Chapter Three.
How Do I Live

with the fact that you've seen me naked?

There are many shitty things about being around an ex. There's the memory of the break-up—even if it was amicable (which it definitely wasn't, in Edward and Bella's case), it still sucks. If you ended it, you're heartless. If it was ended for you, you're heartbroken. And god forbid if it is due to infidelity, then there is loss of trust and decimation of self-worth and all sorts of messy things that expanding on will just be a total buzz kill.

But the biggest problem with Bella and Edward was not that they both had different opinions on who was the ender vs. the endee, or whether infidelity, or at least betrayal, had occurred. No, their biggest problem was arguably the single most shitty thing about having to spend a lot of time around an ex.

That person has seen you naked.

There's a certain dynamic you share with someone who's seen you naked. It's the dynamic of power. Power where they can turn around and say, "I can see you naked whenever I want—even if you don't let me anymore. All I have to do is remember it". It's that, out of the blue, the person could call you and say, "I am picturing you naked right now as I walk down the street" (or "as you sit next to me in this car"). It's odd and can be uncomfortable, can feel exploitative and awkward, but the one thing it absolutely is is irreversible.

It's all of the above and ten times more true if you still find said ex attractive.

So, as they are driving into Forks, Bella is thinking of this—how Edward could be picturing, nay remembering, her naked this very moment. Which affronts her in many ways, but of course, leads to her picturing—sorry, remembering—him naked.

Edward has that particular brand of undeniable good looks—an intelligent, etched face, as handsome in motion as it is still, height that renders him a masculinity his pretty face could have taken away, and that swaggering, magnetic disposition, providing intangible charisma.

Because of his sartorial proclivities (in unpretentious-nese: dress sense), Bella has only ever seen Edward in a suit, when working, or naked, when playing. He looks great in a suit. He looks greater out of one. He is long and lean, linear symmetry in flesh. Bella can admit there is a magnificence in naked Edward, as if God or whatever created him wanted to make sure that should his brains fail him—as many pretty people's have— that he have a fall-back career as an art model or perhaps, even a Greek statue (if he can stay very still).

She knows she shouldn't really think about Edward like that anymore, that his body is no longer—and maybe never was—hers to ponder. But she figures her thoughts are safe within the confines of her mind, not realizing that her face broadcasts whatever she's thinking, and that Edward is keenly watching. And so she continues, musing that her favorite part of the delectable buffet of his body may be, oddly enough, his thighs. His ass is great, too, so beautiful it's almost painful—unrelated to the fact that he is a pain in the ass. Bella knows firsthand (and from her second hand, too) that it is soft yet firm, like two scoops of ice-cream. Oh and his calves. He's got fantastic calves, like two slabs of filet mignon.

Bella should have eaten on the flight—her hunger and horniness seem to be combining strangely.

Since the majority of the duration of their time together had been spent in the field, there were no dates, no sexy lingerie, no natural progression of the relationship. Their dates were late nights of research and their dinners were reheated coffee; the extent of their commitment to each other was to give up what little time they had to sleep for sex they didn't have time for. It was not as casual as they both used to pretend or and now attempt to remember it as, but it was fun and freeing and it wasn't quite love... yet.

There's something to be said about having a dalliance with a co-worker—so let's just say it: it's convenient, especially when you're in the field with them. So while Bella wasn't easy, falling into bed with Edward was, especially with the sultry beach air and endlessly starry sky and the beauty of that little island off the coast of Brazil that first time. And Edward rarely ever played hard to get, so he had no intention of starting when he was clearly getting hard every time Bella would fix those big brown eyes on him or bite her lip. For awhile, things between them were nice and easy (while occasionally being rough and hard).

But with convenience came the flip side: mixing work and play meant eradicating the line between business and pleasure; so perhaps it was inevitable that when complicated decisions in work were made, it affected their personal relationship more than either could have ever imagined.

But right now, she's thinking of the hard—but not the difficult—part.

