AN: Well hello folks. AHelm here. Not our characters. And now a word from your favorite P.I.

I was anxious.

I had been all night.

Why had I agreed to let Alice go in to Lilly's on her own?

It wasn't that I didn't trust Alice to do a fantastic job. Far from it, actually. If anyone could pull the information we needed from the staff at our favorite gin joint, it was my Alice. And I knew Jasper would be with her, but the fact remained that I didn't trust the staff of Lilly's for anything, and I was worried that her not-so-innocent prying would tip them off, letting everyone know we were onto them.

The last thing I needed was for my confidant, my assistant, to go missing too.

I sent up some words to whoever was listening that she'd be okay before turning my focus to the newspaper in front of me. It was useless; the words were all blurring into one another and nothing was making sense.

After three attempts at reading the same paragraph, I sighed and shoved the paper away from me. I thought about the place I found myself in, the people I had surrounded myself with.

Alice.

Over the last year or so, she'd proven herself indispensable. She was my comic relief when I needed it, a wealth of good ideas when I was drawing a blank, and like family to me. I made a vow to let her know how thankful I was for her presence, not just in my work life, but my personal one too.

She was the closest thing to a sister I'd ever have.

Jasper.

Jasper and I had walked a tenuous line for a while, uncertain of what to make of one another. He was a bull and I was a P.I. In a normal world, ne'er the twain shall meet, but we found common ground that night at Esme's. I found it slightly ironic that it was baseball that made us see we had some things in common aside from our interest in the case, considering that a sports game seemed to be the reason Emmett was missing. Besides, Alice was head over heels for the guy. That stood for something. In our few one-on-one conversations, I realized that there was something lurking underneath his calm exterior—some dark story, possibly one that rivaled my own.

I found myself wondering if he could be the one who'd truly understand my reason for being in New York—but I shoved thoughts of Garrett away for later.

I realized that, since taking the Emmett Swan case, I hadn't been obsessing as much over my guilt. Telling Bella the story of Garrett's demise had removed some of the weight I'd been carrying with me all these years. Her words had been perfect that night—soothing and caring and exactly what I needed.

Bella.

Oh, Bella.

I was completely lost in that dame.

The feel of her tiny frame wrapped within my arms was life altering. I realized that night that I wanted her—no, needed her. The thing between us had grown and changed, and I needed to tell her I loved her. I needed to tell her I wanted to be with her always. It was frightening and amazing all in one.

When she'd asked, "Will you feel this way—about me—once you bring my brother home?" I had almost scoffed.

Of course I will. Of course, I'd thought, and when I told her as much and she confirmed that this wasn't fleeting for her either, my heart had grown wings and left the apartment building far behind.

It had taken all my nerve to kiss her forehead, but it had been worth it.

Her skin was soft and supple, smooth like porcelain. And her reaction—a slight widening of her eyes—let me know that she had enjoyed it as well.

My Bella.

I closed my eyes and let thoughts of her take over my brain.

Long, mahogany hair. Large, expressive eyes. Perfectly pink lips that I would one day kiss. Small stature, big heart. I loved her with every ounce of my being.

Thoughts of Bella gave way to the letter than was currently stowed away in a folder on my desk, mere inches away from me. Bella had called the office early this morning and Alice had answered. She'd immediately transferred the line to me.

"Edward," Alice had said. "It's … it's Bella."

The worry in my normally happy co-worker's voice was disconcerting. I replied, "Alright, Alice. Transfer her over."

I took a deep breath and picked up the line. "Bella? It's Edward. What's going on? Alice sounds worried."

I was greeted by a muffled sob and then silence. "Bella? Bella! Bella, are you hurt?"

A few more seconds of silence passed. I was already standing up, prepared to drive like a bat out of hell to her apartment to check on her when she finally spoke. "Edward. I … I got a letter. It's … Oh, God."

A letter? I tried to figure out what she could be talking about when she spoke again. "A letter from my brother, Edward. From Emmett. Someone dropped it in the mail for him, and it came to my job."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "You've opened it, then?" I asked. "What does it say?"

She proceeded to read the letter to me and then said, "He's not lying is he, Edward? He has to be okay. He has to be alright!"

The mania in her voice laced every word and I wished I was there to hold her. "No, Bella. If he says he is fine, then he is. Emmett wouldn't lie to you." I didn't know the man, but I knew he had been a damn fine brother to my Bella. "It just sounds like he got in over his head, and with the wrong people."

"Do you think the letter will help you find him?" Bella was desperate, and even on the first day she'd come in to my office, she hadn't sounded this broken and defeated. "I know you can find him, Edward. You'll bring him home to us."

