AN: First, apologies. Excuses are at the end. So much thanks to ebhg for pre-reading, betaing, and being an unconventional therapist. Thanks to solareclipses for teaching me (over a year ago now) how to upload to ff with horizontal lines intact. THANKS to everyone who kept reviewing or PM'ing words of encouragement. I've been absent, and not just from here.

Recap: Bella has admitted to Edward's team that she is being stalked by Mystery Man and her colleague Danny Bradford has been killed. The team makes plans to protect her while ensuring their own safety. After receiving a mysterious manila envelope at her Pentagon office, Bella has rushed to her old apartment in Hampton to view the 8mm film reel contained within. She discovers a WWII era film which happens to include footage of a very young General Roger Miller with Edward. Edward finds her at her apartment and confesses that the footage of him is authentic.

I wanted to protest, but accepting his offer would solve most of my immediate problems. "We still don't know who's after me or you and why they wanted me to see this," I pointed out as we packed up my belongings.

"It is mysterious," he agreed, shouldering my bag. He steered me out of the apartment and helped me into the passenger seat of my car. I watched him reverse out of the parking space, his face illuminated by the dash lights. My last conscious thought was that he looked good in the driver's seat of my car.

Chapter 14. Important

I was very warm, but not overly so. It was that perfect balance of heat and comfort, as when a room

is cold, but the sheets are soft and the comforter is the exact weight needed to nurture the ideal sleep cocoon. I rustled the covers a little and squeezed my eyes tighter as I rubbed my cheek against my pillow. What time was it? I couldn't sense light against my eyelids, and I hoped fervently that it wasn't 30 seconds to my alarm going off. I inhaled and hummed a contented sleepy murmur-sigh. And smelled the delicious odor of the sculpted superhero who had haunted my dreams. I could have vivid dreams, but they had never included odor.

"Who, exactly, is Todd?" Edward's smooth baritone was clipped with impatience.

My eyes shot open, and I sat up abruptly, smacking my bedside lamp into luminance with one outflung arm.

"You're awake this time." Edward was leaning against my bureau, legs crossed, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed. Last night's revelations burst into my consciousness, including the vague memory of being carried into my apartment in the dead of night. I blinked several times as my vision flipped from clear to blurry and back again. My mouth was dry and pasty, and the skin on my face felt weighted with a day's worth of grime.

"If you thought I was asleep, why did you ask me a question?" I demanded in a sleep-roughened croak. "And I don't know anyone named 'Todd.'" I ran one hand across my head. As expected, my hair felt like a tangled squirrel's nest of leafy twigs. Great.

The left side of Edward's mouth turned up, and his brow unfurrowed and then quirked. Superhero? More like bad guy. Bad and in my bedroom while I was sleeping? Who does that? A dawning realization led to a sense of horror. "Did I talk in my sleep?"

"Hmm. You are chattier at rest than you are in life," he replied, his expression tipping to open amusement. His olive t-shirt looked liked it was starched and ironed. His boots were shined to military perfection. Jerk. Really nice-smelling, neatly dressed, smirking jerk. I narrowed my eyes in censure. Only his hair defied military standard, but even that seemed to obey an unwritten regulation of artless style.

"And you chose to interrogate me." This was stated flatly. The few slumber parties I had attended in middle school had ended in my humiliation. Apparently, I was loquacious and honest in my sleep. The entire sixth grade knew I had a crush on Robbie Zielenga after one party, and I had never been able to speak to him again.

"As I said, chattier than in life."

"Were all your questions as useless as your last?"

"Are you always so irritable in the morning?"

"Stop answering my questions with questions. You're the one invading my bedroom and waking me before the alarm. You don't deserve to know, but in point of fact I don't know any Todds." I glared at him, and then made the mistake of glancing in the mirror...bedhead worse than I imagined...wrinkled, slept in clothes...at least I hadn't been wearing makeup to smear into a clown face.

"No Todds you have 'feelings' for?" he asked, his voice a shade colder. Edward's shoulders had gone stiff. I gaped at him. What was his problem? I cast my mind back to high school. Todd? None I could remember. Had he been looking at my yearbooks? My circle of acquaintances wasn't so large that a Todd could be lurking in the untold thousands.

"I'm sorry Edward. I can't think of any Todd's. It's a bit early in the morning for the third degree." I stood with as much dignity as I could muster considering my disheveled state and his pristine crispness.

My alarm buzzer went off, and I realized I hadn't docked my iPod. Had I left it in the Hampton apartment? The ice blue color on my bureau caught my eye, and the puzzle pieces slipped into place. Of course, Edward saw the lightbulb turn on over my head.

