Hallo everyone : ) Sorry for the wait, but this story is...complicated. There's a lot of research and revisions and careful wording that goes into getting a chapter out.

HUGE thanks to my betas, Ashlee and Chris--you ladies are fucking fabulous. Charmed ones forever : )

I own nothing except B's sneaky ninja skills.


A jaw dropper

Looks good when he walks

He's the subject of their talk

He would be hard to chase but good to catch

And he could change the world with his hands behind his back

-Adele

EPOV

Jesus fucking Christ.

I opened my eyes to the absolute worst fucking headache I'd ever had. Felt like someone had tried to cleave my skull open with an ax or a claymore or something equally as terrifying and sharp. Although, had they actually been wielding a claymore I think the bloody thing would've finished the job, eh?

Giving my subconscious a swift kick in the arse for being such a cheeky bugger, I took stock of my surroundings. I seemed to be on a couch somewhere, and a comfortable one, at that. Thank God for small favors, I guess. A face swam into view, one I knew almost better than my own.

"Baby sis?" I croaked. Wait, why the fuck was I croaking? Back to the headache; where in the name of Blimey O'Riley's trousers had that come from? Hold the phone, where the hell was I? Deciding that I only really needed the one answer, I cleared my throat and spoke again.

"Baby sis, where in the name of Rolf Harris' Y-fronts am I?"

"You, my darling brother," she said, making darling sound like an expletive instead of an endearment, "are in the manager's office at Water Rats. You know, the place where you punched Jasper in the face? He's fine, by the way," she added with a huff.

"Punched Jasper? Are you mad, woman? I didn't…" I trailed off as my memory came back. The bar, the mystery woman, Jasper's hand on Alice…

"Where is that sly Southern motherfucker? Imma kill 'im!" I sat up suddenly, wishing I hadn't. I felt my stomach revolt and managed to lean to the side before I was sick.

"What did I tell you, Fuckface?" a voice said out of the darkness. Oh, God. It was the International Woman of Mystery. She walked out from the shadowy corner by the door, tripping twice on the way over. Her face burned when she did, and I could see her annoyance, first at tripping and then at blushing.

Slowly, very slowly, things started coming back. I'd walked into Water Rat's to find Jasper with his hands all over Alice—breathe Cullen, just fucking breathe. I believe I then proceeded to actually knock Jasper out, which, I had to admit, was a bit of an ego boost for me. And if that wasn't enough, when Emmett had hugged Alice in what I now realized was comfort, I overreacted as usual and hit him as well. And then…

Well, then the skies parted and my angel was revealed to me.

Now that I looked back on it, I could appreciate the fire in her eyes, the set of her mouth, the determination written on her features. She was truly glorious when roused, and I could only imagine what she would look like if roused with something other than anger. Whoa, steady there, Cullen. No need to get…erm…excited in front of the woman. Calm the fuck down, alright?

I focused on the room again and realized that both Alice and Mystery Woman were staring at me, clearly waiting for an answer. Fuck, fuck, what was the question? Oh, oh! "What did you tell me? Erm… 'Oh, Edward, what an amazingly gorgeous man you are, may I please shag you senseless?" I said, not wanting my memory to be true on this point. I couldn't believe I'd been duffed up by some girl. Christ, what kind of pansy am I?

"Try 'Touch my friends again, motherfucker, and I don't care how pretty that face of yours is, I will end you.' Now, how about you rethink that little plan of yours?"

Lord, I was in love.

Seriously, I was still feeling that sense of completeness even with her bitching me out. And she called me "pretty." More importantly, I liked it. I fucking hated to be called pretty, by anyone. It had to be love, right? Although, her music was different now, the rumble of war drums and horns drowning out the simple melodies of harp and flute. It was almost more amazing than the first time I'd heard her.

"And you are…?" I said, willing to test my wits against this most beguiling woman, but only as equals. She knew who I was, but I had yet to have the pleasure of knowing her.

She looked me straight in the eyes, her face expressionless. Her eyes, though, held a hint of mischief. She liked that I wasn't intimidated. She wanted to play, too. "Guess."

"Look, I don't have the faintest idea what your name is and considering I have a headache the size of Prince Albert's prick, I don't really give a rats arse who you are, kleiner Vogel. Just don't fucking hit me again, yeah?" Oh, nicely done, Cullen. Brilliant. Why did I keep baiting her, when I really wanted to throw her down on this very comfortable couch and have my wicked way with her?

