A/N Stephenie Meyer owns all. I just own an obsession with all things Twilight.

Thanks to my lovely reviewers - keep them coming! Quite a few of you have this on story alert or your favourites and I'd love to hear from you.

CHAPTER FIVE

Previously (EPOV)

"Take care of her, Edward."

I sighed and repeated his earlier words back to him, eyes locked on the suddenly fragile creature in my care. "Sure thing, Jazz."

~ * ~

BPOV

My nerves were frayed and stretched. I could feel my body shaking, each abused muscle trembling and screaming at me for respite.

I was thankful when Edward finally ceased our rapid flight and sat me down in the dirty alley floor, even if I was curled next to a dumpster. The smell made my stomach roil, the impending nausea from my head injury returning with teeth and fire as I breathed shallowly through my mouth to avoid spilling my stomach everywhere.

I was vaguely aware that he was on the phone. I thought he was talking to Jasper, but the events of the night were catching up with me and it was all I could do to stay conscious and not scream. As he finished the call, his gaze pinned me to the wall.

He looked different. The look in his eyes was almost...compassion? It was so at odds to the casual distain he'd shown me since he rescued me that I doubted my own perception.

Further contemplation on this issue was interrupted by the sickly shaking that racked my frame. I leaned forward, resting my head between my knees and groaned. Please please please don't throw up everywhere.

My timing was always inconvenient.

"Isabella?" I was distantly aware that he was crouching before me, steadying me with hands on my shoulders, but I couldn't stop shivering. I could hear him speaking again but didn't dare open my mouth to respond, too scared that I'd spill the last of my dinner all over him.

The ringing in my ears was louder now, a cacophony of jackhammers and pounding and steam whistles. I felt him lift me from the ground, one arm scooping my knees while the other curved my shoulders into his frame. I was aware of him walking out of the side street, carrying me, as smoothly as possible but each footstep jarred my tremulous control and eventually I grasped his forearm, wordlessly trying to communicate what I could not express.

He seemed to understand, quickly swinging me from his arms and holding back my hair as I vomited in the street. Any sense of embarrassment was eclipsed by the physical gratitude of expelling the content of my body, sating myself as the sick dizziness abated and I finally felt a little better.

Edward waited until I was done, then wiped my lips with a cloth before lifting me to a spot a few feet away from the sour stench of my vomit. His touch seemed more careful now, gentler. He crouched down to my eye-line, the intense green of his eyes capturing me once again.

"Sit tight, okay? I'm going to get us transportation, I'll be back in a couple of minutes." He paused, brushing sweaty hair from my brow. "Will you be okay?"

I nodded, unable to do anything else. After all, if I wasn't okay it was irrelevant - we had to get out of here. Now.

His brief disappearance was more unnerving than I would have anticipated. Harsh hiccoughs jerked my body, made the headache much worse. I brought my knees up to my chest and clung to myself, closing my eyes and reciting meaningless song lyrics in my head to keep the nausea at bay.

He returned quickly and picked me up without a word, walking a little too fast for my tender stomach and each step jarred me. I held my breath and closed my eyes, willing myself not to be sick again in front of this infuriatingly beautiful man.

Wait, did I just think 'beautiful'? Really really hope I didn't say that out loud...

I heard a car door opening and then felt cool leather seat against the bare skin of my legs and arms, the difference in temperature a welcome change from the sweaty Arizona air. I focused on the smooth beige dashboard in front of me as he dashed around the car and climbed in the driver's seat. The engine purred to life and he took off northbound on the street.

"Where did you get the car?" I asked, my voice hoarse from retching.

"Stole it."

I snorted. "You stole a car?"

"Yes." He glanced at me, then scowled. "Perhaps your well-developed morality would prefer for us to take public transportation and lead your husband's people straight to us?"

I grimaced, curling my fists to restrain the impulse to slap his stupid, arrogant, beautiful face. "Of course not. And that asshole isn't my husband, we never got married." I folded my arms over my chest. "I'm just a little surprised - I didn't know that the Cullen Group listed petty larceny as one of their many skills."

He scoffed and shook his head, somehow making even that sound bewitching. "It's hardly petty larceny. Don't you know anything about cars? This is a Porsche 911 Turbo, and I can assure you it is beyond 'petty'."

I had no response to that, no response to him. He tore me in knots without even trying. I concentrated on regulating my breathing. At least my head had stopped bleeding now; hopefully the spinning would cease next.