"Yes, that's how I found your Todd," he glowered at me.

I glared back, but popped the iPod into its dock and played my TOd playlist. The harsh opening chords of The Offspring's perverted version of "Feelings" were chased by Dexter's angry rant. Edward's eyebrow quirked again. "Not what you were expecting?"

"I am more familiar with the seventies version," he admitted. If I expected an apology or sheepishness, neither were forthcoming. I glared at him.

"I'm surprised you didn't just listen to it since you'd already invaded my bedroom, watched me sleep, and interrogated me without consent!" My last phrase was at triple the decibel level of the first. I would have popped him in the gut, but I'd already hurt myself on his ridiculously muscled chest the night before.

"So, you don't like Todd?" I wondered if anyone had ever gotten Edward this bewildered. I knew the team considered him cold and calculating, but I hadn't really gotten that vibe.

"TO'd. Like PO'd, except without the profanity. You know, ticked off? Sometimes I need a little hate music for my workouts, and The Offspring has the right mix of fury and satiric wit." I grabbed my uniform from the closet and flounced with the tattered remnants of my dignity to the bathroom. "You're welcome to make the coffee," I called over my shoulder.

After the shower had heated up, I stepped in and started to mutter under my breath about high-handed super soldiers with delusions of grandeur. The Star Wars reference reminded me that Ben would be here in a day and a half. How was this going to work? I remembered the superhearing and continued my rant internally, but the washcloth got wrung and tossed rather forcefully.

I was out, hair dried, and in proper uniform within 25 minutes. I walked out to the kitchen and my jaw literally dropped open. Edward stood in the middle of the kitchen, brown liquid dripping from the counter to the floor, grounds everywhere. Including a smear on his cheek.

"This is harder than it looks," he began ineffectually, one hand shuffling his hair to the side.

"Not really. And it doesn't look hard at all," I responded without thinking. "Really? Really, Edward? It's a coffee maker. It has no exploding parts."

"Well, if it had some of those, I'd be more likely to understand how to work it," he snapped. "I'm not a coffee-drinker. I was trying to do you a favor."

I took a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry. Let's get it cleaned—"

I'd forgotten the super speed. I literally blinked and the kitchen was sparkling, a strong smell of coffee the only evidence of Edward's mishap.

"You were saying?" he smirked, the supervillain at his leisure.

"Right. I've got to catch the metro—"

"No. We've got transportation arranged." Stiff and formal super soldier was back.

"To the Pentagon?"

"Yes. You had classified documents illegally delivered to you at your desk yesterday. You are not going to be out of surveillance range for the forseeable future, Major Swan."

"Fine. Then you can arrange for coffee and a bagel."

I had barely gotten into my office when the next phase of Seven Swans a Swimming (or whatever Col. McCarty had named it) had begun.

"Hot, right?" asked Major Newton in a poorly disguised whisper.

"Sure, ace. Swing for the fences." Tyler's ill-disguised sarcasm caused me to cough really hot coffee out my nose. Thank goodness for frosted office windows. I grabbed every napkin I could find off my desk.

Angela snuck into my office, causing me to drop soiled napkins all over my keyboard.

"Did you see her?" she asked in practically the same whisper as Mike.

"Did I see who?" I whispered back, holding up my hand in a pantomime of secrecy.

"Right," Angela said in her usual voice, clearing her throat. "Um, Colonel Brown's secretary has had some kind of family emergency, and they've brought in a civilian temp."

"Is that even possible?" I asked absently as I opened the database file I had been analyzing.

"I guess she had been doing other odd jobs for DoD? Anyway, she's just barely skimming the dress code for civilian workers. When Colonel Brown sees her, I think he's going to have a coronary."

I nodded half-heartedly as I highlighted a column of suspicious numbers. "Um, okay. Not really my problem, Angela. Hey, Ben comes in tomorrow evening. Would you like to do lunch with us Friday? We can pick you up since I'm taking the day off." I looked up expectantly.

"Sure, sounds good." Angela left my office with a smile. I hoped she wasn't disappointed that I was unenthused about new-girl gossip, but honestly. I had a report due and I couldn't bring myself to care about my own clothes, much less someone else's. As it turned out, I should have paid more attention.

I got up for my 10:15 coffee break, wandering the corridor to the ladies room. I had the misfortune of coming up behind Major Newton being a major pain to New Girl. I cringed the closer I got, concerned she might level a harassment suit against him.

I glanced up as I was about to pass, noting absently the tattoo on her arm and the knee-high black boots. I glanced at her face and nearly choked. New Girl was Frankie.

