Relatively short chapter for everyone. My baby brother is getting married on Saturday, so this will be one of just a handful of weekends since February that I'm not writing.

A weekend away from Charlie . . . not sure if I'm gonna make it.

Chapter 10

Grieg: Peer Gynt Suite #2, Op. 55 - 4. Solveig's Song

CathPOV

My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing they saw was the time. 8:00.

I'd finally slept.

I rolled over onto my back, and the second realization hit me - no nightmares.

Ahhh.

But then a teeny-tiny moment of anxiety snuck up on me - my bodyguards?

Are they still outside?

I threw the covers back and scampered over to the patio doors to peek out, breathing a small sigh of relief as I spotted them both. Humphries stood to the left of my patio, and Jackson to the right. Humphries saw me and waved, so I sheepishly waved back and left the immediate vicinity of the windowed doors. Granted, my clothing consisted of a not-the-slightest-bit-sexy t-shirt and cut-off sweats, but I wasn't too enamored with the idea of these guys seeing me in my jammies two days in a row.

I started the coffee. Yesterday. I smiled to myself. Charlie had made a Herculean effort to be a gentlemen, that was clear to me. The flowers, the compliments, the proffered hand onto the boat, and ultimately his suggestion that he take me back here.

During . . . in the middle of . . . talk about Herculean effort. That alone got him the gold star.

When we finally did get back to the cabin, the first thing I noticed was my door had been fixed. Humphries and Jackson were already standing at the side, waiting for us. Charlie must have called them on his way out of the house. Call it intuition, or just enough knowledge of the male mind, but I had an inkling that Charlie had thought, perhaps hoped, that I wouldn't be returning to it. Little did he know, but our car ride conversation on the way back to the cabin almost made me ask him to stay. Almost.

Charlie had instantly taken my hand the minute we were out of his driveway, and this time, it was different. This time, I was . . . Relaxed? Comforted? Reassured? What amazed me the most was what he conveyed by the simple gesture. Whatever the word was, it escaped me now. But it was there. I'd laid all my cards on the table last night, total exposure, and he'd stood up under the onslaught, the tears, as I lifted the drawbridge that I never intended upon opening. For anyone.

On the outskirts of the town, he'd suddenly turned to me. I thought he'd been surprised to my reaction to the song on the radio, "Let My Love Open the Door" by Pete Townshend, but after I'd revealed it was one of my favorites, he'd kept on smiling.

. . .

"I know I'm a doof, but I like this song, okay? Do you know it?" I shifted in my seat to look straight at him.

"Pete Townshend? Are you kidding? Of course." But when his smile didn't waver, I kept on staring at him.

"What? What's so funny?" I had to ask.

"Nothing." The corners of his mouth slowly drifted downward as he said it, and the lightness of the previous moment flew straight out the window. I thought about pretending I didn't notice, pretending I didn't see the change in him, and twisted back in my seat to look forward. But I couldn't let it go.

"You're not getting off that easy, Chief. What was so funny a minute ago that isn't so funny now?" I turned slightly again so I could see him. He'd gone from 'funny ha-ha' to 'fuck uh-oh' in less than ten seconds.

"You."

"I'm funny? . . ." I could feel Miss Pissy grab hold of the bars of her cage where she had been locked away for the last few days. I didn't like to let her out much. She could be a real bitch.

"Damn, Catherine, that's not what I meant. I meant . . . you. Us. This." He glanced over at me. "It's just . . . I'm not good with, you know . . . saying things right. But . . ." He let out a rather long exhale.

You. Us. This. I looked down at his hand, and as I did, he gave it a quick tug.

"I just . . . haven't felt like this in, oh, I don't know how long," he finally confessed as he squeezed my hand.

It was like getting the wind knocked out of me, but not quite. A quick flashback whizzed into my head of the one time I'd ever had the wind knocked out of me. While flirting with a nice gentleman at a frat party, the wrought-iron railing of the porch we were both sitting on gave way, both of us tumbling backwards off of it smack-dab onto the metal. Alcohol involved, cool. Subsequent trip to the hospital by ambulance because other drunken frat boys were nervous, not cool.

