Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.

Rated M for several reasons.

Chapter 10 Slowly, Slowly, Catchy Monkey

BPOV

Drinks in hand and pizza ordered we settle at opposite ends of the center island, like protagonists at a highly charged political debate.

"How much do you remember about Forks?" He asks.

"Cold, wet, miles from anywhere."

He smiles slightly.

"It isn't that bad."

"Yeah." I snort. "It is."

"Alright, no reason for Olympic Real Estate to call you then?"

I shake my head and manage a small smile of my own. It's apparently very difficult to stay mad at Jake.

"Do you remember First Beach?"

I nod.

"Do you remember, in High School, when you guys came down from town to go surfing?"

Another nod.

"Do you remember the stupid story you flirted out of me?"

I swallow and manage to croak out a yes.

'The Cullens don't come here.' One of the boys from the Res had said.

The Cold Ones.

Does he know it was more than a story?

"You dated one of them, didn't you?" He asks quietly, watching me intently. "The Cullens."

Another swallow.

"Did you notice anything different about them?" His voice is even lower now.

This is where I should laugh and ask him if he's trying to tell me vampires are real after all these years, and threaten to take away his beer since one sip is clearly all it takes. Except I'm not that much of an actress.

"I always wondered, later, if you knew."

"Knew what?" I ask, voice even quieter than his.

"What they were."

I could clam up at this point and refuse to say anything but that's hardly helpful is it? So I decide to continue in the style he's set, confession without using the words.

"Yes."

We sip our drinks.

"Weren't you afraid?" He seems genuinely curious.

"Of them? No. Never."

We both lapse into silence, each of us, I guess, reviewing our secrets. Wondering where we go from here.

"Why are you asking me about them?"

He blows out a breath and sets his beer down on the counter.

"There aren't many of them, their kind, but they are out there."

I don't know if he's talking about vampires in general or the vegetarian variety, so I keep quiet.

"I run into them, from time to time."

Okay, he's lost me, no one, well mostly no one, runs into vampires and then walks away to talk about it.

"They leave a trail of death and destruction in their wake."

Yes. Some of them definitely do. I shudder and rub the scar on my hand, remembering.

A pounding on the door makes me jump, but not Jake, he seemed to be expecting it.

"Pizza Mrs Swan!" A familiar voice yells.

Thankful for the distraction I slip off my stool and rush out to collect it. Tipping the delivery boy, one of Freya's class mates, in the process. Then I busy myself setting out plates and all the other paraphernalia that grown-ups seem to need to eat what was once a simple, messy, fast food.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. I don't know about him but I'm not really hungry, it's just something to do.

"Not all of them." I don't know why I feel compelled to defend the Cullens but I do.

"Not all of them what?"

"Leave a trail of d-death and destruction."

"They seemed to do quite a number on you if I remember correctly." He observes and I shudder.

I remember that night vividly cold, numb and soaked to the bone. One of the guys from the Res, Sam Uley, found me in the end, lost in the forest. I can still recall, because it pops up from time to time in my dreams, the line of concerned faces that paraded past my lolling head as he carried me out of the trees and into the parking lot of the High School. Teenage Jake had been one of them. I wonder what other memories he has of that time, because I'm pretty sure that was the last time I laid eyes on him until he practically mowed me down on the sidewalk a few weeks ago.

If there is anything he doesn't look very happy about it.

"That wasn't because of what they were." I offer by way of explanation, abandoning the pizza and going for the wine.

"Wasn't it?"

"No Jake, it wasn't at least not directly."

"What about when you broke your leg?"

"I fell down a staircase."

"Sure you did."

I close my eyes for a moment, willing the memories away. The darkened ballet studio, the smell of the highly polished wooden floor, the way I slid across it when James threw me, crashing into one of the mirrors. The shattered glass, the blood, the pain when he leant down and snapped my leg like a twig. There's no way Jake could know about that.

We glare at each other.

"You know, Bella." He says softly, absorbing himself in tearing off another slice of pizza. "Honest communication is a two way street."

Damn. He's got me there.

"Alright. I didn't fall down any stairs. But they didn't do it, they saved me."

