and she returns it. I don't know where he is going with this.
"We have a house outside of the city. There is plenty of room, and… and Bella, we just got our son back." His eyes well up, and it pains me to see my carefully measured father so nervous and distraught. "We want him to move in with us, and we want you to come too, after the babies are born. We have a small household staff, and we could hire a nanny… we could help you both heal, and get your lives back."
I'm blown away. Even though I know my parents would do anything for me, they are beyond generous with this offer. It would be such a supportive environment, especially for Bella. With two newborns, I can't think of anything better.
Bella is so taken aback it takes her a full minute to snap back into it. She blinks, almost gasping, "Thank you, Mr. Cullen."
"Carlisle."
"Carlisle… sir. I can't thank you… I can't thank you enough." She looks at me, overjoyed. I smile at her encouragingly. "Yes, thank you, yes!"
AN: another long chapter! are y'all proud of me? The going is still good! Thank you for the reviews, they're feeding my brain, seriously! Love to you all, hopefully you'll hear more from our Edward and Bella this upcoming weekend. Any guesses as to which survivor Bella will connect to in the healing process? spoiler: she needs more support than just Edward :)