Rating: M/NC-17 for violence, language and lemons

Disclaimer: All hail Stephanie Meyer who owns all Twilight characters, and all not-so-veiled Twi-references and bastardized quotes. Me? I own what's left.

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BPOV

I pull the naan out of the oven, cut it into fourths, place it in the bread basket with the warming stone, and cover it with a linen napkin to keep it warm. Tonight is a night for all of Alice's favorites. This may be because it has been so long since the two of us have had an opportunity to have a girls' night. However, it may also have something to do with the fact that I feel wicked guilty over keeping mum on vital information regarding Alice's "one-that-got-away." Either way, I have been channeling my inner Iron Chef Cat Cora, and have pulled out all the stops, and assembled all of Alice's favorites including: the veggie samosas that I'd pulled from the freezer: I'd made them from scratch one weekend after a particularly successful op; the homemade spicy chutney that she deemed nectar of the gods during one dinner; dal; basmati brown rice; a lamb vindaloo guaranteed to make our eyes water; and homemade kheer, an Indian-spiced rice pudding with jasmine tea for dessert. My down time on assignment in India had been well spent.

The pièce de résistance is a large pitcher of Alice's favorite cocktail: Captain Handsome. Only Alice would discover a cocktail that she swears was inspired by her one and only. She discovered it at some hip hotspot in Seattle called Vessel while on assignment a few years back. She never said, but I suspect she may have actually been there with her 'one-that-got-away.' The funny thing about Alice's poison of choice is that it is pretty and looks fairly harmless, but it packs a wicked punch. It is the hint of absinthe that gives the cocktail that knock-you-on-your-ass-and-make-you-see-stars-quality, and is likely how the drink earned its name. Ironically, that's precisely how it seems that Jasper Whitlock affected Alice. As far as cocktails go, honestly, I prefer my old standby: a nice single malt on the rocks: Glenfiddich, if it is available. However, tonight is not about me.

It is clear that my guilty conscience is working overtime, and I was neither raised Catholic nor Jewish. Damn you, Emmett McCarty! Nonetheless, tonight we are pulling out all the stops, and hopefully, I will be able to keep from spilling the beans about Jasper Whitlock. Beyond that, I hope I will be able to keep Alice from grilling me about that fucking Thieving Tsunami who now just so happens to now have a name, and his name is Edward Cullen. Edward-fucking-Cullen: the angel of my nightmares and now bane of my entire-fucking-existence. Laying odds on the evening, I realize that I stand a far better chance of achieving the former rather than the latter.

The doorbell rings as I am finishing up setting the table, and I run in and switch the burners to warm before heading to answer the front door. I open the door, and am greeted by a force of nature who manages to greet me with a hug and a kiss on each cheek despite being weighed down by armfuls of bags and packages.

"Hi Belly! I am so excited. It's been too long since we've had a girls' night! I brought all the necessary supplies. Mmmmm…something smells delicious! You made the vindaloo? With the dal…and the samosas…and the chutney? You do love me!"

My head spins from her verbal explosion. For such a small person, Alice fills a room like no other. Unloading her arms, and helping her carry things into the living room, I can't help but laugh, nod, and tease her mercilessly, "Of course, I love you, Alice. Oh, let me count the ways…I love you to the width, depth, and breadth of your secret closet!"

Alice dumps the contents of her arms onto the sofa, and turns to me feigning hurt, "I see how it is. You are just in this for my fabulous toys and incomparable fashion sense!"

Rolling my eyes, I quip back, "Yeah, yeah, Alice. That's exactly it, and don't forget your shy and retiring demeanor! You know I keep you around to help me channel my inner Siddhartha." We head to the kitchen, and I hold the pitcher up for her inspection, "How about a cocktail? I made your favorite."

Alice giggles like a school girl, bounces up and down in a way that only she can, and waggles her fingers on both hands suggestively at the pitcher, "Oooooooo…Captain Handsome! Come to Mama!"

I pour two of the pale lavender cocktails after rinsing the glasses with absinthe, and set out some poppadoms and chutney while I put the finishing touches on dinner, and Alice gets comfortable, her legs dangling from the bar stool at the kitchen island as she watches me work.

"You know, Bella. If this espionage thing doesn't work out, you could open a restaurant. It amazes me how you manage to master local dishes whenever you are on assignment. How do you do that?"

