A/N: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock. My heart and spirit are with you as you continue to deal with the loss of your mom. I love you, sweets. Thank you to my beloved sister/beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, who brings me great joy every day. I love you so much! :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :)

I'm sorry I posted this late but I was so tired last night. My weekend was jam-packed and I had a very early morning as well as a day chock full of appointments to look forward to. I tried hard to get it out, but I almost passed out at the computer screen as I was prepping this to post last night, lol! :) Still, sorry for the delay. :(

And on to the good stuff ...

Chapter 26

oOo

Sunday, October 24th, 2080

BPOV

The shopping trip the previous day had gone well ... after awhile. Initially, Alice had tried my patience, first insisting we go to Seattle instead of making do with Port Angeles. I hadn't argued because that meant wasting more time on the excursion than I had the will to do. I'd still set very clear boundaries on just how much she could participate in the selection of my wardrobe since her zeal for all things fashion seemed to have heavily influenced many of the family's clothing choices (I was totally not down with the preppy look), but only after I had made her explain that zeal; especially since she didn't strike me as a devastatingly shallow kind of girl.

"Would you please explain to me what it is about designer clothing that gets you so hot and bothered?" I requested in genuine curiosity. "Because I've done the whole designer shopping coma schtick, and I did not feel the magic."

Alice beamed at me. "It's the passion that goes into the design, the love and creativity, the thought, the time and the pride that goes into every selection of fabric and every stitch. All of those things in the right combination can produce true works of art, and you'll never buy a designer piece that isn't well-made."

The works of art thing was taking it a little far in my opinion, but to each her own. Even though I felt that way, I realized it would have been in my best interests to make a snide comment that would force her to think twice about pursuing a friendship with me, but that violated the deal I'd made with Dr. Cullen so my hands were tied on that front, and she did have at least one valid point. Designer shit was quality, as I had learned during my recent trip to New York, and since I had a tendency to be rough on my clothes and especially my shoes, I found the idea appealing. The compromise we made on the matter was that all my clothing had to come from those stores that sold stuff at discount prices and no items over $100 would make an appearance in my closet. I was not okay with owning clothing that cost more than what it would take to feed me for six months. Alice wasn't all that thrilled but once those lines had been drawn, the experience wasn't so insufferable. It got even better when Mrs. Cullen and Charlotte joined in, the latter much more reserved about her part in things, and Rosalie lurking in the background like a beautiful and very pissed off ghost. The former two helped to temper some of Alice's fanaticism, making it more difficult for her to assert her shopping dominance, my conversation with Mrs. Cullen the previous evening no doubt also playing a part in things. So did Edward. His presence almost brought her into this freaky zen state that didn't make much sense to me, but he also encouraged her passion and drew out her bounciness in a less manic way. It was a strange balance, but it worked for them. It also worked for me because she was even more accepting of the limitations I'd set for her when he was with us. It made me like him.

Overall, Alice had been a hell of a lot more acquiescent to my boundaries than I'd expected she would be, despite my talk with her mother.

The men of the family had separated off to do their own thing, Edward splitting his time between us and them, while us girls did ours.

One thing all of the women had been resolute on was where I purchased my underwear. I wasn't fond of the idea of Victoria's Secret but after the unfortunate underwear debacle, as I had taken to calling the state of the ones I'd been wearing when we all met and which had played a huge part in my strip showdown with Rosalie; something I was still not the least bit sorry for, I had a thing about decent underthings. I stubbornly stuck to simple things with little to no lace much to Alice's chagrin, but I didn't give a fuck.

By the end of the day, I was sufficiently irritable. My mindset on allowing others to buy me shit and take care of me hadn't changed, but it was another part of the deal.

Normal, Bella, I reminded myself. You're going for normal. Annoying, generous, stubborn assholes, I still grumbled over the Cullens and their attitude on nearly everything.

It didn't make the blow to my pride any less a bitter pill to swallow, and I found myself contemplating ways to slip Dr. and Mrs. Cullen money for it all when I left. If it wouldn't be such a slap in the face to them, I wouldn't have any hesitation about doing it.

Why do you care so damn much about their feelings? It frustrated me that I couldn't entirely figure this out. I wasn't supposed to care.

It wasn't just that though. Now that I had the money, it would have been nice if they would just let me spend it, and I wasn't talking about my 'Jane' fund. That money had been made strictly through playing the occasional game of poker and betting on horse races, though obviously not with the purpose of finding a killer mind since I had never intended on ending up in a damn morgue, but I'd had two jobs in Louisville. Sure, the exercise rider gig hadn't paid much, but I'd made bank as a bartender and waitress. In the three weeks I'd worked at The Finish Line, I had made $15,000 in tips alone; I worked almost every night and was damn good at my job. I only had seven of that left what with living expenses and the start I'd gotten on my weapons collection, amongst other things. The Cullens didn't know I was currently so well off, but that didn't matter because it still made accepting their help and kindness infinitely more difficult. So much so it left a rancid taste in my mouth and a sick feeling in my belly.

The saving grace of the whole experience was my victory in purchasing my own desk and chair. Since they damn near had a library in their house and several other perfectly acceptable flat surfaces on which I could complete my future homework, I had very convincingly argued that this made a desk of my own an extra and not a necessity. It had been obvious they'd wanted to protest, but, in the end my logic was sound, and they now knew me well enough to recognize when they were treading on shaky ground and tempting fate by arguing with me over it. At least they'd heeded that knowledge and let me spend my money on that without putting up much of a fight. It's not like they could have stopped me because nobody let me do anything, but my irritation would have been much worse if they had echoed my stubbornness. My recent conversation with Mrs. Cullen had helped with that too.

I had also had quite a bit of fun exploring one of those novelty Halloween shops that cropped up every year around this time. I'd never bothered checking them out before and it was pretty cool, though kind of cheesy. Emmett and Peter's antics as I had my fun only made it even more so, and they were shocked to discover that I had never dressed up or gone trick-or-treating before. They had proclaimed this a tragedy. I had just shrugged.

The experience as a whole sucked a lot less than I'd been anticipating.

oOo

"Are you sure there isn't somewhere else you'd like to go?" Dr. Cullen asked.

