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A/N

OMG - it's been, like for-EVER! The thing is, I've actually been writting as much as ever, but there's quite a beta backlog at the moment, and 3 out of the last 5 weeks have been taken up with rewriting chapters 1 and 2. Speaking of which... this story now has a brand new, written almost entirely from scratch introduction, in which I have tried to make Edward's journey to awareness a bit more visceral and immediate. I would LOVE to know what you guys think of it. It seems like some readers liked the beginning of the story as it was, while others found it quite difficult to get through.

Have I made it worse? Have I made it better? Your opinion would be grately appreciated.

As for this chapter... it's a little on the short side, but I didn't want to leave you all waiting any longer for an update. In fact, I would have loved some way of getting touch with everyone who has this story on alert to let you know how things are going and pitch a few teasers your way. Then I realized that I could just start a forum thread to that end - ha! So, as soon as the nice admins register me for the forums, there will be a Commission thread. Stop by and say hi :)

Ok ok, longest A/N ever! Almost done. Just wanted to give a shout out to Twilightzoner, who has a lot of real life craziness on her plate, and still found the time to read and beta this chapter, and the new chapters 1 and 2. Thanks TZ!!!

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"I need two gin and tonics, an amaretto sour, a jack and coke, and two screwdrivers." Jessica the waitress slid an order slip across the bar impatiently.

Bella didn't reply, continuing to assemble the drinks in front of her with the semi-automatic precision of a seasoned bartender.

"Um, hello? Anybody home? I need this order pronto!" Jessica slapped her hand down on the counter, then jerked it back with a howl as Bella slid a full pitcher of beer in its place.

"And I need you to get out of my face, pronto. In case you've gone dumb and blind, I've got two orders ahead of you and a packed counter. Back off and wait your turn."

Jessica scowled, but Bella had already turned away to a new customer. On another day, she might have drawn the interaction out longer – knocking Jessica off her pedestal was usually worth the effort. However, she was in no mood for it tonight, on her first day back. Her head still throbbed, and for once, the music blaring throughout the bar seemed loud and oppressive. She could have stayed home again – the manager just about ordered her to. But she knew the bar was short-staffed lately, so Bill didn't put up much of a fight when she insisted. It was a good thing, too, because tonight, the place was packed, and there were only four servers for the entire restaurant - herself, Jessica, Jake, who'd worked here longer than she had, and a new kid – Travis or Taylor or something – who kept spilling drinks and tried to flirt with her when asking for replacements.

The restaurant itself was small – barely over 1000 square feet – and the bar took up the bulk of that space. Its wooden counter formed a square in the center of the room, and on nights like these, customers crowded around to fill in every available inch. Metal bar stools with red vinyl covers surrounded three of its four sides, while tall, round tables lined the wood-paneled walls. The storefront was one long window, and in the summer months, its panes were always open to the sidewalk, bringing in all the clamor of Wrigleyville's nightlife and a welcome breeze.

Jake brushed past her, squeezing over to the ice and soda machine on this side of the counter. "Jesus, it's packed tonight!" he muttered over the noise, dropping ice cubes into several tall glasses in front of him. "You know, I don't mind baseball – really, I don't. If people want to pay their hard-earned money to sit in on spit-covered benches and drink Bud Lite for three hours at a time, that's fine by me. But do they all have to come here afterwards? Shouldn't they be passed out in a gutter somewhere or throwing up heavily processed meat and cheese products into their own toilets?"

"Hey, you're preaching to the choir," she said, sliding several beer glasses under the tap. "But don't you men have some sort of sports gene to blame for all this?"

"Well babe, I wouldn't know anything about it." He turned to face her, three soda-filled glasses in each hand. "Any sports gene unlucky enough to end up in my body was crushed into submission by all the gay genes long before I hit puberty."

Bella let out a laugh and shook her head.

"Aha! So she does remember how to laugh!" Jake said, winking, and stepped out onto the floor with raised arms to protect his liquid cargo.

Still smirking, she grabbed Jessica's order slip off the counter and reached for more glasses.

Later, as the crowds finally began to wane, she sat in the break room sipping a beer in one hand, and holding an ice pack against her forehead with the other. The back entrance to the bar was adjacent to this room, and she'd propped the door open to draw in a stronger breeze. Now, fresh air swirled around her, dancing along her skin and ruffling the fine hairs on her temples. The stress and adrenaline of the busy night were slowly oozing away, and though she was tired, damn near exhausted even, it felt good to be back at work. Job security aside, she needed a reason to be out of the house. To be away from him.

The house was empty; it always was. But she didn't feel alone anymore. The air was thick, saturated with something heavy and foreign. Corners teemed with shadows, floorboards creaked under her feet, and every time the drapes rustled, her breath caught in her throat, one hand flying up to the small silver cross that now hung around her neck. The first night after he'd been there, she wouldn't turn her back on any doorways, facing the empty hallway instead of the bathroom sink and dripping toothpaste all over the floor like an idiot. She'd even slept with the lights on, and slept badly.

