Title: Little Girl Lost and Found

Summary: Finding out who you are is the first step toward becoming who you're meant to be.

Pairing: ExB

Rating: M

Word Count: 5897

DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.

Little Girl Lost and Found

The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed through the hospital room as the nurses checked the young woman's vitals. The patient's blood pressure had finally returned to normal, and the head injury she'd sustained before arriving had been enough to render the girl unconscious, but the blood loss she'd suffered was so severe she had been taken into surgery. It had been touch and go for hours. Any indications she was stabilizing were welcome signs she would eventually wake up.

"Have they sent off her prints yet?" Jessica asked from the doorway.

Lauren nodded her head. "Just an hour or so ago." She gently brushed the girl's tangled, chestnut-brown hair from her face, an unnecessary action, but a gesture of comfort to her nameless patient. She looked over her shoulder to the other nurse on her shift. "The police said it wouldn't take long if they were already in the system. And if she's been reported missing recently, we should hear something pretty quick."

She returned her caring gaze to the girl, smiling sadly. "We'll find your family, sweetie. You'll heal so much faster if you have someone here to hold your hand."

After doing a final check of the equipment, Lauren walked from the room, closing the door and leaving the Jane Doe to rest.

...

The phone rang just as the morning sunlight began to peek through Charlie Swan's curtains. He blindly fumbled for his cell, answering in a gruff, no-nonsense tone.

"What?" he barked. "Do you know how fucking early it is?"

"Charlie," the man said, clearing his throat at Swan's rude greeting, "you need to get up and get dressed."

"What the hell for?" he asked, rolling over to look at the clock. "It's not even seven in the goddamn morning, Carlisle. And it's Sunday for Christ's sake!"

"I got a call from our guy down at the police station." A pregnant pause was followed by words Charlie Swan believed he'd never hear. "They've found Isabella."

...

"I don't give a fuck. You're to have every available man at my disposal," Charlie barked into his phone as his driver traversed the city streets. "As soon as she wakes up, we need to be ready to mobilize. The minute I find out who's had her all these years, I will burn this city to the ground if I have to, as long as those responsible are taken out."

He closed his eyes and tried to regain some of his calm. But the man who'd spent the last two decades waiting for this news—the one who aged well beyond his years the day his daughter was taken from her preschool—was quickly running out of patience.

He'd also lost his wife when their little girl had been taken. Too broken-hearted to keep going, she ended her own misery with a bottle of pills on what would have been Isabella's seventh birthday, leaving Charlie to continue on. He'd only dreamed this day would come.

"I take it the capos are slow to move this morning?" Carlisle asked from his spot beside Charlie. His ever-faithful consigliere was also his oldest friend, the same one who was there for him the day Isabella was taken, not to mention when Renee had taken her life. He'd seen how Charlie struggled, and it had pained him to see his friend suffer all these years. Carlisle didn't want to see his friend get his hopes up if by some strange turn of fate the prints were wrong and this woman turned out not to be the long-lost Isabella Swan.

He feared it would be too much for his old friend to bear.

"The only one who isn't giving me excuses is your boy," Charlie replied, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

Carlisle smiled. "No, I wouldn't expect him to. He's your second, after all."

Charlie nodded as he stared out the window, watching the sleepy city wake as they drove past. Only a few more miles to go, and he would see his little girl.

...

"Her injuries were substantial." The doctor flipped through Isabella's chart, rattling off her injuries in layman's terms the men could understand. "She came in with a head laceration and two gunshot wounds: one to the abdomen, and one to the chest. She's also got bruises associated with airbag injuries. The police said she crashed her car into a tree, so I expected those. She lost quite a bit of blood before she got to us, and she went into both cardiac and respiratory arrest, so we had to intubate. She was taken into surgery, and we were able to remove the bullets and stop the internal bleeding."

The doctor went silent, catching everyone's attention in the room, aside from Charlie, who could only continue to stare down at the frail woman in the bed who looked much like his late wife did in her younger days.

"What is it?" Carlisle finally asked.

"We found an alarming amount of drugs in her system."

Charlie slowly looked up from his daughter and met the doctor's eyes. "And?"

"And if she were to wake right now, she would go through a period of withdrawal on top of recovering from her injuries. She's heavily sedated. My suggestion is to keep her in a medically-induced coma until all of the foreign substances have worked through her system. Otherwise, it could be a difficult recovery for her."