I shrug, "It's a foodie thing, I suppose. I always cooked for my dad, and the boys on the rez back home. I guess it stuck. I've just widened the repertoire beyond meat and two veg over the years."

After a couple of cocktails, and a bit of shoptalk, I refill our glasses and put the food on the table. Alice brings her glass to the table, and her eyes widen, "Belly, you cooked enough for an army!"

"The better to send leftovers home with you, and to take to Em for lunch tomorrow, my dear."

"You spoil us!"

"It's in my job description. Hey, speaking of Emmett: I have a question for you. Do you have Em's office bugged?"

Alice laughs and her eyes widen, "Whatever would make you ask that?"

"Just something Emmett said to me about your alterego, Edna E. Mode, earlier today, and then you deadpan that spot on imitation during our briefing this afternoon."

Alice dissolves in a fit of giggles, "Ohhhhhh…THAT. That is a running joke between Em and me." Alice digs into the dishes on the table as she continues, "It actually dates back about four years ago when we were both spending a lot of time over here. You were really out of it, so I'm not surprised you don't remember. One night, Em brought over pizza, beer, and Disney movies to help take your mind off of things. Do you remember that at all?"

The festering hole in my gut that never seems to heal completely twinges, and I realize that Alice is referring to the weeks shortly after Jake's death. I grab the sides of my chair to keep from wrapping my arms around my middle in what has become a trademark move that would surely worry Alice, and ruin our evening. I manage to eke out, "Not really, Alice. Those days are a still a bit fuzzy for me."

Alice continues without missing a beat, "That's understandable. Well, Em was teasing me about being our team's version of Edna, thinking he was being sooooo funny. I decided I like the comparison. Edna kicks ass, and has style doing it. She's so much better than those wimpy Disney princesses, don't you agree?"

Unable to restrain myself, I roll my eyes as I fill my plate, "Whatever you say, Alice."

A fair bit of gossiping, and two very full bellies later, I refresh our cocktails and begin clearing the table. Alice joins me, and we make quick work of the mess, and pack up the leftovers. As we're finishing up, Alice skips off to the living room where she had dumped her things upon arrival. When I join her, refreshed cocktails and a second pitcher of Captain Handsomes in hand, she has laid out an array of chick flicks on the coffee table, and has set up all the supplies needed for facials, manies and pedies. Damn, she works fast. You'd think she was equipped with some supernatural powers or something. Before I can comment, Alice interrupts, "I brought everything we'll need for a successful girls' night!"

Surveying her set-up, and being a bit at a loss for words, I nod, "I see that."

Alice turns to me with a box in her hand, "Now, before we get down to business. I have something for you, and I know how you feel about presents, but this is different."

I groan, "Alice. It isn't even my birthday, or Christmas, or any other hokey greeting card holiday that you would use as an excuse. What's the deal?"

Alice smiles brightly, "The deal is that I know how hard this past week has been for you, and I know that you're still struggling to put Jake's death behind you…."

"Let's not go down this road tonight, okay? Maybe I'm just not ready. These things take time, right?" I counter.

"Isabella Marie Swan. I know you love Jake, and that he was the person you were closest to in the entire world, but I fucking guarantee you that if he can see you now, he would not be pleased with how you are sleepwalking through your life as if you are goddamned zombie! The only time you have any spark of life is when you are on the job. That is no way to live, and you know it! You also know that Jake would be furious with you for essentially closing up shop, and barely living as if this is honoring his memory." Alice finishes waving her arms around wildly in exasperation.

"What is your point, Alice? Did you come over here to rake me over the coals, or to hang out and have fun? What's it going to be?" Suddenly I feel ambushed and exhausted by the evening's turn of events.

Alice sees my shift in mood, snakes her arm around my waist, and offers me a small box tied with a platinum ribbon. "I had no intention of rehashing all this when we planned our girls' night, and I certainly don't want to make you sad, or ruin our evening. I just want you to know that Jake is not the only person in your life who gives a damn about you, chica. Now, shut up and open the box!"

I look sideways at my bossy, irrepressible friend and shake my head. I pull the ribbon, lift the lid of the box, and I am greeted by a small silver charm of two Asian characters. I look up at Alice, my eyes questioning her offering.