I was sitting in the passenger's seat of his black Mercedes and we were alone in the car though Mrs. Cullen had wanted to come. I could tell it had been hard for her to give me the space I needed when she so obviously wanted to mother me, but she had done it with grace and understanding and without comment. She couldn't possibly know just how much I appreciated that because I did need the space, which was yet another boundary of mine she'd respected.

I didn't want to be alone anymore and living with the Cullens most certainly filled that void, but I had gone from living by myself to living with nine other people; it was a lot different than I had imagined it would be. It wasn't like when you worked somewhere, where you only saw certain people for so many hours every day or so, and you only had to exchange pleasantries if you even spoke to them at all before you left them again. There was no escaping those you lived with. You saw them all the time. Despite how often I escaped to the sanctuary of my room, even though it had been less than two days, I just wasn't used to it ... the constant company. I needed out of the house for a little while to decompress from it all, especially after the hours upon hours of marathon sex I had overheard the past couple nights. That's right. I now knew why they needed the soundproofing. I shuddered to think how loud things would be if they didn't have it. I almost felt sorry for Jasper having to overhear all that being the only single person in the house before I came along, not that my presence made a difference for him on that front. One did not need super-hearing to hear that shit loud and clear. I mean, honestly, did any of the Cullens ever sleep?

Except they aren't all Cullens, are they?

I had learned the day before that although every single teenager living under Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's roof considered themselves a Cullen, only Edward bore the Cullen name. As Jasper had already told me, he retained the surname Whitlock. His name was still niggling at me, not quite driving me nuts since I had other things to do that at the moment, but bugging me nonetheless. Peter retained 'Whitlock' as well due to their blood relation. Charlotte's last name was Sawyer while Rosalie's was Hale. Emmett and Alice, who were brother and sister, were McCartys. This did not surprise me. Despite the sheer oppositeness of their size, Emmett's and Alice's enthusiasm could very well have been a shared genetic trait, though I still wondered about it. They did share some resemblance to each other I had to admit, but it still seemed suspect to me.

I had other reasons for wanting out of the house though. I was still pissed off about my fingerprints disappearing and, also, kind of freaked out by it. They came back with a thought, but that wasn't all that comforting. My need to escape to be alone with my thoughts on that revelation had been overwhelming me for more than a day now, and I was going a little crazy pretending like I wasn't bothered. I had been wracking my brain trying to figure out if my creators had known I could do it and just neglected to mention it to me (they'd never been very forthcoming) or if they hadn't had a clue either. If the latter was the case, what the hell else could I do that I wasn't aware of? I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I could not deny, however, that disappearing fingerprints was a good thing. Irritating as fuck, yes, but good, and I would no longer have to deal with the mess of super glue to conceal my identity if I ever had to resort to certain unsavory activities again. Gloves were a viable alternative, but they could be a hindrance.

I also had a very important errand to run. Tomorrow was my first day at Forks High School, and I wanted very much to have my own car to get myself there. Though it was technically my first day, it was an unofficial one. I had worked my ass off forging a birth certificate, driver's license, social security card and so on and so forth it was true, but I hadn't bothered with faking school records. I hadn't had that kind of time and without proof of previous schooling, I had no choice but to endure placement testing to determine whether or not I was fit to walk the esteemed academic halls of Forks High.

After I proved to the administration that I was indeed worthy of attendance, they needed those results to decide what to do with me, which grade to dump me in, etc., etc. The tentative plan was that I would endure three hours of testing in the morning on Monday, and then I was free to do as I pleased, including leaving campus if that was what I desired. The same schedule would commence on Tuesday, and lather, rinse, repeat. This had all been ironed out early the morning before even though it was a Saturday, but because he was Carlisle fucking Cullen, the principal had taken his call and developed this plan with the good doctor despite it being one of his days off. God forbid the whole thing wait until the official start of the new school week or that I dare tax my brain by working it for a solid six hours in one day.

I didn't have a problem with the reprieve. It gave me some more uninterrupted time to work on building my computer. It also allowed for me to do it while providing minimal reasons for the Cullens to question what I was doing while I locked myself away in my room.

The testing would take me no more than three days to complete on that schedule, and that was pushing it. I would have to work at a snail's pace to stretch it out for that long, but I really did want that extra time. I could build the computer lightning fast, in a matter of hours, but I didn't want to. Like the placement testing, it wouldn't take me more than three days and that, also, would be me not only working at a snail's pace but at a nearly dead snail's pace. I just wanted to take my time and do it right. I wouldn't make any mistakes if I built it as fast as I was capable of, and I wasn't trying to dawdle, but it would still ease my mind if I took my time. Jane Doe deserved that, and I still had other equipment to build as well as programs to write and security to encode. This wasn't going to be your run-of-the-mill computer. There were very specific things I needed it to do, and I had to make sure it was completely secure, impenetrable and untraceable to anyone but me. Despite my confidence in my abilities, I was going to double and triple check everything. I couldn't afford to botch anything in my investigation.

I didn't want to rely on Dr. or Mrs. Cullen to chauffeur me all over the place. After I got my registration paperwork squared away the next day, Dr. Cullen was returning to work at the hospital and Mrs. Cullen was working on an interior design project in Port Angeles that I didn't want to keep her away from, in addition to wanting to preserve my pride and independence. In light of that, I certainly didn't want to depend on any of the Cullen kids to cart me around even though one of them could easily take me back to the mansion during the school lunch break, and I needed a car anyway, sooner rather than later. I hadn't yet begun looking for a job but I would be getting one soon, and as I had already determined at the outset, a car was very necessary in accomplishing many of the tasks that needed to be completed in figuring out who Jane Doe was and in solving the mystery of who had killed her.

I had already procured a cell phone in New York. It was a burner that had been modified to pick up the signal from the six nearest cell towers and randomly jump from one tower to the next on an indeterminate schedule. That made it especially untraceable and I needed that. It was bad enough that a record of my "birth" was now in the system; I was going to do everything I could to minimize any other records of my existence if I could help it. The car I was buying and the insurance for it would be in Dr. Cullen's name, which was plausible since I was still a minor.

I gave Dr. Cullen a sideways glance. "I need a car. They sell them. I don't see the point in going anywhere else unless their selection is crap. What I still don't get is why you're not insisting on coming with me."

Dr. Cullen's expression tightened. I just didn't know with what emotion, which was unusual. "They're not fans of ours there, so we do our best to avoid them, and they do their best to steer clear of us. It's just easier that way and it works for us. I don't want to upset that delicate balance by showing up at one of their places of business."