He harrumphs but doesn't comment and I wonder how long it's going to be before one of says the 'V' word out loud. Hell, for that matter I wonder how he even knows . . . .

"Why are you asking me about the Cullens?" I ask again.

He shakes his head, reaching for his beer like a defence shield.

"You know he's been here, don't you?"

"Who?"

"Carlisle."

To my surprise he visibly relaxes, I hadn't even realised he was still tense.

"No." He breathes quietly. "I didn't know it was him."

What?

"I thought you were in danger Bella. I thought one of their usual kind was coming after you."

My skin prickles but despite that I actually laugh. How funny is that? In all these years I never once even considered running into any vampires other than the Cullens. God, I need my own page on the Darwin Awards.

"But, if you didn't know he'd been here, how did you . . . ."

"I don't know any of their scents, they left before . . . ." He stops, shaking his head again and muttering something about me making him crazy.

"You can smell them?"

He just looks at me.

"But, how?" I mean, I know they smell wonderful, up close, but they're not exactly air fresheners.

He continues to look at me.

"Is this one of the things you can't tell me?"

"Yes."

Alright. So he knew a vampire had been here, by scent apparently, but not which one. Which makes him what, exactly? The olfactory equivalent of Superman?

"You were going to leave me." There's an element of accusation in my tone that's leaked out by accident.

You thought a vampire had been here, a dangerous one, and you were just going to go. Ouch.

Well of course he was, you stupid woman, what was he going to do, slap it round the face with his glove and challenge it to a duel?

"No. Bella. I was never going to leave. I was . . . . am . . . . going to protect you."

Leaving aside that the only protection I need from the Cullens is not to care about them I can't help but wonder what he was planning . . . . I've seen him crush the side of a van with one hand and rip a tree out by its roots. I've watched them play baseball, completely understanding why they needed the sound of thunder to cover the noise it made. I've not seen them at all when they move at their natural speed, just felt the wind of their passage whipping my hair against my cheeks. I've heard the metallic screech of one of them being torn to pieces.

"And how were you going to do that Jake, if I needed it?"

And, we're back to staring at each other in silence. Which makes it doubly bad that my mind has suddenly wandered to kissing that pouty look off his face. What in the sam hill is wrong with me?

"Sometimes Bella." He says quietly, eyes boring into mine. "You just have to take things on a little faith."

"I don't know if I have any faith left."

"I've never done anything to hurt you Bella, can we start with that?"

Not true!

"You used to pull my pig tails." That hurt like hell, though I never admitted at the time.

"You used to pin me down and give me Chinese rope burns. Though to be honest it was far worse when you used to pin me down and kiss me."

"You weren't complaining the other ni . . . ." Oh god, my hand claps over my mouth.

For a moment his megawatt smile dazzles me and then he's serious again.

"Alright Bella. There are things I can't tell you and there are things I shouldn't. I want to tell you everything. We were good friends once and I'd like to think we can be more than that in the future. And I'll understand if you don't think you can trust me, you can, but I'll understand." He heaves in a deep breath. "I want you to trust me Bella, I want that really badly. We both know we're talking about vampires, I'll say it, I don't mind, I know you're not going to call the nut wagon."

Pause

"You're not, are you?"

I shake my head.

"Good. " Another deep breath. "It freaks me out that you're still associating with them, they're so dangerous, but you don't have to tell me why, if you don't want to. I can't ask for that, considering I can't tell you . . . ."

"They're here." I blurt out. "I only just found out. Like Forks. Carlisle's working at the hospital and the rest of them are going to school with . . . . shit Jake . . . . they're at school with Freya."

He's across the room in a flash, long arms winding round me, cheek resting on the top of my head, almost hefting me off the stool and into his chest in the process.

"It's not what you think." I choke out. "They're not dangerous. I just don't want what happened to me to happen to her."

"What happened to you?"

Should I tell him? I've waited a lifetime to be able to share this with someone. But this is Jake. I like Jake. I don't want to frighten him off, at least not any quicker than I'm bound to manage naturally. Bren, in dating guru mode, is in my head, telling me that sharing my romantic horror stories is the kiss of death to a new relationship. And right now I feel like what I have with Jake, supernatural crap and withheld information notwithstanding, could be the beginning of a relationship.