Two days after he'd left, she gathered her resolve and went upstairs to the second floor. He said hewent up here, but she couldn't remember why. Had he given himself the tour? Touched anything?

She climbed slowly. The carpeted stairs felt odd under her bare toes – too yielding, too coarse. Growing up, the staircase had been bare, its wooden steps smooth and golden in the light. Then, a few years ago, her grandmother slipped and broke a hip, so Renee had the carpet put in. Not long after, Bella stopped coming up here.

The hallway closets seemed untouched, exhaling dust and a moth or two when she pulled their doors open. The linens and towels inside smelled stale, so she let them air out, moving on with the inspection. The doors to her and her mother's bedrooms wouldn't open without a push, but when she paused in front of the room at the end of hallway, a thin beam of sunlight blinked at her through the door frame.

This room? He had come into this room? She reached for the door with an unsteady hand.

Of all the rooms in the house, this one had remained the most furnished - Bella just couldn't pack her sister away into another box. As the door swung open, her eyes drifted slowly over Alice's possessions - the bed, with its pink and yellow homemade quilt; a Polaroid collage of their childhood pets (all amphibious or belonging to the "rock" genus); the corner bookshelf, filled to the brim with literature, textbooks, gardening books, and even bodice-ripping romance novels of the mundane and paranormal variety. These Bella had teased her sister about mercilessly. That little Alice, with her degree in biochemistry and plans for a career in pharmaceutical research, would spend hundreds of dollars each year on books with bad renderings of Fabio on the cover was so ironic that it practically begged for an older sister's mockery.

The humor had long been lost, however - that morning, Bella stood in front of her sister's bookshelf with nothing but grief and anger in her belly. Her hand fluttered over the densely-packed titles until it came to rest at a thin gap in the popular science section. Here, the smoky layer of dust had been disturbed; finger-shaped smears traced their way from the missing book to the edge of the dark wooden shelf. Her own fingers curled into a fist at the sight, and she spun around, searching for further evidence of trespass.

The closet door was cracked open, too. She shoved it along its rollers with a grunt, wood slamming into drywall as it hit the wall. What did that sick bastard want with her sister's clothes? But there was no hint of any disturbance – bright, neatly-ironed fabrics peered back at her from their hangers, swinging softly with the impact of the door against the wall. An array of dress shoes lined the floor, and Bella's vision blurred at the sight of them, delicate and vibrant like their owner had been.

She turned away from the closet and fled. Down the stairs and out of the front door, she made it halfway down the block before a searing headache caught up with her and forced her back into the house. Curling up on the futon downstairs, she called Bill and asked to come into work that evening, then let the pain drag her into a restless sleep.

Six straight hours of pouring drinks later, exhaustion had done the trick. Taking her first break of the night, she was too tired to rehash the day, too tired to figure out how to get Alice's book back. She only knew that she would, and that was good enough for now.

Jake wandered through the doorway and slumped into the only other chair in the tiny room. She lifted her beer in greeting, shifting the ice to the back of her skull.

"What's with the ice?" he asked, leaning his head against the wall, eyes closed.

"I fell down some stairs."

"Shit. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded dismissively. "Just been getting these headaches the last few days. Ice helps."

He opened one eye and peered at her. "Is that why we didn't see you here this weekend?"

She shifted in her seat, then took a long swallow from her bottle. "Uh, yeah. Well, I had a stomach flu first. Puked for 24 hours straight, then fell down the stairs." She forced out a laugh, then added, "Guess it's just not my week or something."

"Yeah, guess not," Jake replied, closing his eyes again. He was quiet for a while, before commenting, "Someone came by asking for you last night."

Her chin snapped up and she stiffened. "What? Who?"

He straightened and fixed her with a curious look. "I don't know. He didn't give a name. Just asked if you were around. I told him no, that you were out sick, and he left."

"Oh," she managed. "What did he look like?"

"Pretty damn good, if you ask me," Jake smirked, but she just frowned. "Okay, okay, let's see. About six one, pretty lean, red-ish hair, green eyes... uh...what else...His face was kind of long -" he gestured at his own features as though to elongate the chin "- no beard, pale skin," here he grinned again "a really tight-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jake," Bella cut him off roughly. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Whoa whoa whoa," he held up his hands in protest. "I didn't realize this was front page news. I mean, boy is hot and all, but he's no Brad or Rob."

"Fuck..." She leaned forward, propping her forehead up with one hand and stared at the old wooden table as though its scratches and deformations held some critical clue. "You're sure he didn't say anything else? Why he was here, if he's coming back?"