I studied him carefully. There was something Carlisle Cullen wasn't telling me, but I wasn't going to pry. It wasn't my place and I had promised I wouldn't ask questions about their lives before me if they didn't ask any about mine before them. That would be a violation of the deal we had made.

We were parked just at the edge of the road that led into La Push, home to the Quileute Indian Reservation. It had surprised me when Dr. Cullen pulled over to the side of the road and told me that he couldn't go any further, that I would have to walk the rest of the way if I had my heart set on car shopping at Black's Auto Repair & Restoration: an establishment that picked up cars at the scrap heap, fixed them up to mint condition and sold them. From the research I had done the night before, their work was quality, their restorations veered toward classics, and they were very successful in these parts. I wasn't looking to own a car worthy of a spot in the Cullen garage, 'cause holy hell that place was a car enthusiast's wet dream, but I wasn't opposed to owning one that was cool as long as it was sturdy, reliable, and fast. Nondescript would have been my preference as well, but living with the Cullens in a town like Forks, my car could have been invisible and everyone here still would have noticed it and known exactly who it belonged to.

Dr. Cullen hadn't tried to hide how unhappy he was at the prospect of leaving me on my own, especially in La Push, and had done his damnedest to convince me to buy a car somewhere else, anywhere else. Many of the Cullens had tried to persuade me to abandon the idea, in fact, except for Rosalie, Charlotte, and Jasper. Jasper's face and eyes had darkened in obvious fury when I'd announced my intentions, but he had kept silent. All that had done was succeed in pissing me off, not that I had ever stopped being angry with him, but I had been trying so very hard not to stab the douche in the neck for the sake of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. I didn't think they would take too kindly to me murdering their son nor did I believe his brothers and sisters would appreciate it. As much as his betrayal made me want to commit horrible acts of violence against him, I kind of liked the rest of his family, Dr. Cullen in particular, and it would be a little rude to cut his child up into itty bitty pieces when he had saved my life. There was one other reason I had for not killing Jasper ... well, eight reasons actually: Shiri, Elizabeth, Jax, Lucas, Mari, Alana, Matt, and Lydia. In a roundabout way, he had helped save their lives. His reaction had also confused me, which wasn't anything new, but I disliked it just as much now as I always had.

What did surprise me was that Dr. Cullen's apparent need not to leave me unattended didn't annoy me as much as it should have. I was perfectly capable of haggling. I didn't need his breathtakingly good looks to render a car dealer stupid enough to drop the smarmy dick routine and give me a fantastic deal. Maybe it was because I could tell he meant it when he assured me he believed I was after I had very bluntly told him this or maybe it was because he was sincere when he promised he wouldn't interfere in my haggling. I really wasn't sure and I didn't like it.

I shrugged, truly not giving a shit, before nonchalantly saying, "Whatever."

"Will you call me when you're done?" It was more a request than a question.

I rolled my eyes. "If I leave this place with a car, I won't need to. If their selection is crap, I won't have much choice, will I?"

I didn't need to call him if I came away from this excursion carless. I could easily run back to the house faster than it would take him to pick me up and drive us there, and the opportunity to stretch my legs to their full potential and clear my head was extremely welcome. I wouldn't though. Eventually I would have to or I'd go fucking crazy but I wasn't comfortable enough to risk it yet.

"See ya, Doc," I said as I climbed out of the car.

oOo

Black's Auto Repair & Restoration was located on the west edge of the Reservation. It wasn't a huge facility but it wasn't a small one either. When I entered the place, I went through the garage instead of the main office. Getting a good look at the work space, observing the staff, and studying the equipment they used was an excellent way to determine if perusing their merchandise was even worth my time.

The garage itself was clean and well-organized and the equipment appeared to be well-maintained and cared for. It wasn't top of the line tech but it was quality, and for the type of restorations and repairs they did I actually supposed it was. As for the mechanics, their work ethic left much to be desired. It was only 10:00 am and three of the five people I saw in the place were standing and sitting around, shooting the shit like they weren't on the fucking clock.

Not kosher.

As soon as I walked in, all three of the lazy asses' gazes snapped up to look at me and the two guys that had been underneath the cars actually earning their paychecks rolled out from under them and got to their feet to regard me too. They all wrinkled their noses, nostrils flaring in distinct disgust as if they smelled something rank, but I couldn't figure out what it could have been. My nose could detect nastiness and other things within a two mile radius, and there were scents that weren't pleasant within that range but they were far off on the edges of it. Oh well. The strange behavior of a bunch of Native American kids didn't much matter to me. It sure as hell wasn't me that smelled.

"You're the girl that lives with the Cullens," one of the boys spat, glaring, as he began to tremble subtly.

I wasn't sure how he knew this, and I also wasn't certain I could actually call him a boy. I wasn't sure I could call any of them boys or kids, though that was what I had initially pegged them as. They were all tall, preposterously tall. Two of the boys were even taller than Emmett, one matched his height, and the fourth boy was just a little shorter; all of them were just as broad, though not quite as muscular. Oh, they were muscular to be sure, just not as impressively as the goofball Cullen. All four of the boys' hair was black and cropped. The fifth person in the garage was a girl. She was also tall, 5'10" I surmised even though she was sitting on top of a work table, with black hair that just brushed her shoulders. All five of them had russet colored skin and dark eyes, and that was what gave them away. When I met the eyes of each of the Quileutes, they were what betrayed their youth because their physical appearances suggested they were years older than they actually were. There was a maturity to their gazes that wasn't present in most of the kids I had met, but their eyes still belied that they were young. Those eyes also gave me a sense that they weren't quite normal. I couldn't put my finger on it but my gut was telling me this, and I always trusted my gut.

"Yes, I'm the girl that lives with the Cullens," I acknowledged curtly before my tone turned sarcastic, "and you must be Mr. Congeniality. Is this how you speak to all of your customers?"

The boy's trembling became more pronounced, his nostrils flared wider and the blatant hostility rolling off of him was palpable. His trembling wasn't exactly proving me wrong.

My gaze narrowed. I hadn't really believed Dr. Cullen when he told me that he and his family didn't get along with the Quileutes because it was really hard to picture anyone not liking them, except for two parties whose names I would not think of until I had this situation dealt with. While I was now a hell of a lot more curious as to what could have caused the feud between the mostly mild-mannered millionaires and the Quileutes, I was now fucking irritated. I didn't come here for this shit. I came to buy a damn car.

