Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm borrowing her characters, dressing them up in MARPAT, and giving them some guns. BilliCullen and Scooterstale are making sure they're ready for inspection.

The Black Eyed Peas own Where is the Love.

June 8
Joint Base Langley-Eustis
Hampton, Virginia

"Turn around and move your arms a little."

Senior Staff Scientist Isabella Swan – Bella to any who knew her well – glanced over her shoulder to a mammoth of a man sitting on one of the stainless steel tables in the center of the room. Like everyone else she'd encountered over the last two days, his expression was stern, his focus absolute and measuring as he appraised her. Despite the severe countenance, somewhere in this guy's dark blue eyes, Bella swore she detected a hint of a smile, however, almost as though he found their whole situation mildly amusing.

The Marine's eyebrows climbed to his hairline, lifting a pair of slick-looking wraparound shades perched on top of his head. Bella nodded and turned. Facing a wall of nothing but shelves, each one stacked high with pixilated fabrics in beiges, browns, and greens, she stretched her arms high over her head, dropped them to her sides, and then slowly repeated the actions again.

Emmett crossed his arms over his chest. "Not too bad. Can you walk alright?"

"Yeah, I think so," Bella mumbled as she stared down at the thick, stiff material now snugly strapped around her upper body. The tactical vest was bulky, awkward, and it weighed a ton. Nothing like her lab coat. She twisted at the waist a few times, grimaced, and then crossed the length of the room. When she spun back around and lurched a little to the right, the big man frowned. "Okay, it's a little heavy."

Pushing off the table, the staff sergeant approached her. With a stride almost twice the length of hers, his movements were quick and efficient, as though the matching body armor he'd donned in demonstration weighed nothing at all.

"But does it fit?" Emmett asked as he began cinching a couple of the beige straps at the woman's sides and shoulders, tightening the armor and in the process redistributing the weight such that it wouldn't be quite as bad on her shoulders. He stuck two fingers between the vest and her left shoulder and tugged. She was as thin as Alice. "Ought to be decently tight. No gaps."

"Yeah." After another couple of twists and attempts at touching her toes – impossible – Bella made a face. "I think so. It didn't move around as much that time."

"Good. You'll get used to the extra weight. If you don't…" Emmett shrugged, but one corner of his mouth lifted as he fitted a helmet, also in the same beige and brown MARPAT patterning, on Bella's head. "Tough shit, you'll wear it anyway."

"I know." She attempted a smile. "Thanks."

Satisfied, he motioned for her to remove the gear. "What kind of shape you in?"

"What?"

Rubbing the back of his head, nearly bald until the short dark hair at the crown, Emmett squinted and waved at the too-slender woman standing in front of him. "Look, we don't usually cart around civilians… not even ones who come up with scary-ass shit that can melt your face off."

Bella winced. "It doesn't really do –"

He cut her a don't even try stare before lifting his face to the ceiling. His cheeks puffed out before he blew out a loud breath. "No offense or anything, but we don't really have any guidelines for this kind of operation, or for you, and God only knows what we're going to find when we get back to that extraction site. So I'm just tryin' to… figure out what we're gonna have to deal with. The more I know about you, the better."

A nervous giggle bubbled out, and then another when Emmett scowled at her. "Sorry… No, it's fine. I understand." Bella shook her head. "I'm okay, I guess. I run five days a week. No asthma or heart problems or anything like that." She thought for a second. "I've hiked over half of the AT."

The staff sergeant studied her for a long moment, noting the looseness of her cammies, before finally looking away to point at the table. "You don't need a full load or anything. But this is some stuff I think you better have on you just in case. On the way over, I'll show you how some of it works."

Neatly laid out on the stainless top was a small cache of items: a pouch labeled IFAK, a canteen, flashlight, beige leather gloves, ballistics glasses, leatherman, and a handful of other objects Bella couldn't name. There were also three ATNAA kits, and those she knew about better than anyone.

One item was notably missing.

"Um, am I going to carry a…" Eying the table and its contents, she hesitated and chewed the inside of her cheek. "A gun?"

There was a second of absolute silence where Emmett's teeth clamped down on his lower lip, and then suddenly, his face broke into a wide grin that ran one hundred and eighty degrees counter to his earlier scowl. "Ah, no."

"Bu–"

Emmett bit back a laugh at the woman's instant responding indignation. "First, it's a rifle. Second, I doubt the Captain's gonna go for anything like that." He laughed for real when Bella's eyes narrowed. "Plus, that's just more shit to carry anyway."

