A/N: Counting down the chapters until the end, my friends. Can you smell that? That's right. It's the end of an alien-humored era. And boy! It's taking me a fucking long time to get here. About the songs I've chosen...well, as this is the beginning of the end, I figured I'd be nostalgic. So, I chose a favorite song from my childhood for the first song, another for when I was a bit older-the true theme of this chap, and a current favorite of mine in my old, withered age. Enjoy the chapter.

Songs: Fun-Rose Falcon

Home-Michael Buble

Taste of Ink-The Used

Le Disclaimer: Hello! It is I, Arthur, King of the Brits.

You are not ze king, or even an Eengleesh type-a! Now disclaim, or I shall taunt you a second time-a you connnnigit!

What a strange person!

I 'erd that you elderberry! Disclaim, you son of a silly person!

I'm a girl, thank you very much. And I don't own Twilight...or Monty Python. But a king can dream, right?

I zot you said you were a girl.

La fuck yourself!

Chapitre 27 (Or 26 depending on how you look at it. Honestly, it doesn't really matter): L'amour De La Maison

You know what sucks? Mornings without coffee. You know what sucks even harder? Vampires? No! What? Are you so obsessed with vampires you feel the need to make a pun out of them every chance you get? Yes. Oh...Well then, at least we're being honest here. No. What sucks more than that caffeinated beverage I thrive upon, is the fact that my best friend, my lover, my prince charming (enough cheesy?) could not be in the most romantic city of the world with me right now.

Yep. He'd said I should go. Did you expect anything less? And while I dearly appreciated the boy allowing me a chance at success, I also dearly missed him. Life's funny like that. I don't think I'd ever be able to live without that grayness. Depressing? Well...yeah, now that you mention it.

Don't get me wrong. Paris was amazing. OK, sucky adjective but that's the thing. There were no words. I'd arrived, exhausted from the fucking long flight-still hate the heights, and this time I didn't get butt heaven-and it was already the next day. Extreme jet-lag is not my friend. And then I couldn't find my apartment (which was really a hotel room) for the life of me, so I decided to call a cab. And when I tried to tell the cab driver the address, he didn't understand me. The only thing I could think was, five years of French and the people can't even understand me? But then he'd laughed and said he was only joking. Apparently, he liked to tease the tourists. Something in my expression told him to shut up though, and he finally did drive us to the place. Good little French boy.

But once I got to the apartment, I was sold. It was quaint and small, but the bed was luxuriously soft. I fell asleep in an instant, dreaming that my Eddie-boy was there with me.

And then the internship started. My boss was a wise museum art collector who traveled in various parts of the world, searching for new masterpieces to add to his place of work. He was from Italy and, as the world was such a small one, he happened to be old friends with Aro. Marcus taught me the ways of trade and telling the difference between legitimate art pieces and fakes. He showed me what he thought good art was and while I sometimes didn't agree with him, I enjoyed it and learned a lot through his perspective.

While I worked with Marcus, I also met the artists on my team, and various others. Would you believe that Jimmy happened to be here as well? With, you guessed it...

Tanya. That's right, Crazy Bitch was shacking it up with Fish Lips. I couldn't believe it.

"Bella?" he said in shock, when Marcus introduced us.

"You two know each other?" Marcus asked in that slow, care-free way of his.

"Yes," I said quietly, not too pleased with the current situation. I'd had reoccurring nightmares of that stupid kiss. "We go way back, sir."

"Hmm small world," he muttered, walking away to greet other employees.

"I can't believe it's you!" He tackled me in a hug, reminiscent of Emmett...and for that moment, I let myself forget the past and laughed.

"Good to see you, Jimmy. How've you been?"

"Great!" he said, and I was happy to see he meant it. "I forgot you loved art so much. It's insane you're here."

"What have you been up to? I didn't even know you were an artist."

"Photography is my calling, actually. My beautiful girlfriend helped me discover that." He smiled over at a strawberry blond talking to Marcus and I stared at her.

"Tanya?" It was kind of a rude exclamation but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she hardly looked surprised to see me.

"Bella Swan," she said slowly, and then, people, wait for this...she smiled and shook my hand! I know! I know! "How's Edward? You two still together?" I would say she said it nonchalantly, but it wasn't even that. There was barely any emotion at all.

"He's good. Real good. At NYU. Majoring in music."

"Music? What instrument?"