"Paul!" the tallest boy snapped, his expression dark as their gazes met. I got the feeling that he wasn't reprimanding the slightly shorter boy because he'd been rude to me. The others edged closer to him as if preparing for him to explode, and he genuinely looked as though he might. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck, but I wasn't intimidated.

The tall boy and the one called Paul stared at each other for a long time, almost like they were having a silent conversation or standoff, Paul shaking violently until eventually he straightened up and seemed to get ahold of himself. From the interaction between the two, it wasn't the first time the other boy had felt the need to reprimand the clearly hot-headed other one. Once Paul calmed down, they all refocused their attention on me.

"So," the tall boy asked, trying to sound sly but only managing to sound tense, "how are the pasty ones treating you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest in annoyance. "Are you going to stand around all day discussing my living arrangements and roommates like gossipy little bitches or are you going to sell me a car? If it's the former, I have no problem taking my business to an establishment that focuses on customer service rather than name-calling and prejudiced grudges."

I had half a mind to do that anyway if not for some of the kickass cars I'd glimpsed on my way into the garage. I certainly wasn't opposed to throwing down if these assholes continued to talk shit. The Cullens might not be the most normal folk but they were good people, they were being good to me, and I was feeling strangely protective of them.

Paul glowered at me. "Why would you buy a car here? Did the Cullens short you on your allowance? And what makes you think we would even take their money?"

"Dude," the shortest boy exclaimed sharply, scowling, "lay off! The Cullens aren't so bad."

I immediately liked the boy who was clearly the youngest based on how the others oriented themselves protectively around him. They certainly didn't need to protect him from me, but I suspected they were doing it more out of habit than anything else. Despite the youngest boy's redeeming qualities, I still bristled at Paul's acidic comments.

"Apparently, you're hard of hearing or perhaps you're just too thick to know when it's best for you to keep your fucking mouth shut," I growled menacingly, "and for your information, I'm not here on the Cullen's dime. I'm using my own goddamn money to buy my own fucking car, asshole! I don't want their money and I don't need it, and whether I was using it or not you would be a damn fool for passing up a paycheck just because you're too much of an idiot to pull your head out of your ass!"

Paul was taken aback by my outburst, his jaw slack in astonishment. The two tallest boys were fighting back grins. The youngest boy and the girl weren't fighting anything, openly grinning at me, impressed. All of them were, even Paul despite his shock. I couldn't be sure if they were impressed because I'd yelled at him or because I was refusing to use the Cullens' money. Their reasons were another thing I didn't much care about.

The girl hopped off the work counter she'd been sitting on and made her way toward me, stopping when she came within a foot and a half proximity to me. The tallest boy trailed behind her, coming up on her left side, wrapping an arm around her waist, and leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. The others moved forward a few steps, gathering to her right but still hanging back.

The girl smiled wryly at me, the boy who had joined her giving me a friendly smile that lacked the snark I read in her body language, and held out her hand, "I'm Leah Clearwater."

I didn't move my gaze to her hand, meeting her eyes with a hard stare and an equally hard expression. She may have been a girl but that didn't ease my distaste for touching, and I wasn't about to accept the friendly gesture in the wake of Paul's Cullen bashing and how I had been treated thus far.

I wasn't in a forgiving mood.

Leah didn't seem to mind and her snark and confidence reminded me of my own. I had to respect her for it, I always respected those that didn't take shit from others even if that 'other' was me, and I studied her some more, trying to see if we were alike in any other ways even if most of my observations were technically only superficial at this point.

Leah was a beautiful girl; gorgeous was a more accurate way to describe her, one of the most stunning girls I had ever seen, though her beauty was different from Esme's, Alice's, Rosalie's, and Charlotte's. Theirs was painfully, unnaturally perfect, but Leah's was exotic, organic and earthy. The boy at her side had a similar beauty about him with a rugged quality that was distinctly masculine. Their looks complemented each other. They looked as though they were meant to be at each other's sides, like they had been made for each other. It was a thought that struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I wasn't sure where it had come from since I was no expert on love and relationships. They reminded me of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, Emmett and Rosalie, Edward and Alice, and Peter and Charlotte. Whenever I looked at those four couples, that was the feeling I got.

Leah gestured toward Paul. "That jackass is Paul Lahote," she said, and then gestured at the second tallest boy, "this is Sam Uley," she continued before pointing at the youngest, "my little brother Seth," and then she smiled lovingly up at the boy next to her, making me throw up in my mouth a little, "and Jacob Black."

Jacob grinned down at her, his eyes shining with love, and my gag reflex grew stronger. "Please forgive Paul's rudeness," he said, his tone going mischievous, "not all of us act as though we were raised by wolves."

Jacob's statement elicited a laugh from the others, Paul's a reluctant one, and I detected some sort of inside joke. It was another thing I was not in the mood for and my scowl did not fade.

"Black?" I queried, pointedly not introducing myself. "As in the Black on the sign outside?"

"Yep," Jacob confirmed.

"So," I said, moving on with things, "are you just the elbow grease or do your talents extend to swindling people out of their money too?"

Jacob's eyes widened but he soon regained his composure, his easy grin once again spreading across his face. I guessed I could kind of see why Leah liked the guy. "Sure, sure," he said. "Dad usually handles sales but he's dealing with tribe business today, and I've taken on that end of the business before. Plus, I know all the cars inside and out since I always have a big hand in their restorations. You willing to deal with a lowly grease monkey?"

"Sure, sure," I echoed, mocking.

Leah's grin widened. "I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't deny it was a possibility … if I was in the market for friends. Friends were a normal thing though, and I suddenly found myself considering it.

Three hours later, I was the proud owner of a shiny black 2039 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 Super. It had a V8 engine, was capable of hitting 275 mph when pushed to its limits, it was sturdy and reliable - the other criteria I'd had for my car, and it ran like it had just come off the line a few weeks ago instead of 41 years in the past. Jacob was a damn genius mechanic for a seventeen year old. Aside from specialty modifications, I couldn't have done it better myself ... well, I could have, but Jacob wasn't a genetically-engineered genius.