Unbeknownst to Bella, whose stare is fixed suspiciously high on his thigh, Edward's eyes are flicking frequently away from the road. And he is pleased to see the glint in her eyes, the pink sliver of her tongue as she traps it between her teeth. He's always been able to read her well, so he can tell she's thinking about how attracted she is to him. She may even be recalling some of their old romps. He should let it go. Let sleeping dogs lie and all that. He knows this with his better judgment.

But Edward tosses judgment to the side and says, "I'd ask if you see something you like, Swan, but... I already know the answer to that." Another one of Bella's buttons that he knows to push: arrogance. She hates it; he has it.

She clears her throat and impressively rearranges her expression into one of indifference in a split second, beating down her first instinct to blush and be embarrassed. He's not surprised—despite her massive fuck up, she's still got some of the best instincts of any agents he's ever known.

So does he but he's ignoring all of them by prodding Bella's ire. She's like a sleeping dragon—too fun and fiery for Edward to leave alone. And he'd rather have her hating him and hurling insults than being indifferent. Her anger reminds him of her passion, and despite all that happened, her spark, her spunk is something he likes very much. He isn't going to trust her with his heart anytime soon, but it doesn't mean they can't have fun. It's not the type of fun they used to have, but it amuses Edward nonetheless.

"Edward…yes, there was a time I found you attractive," she says. She's lying through her teeth, unless the time she means is always. "But you've heard of temporary insanity, right?"

It's just the type of retort Edward was hoping for, and his ego is like a magnet between his foot and his mouth. "Oh, I'm calling bullshit, Swan. You want me, I know you do. You want to fuc—"

"Don't say it, Edward," Bella says, in a tone that draws a line even Edward wouldn't cross. "Don't use that word."

"Why not?"

"Because I hate it. I hate that word being used when referring to me. I hate it being used when referring to something I've done."

"What do you want me to call it? Banging? Making love?" Edward says and is pleased to see that Bella shudders in equal disgust for all those terms. "Man, I could do this all day. You want to make the beast with two backs? Get some In 'n Out, animal style? Bump uglies?"

"Edward…" Her tone is warning, which—haven't you realized this by now, Bella?—just eggs him on more.

"A little rumpy pumpy? Put my basilisk in your Chamber of Secrets? Plant my purple tulip in your lady garden? Feed your kitty some cream?"

"Ed—'feed your kitty some cream'? Ugh!" Now he's just having fun.

"Take the skin boat to tuna town? Put some sour cream in your taco? Hop on the good foot and do the bad thing?"

Reluctantly, she's sort of impressed that he knows so many ridiculous euphemisms for sex.

"Why don't we call it nothing? Since we're clearly not doing it, can we just not talk about it?" She's practically snarling at him. He likes it.

"Well, we wouldn't have to if you didn't want to do it again so badly."

"What?" Bella screeches. "Now I'm calling bullshit. I think the only reason you even brought it up is because you want me."

"I want you? You're delusional, Swan. After what happened with… with that dog? I guess it made sense, you and him. After all, you are a bi—" Edward begins but then falls silent abruptly. He can't do it. He could literally cuss from A to Z in front of Bella, say every dirty thing that comes to his mind (and there are a lot) but he can't actually swear in regard to her. Even earlier, he was going to suggest she wanted fool around. Oh alright, maybe he was going to suggest she wanted to fuck around, but still. The modifier softens it.

"Fine. That's that then. You don't want me, I don't want you. It's established. No need for us to have this conversation ever again," Bella compromises. She noticed the way Edward didn't finish his sentence, and it placates her, just a tiny amount.

"Fine. It was getting kind of redundant anyway," Edward replies, with all the maturity of a punished toddler. But after two minutes of silent, seething entente, Edward wishes they could go back to arguing again. He hates silences, particularly those with Bella. So he's pleased when she speaks—less so when he hears her words.

