Bella was carrying a neat black briefcase. Agent Masen had a canvas rucksack that showed as much wear as the rest of him. His appearance and the brief display of aggression in the conference room made it difficult to picture him as the polished business man the job called for. Choosing what felt like the wisest course, she kept her mouth shut.

Her 'partner' ghosted along beside her as they passed through the security checkpoint and out to the parking garage. She cleared her throat uncomfortably when he followed her all the way to her silver Dodge Neon and stood next to the passenger side door.

"Um, do you need a ride to your car?"

"I don't have a car."

"Oh. Um, okay. So you need a ride?"

"It's less conspicuous than me running along beside you."

"Yeah. Right. Of course." Bella unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel, feeling very self-conscious about the pile of gum wrappers and empty water bottles she habitually tossed on the floor in front of the other seat. "Sorry about the mess," she said, cringing as he lowered himself into the car beside her.

The cabin settled much lower than she was used to with his added weight. With his rucksack wedged between his feet, his knees almost pressing against the dashboard and his shoulders filling the space beside her, he seemed huge. To quell her rising discomfort, Bella tried to initiate conversation as they drove.

"How did you get to work today if you didn't drive?"

"I walked," he said simply as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"So, you have an apartment close by? Here in the city?"

"I have a place I stay when I'm in town."

Bella nodded, at a loss for how else to respond. He didn't offer up any details. She chose a slightly different approach.

"Special Agent in Charge Mahardy seems to have a lot of respect for you."

"Hmm."

"Have you worked for him for a long time?"

"I don't work for Mahardy."

"Oh. . ."

Bella bit her lip and tapped the steering wheel along with the rhythm of the turn signal. They were caught in the congestion that typically swirled around the capital. When they reached Highway 29 she headed north toward Silver Spring, chancing occasional glances at the man beside her. His face gave nothing away. He seemed to stare straight ahead, yet still gave off the impression that he was watching everything all the time, even her. Especially her.

"You said you were hungry. Where do you want to eat?"

"Anywhere works."

"Do you have a preference?"

"No."

Bella was getting irritated. She decided to put his sanguine attitude to the test and pulled into a strip mall off the highway. Agent Masen followed her into the Ethiopian cafe without hesitation. Bella already knew what she planned to order so she took a seat near the back wall facing the entrance. She thought she saw her partner's lip twitch with the hint of a smile.

His eyes scanned the room quickly as he took the seat opposite her. When the young serving girl came to take their order, Bella asked for lentils with chicken and injera.

"I'll have the same," Masen said, with a gently cheerful voice and a sweet smile.

The girl grinned, her dark eyes lighting up as she took his menu. "I'll be right back with some waters."

Bella marveled at the transformation. The man before her had morphed into another personality altogether. Smiling, fidgeting with his silverware, one foot tapping along to the music. . . he looked like just another guy grabbing an early dinner with his girlfriend. She saw the way his eyes catalogued the details of their surroundings and every person who entered or exited, but to anyone else he probably blended in perfectly.

She mirrored his attitude, hooking one ankle around her chair leg and propping her chin up with her elbow on the table. She leaned in slightly as she said, "So, roomie, do we need to stop by the store or get anything on the way home?"

"Naw, I've got everything I need. We can go shopping on Thursday."

It wasn't hard to read between the lines. Once they presented their requisitions request to SAC Mahardy, they'd be gathering all the props and equipment necessary. Until then, working on their plan and fleshing out their characters was the key. They carried on making innocuous small talk, but somehow Bella still learned more about him in that public conversation over lentils and flatbread than she had with direct questions in the privacy of her car. The most important conclusion she reached was that the FBI agent she was eating dinner with was the most intelligent, controlled, observant and dangerous human being she had ever encountered. If he was even human, that is. After all, he had inhaled three times as much food as her, and she was uncomfortably full by the time they settled their bill.

