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Irina came back a few minutes later with the portable X-ray machine. She scanned Bella's hands first, then Edward's. His hands were just bruised, but hers showed a fracture of the fifth metacarpal on her right hand, otherwise known as a boxer's fracture. Edward wrapped his arms around her, feeling her trembling as Irina cleaned and cast the injury. He hated that she'd hurt herself trying to save him. It had been his job to save and protect her, and he had failed.

He failed her again . . .

After Irina was done, she pushed the portable X-ray machine into the hallway, and their fathers walked in. Edward could see the guilt, the shame in their eyes, but couldn't find it in himself to provide them any comfort. They had been too late. Always too late. Irina walked back into the room, folding her arms, the sleeves of her white coat pulling upward.

"Well, as you can see, Bella has a break in her hand. I would like to redo her scans in a couple of weeks to ensure it is healing properly. She may need physical therapy before she begins to play the guitar again."

Charlie nodded. "We, um, we were thinking about heading back to Wyoming. If you and Edward agree, of course, Bee."

"We figured you wouldn't want to return to L.A. just yet," Carlisle quickly added.

"They burned my house down, didn't they?" Bella whispered, and Edward felt her left hand come up to the silver locket hanging around her neck. "Along with everything else, they took my home from me."

"Yes, we're afraid so." Carlisle hesitated before he spoke again. "Bella, Edward, they found two bodies inside. We don't know who they are; they were burned beyond recognition, so we are waiting to see if they get a DNA match. The fire marshal believes they were alive when they were set on fire, that the fire originated with . . . with them."

Edward swallowed against the bile in his throat. "They wanted people to think we were dead. They . . . they had no intention of letting us live, did they?"

"We don't believe so, no." Carlisle sighed and gripped the back of his neck. "We are so sorry we didn't find you faster."

"How did you find us?" Bella asked. "How did you know where we were?"

Charlie frowned and gestured toward the silver locket she was clutching. "The night before you left for California, Bee, I placed a tracking device inside the locket. I knew you never took it off, and I couldn't let you go, not without some way of knowing where you were."

Bella yanked it from around her neck, breaking the chain and holding the locket in the palm of her hand. "I thought I had lost it. That night, I . . . I had a panic attack because I thought I had lost it, lost him. You took it? You took it from me and put a tracking device inside?"

Edward shifted so that he stood in front of Bella, placed his hands on either side of her face, and tilted her head backward. He could see the hurt, the betrayal in her eyes. While he understood the tracking device had been effective in helping to find them, this was just one more secret Charlie had kept from her. He never trusted her to be on her own; he never saw her as a survivor, just a victim.

Always a victim . . .

"Get out," he heard himself whisper. "Get out. Just get out."

"Edward —"

"Get out!" He yelled at Charlie, at Carlisle, at Irina, at anyone who had even considered coming into the room at that moment. He just needed them to leave. "Get out! Just get the fuck out!"

"Let's give them a few minutes, gentlemen." Irina moved to stand between their fathers and them, her hands up in front of her. "Let them clean up, get dressed, and then we can talk again." She looked back at them. "We will return when you're ready."

Ready, Edward thought. When they were ready? They were ready for them two days ago. They were ready before anyone could put their hands on them — before they were violated . . . again.

But nobody saved them.

They had saved themselves . . .

Hadn't they?

Though he could tell Carlisle and Charlie were reluctant, they simply consented with a nod, and along with Irina, turned and walked out of the room, letting the door close with a loud, echoing thud. Edward blew out a heavy, thick gust of air, trying to keep from screaming, from hitting the wall, from breaking something, anything.

"We stopped them, did we?" Bella asked, her eyes darkening. "We stopped them. They can't hurt us again."

"We stopped them."

Her eyes moved to his as she asked, "But? There is a 'but,' isn't there?"

Edward frowned as he turned and sat back on the table, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "But what if they aren't alone?"

Bella inhaled a sharp, airy breath. "You think other members of the Gathering are involved?"

"I don't know. Angela and Ben were never a part of the Gathering. At least, the original Gathering. We were the youngest of all the children. I know we were, but they had his movies, and . . ." Edward swallowed against the lump in his throat as he whimpered, ". . . him. He's been dead for a long time. I don't know much about human anatomy and decomposition, but I know he had to have been dead for a long time — a long, long time."