"Frankie? Unusual for a girl," commented Mike. "As in Frankie and Johnny?"

"Sure, just like that," Frankie replied, winking at Mike. Or was she winking at me? I shot an incredulous stare at her from behind Mike's back. "Are you auditioning to be Johnny?"

"Oh, hey, Major Swan, meet Frankie. She's subbing for Helen, you know Colonel Brown's secretary," Mike stuttered with a magenta blush, pulling me against my will into the interaction.

"Nice to meet you, Frankie," I said with a grimace masquerading as a forced smile. "I was just heading this way," I said waving toward the restrooms in a bid to escape. I was planning to kill Col. McCarty or Edward or both, I just didn't have a method yet. My bedroom was my sanctum, but I understood (sort of) why Edward had stayed. And it was hard to stay mad at him for it since he was, well, Edward. But at work? They had to put Frankie into my office area? Couldn't they, you know, electronically surveille?

I had only been in the bathroom a moment when Frankie joined me, rolling her eyes.

"How do you keep working with him? He's like an overgrown, eager labrador." Frankie shook her head.

"He's not so bad. Besides, he's more of a golden retriever." I watched her in the mirror, refusing to back down from my horrid mood.

"So, when did you get the call to work here?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

"Very early this morning. Apparently there was a terrible emergency with Col. Brown's usual assistant. I thought I heard something about a missing bird, possibly large white waterfowl, but I'm sure that can't be right." Frankie smirked. What was with the smirking? Did they practice that in spy school?

"Terrible emergency." I couldn't think of an easy way to convey my complete disgust.

"So I heard." Frankie shrugged.

"Can they hear us?" I asked quietly. Frankie tapped her chest with a nod.

"Fine," I said with resignation. "Just don't bug me while I'm working. I mean, don't bother me. Bugging is fine, preferable even to, I don't know, intrusive, overbearing, unnecessary, babysitting." The last sentence was virtually screamed into Frankie's chest. I smiled and relaxed.

"Better?" Frankie smirked.

"Much."

The humiliations of the working day mounted slowly after that. Col. Brown did not have a coronary when he eventually arrived and met his temp, but he did huff angrily when I insisted I had, indeed, found my own date for the Saturday evening soiree hosted by Senator James. He reminded me that I was to show up in civilian evening wear, as the senator had requested and insinuated that my personal wardrobe and taste might not be up to the challenge. He asked if I had a hairdresser lined up to take care of me. Unfortunately, he had also asked Frankie to sit in our discussions to take notes. She had a speculative look which made me nervous, and I suspected at times that she was responding to unheard comments over an earpiece. I left my CO's office shell-shocked, but under orders to have myself seen to by professionals.

At the end of a day which felt much longer than needed, I was informed by Frankie that I was to follow her out to meet the car which would escort me away. I wanted to protest, but really, the car was no hardship.

"I'm out of groceries," I muttered. "Can we drop by somewhere on the way to my apartment?"

"I'm not sure you're going home," admitted Frankie quietly. I raised an eyebrow questioningly, but she just shrugged. "The Team is working on your weekend plans. Apparently, you now have appointments for eveningwear selection on Friday and professional hair and makeup on Saturday."

I supposed I should be grateful. While the Colonel's comments were offensive, he may have had a point. There was nothing aside from uniforms in my closet that I would consider wearing in front of the honorable senator from South Carolina.

Frankie led me to a black car (surprise!), but when I slid into the backseat, she just waved good-bye and shut the door.

"Did you enjoy your day, Major Swan?" asked a familiar voice over the intercom.

"Major Edward, it could have been improved," I replied. Understatement of the day.

"We're making a detour to Arlington before I take you home, I hope you don't mind."

"Are you really asking?" I asked.

"No, not really." His voice carried an unmistakeable playfulness.

I huffed, and crossed my arms. I realized soon enough that we were headed for Cherry Hill Manor, the nursing home with General Miller.

"Um, Edward?" I wasn't sure how the intercom system worked. There wasn't anything to push.

"Yes, Major Swan?" Even through the tinny speaker, Edward's voice was rich and vibrant.

"You don't need me to escort you to visit General Miller. You're on an extended assignment, remember?"

"I thought you had questions for him? In any case, it will look less suspicious if I show up under normal circumstances."

"Oh. I see." I sighed and settled back into my seat, watching the early evening traffic.

Eventually, we pulled into the underground garage of Cherry Hill Manor.

"Ma'am?" asked Edward, opening my door and offering an arm. He was in uniform and had a package in his other hand.

"Why, thank you, major." I let him lead me to the elevator. "I've been wanting a word with you, by the way."

"I think I got your message earlier. Something about unnecessary babysitting?"