Yeah, sure. A very short one.

Have I managed any other kind? Maybe that's all I'm good for.

This feeling, the one I'm having right now, of comfort and protection, it's going to be kind of hard to give up. But not impossible.

"Bella?" Jake prompts me, grip tightening.

"I can't . . . ." I shake my head, inadvertently moistening his t-shirt with my stupid tears.

And suddenly he's vibrating again. Like a tuning fork. The movement resonating through my body. I don't understand it, but I get that its protective. And I find that really attractive in an ill-timed and totally inappropriate way . . . .

"Jake, please, they . . . ." Deep breath. "H-he didn't do anything more to me than any other feckless boyfriend. Please, trust me."

My arms snake around his waist, hugging him back just as tightly, willing him to believe me, to calm down. I can't cope if he goes storming off again, not now . . . .

"Sorry." He murmurs into my hair, thumbs stroking my back. "Sorry."

Gradually we both calm down.

And then he opens his mouth, inhaling. I've no idea what he's going to say but we're done, for now. The Cullens have taken over my life, again, in the last two days, and that's enough, all I can cope with. I've finally found someone I might be able to share my experiences with, for reasons I don't understand, but I don't want to do it now. I don't need his empathy in this moment. I need to be reminded that there's more to life than some crappy and highly unusual memories.

"Jake, please, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Not tonight."

"You know we need to talk about it, right?"

I nod, rubbing my cheek against his chest more than is strictly called for.

"I don't want to go." He admits.

"I don't want you to either." I acknowledge. "But, Jake, I'm a mess right now . . . ."

"Got any movies?"

"Chick flicks and, um, ah . . . ."

"Vampire movies?"

"Um." Not remotely embarrassing. Not at all. That I have just about every vampire movie ever made . . . .

"Under the circumstances I'll go for a chick flick, but I'll need beer."

"I've got beer."

"Then help me drag it to the couch, I'm a slob, I don't wanna get up again if I don't have to."

I snort some additional moisture into his t-shirt, for good measure, and he releases me, trailing me to the refrigerator, grabbing the beer and my wine, leaving me to collect my glass and follow him to the couch.

"Elucidate oh master." He drawls as he flops onto it and I bend over to inspect the DVDs.

"How conciliatory are you feeling?" I ask him.

"I'm pretty much prostrate here, you decide."

I snicker as I make a selection. He asked for it . . . .

…..

"Ew." He snorts, spilling some beer on my thigh. "That movie would have been over quicker if he'd just slashed his balls off and handed them over for her to use as earrings."

"Pig." I snicker.

"Whatever." He says, waving his arm grandly. "Lay another one on me."

"Alright." Whoa, staggering a bit here as I heave myself away from his side. "You asked for it."

I love this movie and it's only a little while in before I remember the character's name is Jake. Whatever, no symbolism was intended.

…..

"Okay." He allows as the credits roll. "That didn't totally suck."

I fall off the couch onto my knees and crawl over to the DVDs.

I'm so fucking drunk I can barely see straight.

"No more romance." Jake exhorts.

"Angst? Misery?"

"Jesus Bella." He snorts, cracking another beer. "How about some manly action, with guns and heroics?"

"Um?"

"Fine. Romance me. I can take it."

…..

"Are you crying?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Your cheeks are all shiny . . . ."

"I moisturise. It isn't anything for the modern – hiccup – man to be embarrassed about."

"M-kay."

"You're drunk."

"I am not alone." I intone.

"Indeed you aren't. More wine?"

…..

"That one didn't make any . . . . hic . . . . sense at all."

"I know, right?" I mean, I know, I've seen it like a dozen times and I still can't get my head round what they were thinking.

"Ah crap, am I expected to have a sensible response to that?"

"Nah, let you off." I wave my hand, accidently smacking him in the face. "S'fucking Alaska, no one can be expected, hic, to make sense of fuckin' Alaska."

"We're both incredibly drunk."

"Know." I may be nodding, or the house could be bobbing up and down, who can say.

And abruptly I'm floating.

Snuggled into a warm chest.

Deposited into a cold bed.

Wrapped up in a thin comforter.

Sleeping . . . .