He glanced at me a couple of times, seemingly waiting my snappy come back. I wanted to snarl, but was too keen to disappoint him. And too tired.

Eventually he spoke, "Are you okay?" If I didn't know better I'd almost think he was worried.

Am I okay? The question was so laughable, so beyond ridiculous that I failed to contained the snort of laughter. He stared at me as if I had just brandished a syringe and asked where the next heroin hangout was.

I was so far beyond 'okay' that the stragglers would be handing out roadmaps to redirect to the land of the sane. My life had deteriorated into a mockery, cliche of predictions and self-righteous morality.

Hell no. I was not okay.

"Isabella?"

I snapped; Demetri always called me Isabella and I hated hearing it. "For fuck's sake, please stop calling me that. I prefer Bella."

I braced for the barbed response, but all he said was, "Fine. Bella it is."

We drove on, Arizona flying by our window. I tried to regulate my breathing, but the rising heat and fuzziness crept across my ribs and shoulders and settled like a dark cloud around my jawline. Couldn't he have stolen something with decent air con? I felt sick again.

"Pull over."

He frowned at me. "What?"

"Pull the fucking car over right now unless you want me to throw up on your lap."

In other circumstances I would have laughed at how quickly he stopped the car and screeched to a halt by the side of the highway, but now was not the time for levity. I flung the door open and staggered out, heading for the bushes and pulling my hair aside as the few remaining contents of my stomach spread themselves across the highway.

I retched and convulsed, barely managing to push aside the pain in my head to avoid face-planting into my own bile. Vaguely I felt long-fingered warm hands once again pushing my curls back from my face, rubbing soothing circles into my back as I dry-heaved and coughed acidic yellow liquid beside the road.

I finished, falling back onto my ass and scooting away, every muscle trembling. The sky was spinning around me in an ever-increasing dance. I closed my eyes, distantly aware that strong hands lifted me and laid me in the grass away from the smell.

Long minutes passed.

Then, I heard a voice. It was low, masculine, velvet. "Are you okay?" He seemed to be asking me that a lot.

I shrugged off the helping hands. "I'm fine," I croaked, my display of independence somewhat damaged by the trembling and hoarseness of my voice.

He chuckled lowly. "Sure you are."

Before I could protest he lifted me in his arms, wiping my mouth and smoothing the sweaty hair from my brow. He carried me to the car, this time cranking my seat back until it was almost horizontal and folding his sweater as a pillow behind my head.

"Just sleep, Isabella. We'll be at the motel in the hour, so get all the rest you can now."

I coughed, grimacing at the reminded taste of bile, but managed to speak. "Bella."

"What?"

I coughed again, but my voice was firmer this time. "Call me Bella, please." I coughed again, then lost myself in those cat-green eyes. "He called me Isabella and I don't think I'm strong enough to bear that again."

He stared at me forever, then spoke. "Bella it is then. Now sleep." I closed my eyes, drifting into a haze of shadows. Then I heard him whisper, as if he didn't want me to hear, "Please."

So I slept.

~ * ~

EPOV

As if my suggestion was a hypnotist's command she fell asleep instantly, her expression relaxed and the furrow between her brows finally smoothed out. I had to fight to keep my attention on the road, to stop myself from staring at her.

She looked so pale and innocent and helpless while she slept. Her earlier feistiness and determination that let her outrun three full-grown men and snipe at me while fleeing for her life had disappeared, and now she looked oddly childlike and unnervingly young.

In light of the strength and spirit she'd demonstrated in the last hour, my preconceptions of her seemed way off-base. When I'd first heard of Isabella Swan, the eighteen-year-old who somehow ended up engaged to a man nearly twice her age with a bank account big enough to buy Arizona, I'd assumed she would be a spoilt, ambitious princess-type. But her face didn't reflect that, and her behaviour certainly didn't. I wouldn't if she'd been changed by having to run and hide from the family she very nearly married into, or whether she'd been like this all along.

How the hell had someone like her ended up engaged to Demetri Volturi?

When I first saw her running towards me I'd been shocked, a tiny pale wide-eyed figure with blood running down her face and wild brown curls flying behind her. She was nearly flying down the streets, her survival instinct outweighing the fact that her pursuers had nearly twice the leg-length she did.

I smiled to myself, remembering the fight that she'd put up when I grabbed her, begrudgingly impressed that she'd managed to Taser me when I had her pinned. I sincerely hoped that Emmett doesn't hear about that - I'll never live that shit down. It was lucky for me she'd only been able to hit my belt, the leather taking the brunt of the shock. If she'd managed to reach higher I'd have been down on my ass.

