A/N: This is the final chapter of Rescue Me. It finishes off where the old one did, and I will not continue with it because I do not have permission from the original "Bella" to do so. This is the story she agreed to tell, and I cannot betray anyone's trust by publishing things that she wants kept quiet.

Thanks for all your support!

Chapter 11

I could not move a muscle.

"…should come out of it soon…" The voice, a man's, was muffled and quiet and it sent my mind reeling, trying to figure out what was wrong. Where was I? What had happened?

My head was killing me and my arms were cold. Someone's hand was entwined with mine, but I could not force a squeeze in response . A thumb drew absent circles on my back of my hand.

The responding rumble of words from right beside me was too low to make out and I felt exhaustion tugging me back into the darkness. The last thing I felt before I slipped back into the void was someone tugging a rough blanket over me, smoothing it gently over my arms.

I was still cold.

"Her eyes are moving, look," said a voice—it sounded suspiciously like Emmett. "Go and get a nurse." He sounded nervous.

All of my effort was put into moving those eyelids, trying to force them open. They felt absurdly heavy, as if someone had weighted them down with bricks. My ears popped suddenly and I heard clicking footsteps walking away.

"Can you hear me?" asked Emmett, his warm breath washing over my cheek. My eyes would not open.

"Bella?" he asked again, squeezing the hand he was holding. "Try and move something if you can hear me."

My eyes fluttered, and he let out a shaky sigh.

"Thank God," I heard him mutter, just as I managed to crack my eyes open. The light was caustic, and I let them fall shut again with a wince.

"Sorry, sorry," said Emmett hastily and the light disappeared. When I tried again, peeking through my lashes, there was only the light of the street lamps outside, casting Emmett's silhouette in dark relief. My vision was blurry and I could not blink it away, but I was reasonably sure that my eyes were not playing tricks—Emmett was definitely here.

"You're in the hospital," said Emmett gently, leaning over the bed to tug a blanket up over my shoulders. "You've been out for a while. Rose is gone for the nurse, but we'll figure everything out."

I tried to speak but was prevented by a hard tube in my throat.

"No, no," said Emmett gently, rubbing a tear off of my cheek as I tried to stir. "You're intubated, so you can't talk just now. You're alright, Bella, I promise."

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember what had happened. Hazy images returned to me, but my mind could not formulate a concrete thought. There had been shouting, and a car…? The images faded just as quickly as they had appeared.

"Well now," said a new voice, moving closer to my bedside. The curtain opened. "It's good to see you awake, Miss Swan." The nurse was an older woman, grey-haired and lightly lined, and she smelled like soap when she leaned over to shine a light in my eyes.

"Looking good," she said, smiling. "I'll call Doctor Gerandy to come and take a look at you. Maybe he'll be able to take that tube out of your throat."

"That would be good," said Emmett, nodding fervently. He smiled tightly at me when I looked to him, confused. I tried not to wince at the burgeoning headache I felt coming on.

"Once the doctor looks at you," she said, regaining my attention, "we'll see about adjusting your medication. I'm sure your head is splitting right about now." She checked the monitor, scribbling something on the chart on the end of the bed, and walked out quickly with a gentle smile. Emmett pounced as soon as she had gone.

"Are you in pain?" he demanded in a low, concerned voice. "What can I do?"

Unable to speak, I stared unblinkingly up at him.

"Can you hear me?" he asked again, brow furrowing. "Bella?" The more nervous he got, the louder his voice became.

I blinked.

"Once for yes, twice for no?" he said hesitantly, staring disconcertingly at my face.

I gave him one long, deliberate blink.

"Good. Are you in pain?"

Blink. His small grin faded fast.

"Do you know where you are?"

Blink.

"Do you remember what happened.

Blink. Blink.

He sighed.

"Emmett, leave her for now." a woman said gently, coming to the bedside. My eyes snapped over to see the newcomer. I recognized her from our awkward video chat some months ago. "She's exhausted. Let the doctor take a look and then she might be able to speak once they take that thing out."

"She's in pain," said Emmett anxiously, glancing around for the doctor. "She's…"

"Alive," finished Rosalie sternly, arching her perfectly sculpted brow. "And coherent."

Emmett stared at her, unhappy.

"Does Jasper know she's awake?" asked Emmett, speaking only after the silence became awkward. A little thrill went through me at the sound of my other brother's name. It had been a long time since I'd seen him…

"I don't know," said Rosalie gently. "He's sleeping in the little room down the hall."

"Someone should wake him," said Emmett softly, and Rosalie took her cue.

"I'll be back with him, Bella," she promised gently, offering me a small smile. "He'll be over the moon, you'll see."