"What about a pistol?" she pressed, shoving her helmet underneath her arm. "You're probably right about me carrying a… rifle. But I read the report, okay? About Riley's… " Her throat bobbed once before she rushed through the rest. "Rescue and all that you guys went through to get him out. I don't have any illusions about what I volunteered for... So I think it would be good for me to have… I don't know… something."

Shoulders still shaking, Emmett lifted his palms in mock surrender. "Tell you what, Doc, I'll let the Captain know you want a sidearm. If he says no, well…" His lips twitched, knowing full well how that argument would go. "I'll let you two sort it out." As he loaded Bella's gear into the network of webbing and small pouches affixed to her vest, under his breath, he added, "If he says yes, God help us."

Ignoring the remark she wasn't supposed to hear, Bella dipped her chin and stuck out a slightly quivering palm. "Deal." When Emmett took her small hand in his larger, calloused one and gave her a curious half-smile, she took a deep breath that stretched her chest and smiled back. "And I go by Bella, by the way."

Slinging both of their gear over his shoulder, Emmett coughed back another laugh. "Whatever you say, Doc. You ready to go meet your new best friends?"

It took fifteen minutes of walking through a series of long halls and covered walkways before Emmett shouldered through a heavy metal door that opened up to their final destination: a wide, open field of white concrete. Off to the right, behind three massive warehouse-like buildings, sat row after neat row of pointed-nose fighters, and directly in front, a runway in matching white concrete stretched to span the length of the base.

"Come on, we're this way. We're hitchin' a ride on Fred," Emmett said, gesturing to their left and to the small crowd gathered at the open aft door of an enormous gray jet in the center of the tarmac. A sleek, aggressive-looking helicopter was already most of the way inside the cargo hold, and beyond that, deeper in, a pair of headlights spaced wider than a normal street vehicle's reflected back. A second tan-colored Humvee with a turret on its top waited just outside. Waving at the aircraft, the sergeant explained, "C-5. Alice's old buddies are givin' us a lift."

"Alice?"

"Yep. That's her helo." Emmett pointed to a small woman with inky black hair in a olive drab flight suit. Standing by the ramp, Alice alternated between fisting her hips and pointing in agitation at some unseen problem inside the hold. "Annoying little shit." He snorted and flipped his shades down against the late afternoon sun. "But I swear she's the best driver on the whole goddamned planet. Flies anything, too. Fixed-wing or rotor."

Bella frowned and then flinched when one of the jet's engines roared to life. "You know that I have no idea what you're saying, right?"

"Tink started out Air Force. Fighter pilot." Leaning down, Emmett half-yelled and thumbed toward those neat rows of fighters to their right. "Flew F-16s in Iraq and then Afghanistan." He winked and shot her a mischievous grin that made him seem twenty-three instead of thirty-three. "Then she got smart and decided to upgrade."

"You can transfer?" Bella's nose scrunched. "I didn't know that."

"Not real common. But there was a good reason, she was good enough, and…" He pointed to the tall, lean man with hair the shade of a dirty penny standing off to the side between Agents Dalton and Calahan. From his stance and the squared tautness of his shoulders, Captain Cullen wasn't a happy man. "She had the right backers."

"They're… together?" Bella's brows shot up.

"What?" Stopping in his tracks, Emmett's eyes boggled behind his shades and he made a fake gagging sound. "Fuck, no!"

She waited for the big man to catch back up before saying, "I don't follow, then."

Shifting their gear from one shoulder to the other, the staff sergeant glanced down the runway with a short huff. "Alice was part of a… joint forces operation." Still faced away from both Bella and their captain, who looked like he could spit nails about now, his voice dropped, barely audible over the rumble of the engine tests. "We all were. 'Cept Jazz, that is. He's only been with us for the last two years." Several long seconds passed before he went on. "After that mission… I guess we all sort of gravitated together."

"Wha–"

Cutting her off, not wanting to go there at all, Emmett shooed the dark-eyed scientist toward the waiting aircraft. "Let's move. They're almost done, and I can't stand the smell of jet exhaust anyway."

June 9
Mid-flight
Somewhere over the Atlantic

Leaning against the bulkhead, Edward observed the casual interaction between his staff sergeant and their ward. When she tightened her ponytail, a slight tremble made her fingers fumble. The same quiver was there in her voice when she answered Emmett's barrage of questions, too. But it was those eyes of hers that really betrayed her, the captain noted. Constantly moving, they flitted from one Marine to the next, routinely finding their way to Edward only to quickly slide away when she caught him staring back.

Tugging off his cover, Edward raked his hand through his hair in irritation.

