2. Dark Corners

From the outside, the house appeared the same. Large, but not gaudy like some of its neighbors, neat and efficiently landscaped, and the pristine white paint looking perpetually fresh. The entry from the street was somewhat more modest than most of the others on the block; no large gates with bronze crests or initials. In fact, there was no gate at all, unnecessary as they would have been since the entire neighborhood was a large gated community. The paved driveway didn't extend any ridiculous length before reaching the entrance of the garage, but was drawn out maybe a good twenty yards, with a single branch that curved in front of the house's main entrance. The house was very modern in style, dark wood trim around large, unobstructed windows that were abundant around the entire structure. It was undoubtedly as tasteful as its larger companions that dotted Pinnacle Drive.

Bella had loved this house. At almost four thousand square feet, it was roughly twice as big as any place she'd ever lived in throughout her lifetime. It was the light she'd loved, richly filling every room so there were virtually no dark corners anywhere. Perhaps it was the contrast it offered to the time of her life when he'd bought the house-it was the antithesis to the dark corners that smothered every aspect of that period in her own history. She knew he'd bought it because she had loved it, and she tried hard not to speculate on why he'd chosen to stay there so long after they'd parted ways.

Pulling onto the driveway, Bella began to shake, a tingle shooting up her spine. Everything about this was familiar, the view of the house through this very windshield as she turned the wheel gently to the right in order to pull up to the front, rather than straight and into the four-car garage. She had always parked here, pulling up enough not to block the front door, but almost to the other side of the arch, blocking the exit back onto the street. She'd done this same thing, in this same truck, more times than she could count.

For several moments she sat, not bothering to turn off the engine, deliberating about whether or not she could enter that house again without great consequence. It had been six years, but she was certain she could still walk through it with her eyes closed and know every inch of it. They'd spent the last good months here, if that was really saying anything, before it had all come apart.

A knock on the driver's side window jolted her from her thoughts and she whipped her head to the left to see Seth smirking at her. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, she shut off the engine and slowly opened the door as Seth backed away.

"Thought for a minute that you were gonna drive away," he greeted her, reaching out as she slid down from her seat and gathering her into a tight hug.

"Can't deny I thought about it," she replied, squeezing back as tightly. "It's so good to see you, Seth."

"You, too, honey," he said warmly, gently pushing her back and getting a good look at her. "You look great."

"It's only been a few months, Seth," she retorted, snatching her messenger bag from the bench seat and giving the heavy door a hard slam. "I can't look that different."

"Try almost a year and a half." He lifted a dark eyebrow as if daring her to disagree. "And you do look different. Your hair got a little shorter, and you've got some more tone." He squeezed her right bicep in indication and she swatted him away.

"The better to punch you out with," she sang with false cheer.

He just smiled and slid an arm around her shoulders as he led them toward the front door. "And before you ask, yeah, he knows you're here."

She'd been teetering on the edge of asking that very question. Her head tilted to look up at him and swallowed. Then she paused, bringing him to a halt beside her. Her heart was racing with such close proximity. He was just inside, a few paces away, nothing more than some plaster and glass and insulation between them. "Wait. I'm not sure I can do this."

Seth was already shaking his head. "No. Stop psyching yourself out. You'll be fine. You'll both be fine. For fuck's sake—" He sighed as if preparing to say something she wouldn't like.

Bella's body tensed, and she waited for it with straining patience.

"Look, it's all... fine," he continued, obviously struggling to find a better adjective. "But I just want you to be prepared."

"Seth," she interrupted, "if there's another woman now... it's— it's okay. I mean, yeah, I can't deny there's still a sore spot, but it's been such a long time, and it would be ridiculous of me to assume that-"

"Bella," Seth cut her off, firmly. "Shut up, will you? That's not what I was going to say. He's not with anyone. I was just going to tell you that he had a bit of a... weird reaction when you drove up."

She closed her mouth and her brow furrowed, waiting for some elaboration.

"He was talking one second, discussing some sound levels with Aro, the next..." he trailed off to gesture with his free hand that he had no idea what had happened. "We both heard your truck in the drive, and he just froze. Like, full-on robotic shut down, like someone just switched a goddamn off button. He was still for a good twenty seconds before he finally just walked outta the room. Then Aro got pissy and stormed out to the back yard to have a smoke. That's when I came out here to see why your truck was still running."