Charlie turned his head and looked back down at his little girl. "Whatever you think is best." His voice dropped to a whisper, his plea heard only by his life-long friend. "I just need her to be okay."

...

Days passed, and she was still sedated. Her vitals improved each day, but the doctors were still reluctant to decrease the medication. And in her vulnerable state, she was never alone. Her father made sure someone stood guard at her door or inside her room at all times, lest whoever was responsible for her injuries find her to finish the job.

They still had no idea who had hurt her.

Edward cracked open the door to Isabella's room, and his father looked up from the magazine he'd been reading.

Cautiously and quietly, Edward stepped inside, glancing at the unconscious woman and back to Carlisle. "You can go ahead and head home to Ma."

"Didn't you take last night's shift? I thought you would want to go home tonight."

Edward briefly pondered his father's suggestion. Going home to his stark, quiet apartment held little appeal these days. "I'd rather stay here," he finally replied, looking once again to the woman in the bed, the pull he felt toward her still puzzling him. "Charlie needs his best men to watch over her."

"I couldn't agree more." Carlisle stood from his chair, stretching after sitting for so long. He patted his son on the shoulder. "He is happy with you, you know? Not all of his men are happy she's come back," he said, pointing to Isabella. "They worry their position will somehow change with her return. They worry he will no longer be focused on the big picture, that his need for revenge will override our usual business." His voice lowered to a murmur. "They worry he will go soft."

Edward raised a brow at his father's suggestion. "We both know that won't happen. He'll paint this town red in the blood of the men responsible before he goes soft."

Carlisle nodded, the silence in the room filled with the steady beeping of the monitor. "And if he gives Isabella the choice to fill his shoes?" he asked his son.

Edward carefully considered his father's question. He'd spent his life around the Family, having been taken under Charlie's wing in his formative years and shown the business. He knew how important it was to Charlie. He also knew how much losing his daughter and then his wife ate away at him, that he threw himself into his work to avoid thinking of what he'd lost. Edward knew how important it was for his Boss to pass on his legacy, which is why Charlie had chosen his best friend's son to mentor. Had Isabella never been taken, she very well could have been the one to fill that role, and Edward couldn't begrudge Charlie the chance to pass on his legacy to his daughter.

"Then it is his right as a father."

"I'm glad to hear you feel that way. Charlie was right to trust you"—his gaze traveled to Isabella and back to his son—"with so many things." Carlisle started to collect his things to leave. "The nurses said they were going to give Isabella a bath tonight, so make sure she has the privacy she needs while they're in here." He slapped a hand down on his son's shoulder. "Charlie's counting on you to watch over his little girl."

He soon slipped from the room, leaving Edward alone with the young woman whose mere reappearance in their lives could bring so many changes for all of them, but he had no idea what it meant for him. And he wouldn't ... until she woke.

He settled into the uncomfortable chair at her bedside. It wasn't the first time he'd stood guard, and if the way the doctors talked was any indication, it wouldn't be the last.

Isabella had a long recovery ahead of her. "And not all of it physically," Edward mused to himself.

When the nurses would come in and turn her or shift Isabella's gown to take her vitals, Edward had seen some of the marks on her body, the scars, both healed and unhealed. Wherever Isabella had been for the last twenty years, she wasn't treated as the princess she was to this family. That thought ate away at Edward for reasons he didn't quite understand.

The days bled into a week, and when the doctors began to reduce the amount of Isabella's medication, she began to show signs of coming out of sedation. She was taking more breaths on her own, and she began to stir. But she'd yet to open her eyes.

It was a long process, one for which Charlie wasn't nearly patient enough.

"Why is she still asleep?" Charlie asked the doctor as he examined Isabella. "Shouldn't she be awake by now? You stopped giving her the sedative two days ago!"

The physician met the anguished father's eyes. "It will happen when she's ready, and not a moment before then." He placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder as he passed on his way to the door. "But it shouldn't be much longer."

And it wasn't. The very next day, Isabella's eyes fluttered open, but seeing a stranger watching over her as she lay helpless in a hospital bed left her panicked and confused. Her eyes flashed from the copper-haired, green-eyed stranger to the door and back again. The machine monitoring her heart began to ping fast and loud, which only added to Isabella's anxiety.

Edward rose from his seat, slowly approaching the terrified woman, lowering his voice to calm her as much as he could. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Isabella."

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"You're safe. No one can hurt you here." He took a step toward the bed and reached for her hand. "Your father stepped out, but he'll be back any moment."

His touch sent a tingling shock across Isabella's skin, and she pulled back, slowly but with purpose.