"That was one issue. The other was about invading a lady's bedroom without asking." We entered the elevator and stood side by side, facing the doors.

"I would have asked if you were conscious," he answered, looking down at me from the corner of his eye. He was in a surprisingly good mood.

"That makes it worse, you know," I pointed out.

"Hmm, it does make me seem the cad," he answered with a crooked grin, but our conversation was cut off by the elevator's arrival.

Edward introduced us to a perky young lady as Majors Rogers and Jones, and we proceeded back to the general's luxurious room. As we entered, I noticed immediately the beep of a heart monitor.

"He had a mild episode yesterday morning," Edward said quietly to me.

"I'm sorry," I responded, lightly touching his arm. Seeing the movie last night must have been truly bittersweet when his old friend was becoming more and more frail.

"Hello, Roger," said Edward in a raised voice. "Yes, I'm back, and I brought Bella with me."

"Hello, General Miller," I said, squeezing the general's hand. It was cool and dry in my own. "I hope you're feeling better."

"He wanted you to come back, you know," said Edward, smiling. "He thinks you're very pretty." I watched as the general's eyes flicked back from Edward to me, and I thought I saw one side of his mouth twitch.

"Thank you, sir," I responded to the general, trying to play along with Edward.

"I also brought a package that was left on Bella's desk in the Pentagon. It's all things from what I think are secret files of yours." Edward opened the package and pulled out a few pages. He read one letter aloud, and then showed the general one of the Captain America sketches. "There was also a movie. Yes, you remember, too. I know. How do you think they got to Bella's desk?"

I watched the interaction between the two of them, and I wondered how I missed their close friendship the last time we had visited. And how had I misinterpreted their conversations? It was clear now that they could communicate. But how? I decided I would puzzle that out later. The beeping of the heart monitor was speeding, slightly.

"Slow down, I get it. I need to find the rest of the files. Yes. It shouldn't be a problem." Edward glanced at me. "She can help. She's pretty strong. What? No." Edward rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine. Yes, you're milking this illness for all it's worth, by the way." Edward motioned me over.

"What is it? Does he know where it all came from?" I asked.

"Yes. It was all archived at the Pentagon, but in a top secret holding area. Those documents are stored for some time and then destroyed. Someone must have deliberately gone looking through his old things. The movie was never his, though, so there must be a secondary source. We should be able to get the information about the storage facility and break in to get the rest."

"But if they had this much, everything is compromised."

"We can't be sure of that. They don't seem to have recognized the importance of this file. It is rather cryptic if you don't know me or the unwritten details of the Soldier X project. Roger is pretty confident that anything else from his files is similar to this. He didn't tend to keep anything in writing which might reveal our secrets. In any case, he wants to talk with you."

"Talk with me?" I asked, surprised. I turned to the general, and I could have sworn his eyes were smiling at me.

"Roger wants to know what you thought of our long lost home movie," began Edward, grimacing slightly. "Really, that's your first question? You were always a clumsy interrogator, you know."

I wasn't sure what to say. "I was shocked, of course. I didn't know what to believe. Then I decided that this wasn't too far-fetched, knowing what else I know about Edward."

Edward shook his head at me, and indecipherable smile on his face, but then whipped his head back to General Miller. "I am not asking that. Off the table. No. Not that either. Fine, yes. I brought her here, didn't I?" Edward turned back. "He wants you to know that you and Emmett are now the only ones who know that particular fact, that I've been around for so long."

"I think you mentioned that last night," I murmured.

"Yes, but Roger wants you to recognize where you stand. You're important." Edward flinched slightly. If I didn't know better, I would have said he was embarrassed. "Um, those are his words."

"I think there may be another important secret you're revealing," I pointed out.

"Yes, and that was Roger's idea as well," Edward frowned. "I suppose he has his reasons." Edward's attention turned back to the general. "Yes. Well, he wants me to tell you about this last secret. When I was...made this way, one of the first things I discovered was that I was bombarded with voices, some louder, others more garbled or faint, but I couldn't escape the barrage of noise in my head. It took me some time to sort out that it was other people's thoughts."

"You know what I've been thinking?" I demanded. If so, he was awfully good at hiding his knowledge. I'd mentally salivated over his physique, his voice, and his scent. I felt my face starting to heat. And yet, he'd acted like he thought I was a spy, or was surprised when I explained Mystery Man to him.

"No, that's just it," Edward responded with irritation. "You're the first person I've ever met who I can't hear. Emmett thinks it's hilarious; I find it annoyingly frustrating; but Roger thinks it's important."