Bella hadn't spared a lot of thought for the logistics of entertaining a guest for two weeks in a 500 square foot studio apartment. Just like her car, her apartment was small but serviceable and barely fit within her meager budget. It was also very much 'lived in'. Her bed was unmade, she had dirty dishes in the sink, tampon wrappers in the bathroom waste bin and, while it didn't show, she regularly drank straight from the milk jug. There was no room for a large man of indeterminate age and habits to stay there for one night, let alone 2 weeks. None of that seemed to bother him. He walked directly across to the window, scanned the street and surrounding buildings, shut the blinds and plopped himself down onto the couch.

Bella stood by uncomfortably as he removed his boots, slung his jacket over the armrest and began pulling objects from his rucksack.

"Dinner was great. Thanks," he commented as he carried a bundle of electronics to the table by the kitchenette.

"You're welcome," she replied.

He sat down at the dinette set, cleared her unopened mail to the side and started setting up his laptop, wireless transmitter and a few other gadgets she could not immediately identify.

"What are you doing?" Curious, Bella gingerly sat down in the second chair.

"Patching the holes in our cover IDs."

"I don't have a cover ID. No last name, no history. I thought that was the point."

"Everybody has a history. You were born, weren't you? The Volturi are careful. They aren't going to buy the 'girl without a past' bullshit. That just screams low-budget FBI sting operation. No. Edward Cullen couldn't find your past, but they can and they will. We'll drop a few bread crumbs here and there. Nothing that a novice like him would find. Just enough to satisfy the pros."

"Bread crumbs? Wouldn't they just question my previous owner?"

"They would if they could find him. He's dead."

"What?" she gasped, sitting up straight in surprise.

"His debts caught up to him, even with my generous cash payment for your fine young ass."

"Did you. . ."

"No, we didn't kill him. We're the FBI, not the CIA."

"Then who?"

"Who knows? Who cares? He was the lowest kind of scum. But he also has the perfect past for what we're trying to accomplish; dealings in pharmaceuticals, prostitution, gambling, etcetera. Our deceased friend did most of our work for us."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

"We're looking for a doppelganger."

"I'm so confused."

"Come on over here," he beckoned with a tilt of his head.

Bella pulled her chair around to his side of the table and sat back down. Over his shoulder she saw he was clicking rapidly through a gallery of photos. They were all girls, brunettes and all quite young.

"Who are these kids?"

"Missing girls from all over the country. I've got it narrowed down to six, wait, no, five. That one was found. Or her remains were. Okay. Hmm. The eyes are right. . . Promising."

Realization came slowly to Bella, followed closely by a strong wave of indignation. "You can't claim I'm one of these girls. That's identity th-"

"Identity theft? Of course it is. So, if she was found today she would be twenty years old, approximately your height and build. Excellent."

"We can't. . ."

"Can't what? We won't claim you are Bree Tanner, we'll just include enough tiny hints in your story that the Volturi sniffers will come to that conclusion on their own and hopefully stop digging."

"What about her? She has a family, a past. She could be dead for all we know."

"Or worse. She could have been picked up by exactly the sort of animals we're trying to put behind bars. One thing you're going to learn real quick, Agent Swan. . . Don't ever toss out a card without first evaluating what it's worth to the game. We may never know how or why Bree Tanner went missing, but her name, her face and her history are here for the taking. They could very well be critical to keeping our cover intact."

SAC Mahardy had told her to trust him. It didn't sit well with her, but Agent Masen's arguments were sound. When he told her to learn everything she could about the missing girl, her family and her hometown, Bella nodded her compliance.

"What about your cover?"

"I've been building fake identities and planting clues and covers since you were in grade school. Don't worry about it."

"What about the man who's supposed to give you the introduction?"

"He's good. Correction, he's not good. He's as dirty as they come. Covering for me is part of his plea bargain. Don't worry about it."

That was the second time he had told her not to worry about it. She knew she was ignorant and inexperienced but his constant dismissal of her questions was beyond irritating. She bit her lip hard to keep her mouth shut and stared at the constellation of pin-holes in the wall above the table.