And then I kind of realized something. The past, that stupid plan she and James had devised, were all adolescent exploits for people they'd thought they loved. In reality, they'd been kidding themselves the whole time. What is it about growing up that makes us actually see life for the way it is, and not for what we wish it to be? When do we become realists and face the facts, instead of longing and hoping and devising cruel plans in order to get something we want?

Tanya had never really known Edward. She'd noticed him. Saw how gorgeous, and perhaps, how different he was from other guys, but she'd never known him like I did. She didn't know his favorite colors, or the fact that he hated vanilla ice cream with a passion. She didn't know he had a deathly fear of big hairy dogs and she didn't even know he was a modern-day Mozart. All she'd ever known was that she'd wanted him and she was going to go through every means to get there. I glanced at Jimmy. But while she'd done so, she'd found real love. Interesting how life works out, isn't it?

"Piano," I said, slightly delayed but she nodded anyway, beginning to discuss the internship as though we'd been friends for years.

But don't be fooled, dear readers. I'd once fallen for the tricks of this coy, clever conundrum, this psychotic sycophant, this...this...OK you get the pic. So I was not going to besty her. She was not going to entice me further. Still, it was nice getting that closure. Even though Edward and I had moved beyond that petty high school drama, I found that reuniting with this bizarre couple allowed me to bury some insecurities I still had. Should I be grateful to these two then? Well, I'll let you be the judge of that.

Edward's reaction to this encounter was less than pleasant, and as he'd always been prone to overreaction, I did my laundry while he spewed forth all his misgivings and cusses about the two over the phone that night.

"Are you even listening to me, Bella?" he snapped in frustration. Just in time, I picked up the phone to continue the conversation.

"Mmm hmm," I muttered, hiding a yawn as I sat down.

"Good. Because you have to understand how very unacceptable their behavior is. After everything they put us through, they think they can just act like you've been friends for ages? And I'm sorry, but I don't think I like the idea of you being anywhere near that James without me. I can't imagine him being faithful to his wife and not missing his chance to steal you away from me. Know, love, that I trust you completely. It's him I don't..."

I put down the phone again, knowing this could take some time. It didn't even sound like he was on his second wind, yet. I went to the bathroom, showered, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, got dressed in my pajamas, got a drink of water and then returned to the phone by my bed.

"...kind of museum," he was saying, "even hires people like that? I guess Carlisle was right when he said there's always somebody in every group. I just wish it weren't these somebodies..."

"Right, right," I agreed, opening a book and picking up at the place where I left off. I tuned out his words, allowing only the velvety cadence to wash over me like a nice song or lullaby. Finally the rant ended and he exhaled sharply.

"Sorry," he muttered. "You didn't even tell me how your day went."

I laughed softly, very tired. "Can I fill you in tomorrow? I'm kind of beat."

He groaned. "I'm so sorry. I just can't stand it!"

"Oh really? Because here I always thought you and James were soul brothers. Here I thought you were waiting until I left to return to Ms. Tanya and carry her off into the sunset."

"I wish you were here right now to see me shiver."

"I'm sure you do it very well. But really, hon, I do need to sleep. I'll tell you about everything, and I do mean everything, tomorrow night."

"Fine," he sighed.

"Really," I assured him, because he still sounded down. "Every little thing. From the type of underwear I'll be wearing, the amount of times I use the toilet, the number of words I say in the day...even the number of breaths I take."

"Uh huh, you're mocking me now."

I snorted. "Dear, there are about a hundred things I could mock you about. I just chose the lightest one this time. Doesn't every relationship need a good humorous background?"

"OK, you're right. Get some sleep, I love you, and while you don't have to tell me everything about your day, I would, indeed, like to know which underwear you wear tomorrow." And without even letting me tell him I loved him too, he hung up. The cheek! The next day I wore granny panties, just out of spite. Take that, you ranting bastard!

Regardless, I didn't hang around James or Tanya for long. My job was very demanding, and the friends I did make were apart of my art team. Creepy Couple was, thankfully, not part of it. The internship, while fun, payed very little and only happened during the week days, so on the weekends, I'd sign up for a few singing gigs at the cafe near my hotel room. And let me tell you, the French are really great listeners. Who would've thunk it? So much for being snooty. Although I think that one did fart in my general direction. Am I kidding? You will never know.

With so much going on, with late night phone calls almost every night to that special ranting bastard, lonesomeness and loneliness(what's the difference, anyway?) wasn't too over the top. Sure, we missed each other, but we weren't puddles of longing goo, awaiting the time of our return. Until...two weeks before my internship ended. What is it about less time, that makes it feel longer?