"He's really sorry," said Emmett softly, once Rosalie had left. "He feels awful."

I blinked three times, pushing back tears, and Emmett sighed. He seemed to understand my confusion.

"He feels bad for unlocking the bedroom door," he said gingerly, speaking as if his words might upset me. I stared blankly at him.

"The door? At the house?" he prompted. "Right before…" My eyes burned with tears, confusion and frustration coursing through me. What was he talking about? What was going on? Emmett's face shifted from confusion to anxiety to regret as two fat tears slid down my temples.

"It's okay," he said quickly, his hands hovering over me as more tears fell. "Hey, it's okay."

Before my tears could stop, a doctor entered the room.

"Good to see you again, Bella," he said warmly, forcing Emmett to step back. He took note of my tears and inspected the monitors at the bedside, clucking softly.

"I'll get you some more pain medication," he said. "I'm sure you must be sore."

I blinked once, making him chuckle.

"How about we see about that tube, eh?" he asked, shooting a pointed glance at my brother. Emmett stood stubbornly for a moment before the doctor purposefully asked him to step outside the curtains so he could work.

"That boy hasn't left your side for a minute," said the Doctor gently, closing the curtain. I knew Emmett could still hear us. "He's been very attentive."

I blinked, though I did not know what he was talking about. How long had I been here? What foolish mistake had I made this time to earn me this hard, unfriendly hospital bed? Why did Emmett look so scared?

"Alright," he said, taking some rubber gloves from the box behind my bed. "I'm going to disconnect the ventilator. I'll need you to try taking some deep breaths for me, alright?"

I blinked. The hissing and whirring of the machine beside me was silenced at the push of a few buttons, and the air that was being forced into my lungs stopped abruptly. I let out the breath in a huff, taking an experimental inhale.

"Good," said the doctor, looking pleased. "Your respiratory reflex seems to have returned without much difficulty. The nurse noted on your last check that you were trying to breathe around it."

I grunted, and he shook his head.

"Not yet, I'm afraid," he said, quieting me. "Let me grab the RT and we'll take the tube out. Then we'll see about talking."

I had no idea what the RT was but I waited patiently as he slipped out, keeping the curtain closed.

"Not yet," said the doctor gently. "She's still intubated."

I heard Jasper's voice this time.

"Is she conscious?" he asked, sounding haggard. "Rose said…"

"She is," said the doctor gently. "She's alert and speaking, in her own sort of way…"

"She blinks," said Emmett, sounding amused.

"What?"

I felt my face flush red as Emmett, growing more enthusiastic by the second, relayed the rudimentary method of conversation we'd developed just a few minutes ago. Jasper said nothing.

A few moments later, the doctor came back with a woman who introduced herself as Heidi. She explained to me the procedure for removing the tube, and I wondered briefly whether or not it would hurt.

"It will be uncomfortable," she admitted, resting her hand on my arm, "but it shouldn't hurt. I'll need you to cough as we pull it out, okay?"

When she tugged I couldn't help but cough, though it sent flares of pain through my side.

"I'm sorry," said Heidi gently, grimacing as the doctor placed a careful hand on my side. "It'll be finished in just a minute."

She pulled the last bit of it out and I coughed accordingly, fighting back the urge to gag as the tube passed through. When she was done my eyes were streaming and my chest was heaving, the sensation of breathing feeling strange and foreign. I knew I would be used to it soon, but without the tube my mouth and throat were horribly dry.

"Here's some water," said the doctor gently, letting Heidi take a closer look at the monitors beside me. "Little sips," he warned as I brought the cup eagerly to my lips, prepared to down it all in one gulp. The cup was pitifully small.

"Wonderful," he said, beaming as Heidi gave him a thumbs up. "I'm sorry that it hurt your side—you've got a broken rib."

I tried to ask a question, but only managed a grunt as the dryness made my voice almost nonexistent. Heidi patted my arm with a reassuring smile and took the tube out of my little space, leaving the curtain open behind her.

Emmett rushed in at once, eyes bright.

"Hey," he said quickly, reinstalling himself in the hard wooden chair beside the bed. He took my hand in his again, glancing only briefly through the gap in the curtains.

"Hi." The sound was little more than a croak. "Where's Jasper?"

"I'm here, Bella," said Jasper gently, peering in through the curtain before Emmett could answer. "I'm right here."

He looked much worse than Emmett did, and a stab of sadness pierced through me. Emmett had said he felt guilty, but for what? Surely he hadn't been the one to put me here. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. As I fought hard to break through the brick wall that was blocking my memory, I thought back to the last thing I could remember. I was at home in my bedroom… I was reading… something…

Emmett fussed anxiously over me as my face went white, and I took in a deep, gasping breath.