I listened to her as she showed her confidence in me, even through her heartache. I'd thought my resolve to find Emmett couldn't get any stronger; I had been wrong. Those few words from Bella immediately made that resolve double; maybe even triple.

"We'll find him, Bella. Do you think you can bring the letter in, or should one of us pick it up from you?" I asked.

She agreed to bring it in, but said she couldn't stay long. Soon after she breezed in and handed the piece of rumpled paper to me. As soon as the letter was in my hand, she threw her arms around my waist and buried her face in my chest. Alice walked in and gave me a small, approving smile before saying, "Bella, we'll get to the bottom of this. You know we will."

I read the letter once and handed it to Alice, who quietly slipped away to the front room, realizing that we were in the middle of a personal moment. I mouthed a thank you to her before she closed the door between the inner and outer offices, nodding in understanding. I held Bella for God-only-knows how long. By the time I unwrapped myself from around her, she was calm again, her breathing normal and her eyes no longer teary. "Thank you, Edward," she began. She stared into my eyes for a moment, lost in thought. "I lo- …" The words caught in her throat. "I mean, I'll be going. Please call me if you need anything."

Every fiber of my being wanted her to finish that, for her to have wanted to say "I love you." But instead of prodding—this was not the time or place, really—I escorted her through the office and to a waiting cab, holding her tightly and burying my nose in her hair before she sat down and drove away.

Alice and I spoke of our theories after Bella left, and we'd both read the letter again. If Emmett was by the water front, I'd have to do some snooping to find the actual location. There was no use in going after him without knowledge of exactly which building he was in. Alice and I agreed on that.

We discussed the possibilities of who A could be. There was only possibility we could think of when we'd gone over the persons of interest: Alec, the bartender at Lilly's. He would certainly be privy to some private information, even if it hadn't been directly spoken to him. Bartenders hear a lot more than they're told. Somehow, we needed to get in the gin joint and then into his head.

Alice was the woman for the job. "I can do it, Eddie. I know it. I'll even take Jazz, if that'll calm your nerves."

I acquiesced, but was with some reservation. Alice would go to Lilly's and take Jasper with her, and report to me immediately after they'd left, regardless of the time.

I exhaled and stared at the corner of my desk, hoping she got what we needed.

A shout shattered the quiet of my library and pulled me from my Bella-induced stupor.

"Edward! Edward!"

I took a long breath and then called out, "Yes, Gramps. I'm in here."

The old man, peering around the edge of the doorframe, looked at me through his spectacles and sneered. "Oh, I can come into your beloved library now?"

I rolled my eyes. "Alistair, I have never banned you from the library. Of course you can come in. This is your house, remember?" He ambled his way into the room, leaning dramatically on my desk once he reached me. I didn't get up, but I looked at him. "Can I help you with something?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes and pointed a long, narrow finger at me. "You're going to leave me, aren't you?"

"What?" I sputtered, my confusion evident.

"You are. You're going to leave me. And I'm going to rot away in this house because no one cares!"

I stared at him, my brow furrowed, and then watched as an emotion he'd never before expressed coursed through his eyes. It was fear. And loss. And pain.

Alistair made his way across the room and took a seat in a chair. "You're going to leave. All alone. I'm … no more. The quiet will kill me. I'll …"

He was mumbling and I stood up to go to him. His rambling persisted until I reached him and knelt before him. "Gramps? Gramps, come back to me. What's wrong here?"

A full minute passed as he stared silently at the floor just to the right of me.

His lips parted and when he looked up at me, I was taken aback.

Staring at me was a man I scarcely recognized. Behind his bottle caps, his eyes were soft, beseeching. His mouth was no longer clamped together in his ever-present almost-frown. It was soft too, and almost pouting. I lifted my hand to cover his and he clawed at me, his grip shockingly strong as he held onto me. My eyes opened wide as a solitary tear fell from his eye.

"I'm sorry," he said in a whisper.

"For what, Gramps?"

He was quiet again. "I'm sorry for being so damned ornery, Edward. I am glad you're here. Don't leave me. I can't lose anyone else."

"What's brought this on, Grandpa?" I couldn't make sense of this new tenderness. I wondered if someone had switched him out for a new model, and before I could think further, he answered me.

"It's her birthday, you know."

I stared at him, horrified. I looked at the wall where a calendar hung.

It was my mother's birthday. Thanks in part to all the stress of the case, I'd forgotten.

I fell back on my rear, my brows pushed together on my face. I stared at him. "I … I forgot," I said.

He nodded. "I can't."

We stared at each other again, and he issued a feeble command. "Get in that chair, boy. I have a story for you."

Wordlessly, I stood up and sat in the chair behind my desk. He began to speak, and I let him go without interrupting.