Before Edward could offer the young woman any more reassurances, Charlie walked back into the room. When his daughter's eyes fell on him, the beeping of the monitor began to slow, and the panic she felt started to dissipate.

The man staring back at her was the same man who had starred in her dreams since she was a young girl. She knew he must have held a special place in her life, but she had no waking memory of him.

And when the man spoke two whispered words, a missing piece of Isabella's puzzle fell into place.

"Piccolo cigno."

...

Days passed and more tests were run. Her injuries had been serious, could even have been fatal. But the bullets had blessedly missed any major organs or blood vessels, so it was only a matter of giving her body time to recover. Isabella was easily tired out, though, so the doctors advised against any intensive questioning ... by the police or her family. Instead, she focused on resting ... on healing. It was a slow process, one closely monitored by her father or one of his men.

One man in particular, the one who had been at her bedside the day she opened her eyes, hovered nearby most days. As if he were connected to her somehow, wherever Isabella was, Edward was nearby. She couldn't explain it, but it brought her comfort.

Sitting up in the bed, Isabella was able to eat. And although it was practically tasteless hospital fare, the broth warmed her belly and soothed her still-sore throat.

For days she sat and listened to Charlie speak of a past she couldn't recall. Many times, she'd been told who she really was, only to close her eyes in a vain attempt to shut out the world and go back to the blissful state of being unaware. It was too much to process, even if it was her new reality.

It had been a rough reunion so far. While in her heart Isabella believed she was Charlie Swan's long-lost daughter, her life experience led her to take nothing at face value, to distrust everything. It wasn't until she was shown the missing person report and her verified fingerprints that she began to accept what had happened to her.

Kidnapped as a preschooler, she'd been missing for twenty years. All of her out-of-place memories had been of a life she thought didn't exist; one she had made up as a way to escape her miserable life. Instead, she'd lived the last twenty years in a life she was never meant to have. It was a hard pill to swallow.

"I need you to tell me as much as you can," Charlie pleaded with his daughter.

She reached for her glass of water and sipped, soothing her aching throat. Isabella looked toward the door, peeking through its tiny window and seeing Edward standing guard. He never seemed to be far, always watching over her, and always exuding a sense of calm authority around those who spoke to him. He never crowded her, always stayed on the periphery, but his nearness seemed to quiet the chaos that was always brewing inside her. In his presence, she felt safe. Just seeing him was enough to give her the strength to tell her story.

Returning her attention to her father, she recounted what she could, telling him of her earliest memories with the Clearwater family in the small town of Port Angeles. The way she was raised as their daughter, Leah, but often mistreated. The way she was encouraged to spend time with William Black's son, Jacob, who introduced her to drugs and petty crimes as a teenager. Pressured into doing things, having her loyalty questioned when she would resist, promises of affection and her next hit ... she had been forced to do things she knew were wrong, but it made her life simpler to comply.

She also told him of the last day she spent with Jacob. She'd been dragged along to purchase enough ammunition to supply a small police department. She'd been coerced into riding along to visit someone who was behind in their gambling debts and encourage them to pay. She recalled being told to stay in the car at first, but Jacob's last-minute decision to bring her along and guard a door changed everything.

"He gave me another hit of coke," she whispered, ashamed. "I was coming off a bender I'd been on for a few days, so I didn't even blink when he shoved it up my nose." She turned, looking out the window, lost in her memory. "He pushed a gun into my hand and left me outside. He wanted me to watch the back door. He didn't realize there were kids playing in the backyard. I was worried they'd be hurt, so I went to find Jacob. He and his friends were ransacking the house. They had the husband tied to a chair, and the wife was curled up on the couch, pleading for her life. My mind was in such a mess, I couldn't think straight, you know?" she asked, turning back to Charlie.

"It just kind of ... escalated from there. The woman was screaming. I was begging Jacob to leave, and I told him about the kids. Then all of a sudden, he started laying into me, telling me I needed to prove myself to him. He grabbed me and got behind me. Forced my hands up to aim my gun at the woman. But I couldn't do it. I knew those kids were hers, and I couldn't hurt their mom."

Her gaze dropped to her tray, the gelatinous green goop jiggling as she poked at it absentmindedly. "He got impatient with me, and when the woman tried to fight back, he shot her," she said softly. "I started screaming, and he was yelling and charging toward me. I tripped trying to get away from him, and my gun went off." Tears filled her eyes. "I shot him. I don't know if I killed him or not." She wiped at her nose, sniffling back tears. "The rest of his crew heard the shots and came running. I got out of there as fast as I could, but they still shot me. I managed to run to the car and drive away. I must've passed out from losing too much blood, because the last thing I remember was veering off the road."