Of course, it wasn't like anyone could blame the woman. This shit was far cry from a DARPA lab, and as far as Edward was concerned, she was nothing more than a pretty white lamb cut loose on the savannah. One more person he had to keep alive, he spat. And that was on top of locating an unknown terrorist cell and executing an as-yet planned operation. Just like '07.

Edward's fists balled inside his pockets. Like he'd repeatedly told both the General and those idiots at the CIA, regardless of her expertise, Dr. Isabella Swan had no business whatsoever on this plane or in those cammies. No matter how good she looked in them.

"Alright," Emmett started again as he plopped back down in the bright blue seat beside her. Twisting halfway around, he blindly dug through one of the boxes behind them, grabbed two bottles of water, and tossed one of them to their scientist. "Rule number one. You don't ever go outside that Humvee without your plates and your helmet. Got that?" He didn't wait for her to answer and his instructions came out more like a series of barked orders. "You only take that shit off if one of us tells you you can. Clear?"

The woman's face scrunched into a comically sour expression.

"Rule number two. You don't go anywhere unless one of us tells you you can. Not even to piss."

The hard, straight line of Edward's lips broke when Bella huffed. "Yeah, got that one already. No unsupervised pissing."

Emmett shook his head before cracking open his own water bottle and throwing back half the contents in a single chug. "Look, the main thing is just stay behind one of us at all times and do what we tell you to do. If we take a knee, you take a knee. If we drop and crawl, you drop and crawl. If we tell you to stay put, stay fuckin' put. If we tell you –"

Bella cut him off with a sharp, "I got it. Trust me," and this time Edward had to school his mouth shut to keep from laughing at the hot spark of her irritation. Maybe not a lamb, he corrected. A pissed off kitten was more like it.

Across the deck, leaning against the opposite bulkhead with her arms crossed over her chest, Rosalie glared and mouthed, "This is fucking stupid."

The slight incline of Edward's head was the only indication that he agreed.

"Jazz," Emmett barked, standing and flicking his bottle cap at the corporal dozing across the aisle. "Go over the gear with her, will ya? I need to talk to the Captain." Instantly alert, the younger man nodded once before hopping over to take Emmett's seat.

"Okay, Doc," Jasper said, not wasting any time, as he quickly burrowed through her pack to locate an item Edward hoped none of them would need to wear. "Gas mask. You ever wore one?"

"It's Bella."

"What?"

"Never mind," Bella muttered on an exhale. "Yeah, I know what a gas mask is."

"Right…" The corporal's lips pursed as he studied the scientist. "I'd guess so, considerin'." A little hesitant – perhaps a touch disbelieving – he asked, "So you know how to test the seal and everything?" When she confirmed, ever efficient, Jasper moved on and picked up another item. "Night vision. These'll mount up on your helmet. This model is brand spankin' new, too. Flip this switch and it'll show thermal." He grabbed her helmet and began fastening the black goggles to the bracket on the front. "Pretty bad ass, huh? All you have to do is…"

In her periphery, Bella tracked the massive staff sergeant, Emmett – appropriately called Bear by his team – as he looked over to Captain Cullen and silently motioned toward the rear of the cabin. The commander lifted a single brow, but then in response to something she didn't see, without saying a word, he turned and followed.

Hard, lean, and with a set of wide, straight shoulders that tapered to a trim waist, Captain Edward Cullen possessed a presence and bearing that few could match, she realized. Weaponless and at ease, it wasn't arrogance he wore when he surveyed the room, but a special kind of quiet self-assurance that could only come from a man who knew both precisely where his limits lay and that those limits were beyond those of anyone else around. Even in the shadows and physically dwarfed by the man beside him – despite his own six-foot-two frame – it was the stern-faced captain that drew everyone's eyes and ears.

The bigger man threw a furtive glance toward Bella and Jasper before saying something that she couldn't hear but that made the captain's jaw tick. His fists moved to his hips, his eyes darted to hers, and his voice, unmistakable in its incredulity, carried across the cabin. "She wants what?"

"She's got a point, sir," the staff sergeant countered, scratching his chin.

"Christ, Emmett! Are you going to be the one to babysit…"

Bella tore herself away from the arguing men, careful to avoid the glaring gunnery sergeant across the way, just in time to see the light brown balaclava Jasper held up in front of her face. "For when it's dusty and shit. And it's NOMEX, too." Tossing the garment aside, he rummaged through another one of the numerous pouches. "Alright. See this? This is important. Radio headset. Even though you will never, ever…" He paused and tapped his foot until he had Bella's full attention. "Be on your own, you'll still need to know what's going on and be able to talk to us." Pointing at a switch and a swivel, he explained, "It's pretty easy to use and as long as Em and Tink aren't bickering back and forth it's not so bad to get used to."