That Arturo Russo, or Aro as his musical colleagues and peers knew him, had managed to stay so long, surprised the hell out of Bella. He'd come on board as a sound engineer not long before she'd left, but he'd always complained from day one about the difficulty of working with Mase. Of course, it was no secret that there were few better opportunities out there for someone as talented as Aro. Mase's music was challenging, at the very least, and the creative license was a drug to the few people who could stick through all the bullshit that came with co-producing it.

Thinking about Aro's tenure with Mase was merely a distraction from the subject at hand, however. Mase's reaction was weird, but Bella couldn't really say it was shocking by any means. She wasn't foolish or naive enough to think that he'd never been affected by the dissolution of their relationship, even if she hadn't learned this until the following few years. It would really only be natural that he'd have some kind of emotional response to her appearance back in his life, similar the one that she was having now. Apprehension—though this was more like muted terror, and pain at feeling the threads of a wound that hadn't completely healed starting to pull and fray.

Drawing in a breath, she had to remember that she was an adult. Not the child she'd been, at least emotionally, back when he'd been a major part of her life. According to Seth, he'd grown up, too, and she had no reason to doubt her friend's words. They could make it through this with professionalism, even if it was bound to be a little strained at times.

"You ready?" Seth asked as he reached out to grasp the doorknob, and Bella started as she realized they'd somehow made it all the way to the door without her fully noticing. "Don't think too hard, Bells. It's gonna be fine. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. But... god damn, please let it work out. We'll never find a drummer in time."

She shot Seth a scowl, only to laugh softly upon finding an adorable and utterly manipulative grin on his handsome olive-toned face as he opened the door. Seth looked different, too, she noticed then, the lines of his face sharper as he'd gotten older, his black hair shorter than he'd worn it back in his more hard-rock days, though it still had a bit of a shag that went as low as his collar. He'd worn the years well.

Willing herself not to shake, and managing fairly well, she finally let her eyes stray ahead, taking in the sight of a house she thought she'd never see again. The huge split-level living room was almost exactly as she remembered, though the walls had gained several more adornments of obscure paintings and framed magazine covers than had been there before, all tastefully placed with carefully measured spacing. There was so much light, and she had to take several more deep breaths to keep a sudden surge of emotion from breaching the surface.

"Come on. Everyone else is in the studio."

As Seth urged her on toward the door on the far side of the room, she pursed her lips and grabbed Seth's hand. He immediately gave her small hand a squeeze; a show of support that demonstrated he knew this couldn't be easy for her.

They walked through the second living area, this one far more casual with a sprawling leather sofa of rich brown running the length of the far wall, thick coordinating rugs splashed across the polished wood floors, and a huge TV mounted on the opposite wall. This had all been upgraded, she noticed. If the furniture was any indication, Mase had at least learned to appreciate this wealth a little more, taking pleasure in simpler luxuries. The place was even more inviting than it used to be, she noted, and felt some sense in comfort at the thought. These were indicators that maybe Mase really was taking better care of himself, and the idea brought more relief than she'd ever thought she could feel.

But seeing him for the first time in this point in his life was the only thing she could fully trust to make that assessment. If he seemed well, she'd be happier than she could say, despite her discomfort with memories of the past that this collaboration would undoubtedly dig up.

They reached the door of the studio, and Bella dropped Seth's hand to give herself a moment. This was it, the line that separated their worlds, and her last chance to run back out and keep her life on the same track, clean and off the radar. It was quiet there, but there was a part of her that hated the quiet and had lain dormant for the past few years, that part that was now screaming at her that walking through that door would lead her back to doing what she loved most, what she'd gotten in the business to do from the start. The fact was, though, she'd grown up the most in her quiet life. Being in the spotlight had never been so good to her own personal development as the time since she'd left it.

There was no reason that she couldn't just do this favor and then get back to life as she knew it. She wasn't naive enough to believe that seeing Mase again would have no effect, but she was stronger now. If she'd been strong enough to leave then, she should have less difficulty now. Besides, on a professional level, it wasn't the first time she'd done a short stint of touring for a few people during her career as a session drummer. It was nothing she couldn't handle, and she wasn't too rusty to do a leg of ten shows with relative ease, and then move on like it was any other job.

