A/N: Well, the general consensus is that running sucks. (With a few exceptions. . .) Bella has a very sympathetic following! :)

At 9:02 on Thursday morning, they were ushered into Special Agent in Charge Mahardy's office by the man himself.

"Sit, sit. So, what do you two have for me?"

Bella began speaking, taking the lead as they had agreed on the drive there, outlining their strategy in a fair amount of detail. They would fly up to Seattle to make sure they were seen at Edward's former city before traveling to Florida together. Once in Palm Beach, they would check into a 5 star hotel. They would be in character from the moment they stepped out of Edward Cullen's car. Marie would be quiet, intimidated and well behaved when seen in public, but she would spend a majority of her time hidden away in their rooms. Edward Cullen would be more visible, reaching out to both established and new local business contacts to develop his cover identity as an independent international business consultant. Among those calls would be a request to meet with the Volturi contact they had been given.

"Our guess is we'll be under surveillance anywhere from a few days to two weeks before they make contact," Bella wrapped up and waited for her superior's response. It was exactly what Masen predicted.

"You're going to be living in a hotel for 2 weeks just waiting for them to make the first move?"

"They aren't going to show us anything or even acknowledge our presence until they've done their homework. We need them to feel like they have the upper hand. They'll put more stock in how we behave and interact on our own turf than any performance we may put on for their benefit."

Mahardy looked between Bella and Masen. Masen nodded his agreement.

"Fine, show me your expense projections. That hotel stay better be in there. And no running up the room service bill with champagne and caviar."

"Don't worry. I detest caviar," Masen said with a mocking smile.

He sat back a bit in his chair, hands folded across his middle and one ankle across the opposite knee. He looked incredibly bored. Bella couldn't mimic his posture, but she tried for her own version of patient confidence. She hooked one ankle behind the other and rested her hands on the armrests of her chair.

Mahardy grunted and looked over the packet Bella handed him.

"You're not getting more than a hundred grand to buy a car."

"Then give me one out of impound."

"I don't have an inventory of luxury sport cars to play with. Be realistic."

"There's a black BMW M6 convertible in the impound lot at the Seattle station. Give me that."

Mahardy leaned his forearm on his desk with his hand in a white-knuckled fist and levelled an impatient glare at Agent Masen. "We hold cars until investigations are complete. We don't just take them and play with them whenever we feel like it. If whoever we confiscated it from gets off we give it back. Private citizens don't really appreciate it when the government takes their prized possessions joyriding while they're in the clink."

"He won't care."

"Oh really? Why not?"

"He's dead."

Mahardy's face drained of color. Bella's head whipped around to look at her partner. His lips were twisted up in an almost diabolical smirk.

"And you would know that. . . how?"

Masen lowered his foot to the ground and leaned forward, his forearms on his knees and his hands clasped loosely together. "Because I shot him, Rick."

"Christ, man. What's wrong with you? This is the FBI, not the CIA!" Mahardy rubbed his hands across his scalp and cupped the back of his neck, eyes on the ceiling as if praying for patience.

Bella couldn't help the giggle that slipped out from between her lips. It was like all the emotions and tension from the last few days were spilling out and boiling over. Hadn't Masen said the exact same thing to her two days ago? Only he was claiming he hadn't killed a man. She wasn't surprised by this newest revelation. Maybe she was even relieved. It was nice to know one of them would have the guts to take a life if it came down to it. She wasn't certain she could.

Mahardy looked at her with wide eyes and she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Masen shake his head. He was grinning and not bothering to hide it.

"Christ. . ." Mahardy muttered again. "Fine. I'll make a call and see about the car. Airfare, no problem. We'll book the tickets. Just tell me the date and flight number. Hmm. Yes. . . yes. . . wait, four grand on lingerie? I bought my wife something for Valentine's day and it was under $50. This is absurd."

"Edward Cullen eats lobster bisque out of hand-glazed italian bowls, not styrofoam take-out containers. You have no taste, Mahardy. You're a cheap bastard without a single romantic bone in your body. I don't expect you to understand."

"Fuck you, Masen."

"It stays. Be glad I didn't ask for more."

Bella watched the interchange, completely fascinated by the verbal sparring between the two men. Sometimes Mahardy objected and Masen gave in. Other times he dug in his heels and refused to budge. In the end, almost an hour and a half later, they walked out with about forty percent of their listed items reduced or crossed out completely. Bella was demoralized and nervous about facing Masen alone. She didn't know how he would take having their resources decimated so thoroughly. She had wracked her brain for every way of arguing their need for each item, but in the end it hadn't been enough.