Her voice is stern and steely, cold and clinical. He's never heard this tone before. "Edward, I don't care what has or will happen—I will not tolerate you mentioning Jacob." Inside, she is burning from embarrassment, anger flaring from hearing Edward bring up the incident. She can't believe what a troll he's being. And yes, yes, that's not very politically correctly to say and "trolls are people, too". But even so, his audacity is rather monstrous in light of how shaky things are between the two of them.

Edward is frowning. In his rare moments of self-effacing self-reflection, he knows he runs his mouth off too much. He really hadn't meant to bring up that topic. Ever. It is simply something he'd rather know as little as possible about—the few snippets he does know are already quite painful for him. And now, inadvertently, he has not only seriously offended Bella, but found out its name. Jacob. That's going to rattle in his brain, like an itch he can't scratch—and not the good kind.

"Alright, Swan," he replies.

"I asked you not to call me 'Swan'," she says icily, face still turned away from him as she talks to the window. Inwardly, Edward kicks himself. He can rattle off euphemisms for sex by the dozen, but attempt to string together a détente and he messes it up before he even starts. This has always been his problem—he's so bad with serious.

What was formerly a thick river of tension has frozen into an icy barrier between them. Even as Edward continues to drive, his eyes flick to Bella, and he notices that she is still staring out the window. Deciding that the hostility is too thick to wade through, he dives right into a new conversation, hoping deflection will glaze over their differences, if only temporarily.

"So it's kind of strange to you, too? That Aro was so focused on containment?" Edward asks. He's relieved when Bella nods. She turns, still not looking at him, but facing straight ahead instead of away from him. It's something. "I can only think this is way bigger than just whatever's going on here. There's some hidden agenda and maybe not even Aro knows the full story, which is why he's so insistent this be clandestine."

"When have you known Aro not to know the whole story?" Bella asks. Edward nods in agreement. There's nothing like mutual hatred of a boss to reunite warring employees.

It is thoroughly odd what Aro is asking them to do—essentially sit on a case and watch it as opposed to actively trying to solve it, sacrificing expedience. He had stressed to them that even if it delayed their investigation, it was more important that they made sure to snuff out rumors, keep whatever occurrences may take place under the radar. He had ordered that they spend the first few days, if not weeks (god, Bella hopes it won't be weeks), merely watching and observing, doing background research.

"He could have been really distracted," Bella posits. "Marcus told me that there's a big missing person's case. Daughter of a god—probably whoever he was talking to on the phone, which would explain why he was being torn a new one."

Edward nods and is about to speak when something else grabs his attention. "Are you ready for this?"

"For what?"

Edward jerks his chin at a sign they are driving by. Welcome to Forks, population: 3211. "Home strange home."

As the GPS directs them to the Forks Inn, where they'll be staying, there is a noticeable change in the air despite no change in the air conditioning. Bella notices it, instinct and intuition twining to prickle at the back of her neck. She glances at Edward, and from the furrow between his heavy-set brows, she knows he feels it too.

They've been at this long enough to know the feel of Magic, how it perfumes the air. Magic isn't a smell, but it acts like it, dousing the atmosphere. It sits subtly yet surely in the back of the mind, conspicuous at first before it diffuses, re-calibrating everything to become undetectable until it startles you once it has gone.

Something is in the air, alright.

As if reading her mind, Edward states this, continuing, "This is going to make our instruments go crazy." He is referring to various devices they have brought with them, used to detect and identify various aspects of supernatural phenomenon.

"We can set them up in our rooms, but Marcus told me they may not really help. A vampire coven used to inhabit the area," Bella says, referring to the rooms they'll be staying in at Forks Inn.

Edward nods. "I know. According to my research, they left about ten years ago, though. I couldn't get details of when they arrived, but depending on how long they stayed here and how much they hunted, the trace they left behind may have dissipated. We'll see."

The GPS instructs Edward to turn left, so he does and then they are on the main street of Forks. Bella spies Forks Inn in the distance, but before that she sees the police station blur by them. She cranes her neck to let her gaze linger, knowing that her father is in there. With a combination of trepidation and false bravado, she turns to point out the landmark to Edward.