I got to the hotel room after a long afternoon with Marcus. Some business associate of his had delivered new paintings, though the man was far from trustworthy. We had to determine if all the pieces were in fact the real ones, and several hadn't been. Marcus was furious and he chose me to retrieve what was rightfully ours. And that sleaze-bucket, god! I just wanted a bath when I got...to the hotel. Yes, for as wonderful as Paris was, I still couldn't call it home. At that point I couldn't really figure out why. It was better than New York, the people were friendlier, the historic aspects encased me in their ancientness, the city lights twinkled brilliantly from my window. Why should it not appeal to me more?

My head aching, I went through my bags, trying to find some Asprin for my head-ache, the bath not helping much at all. And then, I discovered a dirty shirt of Edward's amidst the clothes. Not dirty dirty. There was no grime or anything, but it smelled precisely like him. That little boy's sweat and honey and lilac and sun and shower gel, a smell that seemed to perpetually cloud him in a heady whirl. And then, ridiculously, tears pricked my eyes. And so I pulled on the shirt and I curled up on the couch, watching crappy Spanish soap-opera's, without even thinking about the fact I couldn't understand what they were saying. And then the phone rang, bring-ing me out of my daze. Hah. Even in emotional distress, I can still be punny. Bada bing!

"Hello?" I answered flatly, unfocused, staring at some Spanish chick pushing her long lost sister down a stair-well.

"Why the fuck didn't you call? You had me worried sick! It was your night for calling." His infuriated voice was beautiful, and the tears spilled over. Now I was sobbing and Edward started freaking out. "Bella? Love? Are you OK?"

And even more ridiculously, I started laughing, which gave me hiccups, and I was still crying. And Edward was having a heart-attack and his smell was surrounding me, and I suddenly got this over-whelming feeling of home, and I just couldn't breathe.

Finally, I got a hold of myself, but Edward was still being all mother-hen. He'd always been capable of beating me in intensity. At that moment, I didn't care.

"Edward?"

"Bella. Tell me what's wrong. Right. Now." Holy crap, that guy could get hissy! I could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw all clenched and sexy. Ah to be home again.

"Did you put one of your shirts in my suitcase?"

Nothing.

"Edward?"

"Yes," he whispered after a long silence.

"Why?"

"I...I don't know. I figured you liked sleeping in them so much at home and I rather like the look of them on you...and I just thought if you ever got home-sick...it would give you...something to cling to... Bella?"

"I love you." I didn't say anything more, and Edward didn't question my PMS-ing. Granted, I'm sure he knew what had been wrong after my interrogation, but things returned to normal after that.

So despite his distaste for all things vanilla, his silly dog fears, his overreactions and rantings (honestly, the guy was going to go prematurely gray or bald with all that stress), he also had this uncanny power of bringing me back home... even if we were oceans apart.

The following morning I was awoken by a surprise call.

"I'm getting married!"

"God! What time is it there there, fucking pixie?"

"Don't call me that. Especially not a soon to be Bridezilla. You know what could happen? She'll tear you apart with her vicious claws and stuff her bouquet down your throat! Do you want that? Do you? Bella? Are you listening to me?"

Whoa. In that moment, she sounded more like her brother than I ever wanted her to. "Mmm hmm," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Then congratulate me, girl! This is my wedding we're talking about."

"Congratulations," I yawned, glaring at the window. Why wasn't the sun out to see me? I looked at the clock. "Ali, it's four o'clock in the fucking morning. I'm going back to bed."

"But!"

"Go to sleep."

"It's only ten here!"

"Not my problem. Good bye." I hung up and curled back into the warm cacoon of blankets. Finally, gently, Mr. Sun came out and awoke me with his awe-inspiring brightness. I stretched and glanced at the clock, flashing a respectable nine thirty and, as if on cue, my phone began ringing.

"Shall we try this again?" Alice asked.

"Yes. Let's."

"OK." She took a deep breath. "I'm getting married!"

"What? Oh my goodness gracious! Alice I'm so happy for you! How did he propose? Send me a pic of your ring! I could do cart-wheels and somersaults, I'm so ecstatic! Was that too much?"

"Not for a girl like Rose, but for you, yes, way to much. I appreciate it."

"So tell me. How did he propose?"

She began her romantic tale, and let me tell you, I listened through the whole thing without setting the phone down once, and I awed at the appropriate parts. See? I'm only heartless to my boyfriend.