If I had the time, I might have built my own car just to keep myself from getting bored. I had a hard time shutting down my brain and relaxing was difficult for me. If I didn't have Jane's murder to solve, living with the Cullens wouldn't provide enough distractions from the ever-present busy-ness in my head and designing and constructing my own car would have helped with that.

Part of me was afraid to relax, I supposed. If I didn't distract myself or if I let my mind rest too much, no matter how good I was at compartmentalizing, it would just be an invitation to revisit shit I had no interest in revisiting, so I never did. I was a Renaissance woman, making use of all the things I had learned during my time at Fort Ares to ensure that this didn't happen, and I truly had learned much there; much more than a kid my age needed to know. I was being trained as a one woman army, the perfect spy with no need of a support team, and my skill set had needed to be well-rounded. That was why I knew how to forge documents, fix and hotwire cars, hack into secure servers, build computers and communication devices, pick locks, disable security systems, improvise weapons and explosives, and so many other things. After I left Fort Ares, I hadn't been able to get a job to support myself until I was fifteen, surviving on stealing, hustling cards and pool as well as a variety of other unsavory activities. There was some honest stuff thrown in there too, my conscience only able to tolerate so many felonies and misdemeanors, but I never went to the trouble of making the ways I earned my income complex, so I'd had a lot of free time.

Even after I'd been old enough to get jobs, I still had a lot of free time. It was a side effect of not needing to sleep much. I spent a good chunk of that time reading everything I could get my hands on, and I went through books and other sources of information like a wildfire spreads through dry tinder soaked in gasoline. My intellect and memory allowed me to learn things almost instantly so what I hadn't learned at my place of origin, I had come to know later on. I was very far from knowing everything; there was still much of the world and its vast cornucopia of knowledge I had yet to discover, but I knew a lot and the stuff I did know, I knew intimately and extensively.

My knowledge of cars and the need for the one I bought to be trustworthy meant it had to pass my inspection and, due to Jacob's mechanical brilliance, the Shelby did, with flying colors. It helped that I got the car for $10,000, paid in full with cash, which was a pretty sweet deal. That model was a true classic and in the pristine condition he and his father had restored it to, it was actually more than a sweet deal. It was a fucking steal, and I almost felt bad for paying so little … almost. Part of the deal I made with Jacob was that I had to bring the car back to him for any repairs, tune-ups, and oil changes, and I had agreed to this without hesitation … granted the needed repairs were ones that didn't need to be completed especially quickly. If he had been a shit mechanic that would have been an issue since I was fully capable of doing those things myself, but it was the least I could do after the way he'd hooked me up. I was a steadfast believer that people should be well-compensated for quality work and Jacob was clearly passionate about his part-time job at the family business. He also seemed to love and genuinely respect his father and I liked that too.

All in all, I was pleased with the transaction, though I was still irked by how things had gone when I'd first arrived. Leah, Jacob, Seth and Sam were pretty cool, and Paul wasn't nearly as much of an ass as he'd been then. I could even say he was tolerable by the time I left, but I still wasn't in a forgiving mood and there was no telling how long he would be on my shit list.

Leah had insinuated she would have liked to exchange phone numbers, but I didn't acknowledge her subtle hints. If we ran into each other I wouldn't avoid her, but I wasn't going to go out of my way to be buddy-buddy with her either. I already had Alice and possibly Charlotte to contend with on that front and even if the thought of being friends with Leah had crossed my mind, I still had no intention of developing any attachments that went any further than skin deep. It was just too damn dangerous.

oOo

When I pulled into the driveway of the Cullen home, the whole family was on the front porch waiting for me and they hadn't just emerged from the house either. One of the Shelby's only drawbacks was that its V8 engine wasn't exactly quiet as a mouse, and since all nine members of the Cullen family seemed to have heard me drive up from quite a ways off, I was going to have to do something about that. If I couldn't have nondescript, I could at least have quiet.

As I climbed out of the driver's side, I took note of just how relieved almost everyone was at my return. I couldn't decide whether to be touched or offended. Jasper remained as unreadable as always, and my agitation over the fact that I couldn't keep my eyes from straying to him returned full force ... until I reminded myself that I was just watching my back and keeping my promise to tread carefully around him.

Rosalie was the first to approach but she only had eyes for my masterpiece of an automobile. She didn't acknowledge me at all as she moved around it, inspecting it carefully, from every angle, and with what looked like an expert's eye.

So blondie has layers, I mused, not all that surprised. People were rarely what they seemed and Rosalie may have had a seriously bitchy side, but I was betting there was more to her. I still didn't particularly like her, and she still fucking hated me, but I knew enough about psychology to understand that she had lashed out at me all those weeks ago because she'd felt threatened. Threatened by what I hadn't the slightest clue, and I was sure she had other reasons for it as well, but I wasn't really holding that against her … at the moment, anyway. I waffled on that. Sometimes I wanted to scoop the bitch's eyes out of her head with a melon baller for it, but I would behave and remain as neutral as possible until she gave me a reason not to. I yet again showed this restraint for the sake of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen and our deal. Emmett, too. He genuinely seemed to love her but I was beginning to wonder if it was more because of the sex than anything else. Well, that's what I would have thought if I could ignore the whole "made for each other" vibe they threw off. As long as she didn't fuck with my car, no melon baller in the state of Washington would see any eye socket action by my hand.

Her scrutiny continued with a silent intensity I wouldn't have thought her capable of without the proof standing before me, and the rest of the family made their way over to do their own assessments of my new treasure. I was actually eager to hear their opinions on my purchase.

This is my first car, I thought all of a sudden, a broad grin spreading from what felt like one ear to the other.

I had driven cars and motorcycles and, on occasion, stolen them, but I had never owned one before. I hadn't forgotten this little nugget of information but I was so intent on my goals that I hadn't let the idea truly sink in. Now I felt giddy and almost light in my excitement, and I imagined these were the feelings most teenagers experienced when they got their first cars. I was proud and happy and feeling almost normal when an image popped into my brain uninvited. It was of a girl, a girl who looked vaguely like me, going car shopping with a mother and a father. They were laughing and helping the girl figure out which car would be best, hugging her and making sure the shyster car salesman wasn't taking advantage. My smile faded some, a heavy cloak of sadness falling around me, and then the face of the father in my little fantasy lost its haziness. Instead of the featureless entity, short, neatly combed, golden hair, movie-star good looks, and kind, gentle, golden eyes took its place. It was the face of Carlisle Cullen.