Charlie's jaw was tight as he called for Edward. When he stepped through the door, his gaze was involuntarily drawn to Bella before turning to Charlie. "Yeah, Boss?"

"I want Harry Clearwater and William Black found. And see if Black's worthless son is still alive," he said through gritted teeth, looking over at his second. "Take them to the warehouse."

Edward's concerned eyes flashed to Isabella's before returning to meet Charlie's. "You got it, Boss." He fled the room, not once questioning the directive he'd been given.

The exchange was enough to send a chill down Isabella's spine. She knew Charlie was a powerful man, but it wasn't until Edward had called him Boss and hadn't questioned the order he'd been given that she truly understood how powerful he was. And she could only imagine what kind of place the warehouse was.

The coming days were spent in demanding therapy sessions, countless doctors and counselors coming to speak with her about her physical and mental recovery. And as she listened to each of the experts warn her about the difficult days ahead in her rehabilitation, she caught herself hoping Edward would walk into her room. His presence had been soothing, comforting, and she missed it.

Two more weeks passed before she was released from the hospital. Still slow moving and sore, Isabella sat beside her father in the back of a Town Car as they were driven to a house on Mercer Island. She knew excess when she saw it, and Charlie Swan's home was just that—excessive.

A fence surrounded the property, and when they pulled up to the house, an entire staff of people were there to greet Charlie and Isabella. The smiling older woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Cope was warm and friendly, and if Isabella dove deeply enough into her earliest memories, she could recall making cookies at her side as a very young girl.

Shown to her room, she was given time to settle in, time she spent showering before relaxing in roomy sweats and fluffy socks. No one disturbed her, and she didn't venture from her private space, instead choosing to take her meals in her room. She couldn't sleep the first night, plagued by nightmares of her final moments with Jacob, his decomposing corpse chasing her as she tried to flee.

What she wouldn't give for another line ... anything to keep her awake and nightmare free.

Slipping from her room, she tiptoed through the house, searching out the kitchen. She made herself at home, heating water on the stove and searching through the cabinets for tea bags. The selection was sparse, but she found something that would suffice.

"Find what you need?" Edward's deep voice startled Isabella.

She shrieked, her hand flying to cover her open mouth. "You scared the hell out of me! Do you always creep around in the dark in other people's houses?" She turned to face the counter and placed both hands flat on the granite, taking deep breaths to calm her pounding heart.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said as he approached. "I only wanted to check on you."

"What are you even doing here?" she asked, turning back to the now-screaming kettle. "I know you work for my father, but I didn't realize you lived here, too."

"I don't. He asked me to stay while he left to take care of some business."

Isabella nodded. "Business." She looked over at Edward, motioning to the kettle. "Do you want a cup?"

His gentle nod and crooked grin did funny things to Isabella. "That would be nice," he replied.

They talked about inconsequential things until the sun came up, but it helped Isabella come out of her shell, if only a little. They talked about music, about movies and television, favorite foods and Isabella's fondness for cooking.

It was the basis for friendship that Isabella so desperately needed.

On the days Edward would come by the house to meet with Charlie, he would stop in to check on Isabella. He would often find her in the kitchen, cooking alongside Mrs. Cope. Edward was always willing to taste whatever new dish Isabella created. Her hopeful eyes as he took a bite never failed to bring a smile to his face. His visits with her were the bright spot in his otherwise dark days.

She confided in him that cooking, trying new recipes and new ingredients, was what she used when the urge to score a hit was strong. With that bit of information, Edward made a point to stop at different specialty markets he passed in town to pick up something for Isabella to experiment with. The looks he garnered from his soldatos when he stopped at a market in between jobs were nothing compared to the smiles he got from Isabella when he brought her something new to try.

Hearing Edward talk about some of the markets he visited on her behalf prompted her to ask to come along one day, and he couldn't refuse her. It was in Edward's company that Isabella began to venture from the Swan compound. Her brief outings grew longer and more frequent as she gained more confidence, with Edward always at her side.

"I don't like it," Charlie said as he looked through the files on his desk. "Wasn't she out already this week?"

"You're being unreasonable, Boss," Edward argued. "You can't keep her hidden away."