His eyes went back to the road, and his mood grew even more serious, with a dash of apprehension. "Catherine, I don't know what's happening with us. All I know is . . . I don't want to screw this up. I'm real good at screwing things up."

Like I was the poster model for perfect relationships. "Charlie, please . . . I'm no pro at this either, you know. I mean, what I told you tonight should make that pretty evident," I admitted, suddenly finding some lint on my jeans very interesting.

"You're an old pro compared to me." My eyebrow went up at the word "old". I didn't think he saw it, but he must have.

"Uh, I didn't mean old, I meant . . ." he searched for the right word. Telepathically, I tried to tell him "more mature" would have been suitable, but alas . . .

"I just meant, well, I haven't had a relationship since Renee . . . a real relationship, or, er . . . anything that makes me feel like . . . this."

This came out as part of another long exhale, as if he'd been holding his breath for the last three minutes. I'd sort-of figured out, even in our short time together, that Charlie wasn't the great communicator, that words didn't flow from him like Shakespearean prose.

At this moment, however, his sincerity was unmistakable.

"Renee and I were just kids. She had dreams, big dreams, and staying in Forks wasn't one of them. She wanted out of here, anywhere but here. And I couldn't leave. I was a rookie cop. It was all I'd ever wanted to be. A cop here in Forks. I'd grown up here, had friends and family here. Both of my parents were sick and needed me to take care of them. But we got married anyway. I thought . . . asking her to marry me would help, would change things. Then she got pregnant."

He glanced away, nearly out his side window. I got the feeling that he was remembering something hurtful, something painful, and he didn't want me to see it written on his face.

"But it didn't. She . . . we became like two strangers, with Bella the only thing that would even get us to talk to each other. She never even asked me what I wanted." He turned to me then, so quickly I almost jumped. "Don't get me wrong, Bella's the best thing that ever happened to me, and I wouldn't trade her for the world. But if Renee hadn't gotten pregnant, would we have stayed together, even for the short amount of time we did? Probably not. I think she would've taken off the first chance she got. She did anyway." He stopped, and I let the silence linger before a smidgeon of courage gave me the strength to speak.

"Charlie, I'm . . . I'm so sorry. You didn't need to . . . tell me . . . about you and Renee just because I . . ."

His pained expression left no doubt in my mind that it was the first time he'd spoken all of that aloud. "No, I'm not telling you because of what you told me tonight. I want you to know . . . to understand. Catherine, I . . . I don't want to . . . I like what we have here. I, uh, don't know where it's going, or how you feel. I think you sort of don't mind being around me, right?"

I just nodded my head yes and grinned.

"I just want you . . . to stay, for as long as you can. I know we've only known each other for a few days, and you have a job and a family back in Chicago, and well . . ." He paused, and I stayed quiet. "But when you know, you just know. You know?"

He stared out the windshield, and I was almost relieved he didn't look at me. My jaw was nearly in my lap, so I snapped it shut before he noticed. I finally knew what the word "dumbstruck" actually meant, but it was more like a priest behind the confessional screen, without the anonymity. Charlie didn't seem like the type who let emotion overcome him, but the pain behind his words nearly broke my heart.

I couldn't even fathom leaving him, taking his baby daughter away from him . . . taking our baby daughter . . . Our baby daughter?

Don't go there.

I laced my fingers through his, and as I did, I realized I liked the look of it, the sensation of his strong fingers holding my considerably smaller ones. The slightest squeeze of his fingers on the back of my hand told me he was looking at me, but I couldn't look up.

After so many years of hiding, after everything I'd been through . . . Was there someone who might actually break through? Someone I could let in? Was that someone actually sitting next to me?

"Yes, I think I know . . . what you mean. I . . ." I turned to look at him. "Charlie, I'm just so . . ."

His eyes were back on the road. "Terrified?"

"Yesss." My answer came out in a breath as I lowered my head. Admitting fear; one of my ten commandments broken.

"Me, too," he nearly whispered as he tugged at my hand again. I chanced a sideways look at him, and he was staring straight at me, his expression concerned, as if he'd broken one of his own rules, too.

Another long silence and a few deep breaths later, I said, "Hmmm. You know, this would make a terrific Hallmark, no Lifetime Channel, movie."

"What?" he laughed out.