"It's for your charm bracelet. I know how important the bracelet is to you, and it is high time that it becomes more than a wearable shrine to Jake's memory. Yes, he will always have a place in your heart as well he should, but you are alive, and it is time you rejoined us among the land of the living. It's also high time you realize that you are not in this alone. There are others who love and care about you, Bella."

I exhale slowly, touched and not having any words to respond, or thank her. I know she is right. She is right about all of it.

"It's the Chinese symbol for sisters. You truly are like a sister to me, Bella. It's platinum, not silver. I wanted it to be durable like our friendship. I hope you like it." With that, she lifts my wrist, and clips the charm onto my bracelet opposite the russet wooden wolf.

I smile down at her, and wrap her in a hug squeezing her tight accepting her gift with as much graciousness as I can possibly muster, "Thank you, Alice. That is so thoughtful. I think of you as my sister, too. I really do. Your gift means a lot to me, honestly." Regaining my composure before she could detect the chinks in my armor, I switch the subject, "Now, what girlish fuckery do you have planned for us this evening?"

Alice kisses me on the cheek, and squeezes my hand, knowing not to push, and holds up two handfuls of DVDs. "Pick your poison, Legally Blonde 1 and 2 or Love Affair and An Affair to Remember."

Alice doesn't play fair. I know very well that the Elle Woods Barbie-pink extravaganzas happen to be her all-time favorite chick flicks, while An Affair to Remember and its 1994 remake with Warren Beatty, Annette Bening and Katherine Hepburn secretly happen to be mine. I don't remember ever telling her that. Honestly, I'd rather endure Chinese water torture than watch three hours of Elle Woods, but giving Alice the satisfaction of knowing that she was spot on with her alternate choices didn't sit well, either.

Shaking my head in response, I counter, "How can I possibly choose?"

"Well, I do have one other option." Alice holds up Notorious and raises an eyebrow.

"Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman and Hitchcock it is, then. That's an excellent choice, Ali." Breathing a sigh of relief, I take the DVD from Alice and pop it into the player, setting it up.

Alice pats the seat beside her, and we settle in for an evening of pampering, on-screen romance cloaked in a spy thriller, and a steady stream of Captain Handsomes.

Two hours later, we are exfoliated, buffed, polished, and quite wasted. I don't think either of us had giggled that much in years. For me, it's been four years to be exact. The movie was great. Ingrid Bergman's character, Alicia, had some of the best one liners I'd heard in a long time. I'd filed more than a few of them away for future use. There's just no arguing with Hitchcock, or Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant for that matter. Mmmmm…that Cary Grant did have a certain je ne sais quoi. Not wholly unlike another Brit who'd happened into my life recently. GAH! Stop it, Bella. The only relevant detail worth noting about that Fucking Thieving Tsunami is that he royally fucked-up your op, and stole national secrets. No other details are relevant.

Despite our compromised state, I miraculously manage to keep from spilling the beans on Em being in contact with Jasper, and surprisingly, despite a few thinly veiled references to that Thieving Tsunami, I am able to avoid Alice's version of the Spanish Inquisition regarding one Special Agent Edward Cullen. All-in-all, the night is a success on all fronts.

As the credits roll, I look over at Alice and realize that there was no way in hell that she would be able to drive home. While she manages to polish off the last of the Captain Handsomes, I venture into my bedroom, and pulled out a sleep shirt. I figure Alice would have a much better chance of making that work than swimming in a pair of my pajamas. Having procured something for her to sleep in, I walk across the hall and pull towels, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a razor, and a handful of bogarted hotel toiletries, and leave them in the guest bathroom. I take a bottle of ibuprophen from the cabinet above the sink. I slip back into the kitchen, fill a glass of water, take them back to the guest room, and leave them on the bedside table. I turn on the bedside light, turn down the bed, and shut off the overhead light returning to where Alice is dozing on the sofa. I stop by Alice's purse, and pocket her keys just in case, and tip-toe beside her and gently shake her awake.

"Alice, the guest room is set up for you, and I left everything you'll need to clean up in the main bathroom. I also left one of my sleep shirts in the bathroom for you. Let's go. It's time for you to sleep off your Captain Handsome!"

Without missing a beat, Alice's eyes snap open, and she quips back, "I'd much rather sleep on him, thankyouverymuch. Actually, were he to magically reappear, I can guaran-fucking-tee you that there would be very little sleeping happening!"