"I didn't . . . I knew, but I didn't know the things he, or they, had done to us. The things he made us do to each other. I mean, logically, it wasn't hard to imagine, but seeing . . . watching them make you touch me, make me touch you . . . Edward," she cried, and immediately his arm was wrapped around her, holding her gently against him. "Tell me not to be afraid."

"I would if I thought you'd believe me. Truth is, Bella, I am afraid."

"What are you afraid of?" she asked, shifting her eyes up to his.

"That you'll never look at me and not see that fragile, pathetic boy again."

"I don't."

Whether she was truthful or not, he wasn't sure. How could she be when she saw him be used, violated, even if it was to keep her safe?

—TB—

Half an hour later, both Edward and Bella had managed to shower and dress in the clothes left for them. While they fit, they felt uncomfortable against his skin, or maybe it was just the way his skin felt. He could imagine their hands on his chest, the smell of their breath. The way he wrapped his fingers around him, the way he put himself in his mouth. He closed his eyes, swallowing against the bitterness creeping up his throat.

"What do we do now?"

He shifted his eyes to Bella, who was sitting on the floor with her broken hand cradled between her body and her knees. Her hair was wet, hanging loosely around her face, her eyes red and puffy. She'd had cried in the shower after he'd wrapped her cast in plastic wrap. He had sat outside the door, promising to protect her, trying his damnedest to protect her, and he heard her heard her crying. He didn't let on that he had heard her, of course. After all, when it was his turn to shower, to wash away the shame and guilt, he had cried, too.

"I don't know," he confessed. He was also seated on the floor, his back leaning against the wooden cabinets. "Guess we're going to Wyoming?"

Bella nodded, her lips trembling when she said, "They took my house from me. It was my home. My home, Edward. It wasn't Charlie's or Ro's. It was mine. I worked hard for it, and they took it from me."

He frowned. "I understand."

"The loft?"

He nodded. "Emmett and Jasper . . . You know it was easy for them. They went to college and got degrees. They went to frat parties and football games, and just the thought of any of that had me freaking out, so I stayed home, I stayed with Mom and Dad. But then I started my business, found my building, moved into the loft, and it was mine, you know? I mean, yes, Dad came on as a partner, but it was mine. It wasn't his, or Emmett's, or Jasper's. Just mine. And now I'll never be able to go back there again without remembering the look in your eyes when I failed you."

"Edward, you didn't —"

The door to their room opened, and when their eyes left each other's, Edward felt his shoulders tense when he found Charlie and Carlisle standing with Irina. The three shifted their eyes from one to the other before sharing a look — a look Edward had seen firsthand. It was the one Carlisle and Esme had shared a thousand times after he came to live with them, the one he saw when he was on the verge of a meltdown . . . when they had to prepare themselves how to handle him. Suddenly, he felt like that little five-year-old boy again.

"Well, um, we should probably hit the road," Charlie said, clearing his throat. His eyes traveled between the two before drifting to the floor. "Felix was taking care of their bodies. Trying to buy us as much time as he can before . . . before the media learns you didn't die in a house fire."

"So nobody knows we were even gone?"

"Just us, Emmett, Jay, Felix, Tyler, Rosalie, Al, and Mom. Didn't even tell Sam."

"Why not?" Bella asked. "Afraid of what they'd think if they knew you dropped the ball?"

"No," Carlisle said, shaking his head, though Edward could see the hurt in his eyes. "No, Bella. It's just . . . We just figured you'd want some time to, I don't know, process everything."

"Process everything, huh?" she scoffed. "Process the fact that you failed us — that you left us in that cement prison for two days with them. You promised to keep us safe. But we saved ourselves. We stopped them. Me and Edward. You, Carlisle, and Charlie and Felix, well, you didn't do shit."

"Trust us, Bella, we know exactly how badly we failed." Carlisle's eyes flickered from her to Edward. "Both of you."

—TB—

The drive from Utah to Blacktail Ranch in Bondurant, Wyoming, took just over five hours. Charlie drove while Carlisle sat in the front passenger seat, though both made a habit of turning and looking at Edward and Bella who had taken refuge in the very back, needing to put some space between them and their fathers.

Bella curled her body around Edward, who held her as tightly as he could, especially when he heard her whimpering, reliving everything they had experienced over the last two and a half days. Two and a half days that felt like a lifetime. But then again, they had already experienced a lifetime of pain and hurt, shame and disgrace. No one would ever understand what it was like to be used and thrown away, tortured, just because someone thought it was fun. That's all it had been, Edward knew: fun for Aro, Caius, and Marcus Volturi, fun for the counsel of the Gathering of Twilight, and fun for Ben and Angela.