He is not your father, Bella, I fumed internally, furious with myself, and you don't want him to be!

My anger sputtered and died when my skin lit on fire, the way it always did when Jasper's eyes found me. I brought my gaze to his, meeting it steadily but without the challenge he without fail evoked, my heart just not up to mustering it, and getting lost in the golden depths of them. I was still pissed at him. I would always be pissed at him, but I was grateful to him then. I was beginning to feel very lost and small, and his eyes were like an anchor, keeping me grounded and making it seem as though being small sometimes wasn't the worst thing in the world. It gave me the fortitude I needed to collect myself, to regain the equilibrium I had unexpectedly lost at the vision that still swam in my head and the strength to push that vision away much more quickly than I would have otherwise.

Once the images had been banished from my head, I went back to being angry. Of all people, I was not supposed to find solace in Jasper Whitlock but the sadness still hadn't left me completely, and I was far less angry about it than I should have been. I averted my eyes.

"Nice car," Emmett said approvingly.

"You did make a fine choice," Dr. Cullen agreed with a smile.

"You and Jasper have similar taste apparently," Peter chimed in, amused.

I moved my eyes back to the boy in question. I had seen the midnight blue Mustang in the garage. It was much older than mine, decades older, but I wasn't sure of the year. I knew about cars but I wasn't an encyclopedia of their history.

"That beautiful piece of machinery is yours?" I asked, managing to keep my tone free of hostility.

Jasper's eyes hadn't left me after I had broken my gaze from his, the look in them intense, curious, and filled with something else I couldn't fathom. He smiled at me and my heart was tempted to skip a beat. I scowled and he nodded. "Yes, that beautiful piece of machinery is mine."

"So the asshole has good taste in cars. How very adorable," I grumbled sarcastically under my breath, irked. "What make is it?" I found myself asking despite my irritation.

"It's a 1966 Fastback," he answered, pride and pleasure clear on his face, though he seemed the slightest bit annoyed. Against my will, I admitted I liked that look on him.

Fucking hell!

"I suppose your choice is acceptable," Rosalie posited in mild disdain, her inspection apparently having concluded.

She'd just given me an excuse to be rude but I wasn't going to bite. I wasn't granting the deferment out of the goodness of my heart but rather out of gratitude for thwarting any further conversation with her brother.

"So glad you approve," I said flippantly. Fine, so I couldn't be entirely civil. It's a character flaw.

oOo

Tuesday October 26th, 2080

JPOV

It was going on five days since Bella moved in. Those five days had been different; obviously they were going to be different. None of us vampires had lived with any humans since we were human, and it was taking some adjusting. So far, we'd managed to avoid eating her and with her, and were each thanking whatever deity suited our preferences for it. I had taken up a 'praise a deity a day' ritual myself just to cover all my bases. Today's deity? Dionysus. He was the god of all sorts of things but I had chosen him for one purpose: dude was the god of drunken revelry. After being continuously cooped up in the same space with Bella for a good chunk of those five days, I needed to feel fuckin' drunk. Vampires couldn't get drunk though, and even though my gift allowed me to absorb the feeling from others, I was too fuckin' lazy to drive all the way to Port Angeles to hit up a decent bar. That's why, despite that my beliefs erred on the side of 'Jesus loves you,' I was still hoping the blitzed fucker would take pity on me and oblige my need to feel drunkenness. It would have been nice if I could get Bella drunk in order to mooch the buzz off of her but neither Carlisle nor Esme would go for that. I didn't have to ask to know it. She was underage and they would not approve. However, I failed to see how a little alcohol would hurt Bella. Maybe it would dislodge the stick up her ass. Then again, if she ended up being a horny drunk that would totally fuckin' bite me in the ass.

We had developed an odd little dance the past few days. When she wasn't barricaded in her room doing God knows what (none of us could figure out the solder smell that emanated from it and as not one of us had been extended an invitation into her personal space, our curiosity had gone unsatisfied. Then there was her "Son of a bitch! Seriously?" exclamation that was loud enough for us to hear through the soundproofing, and which had us all 'dying' of a forbidden inquisitiveness), she would either pretend I didn't exist, snipe at me at a volume a human wouldn't be able to hear, or clearly broadcast how much she fuckin' hated me by shooting daggers at me with her eyes. I wasn't sure how I felt about any of those reactions. Part of me was so pissed off I wanted to pin her to another wall and demand that she tell me what the fuck I had done but thinking about pinning her to a wall got me so damn hard I fuckin' ached, which was not helpful; I already ached from all the pent up emotions. Another part of me wanted to take her in my arms and hold her. That was irritating.

It was obvious to me that she was having trouble adjusting to being here. I had seen both her joy and sadness during our popcorn war, the one I'd incited to save us all from having to eat any of Emmett's junk food and just because it seemed like a fun idea, but there had been a wonder there as well. It was as though she'd never experienced something like that before and was amazed by it. It reemphasized the haunted quality in her eyes that was so familiar to me, the one I saw in my own every time I looked in a mirror. While those things irritatingly tore at me, they weren't why I felt the compulsive need to hold her and offer her comfort. It was the look that had briefly clouded her features when she'd come home from buying her car. I had no idea what had caused it, but there had suddenly been such intense devastation, bitterness, and longing on her face that I knew if I had been able to feel her emotions, they would have stolen the breath from my lungs, the breath I didn't need but in that moment had felt like I did. It had made me want more than anything to be able to project and for the first time since my ability to do it had gone on the fritz, I hadn't wanted it for my sake. I had wanted it for the purpose of erasing that look from her features. I would have done anything to keep that expression from ever clouding them again and for the first time since we'd seen each other since she had shown back up in Forks, she hadn't looked at me as though I was the scum of the Earth. It was a relief, though it hadn't lasted long. The most alarming thing had been the missing challenge from her gaze but she had hidden her emotions quickly. She seemed always to be in tight control of them, but I knew from centuries of experience that those feelings hadn't left her. It made me fuckin' uncomfortable and I didn't like it.

Alice plopped down next to me on the couch in my study, her excitement pelting me like hail in a hailstorm. I moved my gaze to her. "Something you wanna share, Ali?"

She smiled at me. "I need your help."

Whatever it was she wanted my help with, I had an inkling I wasn't going to like it if her sickeningly excited emotions were anything to go by. I decided to take a cautious approach to my inquiry, making sure this was reflected in my tone as I asked, "What with?"