"You know, one of those God-awful chick flicks they show. Girl meets guy, or vice versa, they fall in love, some sort of angsty thing happens, they make-up, and then they live happily ever after."

"Angsty?" He said the word as if he never heard it before.

"You know, a fight, or some roadblock put between the two of them by some outside force, blah, blah, blah." How did one explain angst to a guy?

"Have we had angsty?" he asked, truly mystified.

"No, but I'm sure it's coming. Probably when we get back to my cabin." I smiled and gave him a wink. Suddenly, I was really happy he'd glossed over the "fall in love" "happily ever after" part of my explanation.

We reached the cabin minutes later, and Charlie dutifully checked in with Humphries and Jackson as I inspected my door by giving a few good tugs on the doorknob. It seemed pretty solid.

"Hey, easy there, Tiger. Had Forks' finest handle that. It won't be coming down again, unless, of course, Jackson takes another kick at it."

He had his arms around my waist before I had the key in. I chanced a glance over to where Humphries and Jackson had been standing. They'd disappeared to the side of the cabin, obviously to give their Chief maneuvering room, aka privacy. I was acutely aware of his body pressed against my back. With the doorknob barely turned, he shoved me through it, slammed it shut with his foot, and spun me around, capturing my arms at my sides. His lips were on mine before I could turn on the light, or drop my keys or purse, each slipping through my fingers and ending up on the floor.

The minute I felt his tongue, I rethought my decision to leave his place. I loved the feel of it, the way he moved it against mine, asking me, tempting me, luring me. . . My hands slid from where they'd been imprisoned at my side up his chest, over his shoulders and around, one landing on the back of his neck, the other buried in his hair. God, I loved wrapping my fingers in it.

I came up for air. "You . . . you know I want you to stay, right?" using his line from earlier. He gave me that shit-eating grin I was beginning to love.

"Yep."

His mouth captured mine again, then nipped slowly across my jaw, until he found that special spot behind my ear, his tickly mustache sending sparks through me. I was putty, no, more like a limp noodle, in his hands. My neck muscles began to fail as my head drifted backwards, and his hand came up to catch it. The other one at my lower back pulled me tighter to him, while his lips worked their way back to mine. I wanted to drop all reason right there on the floor. Screw the bed. We'd get there eventually.

"Catherine. Catherine. Look at me." Suddenly, his warm lips were gone. What? Oh, he had said . . . something.

"Yeah?" I said in a whisper, through half-lidded eyes.

"Call me tomorrow. First thing when you get up."

Bam. Talk about a cold shower.

"Oh, okay. Okay."

He loosened his hold of me, but didn't let me go completely. My hand still in his hair traveled slowly down across the stubble on his cheek, where the tips of my fingers suddenly decided to explore his bristly mustache, and then his soft lips, memorizing the complete opposite textures of the two. As I let out an exhale that would've matched his from earlier, I brought my arms down around his waist and pulled him back to me, putting my head on his chest. My hands slowly wandered down to his lovely backside. The memory of him leaning over my car engine, and what I'd been thinking then, washed over me, and I giggled.

"You are unbelievable," he said, exasperated. "You're definitely not making this any easier." He took my shoulders and gave me a gentle nudge away.

"Okay, okay. Go, Mr. Big Chief. Or whatever they call you." I stepped back and watched him turn to walk out the door.

"Remember, call me. First thing," he ordered, halfway through the door, not looking back. I knew that any hesitation, even a last minute glance back, and he wouldn't have left.

. . .

Now, holding my morning coffee, I giggled at the memory. As I walked over to the couch, I touched his number on my phone.

"Hey." He sounded as if he'd just woken up.

"Did I wake you? You . . . you said to call first thing. I only hesitated long enough to make my coffee." Okay, that came out a little too panicky.

"No, I'm awake. I'm just lying here . . . thinking," he said contentedly.

"Really? Whatcha thinking about?" I asked demurely.

"You. Here. Me. There. I think you can get the picture."

I could hear his grin. I let an image of my own float to the surface . . . both of us, naked on a bed, my hand softly running over the skin and hair on those pecs of his.

I decided to play along. "Mmmm. Yes, I think I do. Tell me, what am I doing?"