Charlie raised a brow at his second. "Watch it, Edward." He was still uneasy about Isabella leaving the house, illogical though it may have been.

Before he could think better of it, Edward challenged his mentor. "I know you want to protect her, Charlie, but don't you think she deserves the chance to spread her wings? Her life hasn't been her own for too long." He rose from his seat and buttoned his suit jacket, frustrated with Charlie's attitude.

As Edward started to walk from the room, Charlie called out. "You'll be with her?"

Edward smiled before schooling his features and turning around. "I won't leave her side."

"See to it you don't." His steely gaze locked with Edward's. "She is to be your top priority when she's with you."

Edward quickly agreed and never complained, falling into his new role as Isabella's protector.

It was over the course of the following year and in those accompanied outings that Isabella discovered herself ... the woman she was meant to be. Averse to the excess she was surrounded by in her father's home, she found peace and serenity in nature, in the quiet of a bookstore, surrounded by pages of mystery, romance, and adventure, or in the aisles of a market as she smelled new spices. It was far removed from the life she'd lived up until that point. But she didn't turn into a shrinking violet or bookworm. No, she blossomed in her newfound, fledgling freedom. Her quiet inner strength grew tenfold, and she found her voice. Gone was the girl who could be coerced or silenced. She wasn't afraid to speak up or give her opinion.

And Edward reveled in watching her transform before his eyes.

He encouraged her pursuits. He would bring her trinkets that reminded him of her, gifts as simple as a hand-picked flower from Charlie's extensive gardens, and as rare as first editions of her favorite books. It was in those private moments, when no one was watching that they tested the boundaries of their friendship.

While Isabella knew Edward was a powerful man in his own right—she'd seen the way he spoke to his men—he was gentle with her. Never one to raise his voice or show his temper toward her, he showed his kindness in gentle touches and patience, not to mention kisses to her cheek when no one was watching.

Isabella felt safe with him. He never pushed, never made her feel less than, and always respected her opinion. She even felt comfortable enough to share with him the more troubling details of her life up until she woke in the hospital, the things she saw while living with the people she thought to be her family and the people with which they kept company. And Edward confirmed for her what she'd long suspected—that William and Jacob Black were involved in organized crime.

She seemed to have found herself right back in that life as Isabella Swan.

She wasn't dumb or blind. She knew what kind of lives the men around her led. The late meetings and secrecy, the constant presence of guards, not to mention the flood of information that she found online implicating both Charlie and Edward in questionable activities. She knew they made their money in ways that would horrify most people. But this time, she felt safe with the men around her, something she wasn't used to feeling. And when she was in Edward's presence, she felt protected ... cherished.

She felt especially cherished when Edward would hold her hand and sneak a kiss before they would part ways. She only hoped the overwhelming feelings she felt for him were returned; they went far beyond infatuation. On the night of the hospital's fundraiser gala they were set to attend, she got her answer.

"You're stunning, la mia bella ragazza," Edward said as he cupped her cheek, his voice deep. "My Bella."

She shyly looked away, not used to such intense attention. "You're supposed to say that," she murmured.

"No, I can guarantee you I am not supposed to say that." He leaned in, whispering. "If Charlie knew the thoughts I was having about his daughter, I am quite certain this would be my last day on this earth."

She shook her head, smiling. "We should go. Papà is expecting us." She took a step away and toward the door, but Edward gently grasped her arm.

"Wait. There's something I want to ask you."

"What?" She looked up into his eyes, her own full of trust for this man she'd grown to care about.

"I want to ask your father if I can see you."

"See me?" Realization dawned on her then, and she laughed. "You mean date me?"

"Date you," he said, stepping closer to her. "Kiss you." He tilted her chin up, their lips only an inch apart. "Call you mine."

Hearing Jacob say she was his in her previous life always made her skin crawl, but hearing those words come from Edward felt different. She knew, even surrounded by this life she was born into, he would cherish her.

"I think as a twenty-four-year-old woman I can make my own decisions," she said, standing straight and her chin rising in defiance.

Edward chuckled, the sound resonating deep in Isabella's bones. "Oh, believe me, I know you can. But we both know I need your father's blessing." He ran a thumb over her lips and his fingertips across her jaw as he looked deeply into her eyes. His voice lowered to a whisper, his lips nearly meeting hers. "I want to honor you, Isabella. La mia bella ragazza. But I will not ask him if it is something you do not want."

She did not even have to think about her answer. "I want it more than you know," she whispered.