"Golden Boy, I will hit you as often as I see fit, and you'll like it, understood?" With that rather well aimed parting shot, she turned around and left the room. You would like it, Cullen, you sick fuck. Point one for the mystery woman.

"'Golden Boy'? What does she mean by that?" I looked at Alice, bewildered.

She heaved a long suffering sigh and rested her head in her hand. "Your eyes, Masen, you fool. Why else would she say it?"

Ah. Yes. My stupid eyes.

My mother's family had two distinct traits, which she in turn passed to me. Bronze hair that obeyed no command save God's (and even then I had my doubts) and golden eyes. Honestly, who has gold eyes? Not only did I have these reminders of my mother, but I somehow managed to be an exact clone of my father. So when I wanted to forget everything and blend in, those were always the things that prevented it. Especially after their death, when I had wanted to avoid all memory of them, I couldn't. Looking in the mirror brought it all back.

I stood up again, slowly this time, shaking off the thoughts of my parents. I was by no means over their deaths, but I had made peace with them.

I was shaking as I stood before Alice. Is it cold in here?

Maybe it's the blood loss.

Only you didn't lose any blood, you fuckwit.

Shut the fuck up, subconscious.

"Look, baby sis, I'm not sorry I hit Jasper. I am willing to listen to you, as long as your scary new friend isn't there. Tomorrow night? I'll even cook dinner." I smiled winningly at her, earning a slightly amused smirk in return. And you're back in favor.

"Fine. Now get out of here. I need to go make sure Jasper's not concussed and Emmett's nose isn't broken."

I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and walked out of Water Rats. It was just past eleven, and London was out in force. It was a Saturday night, after all. The posh kids, the footballers, the bad boy yardies, the grime kids, pub crawlers, everyone was out en masse. Even if I didn't party with my sister tonight, I would always be able to find something to do.

I ambled down the street, hands shoved in my pockets and hood up, thinking about Alice's friend, whose name I still didn't fucking know. Hmmm, what to call her… It'd have to be something good, if she was going to insist on calling me Golden Boy. What a stupid fucking unoriginal nickname.

I couldn't keep calling her "little bird," because I don't think she'd understood the German, and I really didn't know much else besides "where's the bathroom," "can I have a beer," and "are you single?"

Speaking of single, I wondered if the little bird was. She clearly wanted me, and I wasn't going to beat around the proverbial bush about how I felt, either. She'd give in eventually. I was fucking persistent, yeah?

I paused for a moment, listening to the streets around me. There were catcalls and whistles, the sounds of voices raised in laughter, music and mirth all around me.

There's no place like London.

BPOV

Holy heart attack, Batman.

I just sucker punched Jaw Man.

Who turned out to be Masen.

Who is Alice's brother.

Who is Edward.

Who is Jasper and Emmett's best friend.

WHAT HAVE I DONE?

I walked around the store room at Water Rats for about ten minutes after I left whatshisface with Alice. Shit! I threatened him again. Fuck me, I wasn't going to win. I sighed heavily, trying to get myself under control.

Yes, punching him was bad and yes, I shouldn't have threatened him again, BUT, Jesus titty fucking Christ, I had never felt anything like it.

The second my fist connected with his face, it felt like I'd stuck my hand in a light socket. My whole arm…tingled? That's not a strong enough term. It was like someone had taken the carbonation out of a soda and put it in my bloodstream, then given it an electrical charge. I swear, I could've powered a city or a fleet of Priuses or something. I nearly picked him up and pinned him to the wall, but thought that might undermine the threat I had just made when I laid him out.

So I did what any self respecting girl in a foreign country who just met an amazingly gorgeous man she wanted to touch but had a steady boyfriend back home would do. I punched him in the face. It was like first grade, when you'd pull a boys hair and shove him down the slide because you liked him.

Yeah. Sure.

I could still feel it, that strange energy, although it was fading. Part of me really wanted to go in there and touch him again so I could recharge.

The other part of me wanted to stay in here and fantasize about him. I hadn't thought Jaw Man could get hotter, but the second I looked him in the eyes, it was over.

They were gold.

They were the eyes of a hunter, or a bird of prey. They were warm and liquid as they looked at Alice. They were tepid on their way to frozen as they looked at Jasper and Emmett. They were dark and heavy as they looked at me.

Yet, there was a strange kind of openness in his eyes that made him seem less like a douche bag. He seemed…innocent. Not because I thought he was a monk or anything, because looking like he did that just wasn't fucking plausible. No, it was more that he had a sense of…naïveté about him. He had a positive outlook. He probably always believed that while things were bad, they would never reach terrible. Most likely, he only saw the best in things. That's what it was. I would bet my record player he was an optimist.