As she thought of it, she realized that she'd essentially already made her decision. She glanced down at herself, clad in dark skinny jeans and a worn, slim-fitting Buzzcocks t-shirt, her wavy dark hair loose and falling just to her mid-back, and decided she was acceptably dressed for the occasion. Just a casual meeting to discuss tour details. No one to impress. Bringing her eyes up to Seth, who was patiently looking back at her, she gave him a smile and nodded her head once. He smiled back with warmth that could melt glaciers and winked as he slowly turned the knob, opening the door into the darkest corner of the house.

"Not sure if he's back in here yet, but... oh, sure is," Seth muttered to her before announcing his presence loudly over the white noise and few voices in the cramped control room. "Hey, guys. Look what I picked up on the side of the road. It's a bona-fide drummer."

The quiet chatter stopped and she felt each pair of eyes slowly make their way to her small form as she stepped in the doorway. Her gaze, however, was fixed on only one person, the last person to look her way from where he sat in front of a white laptop.

When those jade green eyes met hers, she was hit with a wave of a thousand different emotions. He looked healthy, truly healthy, and she wanted to fall to her knees and soak in the relief and gratitude that overwhelmed her. His skin was still fairly pale but had just enough color to indicate that it was likely nothing more than the result of spending a great deal of time in the studio, rather than anything life-threatening. Wiry, dense muscles lined his slender form, where once there was almost nothing but skin and bone. His copper colored hair was shorter than it used to be, even shorter than Seth's now, but well-maintained in a stylishly messy way.

Granted, she'd seen pictures of him, unavoidable as they were given his fame and success, but seeing it for herself, the way he lived, his stature and demeanor inside of his own element... only this was able to convince her. Pictures could lie. Those eyes, as they looked back at only her, could not.

A gentle smirk pulled at one corner of his lips, and she blinked a few times before smirking back, and willing her voice to work.

"Mase."

"Iz."

She swallowed at the name and her smile tentatively broadened. Of course he would use his nickname for her. Anything else might have seemed too cold. "You look... great."

The meaning of her words registered instantly, she could tell simply by the way his Adam's apple lifted for a moment, and he slowly nodded, the smirk still on his lips. "Thanks. You look lovely, as well."

God, this was so painful. There was no doubt in Bella's mind that he had really improved, given the glaring evidence. Along with his personal changes, though, everything had become different along the way. They didn't really know each other anymore, their lives only tenuously linked through a mutual friend or two. She was here in the most professional capacity, and she'd be a fool to believe that every issue either of them ever had had been completely resolved in the time since they'd last seen each other. Six years was a long time, but for the kind of damage that had been done to themselves and to each other, six years was merely the beginning of a much longer journey.

He tore his eyes away first and turned back to his MacBook, clearing his throat. "Meet the rest of the group you'll be playing with."

She let her gaze fall to the others in the room, and noticed that they had all apparently been paying rapt attention to the exchange, with the possible exception of James Finch. No surprise. He and Bella had collaborated, both with Tantum and then later on James' solo project, but they'd never been friends. James was a hard, cold rock musician to the core. He loved the life, and he lived it up to every cliché. He was definitely one of the greater guitarists she'd known, if only by technical skills. Other than that, he compensated for his lack of originality and tepid success as a solo musician by being a dick to everyone. His return to the Tantum touring band was fairly recent, as Mase and James tended to butt heads when it came to the creative process, and he'd taken a hiatus of his own around the time of Bella's departure.

"James," she greeted him with a twisted smile. They worked together well enough that they could be cordial, at least.

"Bella," he said with disinterest as he lazily twisted the machine heads on his gold Les Paul. He leaned back in his chair, slow like the cool and arrogant rock star he strived to be, until the back was pressed against the large and elaborate mixing board. "Just like old fuckin' times."

Well, somewhat cordial.

Knowing better than to pay it any mind, she turned toward an unfamiliar face, a rugged and undeniably attractive blond man, who was smiling brilliantly up at her from his spot on the floor, a black Fender Jazz Bass across his lap. "I'm Jasper. It's a pleasure to be able to work with you, Ms. Swan."

The words were said so genuinely that Bella felt compelled to smile back as brightly. "Bella, please. Jasper... Whitlock?" He nodded, seemingly pleased that she recognized his name. She continued, "I've heard some of your stuff. Really impressive work."

That glowing grin seemed to grow impossibly larger as he gave a nod. "Thank you. I'm quite a fan of yours, too. Wish you played live more. I'd love to come see you."

"Well, you'll be sick of it in a few weeks," she promised with a nervous chuckle. Internally, she doubted she could survive the sudden tension that was suffocating her in this room for longer than a few minutes, let alone being in proximity with this entirely awkward situation for the next few weeks.