Normally Alice would have rolled her eyes and given me shit for my hesitation, but she was too excited about whatever her proposition was to bother.

"I'm making a Halloween costume for Edward!" she gushed gleefully.

Emmett and Peter had discovered that Bella had never dressed up for or gone trick-or-treating on Halloween. They considered this a travesty and were taking it upon themselves to fix it. Bella didn't know this as the whole thing was supposed to be a surprise, and Alice had been commandeered to make her a costume; not that her arm needed twisting. As far as I knew, it was only going to be my two idiot brothers and our human. Apparently, Alice had other ideas and her excitement was starting to make some sense.

"And you need my help why?"

"I need a model," she replied matter-of-factly.

"You want a model for that shit, that's what you've got your boy toy for and you're making it for him anyway, Alice," I pointed out. "He can be your model."

"That is also what I've got a best friend for," Alice told me cheerily, "and he can't be my model if I want the costume to be a surprise."

"Alice-" I began, intent on refusing. Edward and the others, aside from Peter, Charlotte, Alice, and I, were out hunting. Bella was in her room, continuing to do God knows what.

"Please, Jazz," she begged, popping out her bottom lip. "You know how hard it is for me to surprise him. If I ask anyone else, it will ruin it. Please, Jazzy, please be my costume model?"

I opened my mouth to refuse again but she added the puppy dog eyes to the pouty lip, and I knew I was fucked. "Motherfuckin' puppy dog eyes," I grumbled crossly.

Alice lost the puppy dog look, the smile stretching her face bright as a nuclear detonation, and squealed, throwing her arms around me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I pushed her gently away from me and scowled, forcibly releasing the tension in my muscles from the unexpected hug, and got to my feet with unnecessary vehemence. "Tamp it down, will you?" I snapped. "If I wanted to feel like a fangirl at a Justin Bieber concert, I'd go to a fuckin' Justin Bieber concert and since the only remote chance of that happening is when hell freezes over, I obviously do not. Get a damn grip on yourself before I change my fuckin' mind!"

I loved Alice but she was pushing it and the only reason I was still following her to her design studio and not throttling her was because I could feel that she was trying to honor my request.

We all had our own recreational space in the house, which was one of the reasons it was such a hulking monstrosity. Carlisle and I each had a study, Rose's domain was the garage, Esme and Alice shared a gargantuan studio for their fashion and interior/architectural design pursuits, Edward had the fully-functional music/recording room, though we all made use of it occasionally, and Emmett had a workshop that he did his shit in. His interests varied. Sometimes he built furniture, sometimes computers ... hell, half the time I had no idea what the fuck he did in there, but it was his space and we all respected each other's space. Now that Peter, Charlotte and Bella lived here, I could easily envision another expansion and some more remodeling ensuing so that they could have theirs.

Alice and Esme's studio was on the third floor, next to Bella's room. Once she had me wrangled into her evil fashion lair, she heaped a bunch of sewing supplies onto her worktable, including bolts of fabric and some other shit I had no clue about. I just stood there, watching, with my arms crossed over my chest as she busied herself, and wondered if maybe I shouldn't just cut out while I still could.

Alice's head snapped up, the telltale glaze of a vision just leaving her golden orbs; I was caught and I hadn't even made a decision yet.

"Don't you dare!" she cried. "You promised," insert puppy dog eyes. I held my hands up in surrender and she grinned again, "Now strip, Whitlock."

My eyes widened and then narrowed in rapid succession. "Alice," I warned.

Puppy dog eyes. Pouty lip. Shit!

"Motherfuckin' puppy dog eyes," I swore again.

Alice smirked but knew better than to snicker. "You would have done it whether I used the puppy dog eyes or not," she informed me smugly.

"Bullshit," I scoffed. "I am only doing this because of the puppy dog eyes."

"Nope," she said, "you're doing it because you love me." I didn't argue with this. It was annoying as hell to admit, but it was true. She dropped her eyes to my belt, "Now drop 'em, Whitlock, or I'll drop 'em for you."

I snorted. "Relax, Ali. If you wanted to get in my pants, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to go to all the trouble of comin' up with this 'I'm makin' Edward a costume' ruse."

She knew I was teasing but she still levelled me with a withering glare. "Let us not go there."

I kicked off my boots, and as I unfastened the buckle and the button to my jeans, I asked, "What is this costume you're makin' lover boy?"

"He's going to be Marc Antony to my Cleopatra," Alice answered, gesturing to a yellow dress hanging on one of her dress forms, an ornate blue and gold headpiece perched atop it. They were truly magnificent, the dress a high fashion and modern take on one of Liz Taylor's costumes from the movie Cleopatra, and the headpiece a similar reimagining of one of Vivien Leigh's from her version of it. Both were genuine displays of Alice's remarkable talent.

I have been livin' with that fashion-obsessed midget for way too fuckin' long!

I grumbled irritably for a moment and then latched onto her emotions. Alice was happy right now and I was going to hitch a ride on that shit. How else was I going to survive getting fitted for a fuckin' chilton? Once my mood was sufficiently less acerbic, I felt more inclined not to be an asshole about things. Thank God for Alice and the sun that shone out of her ass!

"Someone's been a busy little bee," I observed, stepping out of the pool my jeans had made when I dropped them from my hips. I was now standing in the middle of Alice's studio in my long-sleeved T-shirt and boxer briefs.

"Of course, I have."

"I hope to God you lengthen the hem line on this get up. No one wants to see Eddie's joystick," I soundly assured her.

Alice was busy taking measurements and didn't look up at me when she replied, "Everyone has already seen it."

I shuddered. Three, now four, mated couples living together in one house had led to some awkwardness over the years, and Emmett and Rosalie weren't the only freaks in the bunch.

"Again," I amended, "no one wants to see it again."

Alice couldn't hold back her snicker this time but made no further comments on that. She had something else she wanted to ask me instead. "What are you going to dress up as?"

"What makes you think I'm dressin' up?"

"Jasper!" She admonished, glowering at me. "It's Halloween! You have to dress up! All of us are, even Carlisle and Esme."

I rolled my eyes but didn't see the point in making a fuss. Going trick-or-treating with Em and Pete was bound to be hilarious. I was so not going to miss that. I'd go out looking like a complete jackass myself just to watch whatever those two knuckleheads were planning. I had a couple old standby options in which I would not look like a jackass though, so it was all good.