Taking the headset the Marine offered, Bella fiddled with the adjustable mic arm. "I really appreciate this."

The corporal's forehead creased. "Huh?"

"I appreciate you not being a dick about them forcing me on you."

Rosalie coughed and muttered a low, "Unbelievable," but the rest of the cabin instantly went silent.

A faint dusting of pink and its accompanying heat climbed the younger man's neck. "Right, well, I mean, it's not like I like it, so don't think that." Ducking his head, Jasper continued sorting through the pack, automatically rearranging Emmett's haphazard attempt at organization. "But whatever, ya know? Not my call. Plus, it's too late now anyway, so might as well do what we can so no one gets killed because of you."

"Jazz!" Edward snapped from behind them. "Enough!"

"Shit," Jasper muttered, wide-eyed at the unexpected reprimand. He tossed the scientist an apologetic smile. "Sorry, ma'am. No offense or anything."

"Yeah, I know. I get that a lo–"

Before Bella could finish, the cockpit door banged open. Still in her flight suit, headphones in, and with her arms pumping and hips swinging, First Lieutenant Alice Brandon waltzed into the cabin. Literally danced inside. Oblivious to the tension, half-singing and half-rapping, she belted out a loud, off-key, "Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism… But we still got terrorists here livin' in the USA… The big CIA… The Bloods and the Crips and the KKK…"

Bella's palm clapped over her mouth, and raucous laughter erupted behind her. Bolting up, Jasper grinned and took Alice's outstretched hand, spinning her around in the center aisle as she kept on, "People killin', people dyin'. Children hurt and you hear them cryin'. Can you practice what you preach? And would you turn the other cheek…"

"Better than last time, I guess," Emmett snickered as he walked over to stand by the tall blonde. "Don't you remember? She was on Shaggy for three weeks! I didn't think I'd ever get that Summertime shit out of my head." He tugged on the gunny's ponytail, earning him half-assed glower. "At least Fergie's hot." And that got him a kick to the shin. "Damn, you're violent, woman!"

"Shut up and be nice." Rosalie punched him in the shoulder, not moving him at all, and then finally flashed a row of straight white teeth. "Didn't you watch Hook? Fairies can be sensitive little bitches…"

With a put-on glare, Alice yanked out her headphones. "Pfft! You know what they say, right? Float like a fairy…" Twirling under Jasper's outstretched arm, she smirked and winked at Bella. "But sting like a motherfuckin' hellfire missile!"

"Kill me now," Emmett groaned, staggering backward into the bulkhead and slapping his forehead. "You did not just butcher the Great Mohammad Ali." He peered over to the approaching captain. "Do somethin' with her!"

"Think I haven't tried?"

"What-ever," Alice chimed, rolling her eyes as she spun around and dropped to the seat beside Bella, kicking up her boots on the armrest. "You're Bella. I'm Alice. Ignore them." She grinned. "And sorry you had to deal with… him." Alice playfully tilted her head in Emmett's direction, netting an indignant, "I heard that!" from the staff sergeant. She then turned serious as death itself and leveled a flat stare at the rest of the team, including her commanding officer. "I hope they're not being assholes. They can be sometimes, you know. Seriously, like fucking Neanderthals. If they are, just blame it on all the time away from civilization."

"Nah, they're fine," Bella replied with a wave at the open pack beside her. "We were just going over some… stuff I need to know."

"Speakin' of," Jasper cut in, ignoring Alice's annoyed huff. "There's a couple more things we need to cover." When he pulled out three slender black plastic cases, each a hand's length in size, all amusement and movement in the cabin ceased.

"ATNAA kits," Edward interrupted, gazing down at the dark-haired scientist beside his pilot. Tan, sinewy cords of muscle, bare from having rolled up his sleeves, flexed along his forearms. "But I'm sure you know a lot more about these than we do. Correct?"

"I do," Bella answered, barely heard, as she reached down to the floor and into a canvas bag she'd brought on board – a different one from the pack Emmett had prepared. Inside a sealed container that she'd carefully concealed deep inside the bag were another two dozen kits, roughly the same size and shape as the standard issued black ones, only these were a dark burgundy and instead of carrying the ATNAA label, they were stamped in large, white block print, XR-5-Ab.