"Mase sure knows how to pick musicians when lining up a tour," Seth piped in, placing a hand to Bella's lower back, to push her past the doorway and into the room, finally.

Once she stepped over, she let out a long breath and took a better look around the room. The walls were covered in instruments, sound equipment, and various other electronics, a huge adjoining room separated by soundproof walls and glass directly to the right. That was where the recording took place, several booths inside sectioned off with glass to ensure precise and clear recording with each instrument on one side, and a much larger and open practice room on the other. Dark as this room was with its lack of windows to the outside, she'd always loved playing in there. Mase's ear for acoustics was up there with the best of them, and his personal studio could contend with every professional studio out there. Few were privy to its magic, though, as he produced, wrote, and played just about everything himself when it came down to it, with a few exceptions.

That was how Bella had become part of the project to begin with. Mase didn't play drums much, feeling his drumming skills were too imprecise, and hired drummers when he thought he needed them. Of course, his computers carried most of the weight when it came to percussion, as he was a master engineer. With the use of music programs available, the demand for studio musicians had steadily declined as loops and professional music programs could convincingly fake a live drummer. But it was that raw sound of a real, live drummer that he just couldn't reproduce to his liking, missing the visceral quality that came with the loud strike of a stick against the skin of a carefully crafted snare drum. And live shows, of course... what could be more anticlimactic than a guy singing along to music coming from his rock-n-roll laptop?

At least, this was how Mase had explained it to her when she'd asked why he bothered paying musicians for studio recording when he was clearly brilliant enough to play virtually every instrument handed to him, and could manipulate a computer into producing the most breathtaking music. He'd told her that he loved what she did for his songs, especially when she was playing at her most passionate. It created a quality that he couldn't possibly fake, and made the music that much more raw and accessible. It was impactful, he'd said.

She wondered if it still held true to only her, or if he'd found the same of any drummer, but instantly chastised herself for such childish thoughts.

"Bella, is that you?"

She spun around at the new voice that had come in from behind her and she nodded when she recognized the face, at least a decade older than everyone else in the room. She hadn't seen him for six years, and they'd hardly interacted save for hard studio hours, but they'd always had mutual respect for each others' talents. "Aro, how are you?"

"Disgruntled, frustrated, take your pick," he replied, his expression tired, but she knew it was good natured. That was Aro's perpetual state around Mase, as far as she knew. "He's a goddamn monster, that one." He pointed to Mase with an unlit cigarette. "Shoulda stayed away, saved yourself a goddamn headache."

Mase turned his head to glare at Aro and his mouth opened to speak, but was cut short when Seth interjected.

"Well, we've only got two weeks, so how about we get Bells here all brushed up on the material?"

Bella quickly expressed her agreement as Mase turned in his chair to face her once more, "Let's do that. I'm missing out on three albums' worth of material, not to mention that it's been a while since I've played the older stuff. We don't have much time to dick around." The remark was punctuated with a pleading look toward Aro to just keep his mouth shut for the time being.

Mase nodded, ducking his head with a strange expression on his clean-shaven face, and stood, heading for the practice room door and holding it open for all to file into the large room. Jasper peeled himself off the floor, bass in hand, and entered first, followed by James.

Bella's eyes didn't stray from Mase's face, and once he looked over at her, his gaze was equally unwavering. His expression turned thoughtful, though nearly unreadable, and she found herself suddenly wanting to know quite desperately what he was thinking then. The old Mase might not have let a comment like Aro's go so easy, though it was clearly not meant to be any serious insult. When a sensitive subject was struck, though, Mase was headstrong and didn't hesitate to let anyone in the crossfire know just how pissed off he was. This controlled version of him was entirely unfamiliar, and she couldn't deny the curiosity that flared as she took more and more of him in. Just what had he been through these past six years in her absence?

A hand at her lower back snapped her back to attention and she glanced up to see Seth gesturing with his other hand toward the door Mase held open. "After you."

Bella stepped carefully forward, making an effort not to engage in any further staring contests with Mase within her first hour of being near him again. Distraction was easy, as it turned out, as a substantial meow drew her attention to one side of the room, and her jaw fell open.

She didn't know which surprised her more—the fact that a large, slender, black smoke Devon Rex cat that she hadn't seen in six years was staring intently at her, seemingly in good health, or that the cat was perched upon the throne of a drum kit she had once known very well and had thought was irreparably destroyed.