"You . . . are . . . doing . . . things . . . to me." I couldn't tell if he was embarrassed to describe what I was doing, or if he was just being coy.

"Mmmm. And what are you doing?"

"Loving every minute of it."

I inwardly squealed, but kept up my façade. "I see. May I ask if you . . . or . . . was it reciprocated?"

"Oh, it was reciprocated. Right before you called." I heard a swish in the background, like sheets moving, and I could tell he'd sat up.

"Well, that's just lovely. I should've called you before I made my coffee." The disappointment in my voice not completely fake.

He laughed this time. "Yeah, you should have. But I'm back now. Back to reality. Speaking of which, I have to go into the station for a few hours this morning." His mood changed instantly with the mention of the station.

"Okay. No problem. I think I'm going to go out to the beach for awhile. Maybe take a walk." I had yet to take advantage of one of the main reasons I'd chosen to stay at this lodge.

He hesitated slightly, enough for me to sense he wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. "Just make sure you stay within sight of Humphries and Jackson, and tell them where you're going." There was my big Police Chief.

"Yes sir!" I barked back.

"Catherine, I'm serious. Just because we haven't found this guy, or any leads . . ."

"You didn't find anything? No one else saw him?" I let slip a smidge of fear. I hadn't just imagined him, had I? "M-maybe, maybe he just went away. Maybe he saw you when I . . . when you were there waiting, and just decided . . . I wasn't worth the trouble." I sounded as if I was trying to convince myself as much as I was trying to convince him.

"Yeah, maybe. But I'm not taking any chances. I don't want you walking too far on that beach, even if there are other people about. Can you do that for me - stay within sight of my guys?"

He was seconds away from calling a SWAT team to come surround me on the beach. He knew I was scared, and I had to admit I was, but if I was going to get to the beach, I had to fake bravery, and I had to do it well.

"Yes, of course I can do that, silly." Must shift conversation. "How 'bout I even drive myself over for lunch today? Then you won't have to worry about that, either. By the way, what time should I be there?"

He paused, and I was positive he was mulling option a, letting me actually drive over, or b, coming out her to fetch me himself.

"Yeah. All right. How's 1:00? That should be enough time to do . . . to get things straightened at the station, and for you to have your beach time." He snidely said the words you and beach, but jokingly enough so I knew he was back from Worryville.

"Perfect," I replied. "Oh, but Chief, is that jealousy I hear? Don't be." I looked out the patio doors. "It's cloudy. It will probably rain any minute now, and your concern will be all for nothing, because I'll be stuck in this cabin until I can drive to your place."

There was a huge sigh on the other end. "Hmmm. I wonder if the Quileute have a prayer for rain, not that we'd ever need it around here. Maybe I'll call Billy and ask him . . ."

"What? What's a Quileute? Who's Billy?"

"It's a local Native American tribe. Billy Black. He's a friend of mine."

"Oh." I paused, taking that all in. "Listen, you do what you need to do, Chief, and don't worry about me. I'll be a good girl."

"Mmmm. Yes, I know you will." We were not talking about the beach anymore.

"You are unbelievable, Charlie Swan," I said, using his words from last night. I tried to sound offended, but secretly, I was tickled pink to hear this side of him.

"You have no idea," he said, almost as if a challenge, and hung up the phone. Oh, but I could imagine.

I hurriedly did my morning routine, threw on some shorts and a t-shirt, although it really wasn't that warm, and put my hair in a ponytail. I decided to be the good little girl I'd promised to be, since Charlie would undoubtedly call Humphries or Jackson for updates. Just lying on the beach reading for awhile would do, so I grabbed my overused copy of Sense and Sensibility. But I needed something to lie on, so I look around and spied the blanket I had purchased hanging out of my pack. Grabbing it, I shuddered at the thought of the day I'd bought it. No, I wasn't going to let another "episode" ruin my morning. That asshole wasn't going to keep me from doing what I wanted to do.

I walked out and dutifully told Humphries and Jackson I would be right out on the beach where they could see me, per Charlie's orders. I found a nice spot, not too near the water. As long as I could see my bodyguards, and they could see me, everything would be fine.