But the words never leave her mouth because Edward slams on the brakes with a loud swear from his mouth and a louder screech from the tires of the Volvo.

Now Edward and Bella have seen a lot of strange things in their line of work. They've seen ogres who wanted careers in show business (one who got one, not naming any names), banshees who were too happy to cry and a siren who wanted to become a pirate. To say the least, they're pretty adept in dealing with oddities.

But nothing in the world is as astonishing, as entertaining or as annoying as just good old human stupidity. People doing dumb things. Like so:

A man is scrambling across the road. He is mammoth in size—yes, mammoth is an appropriate term as he seems to have all the grace and momentum of one as he runs, darting looks over his shoulder.

Bella and Edward follow his gaze to see a stunning blonde in hot pursuit of him; she's waving her arms and wailing loudly.

"Emmett! Stop running! I love you, Emmett!" Her shriek is grating and utterly off-putting; not the kind of convincing one would need to stop running.

Bella and Edward tear their gaze away from the unbelievable scene unfolding in front of them to glance at each other. They hadn't quite believed it when it was written in plain words in the case file, but now, between the strange aura of the town and the ridiculous pair in front of them, it's undeniable.

Something is rotten in the town of Forks.

"Get away from me, Rose! Yesterday you said I was more monkey than man!" Emmett has decided that he will run no more and stops about ten feet away from Edward and Bella's car, giving them a front row seat as he tries to reason with the woman rapidly, enthusiastically approaching him.

"But you're my monkey man!"

Reason may not be the way to go on this one.

A knock on the window startles Bella and Edward out of their flabbergasted stupor. Bella rolls down the window and is stunned into rare silence to see a face so familiar to hers staring back at her.

If he is equally shocked to lay eyes on his daughter for the first time in almost a decade, Charles Swan doesn't show it.

"Bella," he says. Despite his placid expression, it is screamingly obvious that Charles Swan is not a social being, making this reunion even more awkward. "Welcome to Forks." He raises his hand into her window, perhaps to offer his daughter a handshake, but seems to change his mind halfway through and begins dropping it back to his side.

Realizing that this is a moment in which he can redeem himself from his words in earlier in the car ride, Edward leans across Bella and offers his own hand. "Chief Swan, I'm Edward Masen."

"Uh yeah, Edward. I was informed that you'd be Bella's partner on this," he says, somehow infusing a fatherly disapproval into the word 'partner'. Still, he takes Edward's hand and shakes it heartily, glad for something to mask Bella's strange silence.

"Rose, get off me. Chief! Help me out here!" Emmett's plea for help directs their attention back to the debacle taking place.

Charlie Swan is visibly chagrined as he says, "I see you've met my deputy."

"That girl chasing after him, is she one of the episodes you listed in the case file?" Edward asks.

The Chief opens his mouth to answer, but their conversation is interrupted as the woman—'Rose' as Monkey Man called her—catches up and latches on to her prey. "Just hold still and let me love you!"

In a voice that clearly indicates that he doesn't suffer fools—and therefore, by being in this town is suffering greatly—Chief Swan replies, "No. This is a new one."

All three of them swing their gaze over to where Emmett is vehemently trying to struggle out of Rose's industrial-strength grip.

"Can't he just threaten to lock her up? I mean, that's got to count as assaulting an officer," Edward says, cringing as Emmett frees his arm from Rose's grip only to have her fling her embrace around his torso. It is pathetic and weird, which makes it infinitely comical.

"You misunderstood me," Charlie says. Edward and Bella turn their attention back to him. "Emmett's not my deputy. Rose is."


Moonlightdreamer333 is beta fantastico and spoils me silly. Quothme wasn't here for this one, but she's always amazing. And Daisy3853 is the Penny to my Billy-buddy.

I know it was a short chapter after a long wait, but we're in Forks now & there (hopefully) won't be as long of a delay till the next chapter. I've been writing FGB stuff. I also got cool things: a VIP cabin at ADF & banner by the talented famouslyso. Everything's on my profile.

Thank for you reading and if you do, reviewing. It's really appreciated.