"Where's dad?" I asked in my croaky whisper. "Where…?" Emmett's stormy face cut me off.

"In jail, where he should be," he snipped. "He can't hurt you anymore, Bella." I shuddered and brought my hands up to my face, wishing the floor would open and swallow me up. How much did they know? Both Emmett and Jasper exchanged looks of confusion before Jasper broke away, looking astonished.

"Bella, do you not remember?" he asked taking a hesitant step forward. He had not yet sat down.

"I don't know." My voice was muffled behind my hands. I saw him frown through the gaps in my fingers.

"He came to our house," prompted Jasper, ignoring Emmett's voiced protest.

"Jazz, not now…"

"Our house?" I asked, confused. "What house? Where am I?" I looked around, as if hoping to see some kind of sign. The more I looked around, the more I realized that this hospital was far too ostentatious for poky little Forks…

"Seattle," said Jasper gently, sitting in the other vacant seat. "Sweetheart, what's the last thing you remember?"

Emmett fell silent, looking down at me with a frown.

"You don't mean…" His eyes darted between Jasper and I.

"I don't know," said Jasper, cutting him off. "Bella?"

"I remember reading," I said, closing my eyes to think. "I was in my room, reading, and dad wasn't home…"

"How long ago was that?" demanded Emmett, worried. "That's gotta be at least a week ago…"

"What?" I asked, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"Bella, you hit your head," said Jasper gently, taking both of my hands in his. I forced myself to stare at him. He hesitated for a brief moment before he sighed, asking a shocking question.

"Do you know who we are?"

Emmett looked scandalized.

"Of course I do," I said, shaking my head. It made my headache spike, and Jasper stopped me with a gentle hand.

"Careful, Bella," he warned. "Did you recognize the girl sitting with Emmett when you woke up?"

"Rosalie?" I asked, hedging as Jasper nodded.

"Where do you know her from?"

"The video chat," I said, blushing again. "From a few months ago…"

"Have you ever met her in person?" asked Jasper quietly, and Emmett sat back, frowning.

"No…" I said, wracking my brain.

"Get the doctor," said Jasper, looking at Emmett. "Go and find some help."

"What's wrong with me?" I asked worriedly, watching as Emmett scarpered quickly from the room. "What's going on?"

"You've been unconscious for two days," said Jasper. "You hit your head. You haven't been in Forks for almost a week."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, my eyes welling up.

"Bella, Emmett and I came home," he said, looking horribly sad. "We came and saw…"

"Oh god," I said, unable to keep my tears at bay. "What did you see?"

Jasper stared at me with his familiar, wide eyes.

"I think you know what we saw," he said gently. "He hit you, Bella, and he…"

He let his sentence trail, and I felt sick.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, unable to keep my emotions in check. "I'm sorry… I never wanted you to know…"

"Oh sweetheart," said Jasper, suddenly emotional. "You're safe now," he said, hugging me with the gentlest of arms. "I promise you, you're safe. You don't have to go back to him, ever."

Jasper explained the whole sorry history of the past week, and a heavy rock of embarrassment settled uncomfortably in my stomach. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let my carefully constructed front slip so easily? How could…

"You told us about mom, too," said Jasper gently, and my head snapped up. I ignored the flare of pressure and pain at the rapid movement.

"You mean…" I said, my chin trembling.

"He's being charged," said Jasper quietly. "He won't get away with it, I promise you."

Emmett returned just then, as my sobs began in earnest, the doctor by his side.

"We'll run some more tests," said the doctor gently, watching me with sympathetic eyes, "but I don't think there's anything else going on just now. Some memory loss is to be expected with injuries like hers."

Why on Earth had I told them such atrocities? What spark of madness had taken over to make me reveal such horrible truths to anyone, much less my brothers?

"Try to relax," advised the doctor gently. "This level of upset will only hurt your head. The pressure, you know…"

I couldn't help myself, and Jasper was the one who leaned over and tried to soothe me.

"You're safe," he repeated softly. "I'm so sorry, Bella. You're safe."

Two days after I had awoken in my hospital bed, Doctor Gerandy sat at my bedside and explained the extent of my injuries to me. He showed me the scans, pointed out the bleeding that had almost taken my life, and explained the measures they had taken to ensure my survival. On the other side of my bed sat Carlisle, who looked sad and serious as the other doctor explained what had been done to me.

Emmett had told me yesterday that Carlisle and his wife, Esme, had temporary custody of me, after they had housed me in the days after my father's assault. No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember.