Clearing her throat, Bella picked up one of the burgundy cases. "This is… " She stopped, laid it in her lap, and then grabbed one of the pen-size injectors from a standard black kit and held it up. "So you know that these injectors contain both atropine and pralidoxime chloride."

"Good for VX and sarin." Rosalie gave her a curt nod.

"Right," Bella answered and then glanced up at the captain. "But like I said in the General's office… this is…" She chucked the injector into the box behind her. "Nothing against XR-5. Useless. There's not enough atropine to counter it," she explained to the team. "The pralidoxime chloride is too dilute. And neither can move through your bloodstream fast enough."

"Wait a minute, Doc," Jasper blurted. "Are you sayin'…"

Alice shushed him.

"Believe me." The scientist's teeth worried her cheek before she continued, slowly moving her head side to side. "I know it doesn't. I was there when it was tested. I know what happens. Riley and I… that's what we did. I know XR-5 because it's mine. It's what I do."

"Then what do you suggest, Dr. Swan?" Edward asked, low and even, like always the picture of collected self-assurance.

"This." Bella shoved one of the burgundy cases into the captain's hand. "It's… atropine and pralidoxime, but in much higher doses and the latter's been modified. It'll do everything that the ATNAA will do for VX and sarin, only better. This one's also got an additional drug – a new one that we developed – and a better delivery medium."

Flipping the kit over, Edward watched her mouth purse and saw the hint of wet shine when she looked away. "Why?" This time Edward's voice came out as soft as spun silk.

"When we saw… what kind of damage XR-5 could do… how completely and irreversibly devastating it could be… how it could wipe out thousands of people in mere minutes…" Her shoulders fell, folding inward. A second passed, and then another, and then abruptly the woman's lips mashed into a tight line and her shoulders squared straight again. "Riley and I had some very long conversations. Based on other existing antidotes and what we knew about XR-5, we came up with a sketch of something that we thought might work as an emergency corrective measure. That's that third drug… I played around with it at night and on weekends. When Riley went missing… I did some tweaking and finally got it into liquid form."

"You didn't say any of this in the General's office."

"No, I didn't. On purpose, which might mean my job if it gets out." Bella made another face and chewed her thumbnail. "See, it hasn't been approved… or really tested, other than in simulations and on lab rats. You know how the system works. They'd have never let me prep it for use. But it was the only– "

Rosalie asked, "But does it work?"

Sighing, Bella fingered the white stamped lettering. "Theoretically? Yes, it should. The simulations showed very high efficacy. In practice, though? I'd give it… maybe thirty to forty percent odds. Maybe less, maybe more." Risking a glance up, she went on, "It's the best – the only – chance you've got against XR-5…There's nothing else out there right now. But you've got to inject it immediately upon exposure. No more than… four or five seconds, at most. And it's got to go straight into the heart. A couple of heartbeats to pump it around is all you've got before it just won't matter."

Edward studied the woman for a long, measured moment, and then slowly, his gaze swung around the cabin, pausing at each member of his team. "No one goes anywhere without three of these. Front pocket, no excuses. Got it?"

June 9
30° 21' 1.5660"
34° 50' 48.7428"
Negev Desert, Israel

"You're with me, Dr. Swan," Edward ordered as they climbed out of the C-5 into hot, dry desert air. Reflected off the flat, pale beige floor of the valley, the sun was almost blinding, even with sunglasses, and the miserable heat blasted down straight through the fabric of their cammies. "Blondie, you and Em take the Humvees and get 'em loaded. Jazz, makes sure Tinkerbell doesn't kill any airmen getting that helo out. Meet back at nineteen hundred."

A quick succession of, "Yes, sirs," followed.

Scrambling to keep up with the captain's longer stride, Bella attempted to look around to gauge their location. Somewhere in the Middle East, she guessed. With very little in the way of vegetation – and what was there was short, sparse, and dry – all around the airfield were short, craggy mountains and rocks. Other than the brown-beige asphalt of the runway, there wasn't a sign of pavement anywhere, either. Instead, just dusty dirt roads that seemed to lead straight into the sides of the rounded hills of the same color that sat at the base of the mountains.

"Where are we?" she asked.

Edward's lips turned up as he pointed to the right where, after a second of squinting, Bella could finally make out what looked like a dirt-colored tent. The longer she looked, the clearer the image became, and she realized that it wasn't just one tent in the middle of the desert, but several, all situated between the rounded hills. People in olive green fatigues moved beneath the canopies. "Those aren't really hills, are they?"

"No, they're hangars."

"Holy shit."