That night, after leaving the hospital's fundraiser, Edward approached his boss, asking for permission to court his daughter. Charlie enjoyed toying with his second, questioning his motives and intentions. He knew about the budding relationship his daughter had formed with his associate. After the life she'd been forced to endure while she'd been away, Charlie didn't want to do anything to stand in the way of her happiness.

"You care for her, yes?" Charlie asked, lighting his cigar and sitting back in his chair.

"I do," Edward said, his palms sweating as his stomach rolled. He knew his future with Isabella was in Charlie's hands, and with one word, it could all be taken away.

"And have you disrespected her?"

"No, Boss." He shook his head adamantly.

"I won't have her used and tossed aside, Edward. She's been through too much."

"I would never—"

"Don't say never, Edward. We both know, living the life we do, nevers are meaningless. To most of us, women are a means to an end. I won't have that for my little girl. She deserves better than that life. And she will always be my little girl, no matter how grown up she is."

"I know she deserves more than that, Charlie. I wouldn't be coming to you and asking for your blessing if I weren't serious. If she'll have me, I plan to make her my wife, Boss. I've ..." Edward cleared his throat. "I've grown to care for her a great deal."

"And does she return your feelings?"

Edward smiled to himself, the grin seen by his boss, unbeknownst to him. "I believe she does."

Charlie studied him—the man who would one day replace him and, hopefully, expand his empire—and smiled. "You have my blessing."

When Edward left the room in search of Isabella, Charlie allowed the melancholy to settle over him. He had just gotten her back, and he felt like he was losing her again. But he knew, deep down, that she would be cared for. And as her soft laughter carried from somewhere in the house, Charlie was at peace with his decision to allow Edward to pursue Isabella.

Edward didn't waste any time in wooing Isabella, either. That very night, they danced under this light of a full moon, giving her a memory that would last a lifetime. From that night forward, Edward made it his mission to show Isabella she was special, precious to him. And it worked, almost too well. She tried everything to convince him to speed up their physical relationship, but every time she tried, he would slow them down. Months passed, and she was growing impatient.

"I don't want you to regret anything, Bella," he said, stalling her movements as she reached for the button of his trousers. His cock throbbed, straining behind his zipper, but he swallowed down his desire, knowing she'd been used and mistreated for so long. "I won't ask that of you."

She narrowed her eyes, the defiance she was capable of burning in her chocolate irises. "I know I won't regret anything. And you're not asking me. I'm asking you." She climbed into his lap, straddling him and resting her arms on his shoulders and placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, Edward. And I want to show you."

Searching her eyes, Edward knew then that he was powerless to resist her. So, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom, laying her on the bed and slowly divesting her of her clothes. Rising to her knees, Isabella helped him remove his own, each undone button exposing more and more of his beautiful body. And under the pale light of the moon as it shined through the window, they came together, Edward showing her what it meant to be worshiped.

It only took weeks for him to ask her to move in with him. Charlie was reluctant to let her go, but he could see how happy she was with Edward, and he couldn't deny her any happiness. Seeing her smile was enough to soften the blow of losing his little girl all over again. It didn't hurt that Edward had once again come to ask for his blessing, this time for something a little more permanent.

It was the following New Year's Eve that Edward popped the question as they celebrated quietly at home. When the clock struck midnight, Isabella was expecting a kiss to end all kisses, but instead she watched as Edward dropped to one knee and held out a ring, asking her to spend the rest of her life with him.

On a warm and sunny June day, they vowed to spend the rest of their lives together. It was a small ceremony compared to how large it could have been, considering Charlie Swan's position, or even Edward's, for that matter. But Isabella stuck to her guns and kept it small and intimate.

In an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town, the three men who had been held for nearly three years for their part in Isabella's kidnapping and mistreatment took their final breaths. With Charlie Swan's blessing, Edward had been the one to finally give the order to end their pathetic existences. It was a wedding present Isabella would never know of, but one that was long overdue.

They'd been left to rot, held captive in deplorable conditions and only fed when someone thought to stop by and toss in scraps or leave a fresh bucket of water. But as the bride and groom were feeding each other bites of wedding cake across town, William and Jacob Black, along with Harry Clearwater, were finally put out of their misery.

That chapter of Isabella's life was over.

The little girl who was lost had been found. But more importantly, in a short time, she'd grown from a damaged, timid girl to a strong, confident woman. Isabella had found herself and was beginning to find her place in the world.

Translations:

Piccolo cigno - Little swan

la mia bella ragazza - my beautiful girl