In a few hours, I would be meeting Charlie's daughter. I felt a chill run over me, and noticed I had goosebumps. I wasn't completely sure if it was the sea breeze causing them, or the thought of meeting Bella. I decided to get to Charlie's early so I could have a beer before Bella arrived. I wondered if Charlie knew how to make a good martini . . .

Damian POV

I studied her from my secluded perch, her horizontal shamelessness almost an invitation, her choice of fiction less so. Austen. A superfluous melodrama. Why would she waste her time on such drivel? My thoughts were interrupted by the unencumbered view of the pale flesh of her legs revealed by her lack of sufficient clothing. I would stroke their smoothness with my icy fingers soon enough, savoring her shivering body as I did so. That, and all she had yet to expose.

I pondered her two defenders, obviously not the masterminds of the law enforcement brigade, but enough to deter me from revealing himself. I briefly entertained the thought of another chance meeting with her, remembering the darkened path and the thrill of my touch across her frightened and immobile body. The speed at which I could seize her now, and carry her to the farthest recesses of the forest, was admittedly intriguing. But I knew better than to chance even a second on the open shore with possible witnesses. Unintended casualties would draw excess attention, although just a drop of human blood would be extraordinarily satisfying. It had been so long. No. None would compare to the delicious taste of her, and I would have my fill. Besides, the absence of Charlie Swan prevented the fulfillment of what was now becoming my secondary goal.

Because I knew nothing could come about during the daylight hours, I returned to my quarters, powered on the laptop, and dispatched a report to Aro.

Aro,

Mission nearly completed. All is well and going as expected. Should be returning home within the week.

Your humble servant,

Damian

As if Aro had been sitting, anxiously awaiting news, his reply appeared almost instantaneously.

Dearest Damian,

Your news lifts my spirits. However, I would have expected a more prompt and immediate resolution. I look forward to hearing you tell of the adventures that prolonged your stay, and all the wonderment that you have enjoyed. Please do return soon. I would hate to have to send Felix to fetch you. He does so hate leaving home.

Aro

Aro was growing impatient, assuredly. I settled upon two more days as the length of postponement the most I could afford. After the previous evening's spectacle, I questioned my own endurance. I powered down the machine and crept silently from the room, the thought of her prone form on the sand overpowering. The ache for her mounted in my core the longer she remained absent from view.

BellaPOV

I went back up to the house in the early morning, after making sure Jacob and Renesmee were engrossed with some video game in the cottage. Some time during the middle of the night, Jake had fallen asleep on the couch, and I'd let him sleep while I paced and glanced at my cell phone once a minute. Edward and crew hadn't called, which meant they had found nothing.

Renesmee questioned me for the first part of the morning, wondering where Edward was, and why Jake had slept over. She then turned to Jake, cleverly figuring out that he knew something as well. I told her the only excuse I could come up with, that Edward had left to hunt early, and he would be back soon. I said Jacob had fallen asleep after she had gone to bed, and I'd let him stay. I hated not telling her the truth, but frightening her with the vision, not to mention the possible presence of another vampire bent on killing her grandfather, was not an option. So Jacob and I did our best to make her think there was nothing going on. But my daughter was too perceptive.

I opened the patio door to see Carlisle, Esme, and Alice sitting in the living room.

"They haven't returned? Any of them? Have they called you?" I walked up and took a seat next to Esme on the couch. She wrapped her arm around me in her motherly way.

"No, nothing. You?" Carlisle asked.

"Nothing. Alice, you haven't seen anything new? Any change?" I knew Alice would have said something by now, but I needed to ask anyway.

"Not a thing. It hasn't changed a bit," she replied dejectedly. "And it doesn't look like good news on the search either."

As if Jasper himself had heard her, the front door came bursting open, and the four of them stood in front of us. Alice flew to Jasper's arms, and Edward came to my other side, taking my hand. I searched his face.

"Well, did you find him? Did you . . . get rid of him?" Useless questions on my part, as I already knew what they weren't telling me. My stare shifted from Edward to Jasper, then to Emmet, and finally Rose.

"Bella . . ." Edward hesitated. "There was nothing. No hint, no trace of him whatsoever."

A/N:

So did everyone enjoy our adorably bumbling favorite cop?

A little teaser for the next chapter: Catherine meets Bella. Dun, dun, duh. ;)

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.