As they made the drive, Edward found himself wondering how Ben and Angela slipped through the cracks. They had run background checks on every single person associated with Bella, from her crew (hence the revelation that Jacob Black was her half-brother) to her team and even the people selling merchandise at her concerts. And neither Ben nor Angela had ever been on their radar, and that scared Edward because he wondered who else they had missed.

Charlie shifted his eyes back to them once again before he turned off the county road and started the drive down a narrow, dirt driveway surrounded by trees. He was beginning to question where they were going since he couldn't see the house. But before he could, Charlie took a slight curve in the road, and Bella leaned away from him to peer out the window. When he looked at her for the first time in two and a half days, Edward saw the tiniest smile appear on her lips.

The house was big, red, and looked more like a barn. There was a large porch wrapping around it, and the windows were trimmed in white paint. Along the front were colorful flower beds filled with different types of flowers. A large fence with a caution sign around the back and side of the house led out into rolling pastures, and a hundred yards away was another red building with a corral holding a half dozen horses.

Charlie pulled up in front, but only he and Carlisle made any kind of effort to get out. Bella leaned her head on Edward's shoulder, her broken hand cradling against her chest.

"I never thought I would be back here," she barely whispered. "Especially after I released my first album. Charlie would tell me how he would be in town, and people would ask about my music; the very people who made my life here hell, were now suddenly fans, supportive, cheering for my success. But I knew the only reason they cared was because suddenly I wasn't little Bella Swan, the girl who cried and coweredin the corner because Eric Yorke got too close. The girl who had panic attacks if she even felt the hint of their skin against hers. And I could always feel them. Always, Edward. But, suddenly, I was Isabella Swan, America's Sweetheart."

"You were never America's Sweetheart to me."

"I wasn't?"

Edward shook his head. "You were just my Bella, my sweetheart."

"Will I always be your sweetheart, Edward?"

"For as long as you want."

"And If I said I want forever?"

"Then I'd give you forever."

Bella smiled, her head still resting on his shoulders. "We . . . We stopped them, didn't we?"

"We did."

After a few more minutes, Edward climbed out of the back of the SUV, followed by Bella, who wrapped her fingers around the back of his shirt, trying to hide. Charlie and Carlisle were seated on the front porch, but before they could say or do anything, the front door opened, and Esme walked out. She brought her fingers to her lips as she tried, but failed, to keep her tears from falling. Her eyes shifted from him to her and back before she walked toward them, stopping a solid five feet away.

"Oh, kiddo."

"I tried, Mom. I tried." Edward brought his hand up to his mouth, unable to keep from sobbing. "I really tried."

"I know, kiddo. It's going to be okay. You and Bella are going to be okay. Eventually. Just know that we all love you and are here when you're ready, just like we always have been."

Edward nodded, though he wasn't confident she would, not if she really understood what had happened. He had let Ben use him, hurt him. He told himself it was to protect Bella, to keep them from hurting her, but they had anyway, hadn't they?

"Oh, my sweet boy," she whimpered.

"Let's let them inside the house," Carlisle suggested, walking behind Esme and pulling her backward. "Emmett and Jay aren't here yet. They should be here in a couple of hours," he added, his eyes flickering between them. "Rosalie needed to take care of some business with the label, but she has assured us they are giving you some time off, Bella."

"I'm supposed to be doing a live performance on Sirius radio today," she whispered, and he felt her tighten her grip on the back of his shirt. "I'm supposed to be performing on a fucking radio show today, but instead, I'm back here. Back here where I started twenty-five fucking years ago."

Edward felt her press her forehead against the middle of his back, so he turned and wrapped his arm around her, holding her against him while she would let him.

"We stopped them, didn't we, Edward?"

"We did, sweetheart. We did."

Edward tightened his arm around her as the two walked past everyone, onto the front porch, and into the big, red house. She directed him upstairs to the bedroom on the left. Once the door was shut, she pulled herself out of his arms, hurrying to the closet.

Throwing the door open with more force than he expected, she gave him one last look before dropping to her knees and crawling inside. Keeping her broken hand cradled against her torso, she used the other to shut the door.

And shut him out . . .

Once again, he sat on the floor and listened to her crying for the second time today.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! As always, a HUGE thanks to Sunflower Fran for cleaning up my mess. Our Bee and Edward are hurting so much right now, and there are so many unanswered questions. Kind of mean that nobody is answering them, huh? Oh, wait. . . .