"I doted on your mother. Elizabeth was my pride and joy, you know? She was smart and beautiful and sweet and she made being a lady look effortless, even at fifteen. When your grandmother died, I felt as though I'd be alright because I still had my Liz. She was the brightest spot in my day … in my life, really."

As he spoke about my mother—his Liz—I watched a small smile play across his lips, just barely curving the corners upward.

"We rushed around, of course. I took her shopping and to school and let her go to the balls, which is where she met your father, Edward Senior."

Before he spoke again, he exhaled loudly.

"When they came to me, spouting off talk about wanting to get married, I couldn't understand it. I couldn't grasp why she'd want to go off with him when she was barely eighteen, but I couldn't very well stop her either. She threw her arms around my neck and thanked me when I gave them my blessing, but my heart was hurting over it. I had no reason to not like your Papa, mind you. I just wasn't ready to let go of my little girl.

"And then, less than a year later, they came to me, saying Edward had a job in Chicago he had to get to, and they would be moving in less than a month."

He looked at me, his eyes full of sorrow, and I watched as the tears welled up again, this time falling in thick trails down his cheeks. He wiped blindly at them and continued his story.

"I got mad, you see? I got mad because I wasn't ready to have my little girl be a wife, and then I got even more mad when, two months after they got hitched, he was taking her away from me. He was whisking her away to another state, and I just knew I'd never see her. Maybe once a year, at most. I couldn't handle that.

"So, I yelled. I screamed. I called your Daddy all kinds of names and hurt my Liz's feelings in the process. All she could do was look me in the eye and say, 'I love him, Daddy. He's my husband. I'm going.'"

I had never heard this part of the story; I wondered why my parents had left it out of the details.

"Three weeks later she was gone. She and your father went off to Chicago and I was left here, alone, in this big house and no one to share it with and I damn near went crazy. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she wrote, saying she was pregnant and she thought it was a boy and that once he was born, she'd come visit me, but until then, she was considered unfit for travel. I wrote her back; it was a big apology, really, but I also expressed joy over my grandchild—you.

"Almost a year later, she came into town with you for the first time, and she was so happy, Edward. Her skin was full of life, and her eyes were bright. I was overwhelmed by her happiness. But soon, my personal feelings of contentment—of being so happy to be a grandfather—were thwarted. You see, Edward, a week later, she left, and my life was empty again. I couldn't handle the fact that she was alive and well, just far away from me."

I leaned back in my chair and let him continue. His description of my mother had taken my breath away.

"I saw her a few times over the years because she came to let me see you every once in a while. But due to all the time I spent alone, I developed a grudge."

"Against my mother?" I asked, appalled.

Slowly, he shook his head. "No, my dear boy. Your father. I saw the absence as his fault, you see. I let myself focus on the idea that he'd taken her from me, and that was all I could see."

"Oh," I said, lamely.

He nodded. "Yes." He paused and cleared his throat. "And when I received word that they had died …"

I watched as he hunched over, his throat emitting gasps and sobs, and wrapped his arms around himself. I fought an urge to cross the room and hug him because I knew he wanted to finish his story.

"When I … when I received word that … that my angel, my Lizzie was dead, something inside of me broke. My wife was gone and my daughter was, too. I was literally alone. The only next of kin I had was you, and I barely knew you."

"But you could have visited," I argued meekly. "You could have gotten to know me."

"I know," he said. "I could have, and I didn't." He paused and looked at me, his eyes dark with emotion I couldn't read. "Don't you see, Edward?"

I stared at him, waiting for him to finish.

"I lost her twice, Edward. Twice."

Silent tears fell from his eyes. In the thick quiet that fell once Alistair stopped talking, I was suddenly overwhelmed. How would I have dealt with my young daughter marrying and then leaving the state with the man? How would I have dealt with my only grandson being so far away? How would I feel about the man who had been the catalyst for the whole situation? I realized that I had no idea, but when I looked at things from his perspective, I knew Alistair's reaction hadn't been irrational. He'd only been trying to hold on to what he loved most in this world.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Gramps."

"You have nothing to apologize for, boy," he said. "You came here of your own free will so that I didn't have to be alone, and all I've been is an ornery bastard since the day you arrived. I'm apologizing today because I owe it to you." He blinked and a quiet grin crossed his face. "You see, Edward, you just look too damned much like your father. It threw me off and I directed my stupid ire at you. But, if you're willing to try, I'd like to start fresh."

"What made you think I was leaving, Gramps? I have a job here, friends. A life. Why would I go?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I haven't made for a pleasant house guest, as I'm sure you've noticed. I didn't give you much incentive to stay."

I stood up and walked to him, grabbing his hands in mine. "I'm not going anywhere, Gramps. Promise."

"Thank you," he whispered, and in his first attempt at affection, he hugged me lightly.