And then she would have ran straight out of the alley and been caught by them. The thought made my gut clench uncomfortably.

I groaned, suddenly remembering the feel of her flesh under my fingers when I'd been searching for the GPS device. How they planted it on her I had no idea - perhaps in the bus crash she mentioned? I'd have to ask her later.

Her skin was soft and silky. I'd been totally unprepared for the shock when my fingers touched her bare skin and it had only been thanks to her outraged sarcasm that I'd resisted the urge to linger at each curve and dip. The feel of my hands gliding over the swell of her buttocks made me obscenely grateful that the GPS device had been slipped into her back pocket...

Focus, Cullen!

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, glancing at Bella guiltily as if she could see the illicit thoughts dancing through my brain. She was still fast asleep, her lips now parted slightly and her head buried into her makeshift pillow.

I mentally scanned the briefing information that Jasper had sent me on Bella. I knew she was now nineteen, had been protected by us for nearly four months and the US witness protection service before that. She'd spent her senior year in Italy at Volterra Academy as part of their exchange programme, one of the many devices the Volturi used to keep their public image squeaky clean.

And I knew that she'd somehow ended up living with and engaged to Aro's eldest son, Demetri, who was also the principal of the school she was attending. Those were not the actions of an innocent girl. Indecision warred within me and for a moment I wanted to shake her awake and ask her what the hell she was thinking when she accepted his ring!

Thankfully for both of us, I managed to restrain myself.

The motel I had in mind for a few hours sleep was fast approaching. It seemed foolhardy to stop before we left the state, but I was confident they hadn't followed us and it was unexpected enough that they wouldn't be searching seedy off-route motels. Besides, my lack of sleep was seriously beginning to catch up on me and I needed to close my eyes for at least a couple of hours if I was going to be of any use to Bella.

I glanced at her sleeping form. She needed rest too, and in a real bed. Her skin was so chalky that it was only the subtle rise and fall of her chest that convinced me she was even breathing.

I took the turn-off to the motel, avoiding the parking lot and heading towards an unlit area off the highway so the flashy car would be less noticeable. I chided myself for stealing this car, but - damn! I smirked. It was a Porsche 911, Alice would be so proud.

I reached over and gently shook Bella's shoulder. She stirred and blinked blearily at me, her look of confusion...adorable.

Wait. Back the fuck up. She is a client. She nearly married the son of Satan. She is to be protected. She is not to be described as adorable.

Bella looked even more confused then, possibly from the black scowl that had appeared in response to my thoughts. I forced a more neutral expression.

"We're at the motel. Just stay here for a minute while I go get a room key."

She nodded and I headed towards the office, hoping whoever was manning it would be dopey enough to not realise that we'd seemingly arrived without a car. I struck gold: the kid's eyes were bloodshot and his expression vacant as he watched Family Guy, munching on beef jerky and Oreos.

"Hey." I slapped my hand on the counter to get his attention, internally smirking as I startled him and he dropped the jerky. Prick. "Need a room." I tossed a handful of folded bills on the counter.

He nodded like a zombie and tossed me a key to room 5, not even bothering to ask me to sign the book before returning his attention to the cartoon. Perfect.

I headed back to the car, helping Bella out and steadying her steps. I would pick her up, but a six-foot-two guy carrying an semi-unconscious beat-up woman might be a sight odd enough register even on that stoner's radar.

I let us into the room. The air smelled stale and slightly mildewy, but I'd seen worse. I motioned Bella to the bed and settled myself in the room's only armchair.

"We can only stay here for a couple of hours so get some rest," I said, running my hand through my hair as I set the alarm on my phone to wake us.

She blinked at me, doe-eyes wide. "Are you not sleeping?"

Is she kidding me? I'm a half-step away from passing out. "Yes, I'm sleeping."

"Then why are you sitting on the chair?"

Because I don't want to assault you while you're asleep. "Just get on the goddamn bed, Swan. The chair's fine."

She rolled her eyes and scooted over to the far-side of the double. "Don't be such a douche. I've Tasered you, bled on you and you've seen me throw up. Twice. Just get on the fucking bed and stop being such a girl."

I stared at her in shock before bursting out laughing. As I walked over, shaking my head, I could see a small smug smile at the corner of her lips before she rolled over onto her side, facing away from me. Still chuckling, I lay down on top of the sheets and closed my eyes.

Isabella Swan was going to be the death of me, and I'm not entirely sure that I minded that at all.

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