As they walked toward one of the larger set-ups, Edward watched the woman in his periphery, trying not to laugh at the way she gaped when a massive door into one of her 'hills' rolled up to reveal the nose of a green, brown, and tan fighter hiding inside.

"Shalom, my friend!" Jogging out from beneath a nearby tent, a familiar tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned man laughed and greeted, "Harbe zman lo hitra'enu!"

A quick grin flashed across Edward's face as he motioned to the C-5 behind them and then extended his hand. "Rav Seren, mah shlomecha?"

"Eh, hakol beseder b'eli haseder." Major El'azar Dayan – scout, sniper, commander of one of the elite teams within Sayeret Matkal, and Edward's Israeli counterpart for all intents and purposes – just shrugged like usual. "Same old, you know how it is. They play politics while I'm here sweating my balls off in the desert…" Glancing at the pale woman standing beside the captain, he chuckled. "So what brings the mighty Ghost back to my side of harm's way? You just left, no?"

Edward's eyes danced. "Eh, lo kelom. You know how it is."

"Bullshit," the man barked, clapping Edward on the shoulder and shaking his head. "You have a beautiful woman with you. It can't be nothing much to bring one like her here."

Rolling his eyes, Edward rattled off a smart-ass answer in Hebrew, and then the two men launched into a fast-paced exchange, punctuated by equally fast hand gestures and shifting expressions. A few minutes in, somewhere mid-conversation, Edward reached into his pocket and produced a small sheet of paper. On it was an insignia of sorts. All black, and in the center, there was a blood red scorpion, reared up and poised to strike its dagger tail. Along the bottom, following the curved arc of the design, were small red symbols that Bella couldn't identify.

El'azar's expression hardened as he examined the emblem. Swapping back to English, he muttered, "Only whispers about this one. Nothing official. Nothing good."

"Who picked it up?" Edward asked.

The major chuffed. "Two weeks ago, a Kidon unit said they saw something similar during a… training exercise."

"Where?"

"Northern Iran," he said, spitting. "Camp was hidden in the Kopet-Dag. That symbol – or one like it – was stamped on a heavy-duty weapons cache. No personnel to verify, though… well, none surviving, at least."

It wasn't surprising that the Israeli knew more than the CIA had been able to tell him. That was always the case around these parts. "Figures," Edward grumbled. "Keep your eyes open, will ya? Let me know if you hear anything else. We'll do the same."

"Always…" the major replied, inclining his head before moving his gaze to Bella. He grinned. "Now, Captain, are you going to introduce me or must I be rude and do it myself?"

Turning slightly, Edward saw the scientist start. Beneath her boonie, a faint sheen of sweat made her skin look like satin, and her lips were red and full from where her teeth had been clamped down during their exchange. His fingers flexed. "Right… Dr. Swan, this is Major El'azar Dayan." He paused. "Major, Dr. Isabe–"

"Bella," she interrupted, offering her hand to the Israeli soldier.

Roaming her face, El'azar clasped Bella's hand, holding on a second too long. "Very appropriate."

Bella blushed the color of the major's beret, nodded, and then mumbled a quick, quiet, "Naim me'od."

Beside her, the captain went ramrod stiff, and both men's brows rose. El'azar's eyes darted to Edward's. "Mah zeh?"

Blowing a puff of air, Bella waved a hand and said, "I'm not a spy or anything nefarious like that, so don't even ask. When I was growing up, my mother changed religions like most women change purses…" She grimaced, crinkling her nose. "There was a Jewish phase when I was in high school and that meant Hebrew classes for me." Brushing a damp strand of hair off her neck and back up under her cover, Bella sighed, "I was just lucky that I'd already left for college by the time she moved east to Hinduism."

Without warning, the major's already grinning face split wide and he let out a loud roar of a laugh. "I see we've been outmaneuvered, Ru'ach refaim!" he cried, slapping Edward's shoulder again, as Edward just shook his head. When he finally calmed, El'azar shot her a predatory smile, and his dark eyes glittered when he purred, "So what other surprises do you have up your camouflaged sleeve, beautiful one? Tell me you wield a knife, and I'm yours forever."

"Alright," Edward cut in. "That's enough of that." The captain's tone was flat – all business and no nonsense – but the tightness of his jaw said something else. To El'azar, he asked, "Mind if we borrow your range?"

"But of course," El'azar said, still chuckling, and then he winked at Bella. "My house is yours."