I wanted nothing more than to touch him, but at the same time I didn't want him to touch me. I wanted to bask in the glow of his electrical current, but I didn't want to be in the same room.

At the same time, though, something about him made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There was something…devious about him. He had a secret. A huge secret, because he seemed more wary while talking to Alice.

When you're father is the chief of police, you learn a thing or two about lying, and how to spot it. I was hopeless at lying because I blushed like crazy. But I knew how to notice a lie, even if it was just lying by omission. He'd been tense, trying to look nonchalant, but failing. He was nervous, and he wanted to keep control over the situation, hence the subject changes and conversation steering. And he chewed his lip. I knew that was his tell, because it was mine to.

I'm insane. Moving on.

Speaking of Alice, what the shit was I going to say? "Sorry I decked your brother, and by the way he's Jaw Man. You know, the one I'd love to fuck six ways from Sunday." That would be a negative, Ghost Rider.

I paced a little longer, really not wanting to go back inside and accidentally run into him. With my luck, I'd literally run into him and I think I did enough damage the first time I hit him. And the second. Fuck, I'm just batting a thousand tonight. Way to be, Swan. Way to be.

"Eala?" Emmett's head poked around the door of my little hidey hole. He looked awful, his nose all puffy, with twists of paper stuck up each nostril and dark circles under his eyes.

"Oh, Em, your nose…" I said, my anger coming back. Who the fuck was this guy to come in and start beating up his best friends? What the fuck, over?

Emmett waved away my concerns, walking over to me and picking up my hands. He gently ran his thumbs over my knuckles, which were swollen and red.

"I have to say, Eala, I'm pretty proud of you. Where'd you learn to hit like that?"

"Jake taught me. I almost got mugged in high school and Jake said it would be best if I could at least do some damage." He nodded at this, clearly agreeing with Jake just as much as Billy and Charlie had. "He got me a heavy bag and hung it from a tree in the backyard. I worked with it every day. I can't walk over a flat surface without tripping, but I can throw a punch."

I sighed heavily, a bone deep weariness settling in. I still hadn't fully acclimated to the time change and my body was starting to let me know. After adding in the excitement from tonight, I was beat. I leaned against Emmett's shoulder, relaxing as he wrapped his arms around me. I exhaled loudly and sat up.

"I think I'm gonna go home, Em. It's been a long day." I stood up and ran my hands through my hair, the streaks of color mixing in with the brown. Like me. I look good with the mundane, but don't really fit. Wow, maudlin much, B? Get home and sleep; you're getting loopy.

I walked into the room I had left Alice and Masen/Edward/Fuckface in to see that he had, in fact, left, though Alice had not, and Jasper was now stretched out on the couch, his lip swollen and split from where he'd bitten through it when he fell. Alice had pulled her chair close and held his hand in both of hers. They weren't speaking and yet I knew they were communicating. They were in tune with each other in a way I'd never thought possible.

I knocked lightly on the door frame to get their attention. Alice whipped her head around and Jasper cracked an eyelid, both relaxing slightly when they realized it was just me.

"Hey, Jazzy Jeff," I said softly, "how you holdin' up?"

"Well, Lady Bella, thanks to your mighty heroic actions, I do believe I will survive and make a full recovery. You have my most heartfelt appreciation, to be sure." He smiled his slow, sweet smile and I felt myself smiling in return.

I liked Jasper. He was intelligent, funny and most of all, a gentleman. You could hear it in his voice. He was respectful (probably another thing he learned from his mamma), kind, gentle and "Southern by the grace of God," as I'd heard him say earlier.

"Well, if you're okay, I think I'm gonna head home. It's been a very…exhausting day," I said, smiling slightly. Exhausting, yes, but also exhilarating. The Jaw Man mystery had at least kind of been solved.

"Do you remember how to get back to the Tube from here?" Alice asked, concern written plainly on her face. She clearly didn't want to leave Jasper's side, but she didn't want me to feel abandoned either. I put her mind at ease though, assuring her that I did know how to get back to the Tube and where to get off so I could get back to apartment. They offered to come with me, but I told them it wasn't necessary. I grabbed my jacket and my bag and headed out the door.

It wasn't that I didn't want to hang with the dynamic duo, because I did, just not right now. I wanted some time to clear my head, and figure out what this Jaw Man identity revelation meant.