The cat was obviously not going to stand for any less than Bella's full attention, however, and she gracefully leapt down from the throne and promptly made her way over to curl herself lovingly around Bella's legs.

"Sushi," she exhaled in shock as she bent down to scoop up the sleek cat. The animal purred loudly, craning her long neck to bump her forehead against Bella's cheek. "Oh, baby, I missed you, too."

Sushi's oversized, pointed ears tickled Bella's jaw as the cat nuzzled her affectionately. Quickly, Bella's eyes darted to Mase, his lips curved in a barely detectable smile, his eyes on the cat she held.

"I thought that cat hated everyone," James muttered as he slid his guitar cord into an amp.

"Not Bella," Seth chimed in, smirking at the display as he idly tapped out a few notes on his keyboard.

Suddenly glaringly aware of how personal this situation seemed—cuddling with a cat that now belonged solely to Mase like it was still hers, too—Bella dropped her gaze and gently placed Sushi back on the floor of the studio. The cat loudly protested and pressed herself against Bella's legs again.

"She looks the same." Bella murmured. She saw Mase nodding out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah, she hasn't changed any that I've noticed," he responded quietly, stepping in the room. He walked past her and up to the microphone that faced the large circle of musicians that had gathered in the open practice room, and adjusted the height of the stand. "Has all the same habits."

She couldn't help but wonder of that meant Sushi still slept on what used to be her side of Mase's bed, on the pillow just above where her head would be. The cat had liked to wake her up every morning. She could never wake Mase up, dead to the world until the effects of whatever he'd used the night before had mostly run their course.

Deciding that was a rather bad train of thought to follow, she looked up to the drums, the custom DW kit on which she had played the hardest she ever had in her life. No other kit had ever compared, and after its destruction on a night she didn't want to remember, she couldn't bear the idea of getting another like it. The fact was, nothing had ever played for her quite the way those did, and it was a memory that she wanted confined exactly there—in memory only. The chance to play on it again, though...

"How?" was all she said, while the others did some last minute fine tuning to their respective instruments.

She noticed a look pass between Seth and Mase, and her eyebrows knitted.

"It's a nice set, Bells. Too nice to put down." That was all Seth said, and she had the distinct feeling this wasn't a subject she would be wise to push just then.

Sliding the messenger bag from her shoulder, she slid out her preferred sticks before dropping it onto the floor and took a deep breath as she stepped behind the kit. Slowly, she slinked down onto the throne and placed her booted feet onto the pedals, nearly gasping at how naturally it all fit. Like a glove.

And just like that, she'd never wanted to play more in her life, and could already feel the rush starting. "What are we starting with, gentlemen?"

She caught a grin sliding over Mase's face, directly across from her in their asymmetrical circle, and she knew exactly what he was going to say before he said it.

"Heathen."

She'd expected no less. It was the most technically challenging song in his repertoire, at least of the material she already knew, with a complex and break-neck time signature.

With a smirk, she twirled the stick in her right hand then rapidly tapped it against the other at the tempo of the song, the only signal the others would get before she launched into the hard, fast beat of the song.

They fell into it like nothing had changed. There was a mostly new lineup of players involved since the last time she'd played a Tantum song, but it provided only improvement, rather than imbalance or disruption. These were practiced, polished career musicians, and damn passionate in their approach, even down to the way James began to thrash around the room as his hands rapidly tore at the quick, shredding chords on his guitar. Mase's vocals were strong, hands gripping the microphone as the lyrics ripped from his throat, the assault of words equally vicious and melodic, and unassailably heartfelt.

Bella's sticks never missed a beat. Her hands and feet moved in perfect synch with every change in the bassline, every fill as impeccable as though she'd played this through a hundred times just the day before.

By the time the song was over, she was soaring on a high she hadn't felt in six years, and when she looked up to see Mase's face, his expression matched everything she felt.

"It's... good to have you back, Iz," he panted, his eyes locked on hers before he finally broke the gaze and turned hastily away.

Clearly, I was full of shit when I said I'd update next week. Truth is, I decided I wanted to post something that would hopefully make the story a little more engaging to get the momentum going right off the bat. The third chapter is about done, but that one I probably will be waiting on until next week before posting.

Thanks to those that already put this on an alert list. I am honored. And thanks for those reviews. I genuinely appreciate the feedback.

So, tell me... what piece of music really gets your blood pumping?