Ten minutes later, Bella stood, staring across a long, flat stretch of dirt at a life-sized, person-shaped piece of black cardboard with white curving lines circling the most vulnerable parts. She wiped the back of her neck. When her palm came away soaked, she swiped it across her leg. "I'm not so–"

From beside her, there was a quick brush of stiff fabric, a sudden snap, and then the telltale metallic click-clack of a chambered round. She swallowed and slowly turned just as the captain asked, "You ready?"

Looking down at the empty holster strapped to the man's left thigh and then to the other one on his opposite leg, not empty, Bella swallowed again. "I–"

"Watch," he replied as he gripped a sand-colored semi-automatic in his right hand, forefinger straight against the slide, and supported it with his left in demonstration. "Feet shoulder width. Lean forward a little. Relax." He clicked the safety off. "Line it up and steadily pull the trigger to fire."

The sudden ear-splitting bang that echoed through the valley made Bella jump and take a step back. Without pausing, he fired off two more rounds in quick succession, each loud crack making her blink in automatic response. When it was quiet again, she looked down range to the target. Three neat holes, almost right on top of each other, sat dead center where the heart would be.

"Geez, you're really… good," she mumbled.

"I'm alright," he said, smiling a little because fact of the matter was that Captain Edward Cullen was the best shot in the entire battalion, with only Rosalie coming anywhere close to his scores. "Try it. Emmett said you wanted to carry a sidearm… so here, let's see if you can handle one."

Bella gingerly accepted the proffered pistol, eying it like it would bite.

"Go ahead," he urged quietly, noting the slight tremble when she wiped her palm on her pants again. He walked behind her and placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders, repositioning her ever so slightly. "Just relax."

Mimicking the grip the captain had showed her, Bella looked down the barrel and past the little square bead at the end. She took a long, slow breath, and then another, and finally, slowly pulled the trigger. The boom was even louder up close, and the recoil – unexpectedly strong – sent her elbows flying and her body backward into Edward's. Her back hit his chest with a surprised, "Damn–unf!–it!"

"Nice," Edward chuckled as he righted the slender scientist. Resting his hand against her lower back as he studied the target, he found a small hole right through the forehead – unintended, no doubt. "Can you do that again? Aim for the chest, though. It's a bigger target."

Wiping her face with the back of her arm, Bella moved back into a ready stance and nodded. Following the same instructions as before, she lined up the target behind the bead and then, this time prepared for the recoil, fired off three rounds. And then another three. And then one last one.

The captain's hand and jaw both dropped and he stared at the woman still holding his sidearm, who just grinned up at him like she'd just won the lottery. Three in the chest, a fairly tight coupling, and three in the head, spread out but again decent and more than competent for a civilian. And then that last one right in the crotch.

As far as Edward was concerned, Dr. Isabella Swan just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

"Witch!" El'azar bellowed from behind them, laughing his ass off. "Marry me, beautiful!"

"Where did you learn to shoot?" Edward asked, disbelieving and ignoring the laughing Israeli.

Bella's expression turned sheepish. "My dad… He was in the Army in Desert Storm – a Ranger. And then he was a cop in my hometown once he retired. He said everyone needed to at least know how to shoot. But I haven't shot anything since high school. I guess it's like… I don't know… riding a bike."

"I guess so."

She looked down at her boots and toed the loose dirt. "I don't think I could do that to a real person, though."

"Maybe, maybe not." Shielding his eyes from the sun, Edward watched a pair of camouflaged fighters streak across the bright blue sky. "If it comes down to it, you'd be surprised at what you can and cannot do."

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Notes: If you have a second, use Google Maps (in satellite view) or Google Earth and look up those coordinates given in the last segment. You have to zoom really far in… If you do, you'll find something rather interesting. I stumbled upon it in my research.

Hebrew (transliterated):

Shalom – Peace, Hello, Goodbye

Harbe zman lo hitra'enu – Long time, no see

Rav Seren – Major (military)

Mah shlomecha? – How are you?

Hakol beseder b'eli haseder – Everything is in order within the chaos (a common phrase)

Lo kelom – Nothing much

Mah zeh – What's this?

Naim me'od – It's a pleasure

Ru'ach refaim – ru'ach means spirit as associated with the soul. Refaim refers to the 'fallen ones'. Combined they kind of mean 'ghost'.

Glossary (lots of jargon in this chapter):

AH-1Z – aka Viper, is the USMC's newest attack helicopter, capable of firing rockets, hellfire, and sidewinder missiles. It also has a 20mm chin-mounted turret gun. Note: this is one of those points where I'm taking some creative liberties. In reality, the AH-1Z is designed for two-man operation: a pilot and a gunner. Because Alice is such a great multi-tasker, I'm letting her handle both jobs. :)

AT – or Appalachian Trail, is a 2000+ mile marked hiking trail through the Appalachian Mountains that runs from Maine to Georgia.