And Jasper did one damn fine job with his Alice. They lived in a small little college house with a few others, the town quaint and minimally populated. Alice, she could make friends anywhere. So Jasper asked some of her random chums to take part in his plans. Alice had been walking home from her job at a diner. It was late and she was tired but she and Jasper had a dinner date that night as they hadn't had a quiet moment in weeks. She hurried home, the distance walk-able, and she noticed on her way the odd signs held up by her pals. The first said her name 'Mary Alice Cullen' in big black letters, the second said 'Will' the third 'You' then 'Be' and 'My' and finally, she came to stop in front of her house, all smiles and spastic-ness-well, you can imagine-and Jasper was there, on one knee in front of their house, a bunch of Alice's friends watching from their own windows. "Wife?" Jasper finished, popping out the beautiful ring. She sent me a picture of it from her cell and I sighed in wonder at it.

"I don't know where he found it," she told me. "He won't tell me either. And that shows you he's got balls, if he's willing to keep information from me. It's not traditional, but I love it even more for that. Don't you love the design?"

Indeed I did. Rather than having a big obnoxious diamond in the middle, Alice's ring was a silver masterpiece of swirling curls and leaves, little diamonds embedded in the pattern. "It's amazing, Ali. So artistic."

She laughed. "Of course you would see it that way. But you're right. Anyway, I can't wait to start the planning. I think we're going to have it here in Forks."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Forks just seems like home to me. You know?"

Lordy. After last night, I certainly could understand that. "Sounds good to me. I kind of miss it."

"I think we all do..." She trailed off thoughtful. "You know Bells, after everything you, Rose, and I have been through, I don't know who will be my maid of honor."

I laughed. "Let Rose be yours, I'll be Rose's and you can be mine."

She paused. "Really? That would be cool with you?"

"Absolutely. Rose can make yours as lavish as possible. Something I'd never be able to do. And she'll be a bigger part in her brother's wedding. As I will be for Emmett's and you for Edward's. See? All works out."

"Ahh!" she screamed. "You're going to marry my brother!"

I blushed, staring at that sweet smelling shirt I was still wearing. "I thought we'd established the fact that we want to be home. Well I feel at home with Edward."

"Damn Bells. You'll be set for your vows at least."

"Please. I go traditional and nothing else. Self-written vows are just disgusting."

"Ahh! You're already thinking about your wedding with my brother!"

"Oh, go call Rose or something!"

"Ooh, good idea! I called her last night but now I need to tell her she's my maid."

"Might wanna choose different words there. She'll feel all old, otherwise."

"She's only twenty-two."

"Older than you, and you're getting married before her."

"Point taken. See you, love you, talk to you later."

"Bye." I said but she already hung up. Hmph. I hope Jasper knows what he's getting himself into. Must call him to remind him not to let Alice have coffee in the mornings. Although, I think she'd be like that the morning after a proposal, anyway.

With one last whiff of my Home shirt, I was ready to start the day, the Edward-sized hole in my chest not healed but much more manageable than last night.

So it had been four months. Four months of art and history and learning the biz with which I hoped to immerse myself in. I'd danced the night away here, I felt alive and in the moment every second of the day. But it was time to go back. Back to school. Back to stinky N.Y...back to Edward.

Technically I had graduated, but missed the graduation ceremony. To me that wasn't a big deal, though I did miss Rose getting her diploma. Something I later learned she had dumped in the trash as a symbol of not caring what awards she got for being an amazing actress. I pointed out the fact that it wasn't an award, and she looked ready to strangle me. I shut up.

Anyway, I was due to go back to New York in T-minus...two days, packing up my clothes and happy with our plans. Rose was picking me up, dragging Edward along with her. Dragging because he wouldn't know what they were doing. I realized I'd never told Edward the exact date of my return, and when he'd asked on the phone I told him Sunday rather than Saturday. Figured it would be a nice surprise. As a cover up, Rose had told him she needed the Volvo to pick up a friend from the air port, and as Edward trusted no one with his precious automobile, he insisted on driving as we knew he would. And so in two days, I'd be returning, after savoring the sights, smells, and city lights of Le Paris, ready to surprise my love. Puke! Vomit! Throw-up! But in the very sweetest sense.

A/N: Le sigh. I just love Paris...and home...and Edward...and Jasper...and...OK, honestly I could go on all night. Leave a review, tell me what you thought, I'm going to bed now, because it's 1:35 in the fucking morning. Thankfully, not 4. Peace le out.