"Uh, yeah," Jake replied, arching his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure I would have remembered... What the hell, Bella, why are you getting so worked up?"

"I'm – I'm not, I'm not getting worked up," she fumbled lamely, leaning back again and squeezing her eyes shut. "He's just... a guy I know."

Jake eyed her suspiciously. "Uh huh... just a guy. Okay, sure. Just a guy."

Her foot had begun to bounce against the floor, and she brought the beer bottle to her lips, tilting it back to get the last swallow and preclude any further discussion.

Jake stood up, stretching his long gangly arms to the ceiling. "All right, I'm heading back out. Who's closing tonight?"

"Me and Jessica," she muttered, running a shaky hand through her hair.

"Goody," he smirked, turning away, then paused. "Oh! Almost forgot. My cousin's in town tomorrow night for a job interview. Wanna come out and have a drink?"

She stared at him blankly before looking away. "Uh... I don't know."

"Come on Bella, he's cute and sin-gle," Jake sang.

"No, I really shouldn't. I'm still kinda under the weather, and I have like fifty loads of laundry to do..." she deflected, pressing the ice pack against her forehead. A cat howled in the alley behind the bar, and something clattered against garbage cans.

Jake shook his head. "Bella, that is so lame!" he exclaimed in mock outrage. "I am offering you a fabulous night out with Chicago's finest, and you're blowing me off for laundry? Don't you ever get tired of sitting around and feeling sor-"

"Jake!" she interrupted. "I'm not going. I have shit to do. Thanks, but no thanks."

He scowled a little. "All right... suit yourself."

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Bella poured drinks, scanned credit cards, shoved tips into her pocket, and stocked liquor and glassware in between orders. Not once did she pause for another break, though by the end of the shift, a cigarette would have been worth its weight in gold. By last call, the counter was as clean and organized as it had been before the place even opened, so she went straight for the mop and bucket. As the last few customers wandered out, Jessica stood by somewhat bewildered while Bella furiously scrubbed mop against floor.

"Um, thanks Martha Stewart," the other girl said. "Should I just -"

"The trash is still full," Bella cut her off, squeezing out the mop into the big yellow bucket.

Jessica clicked her tongue and huffed. "Like, did you eat paint chips as a child, or were you just born a total bitch?" she demanded before spinning around on one high-heeled sandal and heading for the kitchen.

Bella glared after her, then resumed mopping. Murky, bleach-scented water splashed around her feet as she slapped the mop down, but she didn't care. She just wanted to close up shop and get the hell out of here. He had come here, looking for her - why? Wasn't there one place in this city where he could just leave her alone? This was supposed to be simple – a risk, an expensive one at that, but simple. Find a guy, give him the names, the pictures and the money, then get on with your life. Instead, she'd somehow managed to stumble into this mess. A vampire... a vampire?? Christ, she'd probably managed to find the only one in the city, or even the state! She was just trying to move on, to put herself back together, and now this...

"All right," Jessica called, emerging from the stock room. "We need more paper towels, but everything else looks fine."

Bella was standing in front of the registers, sorting money from each drawer into stacks of bills on the counter. She didn't look up as Jessica came over to grab her purse, which sat on a small shelf under one of the registers.

"So, I'm done here," Jessica continued, rummaging through the pink leather bag for lipstick. "Gypsy doesn't have a cover for another half hour, so I'm gonna go. You'll close up?"

"Yeah, I think can manage the door all by myself."

"Great!" With an obsequious smile and a flash of long blond hair, Jessica sauntered past the counter and was gone. Bella had emptied the drawers by then, and went to lock the cash up in a small safe in the stock room. Reseting the lock, she stepped back only to trip over a giant box of napkins, scattering its contents on the tiled floor.

"Shit!" Squatting, she began to gather the individually wrapped packages. The box was all but full when front door to the bar swung open again. Expecting to hear Jessica's heels clicking across the floor, she was instead greeted by silence. Frowning, she straightened and, carefully avoiding the other boxes on the floor, walked out into the main room.

The music had been turned off, and the bar seemed even darker now that everyone had left. Bella didn't notice the figure standing by the door until he took a silent step forward. A breath caught in her throat and she swallowed thickly, jaw clenched tight to keep her expression in check.

Edward stood in the middle of the empty room, his gaze firm, yet calm. "I hope I'm not intruding," he said quietly, placing a paper bag on the counter in front of him.

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Chapter end notes:

I'm so mean!!! But hey, it was either a cliffy or another week and a half before updating. Rock and a hard place...

Actually, you know who's mean? Bella! You know what would make her happier? You voting for this story at the Indie TwiFIc Awards!!

The URL is : / Look for Commission in the Best AU WIP and Most Original Story Line WIP.

Please? Pretty pretty please? Pretty pretty please with a sunday with warm sticky blood all over it that Edward would just die for???

Thanks :)

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