"Okay, Ms. Sex Kitten. TMI aside, let's get you to bed, so Jasper can find you in your dreams." Holy Fuck! Busted! She's never actually mentioned his name to me. Now what? Luckily, Alice is apparently too far gone to notice my snafu, gets up, gives me a hug, and stumbles down the hall to the bathroom.

Shaking my head, I stifle a laugh and call after her, "Are you going to be okay?"

She waves me off and blows me a kiss as she closes the bathroom door. "I'll be fine. Sweet dreams, Belly-girl."

I close up the house, pour myself a large glass of water, take a couple of ibuprophen as a pre-emptive strike against the inevitable hangover that I am sure to wake up to in the morning, and head off to bed.

I am startled to consciousness feeling a hand stroking my hair. Lying on my side, eyes still closed, I stretch, first noticing that the covers are bunched around my ankles. Curiously, at some point, I had slipped out of Jake's old plaid flannel pajama bottoms and black t-shirt that I had self-tailored so I could reasonably sleep in them. Jake was a big guy, and there was no way I could have worn his things comfortably without altering them a bit as I found in the early days after his death. Truth be told, I've rarely slept in anything else over the past four years. However, tonight I realize that I am bare and uncovered.

The cool night air dances across my bare skin, but I feel a heat radiating from behind me, warming me. Before I can turn to seek its source, I feel a finger tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and a tongue trace the curve of my ear as the warmth draws me closer and envelopes me. Mmmm…Jake. I've missed you so much. My thoughts are punctuated by the sharpness of teeth sinking into my earlobe. I gasp and feel a shiver run through my body, waking parts of me that have been dormant for much, much too long.

I feel warm hands smooth my hair aside as lips place feathery kisses at the base of my skull. Lips morph into a tongue trailing along my jugular, and lips morph back into teeth scraping and nipping along the slope of my shoulders. Teeth returns to tongue, and electricity sparks through every nerve ending as this tongue lazily trails along the length of my spine marking me vertebrae by vertebrae. I feel my nipples stiffen in arousal from the sensation, and I begin to squirm, my hips rolling and thighs tensing involuntarily under these ministrations. Jake always was an attentive lover, but there is something different in his touch tonight. There's an urgency, a heat, an edge that I don't ever recall existing between us. Mmmmm…I like it. I like it a lot.

I moan softly as I feel long fingers grip the curve of my hip firmly, and my moan turns into a gasp and a whimper as teeth sink mercilessly into the flesh at the exact spot where the curve of my hip meets the swell of my ass. I am lost to the shudder that wracks my frame, and my clit throbs in response to the exquisite pain of being branded. Once seemingly satisfied that I am thoroughly, if not permanently marked, the hands trail up my body pushing my arms over my head as that mouth, those teeth, that tongue kisses, licks, and nibbles each and every one of the eleven inked blossoms that adorn the length of my right side as if making a point to love even the darkest, most depraved parts of me. I purr as each kiss, lick and nip enflames me further.

Suddenly, I am at war with the part of me that wants to lose herself to the heat, the rawness, the arousal, and the part that recognizes that something is not quite right. Something is odd. Jake never saw my ink. Ever. The killing didn't begin until after his death. If Jake is here with me…how is that possible? Nothing makes sense.

Before I can make sense of anything, strong hands wrap around my wrists pinning my arms over my head, and I feel the heat intensify and hover over me setting me on fire. Suddenly, lips crash against mine in an urgent, demanding kiss. The intensity takes my breath away as that tongue claims my own. Teeth take my lips between them, tenderizing them, bruising them.

The hands move further up my arms settling on my biceps still pinning my arms over my head as those lips trail kisses down the curve of my neck, and along the line of my collarbone until they find the swell of my breast. With a squeeze to my biceps that signals me to leave my hands over my head, the hands trail along my sides and join the tongue that is tracing light circles around one nipple, and then the other teasing them to stiff, aching peaks. The hand palms one breast, and I feel my nipple caught between what must be a thumb and forefinger as lips close around the other nipple. Teasing shifts to rolling and pinching as licking turns to sucking and biting. Mouth and hand alternate from one breast to the other until my back arches and I am nearly levitating off the bed with arousal.