Alice's eyes glazed over. "No! You cannot be a soldier or a cowboy, Jasper," she said wearily. "Halloween is 'come as you aren't' night. Why else do you think girls dress like shameless sluts? It's the perfect time to get all sexy and wild with no repercussions. Brush up on your Buffy."

"If I recall, there were many repercussions in that episode, Alice," I reminded her. The family used to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer together simply to up the irony factor ... well that, and Emmett and Alice were obsessed with it. I didn't object because Buffy and Cordelia were hot. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was actually a decent show.

"Pssh, all the bad crap happened because Willow wore the ghost costume over the slutty outfit," Alice explained offhandedly.

"And here I spent all this time thinking all the bad shit happened because of a guy who got off on dark magic, inciting chaos, and playing dress up," I said sarcastically. "I guess we'd better start spreading the word that skankiness is the key to world peace and balancing the cosmos."

"Yep," she agreed, tucking her measuring tape between her teeth.

She pinned a length of fabric around my hips then and I raised my eyebrows. "Is that why you're tryin' to shove me into Eddie's man skirt? Is this your way of tryin' to encourage me to get all sexy and wild?" I asked in amusement.

Alice swatted my shoulder. "You don't need to get either. You're already sexy and the last thing any of us want is for you to get wild, but you could have some fun. You don't seem to have enough of that lately. I miss seeing you smile and hearing you laugh, Jazz."

Her emotions were somber and they tugged at me uncomfortably. I didn't like where this conversation could be heading so I did one of the things I was so very good at - evasion. "Any particular reason you chose Marc Antony? Aside from easy access, of course," I added with a smirk.

Alice shook her head in mock-exasperation at my ribbing, but smiled nonetheless. "Edward has always had a crush on Elizabeth Taylor and Vivien Leigh. Plus, he's got a thing for headpieces."

I grinned at her. "I knew he had a thing for head cases the second he set his sights on you."

Alice glared at me but her emotions had gone from somber to irritably amused. "Headpieces, asshole! Headpieces!"

I just shrugged innocently at her, doing my best to imitate the perfect boyishness that got Emmett away with murder. Her lips quirked up against their will and I once again found myself abruptly in her arms.

"You're such an ass, Jasper," she said, but she was giggling and her emotions lacked conviction.

"I may be an ass but you love me," I said confidently.

"Eh," Alice grunted, wrinkling her nose, "only a little."

"Yeah, well, I don't love you at all," I teased.

Her little arms squeezed me tighter and I wanted not to want to push her away, but I moved out of her arms anyway.

Alice just smiled, pretending like she didn't notice. "Thanks, Jazzy."

"You're welcome but do not for one second think that this is an invitation for me to be your damn Ken doll, munchkin," I told her emphatically.

"You really aren't a good model for Edward anyway," she said. "Aside from your hips, your measurements don't match at all. Your shoulders are broader than his and you're more muscular. Besides, if I need a Ken doll in the future that is what I have my boy toy for, as you pointed out. He is my bitch, after all."

I snickered. "A very willing and pussy-whipped bitch."

"Of course," Alice agreed as if there was no other option for him to be. I supposed there wasn't.

Fuckin' mating bond.

"Nice legs, Whitlock," Bella's voice sounded dryly and somewhat vindictive. Despite this, it was still sexy as hell and I prayed that I wouldn't pop a boner. I was standing there in just my boxer briefs and the not so restricting material Alice was making Edward's tunic out of. I wouldn't exactly be able to hide it and I didn't want her to know how she still affected me, not when she was so fuckin' hostile. I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

I swiveled my head to look at her. She was leaning casually in the doorway, ankles and arms crossed, regarding me with her now usual contempt. There was something else in her eyes I couldn't place, and her emotions were still completely cut off from me. It wouldn't have mattered if I could feel them since they would most likely still be unreadable to me but it would have been comforting anyway.

"I suppose I should have pegged you as the skirt wearing type," she sniped.

My gaze narrowed, my spine went ramrod straight, and my jaw clenched. Why do you always in-fuckin'-sist on pissing me off? And why do you always look so damn hot when you do it? Why was she the only person in the goddamn world that couldn't sense how fuckin' dangerous it was to test me? Be patient with her, Jasper, be patient, I chanted.

"They are damn nice, aren't they?" I smirked. "It would be a crime not to show them off. You, on the other hand, strike me as the type that thinks skirts are a crime against feminism," I returned, deciding there was absolutely nothing wrong with sarcasm and unable to resist the challenge that had returned to her eyes. As annoyed with her as I was, that was a relief.

She shrugged noncommittally but the emotion in her eyes hadn't changed. The contempt and other thing I couldn't read was still there.

oOo

A/N: Damn, Bella has never been trick-or-treating! What the hell? Of course it's up to Emmett and Peter to fix it. And Jasper can't just outright be nice to Alice while he's being her Ken doll. That would just be odd. :) What hijinks will ensue once Halloween finally rolls around? I guess you'll have to wait and see ... ::insert maniacal laughter::

This is where I take the time to give a huge thank you to juliangelus, GeezerWench, bmitw and KittyVortex for helping me with the costume ideas for Alice and Edward, and for helping to solidify what Jasper would do for Alice to show a somewhat different side to him.

The Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode I referenced is the season 2 ep., "Halloween." It's an excellent episode and worth checking out. The whole series is a must-watch, in my opinion, but ...

Justin Bieber was not my first choice of fangirl phenomenon, but having a story placed so far in the future makes things difficult and though I wracked my brain, I couldn't think of anyone else.

I added pictures of both Bella's and Jasper's cars to my photobucket album for Longing. The link can be found on my profile as can the link to the cabin from the chapter 24 outtake if you're interested in checking that stuff out. :) The picture of Jasper's Mustang is not midnight blue, but I couldn't find a picture of it in that color.

Any thoughts on Bella's first meeting with some of the wolves? Her car purchase? How things went down after she got home? Jasper's inner monologue? You know I would love to hear. :)

There's an outtake for this chapter. There won't be one for every chapter, though lately that impression has been given I'm sure. I have several reasons for writing them, though I won't go in to that now. This outtake is a little peek into Alice's thoughts on shopping with Bella. :)