I pulled my iPod out of my bag and popped in my headphones, scrolling through to my London playlist. I hit play and went back to my contemplations.

First of all, it meant I was probably going to be spending a lot of time with this guy. Pros: that might lead to more of the awesome electric charge, he was apparently into music so we had that in common, and I could spend hours just listening to him speak. Accents are my downfall. Now, the cons: The awesome electric charge. What the fuck was up with that? How was I supposed to concentrate on anything when there's some sort of crazy energy buzzing through my veins? Oh, and he's a cocky son of a bitch. Yeah.

I sighed and shook my head, knowing my cons arguments were way weak. He's a cocky son of a bitch is the best I can come up with?

Speaking of cocky sons of bitches…

I was pretty sure he was strolling down the street in front of me.

I jogged a little to catch up, intent on apologizing for my threats and excessive violence. He stopped suddenly though, and looked around for someone or something before turning down a narrow alley.

What's this? Sneaking around London, are we? The stupid decision part of my brain was telling me that it would be a great idea to follow him, while the rest of me was telling the stupid part to shut the hell up. Of course, the stupid part won out and I walked after him slowly, so as not to draw attention to myself. I turned up the music, wanting to have a legitimate excuse for "getting lost" if he caught me. I got distracted and stopped paying attention. Airfuckingtight alibi.

The warm orange of an electric guitar started weaving its way through my head, red pulsing in the background with the drums, deep purple wrapping itself around the orange and forming some sort of musical double helix. The lyrics started, adding a gritty burnt orange-red to the mix, encompassing all the separate parts in its warm glow.

Homegrown. Rock to the rhythm and bop to the beat of the radio. You ain't got the slang but you got the face to play the role. You can play with me…

I smiled at the appropriateness of the words. Blending in was my specialty. I may not sound like the locals, but I could mix in effortlessly if I kept my mouth shut. I kept Masen (Alice's name was sticking with me) in my line of sight, letting him walk on the other side of the street about twenty feet ahead of me.

The streets of London were crowded tonight and no one would notice one more girl walking down the road. Sometimes I amazed myself with my brilliant ideas. I wished he'd maybe worn something other than all black. I'd never seen a man so impeccably dressed in such casual clothes. He looked phenomenally hot, an Optimus Prime t-shirt thrown over a long sleeve Henley, black jeans, black boots, black hoodie. I wondered at the jacket a bit because England isn't exactly cool in June and he was already wearing long sleeves, but hey, to each his own.

Pretty hair-do's and those lipstick kisses, blowin', yeah that's the right move. Make me feel like I'm the one who moves you, the only one you see…

He lit a cigarette, a brief flicker of flame lighting his face, and I couldn't help but stare at the absolute perfection of his profile. No man should look like that. The sheer flawlessness of his features was enough to make Michelangelo's David jealous. The firelight limned his nose in gold, his bronze hair sparking in the light and mirroring the flame. His lips pursed as he inhaled, the cherried end of his smoke the only light now.

We stepped out onto a busy street, though I didn't know which one, and he started off toward what seemed to be a park. We were in a less populated part of town, the pedestrian foot traffic becoming scarcer. I thought my game was up for sure when he paused at the corner of the park to look around before venturing in. I ducked behind a car parked on the street and stood still for a minute before peeking over the top of the car. I could see dark shapes moving in the shadows, but couldn't make out if it was Masen or someone else, or both.

What the hell was he doing in there? The park was pitch black and deserted, the rustle of the trees swaying in the slight breeze the only sound to break the silence of the night. There were no lights, no clear paths, and the eeriness of the whole thing was getting to me.

Now take it down, don't you let those tears quench the thirsty ground. Don't you be so scared that you can't make a sound, make a sound for me…

I had almost given up hope of him coming out when I saw movement in the trees at the far end of the park. Masen stepped onto the sidewalk and looked around quickly before stuffing his hand deeply into his pockets and continuing down the street. I scrambled out from behind the car and hurried after him, making sure to look at the ground every once in a while so I didn't eat shit and blow my cover.

He seemed to be walking on autopilot, his attention focused inward and not on where he was going. He crossed the street and for a moment he was illuminated by a sign proclaiming its building to be Jury's Inn. The light glinted like sparks from his hair, and he ran his hand through it nervously before starting to twine his fingers in the ends, twisting the little curls at the base of his neck around his fingers over and over.