Agent Masen stopped typing and clicking, turned in his seat and looked directly into her eyes. When he spoke, his words were clipped and emotionless, cutting straight to the core of her discomfort.

"There are two of us. Just us. We don't have a team of computer whizzes and tech heads or whip smart college kids scrambling around behind the scenes to build two entire lives from scratch with all the hints and nuances that are necessary to withstand any sort of scrutiny. Subtle is better anyway. So, we're scattering breadcrumbs and hoping to God their own imaginations will fill in the blanks. I'm going in as a secretive, careful, international businessman. But I'm also a bit too proud, overconfident. I haven't covered my tracks as well as I should have. You're a girl who was kidnapped at the age of nine. People have all but forgotten you. You've grown up in captivity. Eleven years of changing hands when the price is right, stashed away in back rooms and secluded vacation homes like the dirty little secret you are. That's what they expect to find and that's what they'll see. Or traces of it at least. Now, Agent Swan, we have a little more than two days before we have to present this to Mahardy and beg for the scraps necessary to make it all work. Are you on board, or not?"

"I. . ." Looking into his eyes she was stunned speechless. He was intensity personified. She looked back at the wall then down at her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "I want to help those girls," she finally said, her voice little more than a whisper.

"So do I. And we will. Those motherfuckers won't have any idea what hit them."

Her eyes met his and she smiled timidly. His answering grin was as ferocious as a wolf's, lips pulled back from his teeth and a feral look in his eyes. She wondered again how old he was, and why he had chosen this life.

Bella used her own laptop to learn everything there was to know about the long lost Bree Tanner then reworked her own cover profile with details she felt would fit with Bree's possible journey. It was sickening to consider what might have been and what actually was for thousands of missing kids, both boys and girls. Not for the first time she found herself battling nausea and tears. She sniffled lightly and looked up to see Agent Masen watching her.

"That's enough for tonight." He shut down his equipment and packed it away into his olive-toned backpack. "I've had a long week, so I'm going to shower and get some sleep. Don't worry about going into the office tomorrow. This is our show now. Be dressed and ready to run at 4:30."

Bella was startled when he stood and loosened his belt. She blushed and averted her eyes as he undressed and rolled his clothes into a tight bundle which he stuffed into the bag. He took his toothbrush, washcloth and soap into the bathroom and started the shower. Bella kept her jaw shut by sheer force of will. He had walked right by her completely naked. His body was lean and strong with muscles that seemed to bunch and stretch beneath the skin like thick, twisting cables. His skin was criss-crossed with white scars and several puckered knots that looked suspiciously like knife and bullet wounds. Nothing about her day or her new partner had been easy to swallow, so his complete lack of modesty shouldn't have shocked her, but it still sent her head reeling.

Despite his suggestion, Bella couldn't go to bed yet. Her stomach was still too full for comfort, even if she could have slept with all the thoughts whirring through her head. Rubbing her temples, she popped a couple of ibuprofen, chugged half a glass of water and changed into her pajamas. She kept her eyes down as she hung a clean towel from the rail in the bathroom for her guest, brushed her teeth and braided her hair for bed. The mirror was fogged and the air was too heavy to breathe, or maybe it was the presence of a naked man behind her shower curtain making her nervous, but she skipped the rest of her bedtime routine. She set her alarm for 4:15, ran through her security measures, then took the case file to bed with her. Bella didn't feel like she could sleep yet, but she knew she could study.

She felt Agent Masen's eyes on her as he left the bathroom and saw the pillow and blankets she had set on the couch for him. He didn't say a word. At 10:00 she finally turned out her light and closed her eyes. Across the darkened room, she listened to his breathing; slow, deep and even. Whether he was awake or asleep, she could not tell, but he was there and that was oddly comforting.

A/N: Are you with Bella or Masen on the question of using pieces of Bree's life to flesh out her cover? Is this a moral line they can't cross or should necessity rule the moment?