When they got back to her car she climbed in and started the engine without looking at her partner. She almost jumped out of her skin when he let out an exuberant whoop.

"You're a natural, Swan. I'm impressed."

"Impressed? How are we going to make this work now? SAC Mahardy thinks our plan is a joke, and he won't even give us the resources we need to do that much!"

"I'll bet that right there is exactly what won him over. Your conviction is very compelling. Has anybody ever told you that you would make an excellent lawyer?"

"Stop speaking in code and tell me why you're so happy."

"I'm happy because I've never gotten so much out of that tight ass son of a bitch. I should have been working with a partner all along. Young pretty thing with an earnest air and a heart of gold. Worth your weight in gold. This is gonna be good. God, I'm starving. Let's get something to eat."

Bella was half turned in the driver's seat staring at her partner. He was grinning, amped, almost manic in his excitement. She had never expected to see such a display of emotion out of him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. You're hungry. Let's eat." She pulled out of the parking lot shaking her head.

Agent Masen's good mood persisted through lunch which consisted of carry-out pizza and a six pack of beer. He ate as he typed, texted and made calls, obviously exhilarated to have the purse strings loosened. Bella ate two slices of pizza while she listened and watched over his shoulder. He seemed to communicate within his network of vendors and contacts with an indecipherable shorthand of numbers and abbreviations that left her brain swimming.

When it became apparent that he would keep eating until there was nothing left in the box but a smear of sauce and cheese, Bella wrapped up a couple of slices and put them in the fridge to snack on next day. If it weren't for his obvious fitness, she would have pegged him as a glutton. Instead she was waffling between a diagnosis of an intestinal parasite or an off-the-charts metabolic rate.

With the food gone, Masen focused his attention exclusively on his laptop and cell phone, his fingers moving so quickly across the keys that the sounds blurred into a continuous clattering hum. Bella tidied up a bit then sat down on the couch, closed her eyes and tested her recall, forcing her mind to slow down, observe and process the images of the last several days.

Time and time again, her inner vision was drawn to the picture of a girl with long, almost black hair, finely shaped, angular features, eyes too large and lips just a tiny bit too full for the delicate face. She wasn't just pretty, she was stunning. Exotic. And somewhere out there she was being held against her will. Mary Alice Brandon. . . the key that could unlock the entire puzzle. They needed to find her and help her before it was too late.

Bella's meditative state was broken by a loud belch. She glared over her shoulder at her partner who was leaning back in his chair with his arms stretched high above his head.

"Excuse you."

"Hmm. Thanks. Well, that's all we can do today. Four days. Gotta crank. Let's go shoot something."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Get changed. Jeans and a t-shirt is fine."

"Okay. . ." Bella said. His manic mood had calmed somewhat, but Masen was still moving more quickly than she was used to. He had packed away his mobile office and was standing at the door dressed in jeans and a black hoodie with his rucksack over one shoulder before she had even found her socks and shoes.

"Aren't you too hot?"

"A bit," he said easily as if personal comfort was irrelevant.

"Whatever. Let's go." Bella grabbed her keys and walked out the door, letting Masen close and lock it behind them.

In the car he gave her directions to their destination and then sat back in his seat with his face hidden in the shadow of his hood. Bella rolled her eyes. She couldn't tell if this was his act for the night of if the new excitable, energetic Agent Masen was the real one.

When they reached the small arms firing range in Rockville, Bella pulled into the lot and parked beside a new navy blue pick up truck with an insane suspension lift. It was an indoor range. She trailed behind Masen as he entered the building and checked in at the front desk.

"Max, how you been, man?"

"Good, good. Got any lanes open?"

"Sure thing. How long ya need it?"

"Meh, 2 hours. Give or take."

"That long, huh? And who's this you got with you?" the man asked, peering around Masen to see Bella.

'Max' stepped aside to introduce Bella, his next door neighbor. She'd had a fright coming home from school and was considering buying a gun for personal protection. The man behind the counter nodded along to his customer's explanation, interjecting helpful and encouraging comments here and there. Bella let them talk until they finally decided on a couple of guns for her to rent and try out.

"And I got four pieces in the vault. Can I grab 'em? And ear protection. Forgot mine. Need a pair for the girl, too. A few boxes of the 9mm, the 45's, heck just give me an assortment of ammo," he said, fumbling in his wallet for cash.