"Do you have any questions for me?" asked Doctor Gerandy softly. "Barring any complications, you should be discharged in a week, maybe ten days.

"No," I said, lifting my hand to touch the thick bandage covering my head. Although I knew it was necessary to save my life, a small part of me mourned the loss of my hair.

"Hair will grow back," Carlisle had said. "You, on the other hand, cannot be so easily replaced."

He was right, I knew, but I could not find it in me to feel quite as grateful about it as he did. Carlisle seemed very kind to me, even though I could not quite place him in my memory, and I wondered how awkward it would be going home with him once I was released.

That day could not come quickly enough.

"Good," said the therapist, switching out the flash cards. "And this one?"

"Two stars and a crescent moon," I said easily.

"Wonderful."

Every day for the past three days, this strange woman who had introduced herself as Kate had come into my room and had me complete a series of little tests. She showed me flash cards and asked me to identify the shapes I saw. She had me draw images as best I could from my memory, and had me write complete sentences. She had me play a complicated version of connect-the-dots and had me trace images on sheets of paper.

All of this, according to her, was to make sure that I had suffered no lasting damage from my injuries. The only thing that seemed wrong was an absence of any memories for about a week before the incident, which Doctor Gerandy thought might still return.

"It all depends on whether or not it's a physical or emotional trauma that's keeping them suppressed," he had said. "If it's physical, there might not be any more memory recovery. If it's an emotional block, however, with therapy and the proper treatment, you might get those days back."

Esme had looked pleased, but I was not so sure. I wasn't sure I wanted them back. Each time I asked, Jasper gave me a rundown of what had happened since his and Emmett's arrival in Forks, sparing me no detail. Emmett looked surly whenever he did this, and I got the impression that he felt that the entirety of the story was not strictly necessary.

"It upsets her," he had hissed, speaking as quietly as he could as I feigned sleep. "Why does it matter?"

"She has a right to know," said Jasper, sounding pained. "I know it upsets her, but she wants to know."

"She doesn't need the details about how her father raped her!" Emmett snapped, and my eyes flashed open.

"Oh, shit, Bella…" Emmett's words fell on deaf ears as I felt myself fall apart again, wondering when on earth I would regain some modicum of self-control.

Emmett and Jasper had stopped bickering about me in my presence, and I knew that Emmett was suspicious each time I closed my eyes. I doubted I would ever be able to feign sleep around him again, as he had felt unduly responsible for the panic attack that had hit me a few moments after that particular incident.

"You're progressing very well," said Kate happily, smiling her wide, toothy grin as I finished writing my name. "I don't think I have any more work to do here."

"Can I go home then?" I tried eagerly, knowing that her test results were some that Doctor Gerandy was insisting on getting back before he even considered letting me out.

"We moved too hastily the first time around," he had said. "Neither Carlisle or I am prepared to make that same mistake again."

"We'll see," laughed Kate. "I'll pass on the good news to Doctor Gerandy, and we'll see what he says."

I just smiled back at her, wishing her a quiet goodbye as she slipped out of the room.

That night, despite my steady recovery, I felt worse than I had since the day I woke up. That afternoon, Doctor Gerandy had informed me that my IV pain medication would be disconnected, and instead I would be placed on oral medication—a much lower dose.

"These symptoms will ebb by tomorrow," said Carlisle gently, having been given permission to sit with me overnight. "They're relatively mild, considering." I was developing a tolerance to my medication, the doctors had told me, and it couldn't be allowed to continue.

My whole body hurt, throbbing with each beat of my heart. I could hear my pulse in my ears, and the pain was most acute in my head. I was hot and cold all at once, both wishing for more blankets and fighting the urge to kick off the one I already had. My hands trembled and I forced them under me to keep them still, though it only served to make them worse. Carlisle kept a cloth by the bedside, and he mopped my clammy brow whenever my symptoms spiked.

"You'll feel much better after you sleep," he said softly. "I promise you, Bella. Close your eyes and try to sleep."

The next morning, Carlisle was proven right. My body still ached and I was still shaking, but gone were the clamminess and the maddening fluctuation between hot and cold. A nurse came every eight hours on the dot with a little cup of water and two little blue pills.

The pills helped keep my head pain at bay, though I did not cry anymore over the lack of IV. My head still ached and throbbed, smarting around the incision site whenever the nurses came to change the dressings, but I did not cry out anymore when they peeled the gauze away. Doctor Gerandy, on his morning rounds two days later, was pleased to find me sitting up, chewing a bagel that Emmett had brought from the cafeteria downstairs.

"No nausea?" he asked, eying the thick layer of cream cheese.