He picked up his pace, lengthening his strides and quickening his steps. I stumbled slightly, luckily managing to keep my feet and I kept following. I really wasn't sure what had possessed me to tail him, but I figured I couldn't give up now, especially after the mysterious trip into the park. He seemed to be becoming more anxious, checking over his shoulder every so often, making sure he wasn't followed. Thank God I was a woman, because while I'm sure he saw me, he didn't register me as a threat like he might have if a man was tailing him. I looked like some innocent girl walking down the street, minding my own business.

Ahead of me he turned the corner and I ran to catch up before casually turning the corner as well. I looked up at the street sign and saw that we'd been on Pentonville Road and had made our way to Upper St. As I took in my surroundings I immediately saw what he was heading for.

There was a Tube station up ahead, and he was angling toward it. A few people detached themselves from the crowd and ran over to him. One of these jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist before hugging him fiercely. He spun her around before placing her feet back on the pavement. More people were joining the group, everyone vying for a little bit of Masen's attention, an acknowledgement or greeting. With a jolt I realized that he was the center of the little group in more ways than one. He seemed to be the one they were waiting for, and now that he was here they were becoming exuberant. The group moved on down the road toward the station, Masen at its heart. The men looked at him with the envy of boys looking at the men they'd like to be, the women looked at him coyly, desire and want clear in their eyes. If he snapped his fingers, they would come running. He flirted with some, teased others and acknowledged all.

All of London sings, 'cause England swings and they sure love the tales I bring. And those rainy days, they ain't so bad when you're the king, the king they want to be…

They stumbled down the steps of the station, dancing and laughing, settling on the benches that lined the walls as they waited for the train. I huddled in the corner, trying to observe without being observed, and made a quick study of the group.

There were three women and three men besides Masen, all tall and beautiful. Two of the women were blonde, the other a brunette, and all had the striking, graceful features and long limbs of models. The men were all at least as tall as Masen and looked as if they'd all coordinated outfits as well. All seven of them wore black coats and boots, some in blue jeans, some in black, and one of the women in red. Belts and shirts added color here and there but mostly it looked as if they'd walked right out of a rock video shoot. All the glamour of rock 'n' roll with none of the soul. Fake friends. Not a point in your favor, pal.

A train was pulling into the station and the group was rising to their feet, jostling with the other passengers to get closer to the edge of the platform. As it came to a halt and the doors opened, Masen paused for a moment and looked back in my direction. I ducked hurriedly behind a pillar, praying he didn't see me. I waited until I heard the train doors slide shut before I risked looking out again. I glanced at the schedule on the wall—this train was headed to Hackney Central station, and I made a mental note to google the neighborhood when I got home. I wanted to know what could possibly be drawing him away from the center of the city on a Saturday night.

I couldn't have given you any legitimate reason why I felt the need to know where he was going, especially since I wanted to know so badly I'd followed him all the way from Water Rats. Something just felt…off about him.

Much to my surprise, I'd learned long ago that my instincts were usually spot-on, so my natural inclination had been to follow my gut. I tended to be very logical and took time to think things through, but those few times when my instincts told me to pay attention, I paid attention. I was second guessing myself, telling myself that I was crazy. He'd given me absolutely no reason to suspect him of anything. But I couldn't shake my uneasiness, even now that he was off to Hackney and I was here.

Well, maybe I won't say anything yet. Other than disappearing into the park, he didn't do anything weird, and I'm sure that has a reasonable explanation. I was glad I'd come to a decision, and felt like it was the best choice to keep it to myself. What would I say, anyway? Hey, by the way, I totally followed Masen yesterday just because he felt "off." What, proof? No I don't have any proof. Oh, it's weird to follow someone without proof of wrongdoing? My bad, guys.

I checked the schedule again and saw that a train back to Hyde Park was arriving in five minutes. I sat down and settled in, waiting for the train that would take me home. I was tired again. My fatigue seemed to have disappeared as I followed Masen through the dark streets of London, but it was back now in full force. When the train arrived I shuffled my now heavy feet on board with the rest of the people, taking a seat and resting my head on the glass. I wanted to figure out more about Masen, and as much as being in the same room with him was going to pose problems, I knew the best way to get information out of him was to spend time with him. So I'd play the part. I'd be friendly. And I would get my answers.

Homegrown. Rock to the rhythm and bop to the beat of the radio. You ain't got the slang but you have the face to play the role. You can play with me…

Oooh...aaaah...suspense.

Any guesses as to whats up with Masen?

Reviews are better than Masen's accent : )