When we parted, he began playing a game of twenty questions, asking me everything from my favorite color to whether I was seeing anyone special. Just as I was about to delve into my response to that last question, the phone rang.

"I'll be right back, Gramps." He shot me a small grin; I knew he wasn't quite comfortable with our burgeoning relationship yet, but we were the only official family each other had left. We had to make this work.

I walked to the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Eddie. It's Alice."

My grip on the phone tightened. "Alice. How'd it go?"

"You sound funny. Is everything copasetic?" she asked.

Sometimes, she was entirely too perceptive. I smiled. "Yes, everything is fine. Some change at the home front is all. What happened at Lilly's?"

She took a breath. "Well, Jazzy and I went to Lilly's Back Door, and we got in just fine. He and I grabbed a table, talked for a bit and then I went and worked my magic on Alec."

"And?" I asked, holding my breath.

"And, he told me the warehouse on the waterfront, near Jane Street."

I exhaled.

"So, what's next, Eddie?" she asked, excited.

I smiled. "Let me think on it, Alice. Enjoy your evening with Jasper and tell him that you and I will be paying the precinct a visit on Monday."

"Monday? Alright, Eddie. I'll talk to you later," Alice responded.

When I returned to the library, I found my grandfather passed out, his head leaning over the back of the chair he'd been sitting in. I grinned and gently roused him. I led him to his room, and helped him onto his bed, where he promptly passed right back out.

After I threw a thin blanket over him, I returned to my desk, contemplating my next move.

The next day, I called Bella. She picked up after the second ring. "Hello?"

"Bella," I said. "Hello."

"Edward! Do you have news? How are you?"

I sniffed. "I'm checking out a lead today, Bella, so I will be busy most of the day, but I wondered if you'd like some company later. Maybe we'll have another cup of tea."

I could hear the smile in her voice, which was velvety and sweet when she responded. "I'd like that, Edward."

"It's done then," I replied. "I'll be over in the early part of the evening. Should I bring anything?"

"No. Just you and your fedora," she said.

I laughed lightly. "My hat seems to have made quite the impression on you, Bella," I joked.

"Silly Edward. It's the man who is wearing the hat who has made the impression," she said.

I could see the slight blush that would cross her cheeks as she flirted so openly with me. "Well, Miss Swan," I began, reverting to the way I used to refer to her. "I've got to get going. I will see you later."

"Goodbye, Edward. See you soon," she said.

I walked to my grandfather's room. I found him sitting in an armchair, reading. "Gramps, I've got some work to attend to today," I announced. "I'll be gone until late this evening. Can I pick anything up for you in the meantime?"

He looked up at me and shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"See you later, then," I said, and made my way through the house, grabbed my hat, and then went down the stairs and to my car.

The drive was quick, and I was nearing West Washington Market before I knew it. I parked just off Jane and walked toward the warehouses on the shore, stopping in for coffee at a small cafe. I sat near the window and watched the roadway surreptitiously, looking for any kind of delivery trucks that might come barreling down the street. It was just after lunch hour, and the standard for New York City was that all deliveries were to be made before companies were open for business. Any delivery truck passing by now would be suspect, and easy to check out.

After a cup and a half of coffee, there it was: a large, black truck driving slowly by. It turned off Jane, onto West St., and I made note of the number of blocks it drove before it pulled to a stop. I paid my bill and walked casually to my car, inserted the key into the ignition and after the vehicle started up, headed in the direction I'd last seen the truck.

I stopped my car on 12th St., a couple blocks from the warehouse, so as to not draw attention to myself—I knew very well that my car stood out in a crowd. I could see the black truck sitting in the loading bay; I watched as three men—none of whom I recognized—jumped down from the back of the delivery truck and walked into a nondescript warehouse. I was looking for some kind of sign that this was the place Emmett was hidden away in—something to confirm this was the place in question.

I waited for thirty minutes and the guys never came back out.

Just as I was about to turn my car back on and leave, it happened.

Felix, a Lilly's employee, walked out from the confines of the warehouse.

Immediately, my mind started working. We'd bring Emmett back to his mother and sister. History was about to be made: the bulls and a P.I. working hand in hand.

I smiled, excitement growing in my stomach despite the potentially dangerous possibilities the next week held.

I started the motor of the Silver Ghost with gusto and headed in the direction of Bella's apartment, certain that she wouldn't mind me showing up earlier than planned.

AN: **chants** Progress, progress, progress!

For the record, I got a little teary eyed writing Alistair's story. Also, I had to fudge street names a little, since I couldn't find a completely legible map of the area from 1920. West was there then, but Jane and 12th are modern streets. It's possible that they could have existed in 1920, too. Forgive me for massaging the facts just a little?

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