"Me? But, I'm just...me?" I stared at Edward, then back at the general. He was watching me with what appeared to be affection. Fatherly affection? "Is there something wrong with me?" I asked in a small voice.

"I think between the two of us, I'm more abnormal," Edward answered sardonically. "Oh, and Roger says of the three of us, he's clearly the one with the worst health problems."

"So what do we do now? I mean, now that I know more of your secrets and you know about Mystery Man and I have this weekend of humiliation approaching?"

Edward and Roger looked at each other, some silent communication progressing between them. Then, Edward laid out a schedule of events for my weekend, proving Frankie had been correct about the Team's plans for arranging my appearance at the Senator's soiree. Edward also relayed some of the general's suggestions for likely guests at the party and which were likely to be interested in me and which were likely to be interested in the upcoming military care bill. It was a lot to take in, and I eventually succumbed to taking notes on borrowed stationery.

"You're forgetting something important," I interrupted eventually. "I have a date coming in, and I have to spend some part of this time entertaining him."

"We have a suite for him arranged," Edward interjected smoothly.

"No, he's staying with me," I replied.

"We don't think that's wise," he countered. The slightest movement from the general caught my eye.

"We?" I suspected the general was also startled to hear that pronoun. "And whyever not? I think I would give a lot more away by telling Ben he has to stay somewhere else." I could not imagine what excuse I could give for breaking our usual arrangements.

"Are you forgetting the surveillance we have you under? Chances are good we're not the only
ones. Do you want your friend to be in danger from your mystery stalker?"

"Of course I don't want him in danger. But he flies back home Sunday and will likely not be back for ages, if ever."

"You know we're watching you every second. Nothing can happen while he's here, so he may as well stay at a hotel." Edward looked livid, brows lowered and jaw set. His eyes had changed from their iridescent golden brown to a smoldering coal black. He was practically incandescent. I knew I should probably calm him down, but I was approaching defcon 4 myself.

"He is a friend, Edward," I said, a little louder than I intended. I lowered my voice, but couldn't control the intensity behind it. "Since I was in high school. He will stay with me, and nothing will happen except good friends talking. He is doing me a great favor, and I am asking you—telling you—to please accept that this is what must happen."

Edward's eyes fluttered shut, and I could see he was struggling for control. He was not used to defiance by his subordinates, that was certain. Although we did have the same rank. I flicked at the bedspread in annoyance. I had never met anyone who could make me flit from fury to attraction and back within seconds.

Surprisingly, when Edward opened his eyes, they were on the general. A corner of his mouth turned up briefly. "Keep your thoughts to yourself, old man." He turned back to me. "Very well. I have been chastised by you both. Remember that we have you under surveillance. Please. I imagine I'm on the rota. Some things cannot be unseen."

"No kidding. I can't quite erase an image of someone who burned his own pants off in an explosion." If I expected Edward to blush, I was disappointed.

"Just remember," he said, tapping his temple. "If your friend Ben sees it or remembers it, I will see it as well." I gulped. Who knew what would pass through Ben's thoughts this weekend? Edward started, looking down at the general. "Yeah, I might have been closer to that explosion in Afghanistan than I mentioned."

I tuned out the two of them (or, at least, the one of them I could hear). This weekend was going to be a minefield for me, and that didn't even include getting dressed up for a formal evening with Senator James. I followed mindlessly as I was led back to the car. Ageless since at least World War II. Superstrong, superfast, superhearing, and mindreading. Except for me—and what did that mean? I was worried that with the mysterious, manipulative Mystery Man, the Senator's party, Ben's arrival, and the new surveillance plan, this weekend was more than a minefield. It was a smoldering powderkeg in a pool of rocket fuel. There was just one question I had for Edward as he let me into my own apartment.

"Have you ever seen Star Wars?"

AN2: The excuses. I don't know. I read about people on this site with debilitating illnesses and deaths in the family and so on, and they soldier on. I find them very impressive. I can't point to anything specific that happened to me, but there were a lot of little (some big) things that all added up. The most significant which I will admit to was one of those big birthdays (you guys remember I'm old, right?), which led to some combination of depression and railing against the darkness. I did not light a candle (or 45, or whatever). This was accompanied by dieting and exercise which has left me smaller and more fit than I was at 18, but shockingly uncreative. Did this happen to anyone else? My husband thinks I'm imagining this. Even though I now have a "sedentary and satiated = creative" theory, I have continued the skinny lifestyle.

Where is the next AoA chapter? I hate to say this, but I am scrapping the next two and publishing them as outtakes, and then starting again. I won't say I hate everything I've written, but it doesn't seem like the next chapter to me, no matter how I twist it around.