I cannot stand it any longer. I lift my hips off the bed, and press myself into his length. Aching to feel him inside me once again, I beg. Shamelessly, I beg him to fuck me over and over. Lips stifle my begging with a deep, soulful kiss that touches me at my core as he bends my knees and spreads my legs wide. I am so wet; I don't think I have ever been this wet, or this aroused for him, ever. He finds my slick entrance, and grunts as he plunges into me with one thrust filling me completely, stretching me open to accommodate his girth. I inhale sharply and moan into his mouth, lifting my hips to meet him, deepening our kiss.

Lost in the moment, I barely notice that his kisses are rougher and laced with more passion than I recall, or that when he moves inside me, the heat, the way he fills me doesn't feel the same as it once did. He pounds into me with more urgency, slamming into me, taking me more roughly than he ever has before, and I am swept away. I feel my orgasm building. Without saying a word, he senses how close I am, and reaches between us and takes my clit between his fingers, and rolls it in quick circles without breaking the rhythm of his thrusts. As my body nears release, he pinches my clit mercilessly, and sets of a series of convulsive tremors that flow through my entire body.

A loud moan escapes my lips as I ride out my orgasm. My eyes finally fly open, and my moan dies in my throat, and is replaced by a blood-curdling scream. My body trembles in the aftermath of my climax, and I am astounded to find myself looking into deep emerald eyes, not deep, chocolate brown ones. Fucking Thieving Tsunami!

I sit straight up in bed stifling the screams that surely must have woken up Alice. Holy Fuck! Or unholy Fuck, rather. What the fuck was that? Better yet, how the fuck am I going to explain this to Alice? Jesus, Bella. Now you're dreaming of that motherfucker? What's next? I look down at myself and I am covered in a layer of sweat, and Jake's pajamas are drenched in more ways than one. I look at the clock, and notice that it is nearly 5 a.m., so I decide to cut my losses, and go for a run.

I throw some water on my face, brush my teeth, and dress quickly. To be safe, I open the door to the guest room to check on Alice, and am stunned that she slept through my screaming orgasms. I check the coffeemaker on my way out to be sure that it would be ready when I return, or Alice wakes up, whichever comes first, and head out to outrun my latest nightmare. I am not sure whether I am more disturbed by my glaring betrayal of Jake, or by the relief I feel at finally not having to endure reliving the day at the warehouse four years ago, or that afternoon Phoenix nearly fourteen years ago. Then, there was the physical release. That certainly didn't suck. Holy Hell! That didn't suck at all.

After wearing myself out, I return to the house, grab a cup of coffee, and knock on the door to the guest room to begin to rouse Alice before making my way to my shower. We have another long day ahead, and it occurs to me that mine is about to begin with Alice raping and pillaging my closet before my breakfast smoothie. Delightful. At least, we wouldn't be playing a game of twenty questions regarding my dream and who starred in it over morning coffee and hangovers. Thank heaven for life's little blessings.

a/n –

No Brit Speak or Spy Speak this week. The next few chapters will make up for that.

You readers are so fabulous and supportive. Thank you for being so amazing, and for being willing to take a chance on this bizarre little incarnation of our favorite characters. I read, adore, and respond to every review. Usually, reviewers receive a teaser for the next chapter as a token of my deep appreciation. Just saying. We all love reviews.

As ever, thanks to my fabulous beta and Scarecrow, Kristi28, who goes above and beyond the call with every single chapter even amid a houseful of germy fuckery!

To my Oz posse (Kristi28, laurasfirsttime, jenniferlyn. 215, MrsTheKing, distant. dream118, unconditionally, and jslack): thank you for your unending support and encouragement. Your feedback and pre-reading eyes keep this thing moving forward.

As for fic recs, I've been snowbound for the past three days, and may finally emerge and return to the office later this morning. You'd think this would mean I spent the entire time writing. Yeah, not so much. I did do a fair bit of reading though. I got completely sucked into (that's what HE said) All of Me by flibbins after tarasueme rec'd it on the Perv Pack Smut Shack. Now, this one is a bdsm fic, and you should go in knowing that. It's not for the faint of heart. Dare I say it is a little hardcore, but interestingly and deliciously, so. My do not pass go, do not collect $200 fic of the week has to go to: Incubus Anomaly by elusivetwilight. I'm really enjoying where she's going with this one. Give it a whirl.

Your next hit of OLR will be posted on on Sunday February 14th. So, Happy Valentines Day (to everyone except my dear pal and TinMan jennifer. lyn215. Happy Birthday, JL!)!

Until soon, my pretties!

xoxo,

drs