Bella stood back with her hands in her pockets, entertained by Masen's helpful, rough shod, kindly neighbor-with-a-gun-hobby act. Twenty minutes later they were in their own lane with more guns and ammo than she had ever seen in one place at one time outside of training. With the door shut behind them, Masen dropped the act. His shoulders squared off, his chin came up, his features took on the now-familiar look of intense focus.

"Okay, now. You know range rules from training. It's no different here. If it's loaded, it's pointed at the floor or down range. Please don't shoot me in the foot. Finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Ear protection at all times. Which one do you want first?"

"Could you maybe explain why we're here? I'm not bringing a gun. It's not like I can stuff a Beretta in my bra. And who the hell is Max?"

Masen flipped open his battered leather wallet and showed her his ID - Maxwell Turnpike. His wallet also held more than $100 in crumpled cash, a tobacco stained carry card and an old lotto ticket.

"You're so thorough it's kind of terrifying."

He smirked a bit as he laid out the guns in order of size. "We're here so you can get comfortable with a variety of weapons. You won't have a gun. Neither will I. But that doesn't mean we won't have access to them."

"Really? Can someone get in and plant one somewhere for us?"

"Don't be stupid. No, I'm referring to them. They'll have armed guards. We'll work on disarming techniques tomorrow. Don't worry. You're going to kick ass."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I share your confidence in my ass kicking capabilities."

"Ms. Swan, if you find yourself going for a gun, it's because you're fighting for your life. I've been watching you, and I have complete confidence that in a life or death situation, you will be the one who comes out on top. You're smart, you're observant, you keep your wits about you and you don't give up easily."

"Right. Life or death. Perfect. . . So, just pick one?"

"You're going to fire them all tonight. Pick whichever one you want to try first."

Bella chewed on her lower lip as she looked over the row of guns. Some were flat black, others shiny bluish steel, all of them were lethal. She ran her fingers over the squared barrel of the Colt pistol, hefted the 44 Magnum revolver in her right hand, and laughed a little as she held the compact purple and black Ruger in her palm. "I kind of doubt I'm going to come across one of these."

"You never know."

"So don't discard. Got it. I'll try this one first."

Masen walked her through the features of the smaller gun, showing her how to load and unload with the practiced ease of an instructor. She tried it herself a couple times, then with their ear protection in place, Bella emptied the gun into the target at 25 feet.

"How does it feet?"

"Lighter. And the wider grip gave me more control. I barely felt it kick."

"Good. Next."

Bella shot each of the guns in turn until her forearms were shaking and her eyes blurred. The kick from the 44 Magnum almost knocked her off her feet and Masen stood behind her, hands supporting her elbows, giving her the stability she needed to empty every chamber. She was exhausted but exhilarated as she took off her earmuffs and smiled up at her partner.

"Feeling good?"

"Yeah. Real good."

"Excellent. Put those back on. I'm gonna get rid of the rest of this ammo."

Bella replaced her ear protection, stood back and watched. Masen ran the target to the end of the lane, then with hands moving almost too fast to see, he loaded and emptied the guns one after another. She didn't bother watching the target - she was pretty sure he was cutting Mr. Paper Man's heart and brain out with surgical precision. What held her attention was the subtle shift in stance and posture as he changed weapons. Controlled, dominating, focused destruction. He was in perfect communion with the weapon in his hand. He was the weapon.

Humbled and intimidated more than she was willing to admit, Bella helped him clean up the area, then they carried the guns out to clean and return them. They worked together silently, clearing, dismantling and cleaning each part. The feeling of inferiority curled through her stomach and pulled on her shoulders, but with the monotonous task, the muffled, metallic sounds and the smells of the range, Bella found herself calming down considerably.

She knew she was new, but she was neither useless nor helpless. Agent Masen had expressed his appreciation and even admiration of her contributions several times today. It wasn't a one man show. According to him, her participation was more than important; it was critical to the entire mission. And she trusted him. Somehow, standing together with guns in their hands, existing within that dichotomy of vulnerability and power, somehow her mind and body had decided to trust him.

Bella looked up from the warm metal in her hands to see Masen watching her. His hands never slowed their fluid motions as he smiled, and for once she saw that it reached his eyes.

A/N: Ever been to a gun range? I'm a terrible shot myself, but it is definitely more fun than bowling!