"No," I said honestly, taking another big bite. "Nothing."

"Excellent," he said. "I'm very pleased, Bella."

"So am I," laughed Emmett, shuffling the deck of cards he had brought with him. We had played countless games of Go Fish and Crazy Eights and I sometimes wanted to scream just to break the monotony, but I never allowed myself to get annoyed or short with Emmett. He was only trying to help, and if I was honest with myself, I was glad he was trying to distract me.

"Well," said Doctor Gerandy, resting his hands on the end of the bed. "You'll be pleased to hear that I've put in for your discharge. You should hear back by tomorrow afternoon, and you'll be free the day after next."

Emmett smiled widely and thumped me gently on the shoulder, looking pleased.

"That's excellent," he said, looking eagerly at me, then the doctor.

"Yeah," I said, laughing softly. "No offence, but I can't wait to be out of here."

"I don't blame you," said the doctor, looking down fondly. "I'm very glad with the progress you've made, Bella. I know Carlisle will keep it up."

"I'm sure," I said, nodding. Esme had already dropped hints about finding me a counselor to work through some of the events that had taken place, and as much as I didn't really like the idea, I knew it was necessary.

It was, however, very strange to think of not returning to Charlie's house.

My head rested against Emmett's shoulder as we bumped down a long, winding road that led to the Cullen home. The car we were in was vaguely familiar to me—I knew I had ridden in it before, but I could not place it. The seats smelled like pine.

"Almost there," said Emmett, squeezing my shoulder. "Just a few more minutes, and we'll be there."

I tucked my self in under his arm with a sigh, closing my eyes. I was so glad to be out of that hospital, but even that gladness could not suppress the niggling anxiety at the thought of this strange house. Esme and Carlisle had been unfailingly kind. They had showed me the custody papers—temporary as they were—and the kind social worker that had processed my file had been in to meet me.

I had agreed, they told me. The Cullens would take good care of me. My brother's lived there. Everyone was eager for my return home…

Emmett's gentle squeeze broke me out of my reverie.

"Esme's been making you dinner," said Carlisle suddenly, speaking from the driver's seat. He watched me through the rearview mirror.

"Oh," I said, my face heating up. "Well, thanks…"

He laughed, and I cracked a small grin. He really was a very kind man.

"When you were with us before, she made a soup you were particularly fond of," he continued. "So don't be surprised if she asks you to sample it when you get in."

I smiled.

"The rain should let up soon, too…" Carlisle continued with mundane small talk until we reached his house, and although the topics were vague and uninteresting, I appreciated what he was doing. His trained doctor's eye alerted him to my anxiety—tells, he called them—and he was doing his best to keep me calm. I didn't feel like panicking, but I didn't feel quite as well as I would have liked to. His chatter seemed to help.

The big white house nestled in the trees stood stately and tall under the grey April sky. The car pulled to a stop on the cobbled driveway, and a gap in the curtains on the front window fluttered closed. Emmett and Carlisle, stretching and groaning, rose from their seats and all of us turned towards the front when the door opened.

Jasper, looking more relaxed and well-rested than he had not so long ago, came striding easily down the path as Emmett opened my door. The outside air was cool and damp, and I took a deep breath as I stepped outside. The sun fought against the clouds.

"Bella," said Jasper, smiling widely as he took me in his arms. "I'm so glad you're home."

Home, I thought gently, craning my neck to take in the beauty of this grand house. This is home.

There would be much hardship and struggle to come in the future, I knew. As Jasper helped me towards the front stairs, I thought about the police interviews, the court case, the long and hard journey I would begin with a counselor next week. I knew there would be tears and anger, fear and exhaustion.

But I am home, I thought gently. This is home.

The red door swung open at the top of the stairs and I took a careful step inside. Jasper moved back to help Emmett with the bags, and my attention was drawn to a strange boy standing unassumingly in the entrance to the sitting room. His green eyes captured mine in a moment of startling clarity, and I gazed intently on his handsome, open face. His hair was a burnished golden-red, glinting in the weak sunshine that was sneaking in through the window. His face was white, his mouth a little crooked, his body tall and lithe. He smiled softly at me, and when he spoke, his gentle voice matched his face.

"Welcome home."

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me! I know a some of you are going to want more, but I must respect the story I was given. Permission for the rewrite was given a while back (when I first started editing the story), but I do not want to overstep. This is the end of Rescue Me, and I hope you've all enjoyed it!

Keep an eye out for a new chapter of Invictus today as well! It's up on the document manager for a final edit, and then it'll be posted!

Let me know which story you'd like edited next: Little Nurse or Love Me Tender.