A/N: seriously how does one copy paste the chap and keep the damn formatting on here? *tears my hair* send me your secrets. I've tried 500 times.

i said id finish the story over Thanksgiving and then the universe laughed at me. but i did write like 6 chaps. so buckle in.

Hi. love you.

Chapter 36 - He'll See It

"Bella, it's late. Come."

Bella cringes, closing her eyes. She keeps her back to James. This was the spot, her spot. She talked to Edward for hours here.

The wind makes a tin pot clink against a spoon where it hangs. A windchime, of sorts, singing among the desolace. Silence. Like no one is home.

Everything is the same, at least. Even the hammer is in its spot, where it should be.

Jameson and Bella had headed out hours before. Charlie said he'd read and go to sleep early. He didn't think anything of it when they mentioned they'd go out. Jameson has his car, and Bella would be safe. That's what's in Charlie's mind as he settled in the living room, glasses over his nose.

He didn't notice Bella's yoga pants and puffy jacket with her comfortable sneakers. Her necessities in a backpack that James carried. Why would Charlie notice those details? No one would.

Jameson was astonished. He followed her. Every step was precise. The path up, beyond the lake was dense, but she knew where to go. He was hesitant. He'd grab her arm to stop her. It couldn't be right. She was leading them off the trail where one could barely walk.

"Come," she'd say. Her confidence heard in every footfall. So, he let her, and he let go of the doubt.

He guesses if it took this many years and the thief was never caught, he couldn't be hiding in plain sight. The spot has to be in an odd place in the woods. Hiding worked.

She said, "Follow my steps, don't stray."

Jameson scoffed. "Why? Landmines?"

She gave him one good look over her shoulder. "Because it's important to him that there aren't any traces."

That kept his mouth shut. The pang of jealousy. Bella, with such a secret to herself and rules to go with it. He's never belonged to something so delicate, nothing so interesting. His life is basic, boring.

He appeased. He followed quietly.

And when the boulders appeared, his sealed lips parted. His eyes took in the expanse. The oddity of rocks in this formation in a place such as this.

Bella wedged herself between them and disappeared. He called out to her, and had no choice but to follow.

"Come." He heard her say.

His breath caught at the sight. It's a room. The trees bend into a cozy space. The tent up and positioned strategically in the back center. Clothing lines hooked to branches. Bins and barrels used for different purposes.

Bella immediately disappeared into the tent. Jameson was too occupied with taking it all in. He met the mushroom, the hammer with a graze of his fingers, the flat rock where Edward washes clothes. He met the dug up ground behind, where the disposed things lay resting. The stove. The pots. The piles of books.

So many books.

Jameson's hand was quick to flip through those. History. Literature. Science. Novels. Sci-fi. Even ones he owns himself; course books, medical, old editions. Books he now studies. That made Jameson feel … angry? Foolish? His student loans piling up every semester, and this fucker gets to learn for free. He kicked at a cover with a sigh. 'Playboy' on the print, faded and old.

Well, that grounds this stranger. He's human, after all.

There are books and more books. All piled up to make a platform for the tent, or keeping other things upright. Warmth, he guessed. All to keep in the warmth.

Jameson looked above, all around. The clever details like a digital dial that tells the temperature. The wires that connect to this or that to make things work on a large battery — from a boat? A shovel and a rake sat close by. There was not a pile of firewood in sight.

This guy really did make it through winters here.

Jameson was amazed.

A chuckle escaped, despite himself. The neatly piled Gameboys and battery-powered electronics through the years, all in a crate. The legacy ones. Vintage. The types he sees on sites selling for buttloads of money. His eyes grew big, his fingers sped, flipping through them.

Bella sighed loudly, interrupting his awe, making Jameson think twice. His hand definitely itching to pocket one for himself.

"James, careful. He doesn't really like snooping," she whispered. Well, that pissed him off.

"How the hell do you think these got here?" he spits, rolling his eyes. He let the Gameboy 90's edition device loudly plop back into the crate begrudgingly. The clearing is a guy's dream escape. There's not one thing here Jameson wouldn't need or want for himself if he ever wanted to run away. He scoffed. He has wanted to run away so many times in his life. This chump just went ahead and did it.

Jameson just felt … resentment.

Bella got quiet. Not about the subject, but about the emptiness. This feels vacant, not lived in. It feels … wrong.

"Is this it? So, where is he?" he asked her.

She didn't say what was on her mind. She didn't utter it, so it wouldn't catch in the wind and travel, making it real. She sat on the crate she loved and fell silent.

Jameson fell into chapter one of a book he grabbed nearby with a sigh. From the looks of Bella, the stay would be a long one.

So, they've been sitting here. Hours. No words uttered. Barely any moving but for Jameson's eyes traveling over the pages, and the wind making that pot and spoon chime and sing.

The evening sun, set late. It's starting to set later every day.

The pages grow darker; his eyes are squinting. He looks up. He stretches. He sighs. He closes the book, placing it back where he found it, in its second home. Really, it belongs with its intended owner.

"Bella, it's late. Come," he now says. His turn to lead. They can't sit here all night.

He stands from where he sits. He extends a hand. "Come."

She shakes her head. Her chin trembling slightly. Her eyes blurring.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Early." He reasons. She doesn't move. That hand drops to his side.

"What if this doesn't work? You'll have to prepare for the worst. He's unpredictable, Bella," he says. She cuts her eyes to his. The fire there, and her silence.

His hands lift and drop with a shake of his head.

"You can't let this paralyze you if it doesn't—"

"James," she snaps. Never looking away. He seals his lips shut.

He looks around. He looks at the boulders. He doesn't even know how to get back. She's his only guide.

He thinks. Maybe mentioning Charlie could help her react.

"Your dad will start to worry. We have to get back."

Nothing.

He tries again. "We can't stay here all night."

"James!" She shouts at the top of her lungs. Her hands clawing at her lap, lips going pale. Her eyes look murderous.

His anger spikes. "Hey. Hey!" he yells as he charges toward her. One swift lift of her body by her collar and he's looking at her eye to eye. "We're doing this on my terms. You got me?" he says, nudging her. "I help you here; I make sure you're safe, all right? That's my job. Move it. We're leaving. Now."

Bella's chin gets trembling again over the ball of his fist. She nods through watery eyes. She staggers a breath and finally takes one in. "Okay," she mouths, barely saying. Strings of tears sticking to her líps.

He slowly loosens his grip. "Okay." His gentle hand now curling around the small of her back, that bump between them, cradled, like it's the most precious gem and he must protect it. Her head finds his chest to cry.

"Come," he says softly. She listens this time. She must listen.

That night, he tucks her into bed, swinging her legs in and pouring her quilt over her tired frame. Her eyes far and vacant. He can't anticipate that for the rest of the week, time and again, they'll go back and find nothing. And every time, Bella's light, the one he's loved, the one that makes her whole, and brave, will slowly go out.

He'll see it in her eyes.

….