ATNAA – or Antidote Treatment Nerve Agent Auto-Injector, contains both atropine and pralidoxime chloride in one injector. It is effective against Tabun (GA), Sarin (GB), Soman (GD) and VX nerve agents.

Balaclava – is basically a ski mask.

Black Ops – or Black Operations, are missions and activities involving direct action (i.e. offensive engagements), as opposed to "Green Ops", in which the activities are more geared toward assessment and reconnaissance.

Boonie – or boonie cover (hat), is a broad-brimmed soft cover.

Cammies – or camouflage utility uniform, are the "work" uniform of the Marines, consisting of a long-sleeved, pocketed, and reinforced blouse, cargo style trousers worn tucked into boots, an olive t-shirt worn underneath the blouse, a webbed rigger's belt, and tan rough-cut boots. Insignia can be pinned on the collar, but often is not worn in combat. During black ops [see above in Glossary] activities, Force Recon Marines often wear NOMEX (a type of fire resistant fabric) flight suits instead of the usual utility uniform.

F-16 – or General Dynamics (later Lockheed, then Lockheed Martin) F-16 Fighting Falcon, is a fighter aircraft capable of both air-to-air combat and ground attack. The USAF (Air Force) currently operates around 1000 of these.

Fred/ F.R.E.D. – stands for Fucking Ridiculous Economic Disaster and is a nickname given to the Lockheed C-5 Galaxy, a rather large heavy airlifter operated by the USAF. It's larger than the Marine Corps' usual C-130 airlifter, with a cargo hold capable of transporting the load in the chapter above: an AH-1Z Viper helo with minimal dismantling and two Humvees. There's actually a cool photo and write up out where a combo USMC/USAF team at Travis AFB was able to fit a UH-1Y Venom (utility helo) and an AH-1Z both inside a C-5. You can Google it.

Hellfire missile – is an air-to-surface weapon, designed to carry a roughly 20lb warhead of varying type (incendiary, thermobaric, etc.). It's a precision weapon used to target armored entities, such as tanks, bunkers, armored vehicles, etc.

Humvee – or High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (HMMWV), is a common military vehicle for transporting small teams of Marines overland. They're four-wheel-drive, roughly 7-ft wide, often armored, and are usually set up to carry 4 people: driver, gunner, commander, and radio. Numerous versions exist and they come equipped for a variety of situations and scenarios. For example, there's a version out there that has hellfire missle launch capability. Cool, eh?

IFAK – Individual First Aid Kit

Interservice Transfer – commissioned officer transfers between different branches of the armed services is allowed, although it's not terribly common. The process is governed by DOD 1300.04 and MCO 1001.45H. From what I understand, depending on the situation and individual, an incoming officer to the Corps may be required to attend The Basic School (training school for officers), additional training depending on the future function, and/or stay at grade longer than s/he would have otherwise.

Kidon – a department within the Mossad (the Israeli intelligence agency) that handles assassinations.

Leatherman – is a company that makes multi-purpose tools, but the name has also been appropriated as a general term for any multi-purpose knife/pliers/screwdriver/etc. combination tool. Kind of like how people call any tissue a Kleenex.

MARPAT – or MARine PATtern, is the current standard Marine digitized camouflage pattern, coming in both "Woodland" and "Desert" varieties.

Night Vision Goggles – or binoculars, or rifle scopes, etc., are nifty little devices that utilize a variety of physics and optics principles to intensify light and enhance vision in low to very low light. The green cast that you most often see is due to the green phosphor screen, which is selected based on human eye sensitivity. Note: While there are patents out there, a few larger optical instruments, and maybe even a few prototype binocular sets, I'm not aware of any existing, readily switchable night vision to thermal imaging personal equipment. This is just me making up more fun stuff.

Sayeret Matkal – an elite Special Forces unit within the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). They specialize in deep reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, and hostage rescue.

Tactical Vest – to be honest, it's a little confusing trying to figure out which exact vest specific units are using right now. It varies from function to function, and they seem to change out/update models every few years. The current standard USMC ballistics vest is the recently adopted Improved Modular Tactical Vest (IMTV). Special Forces, including Force Recon, often use a different vest, however, especially for black ops activities. At least until recently, they used the CIRAS (Combat Integrated Releasable Armor System) vest, which is more compact and maneuverable than the IMTV.

But either way, pretty much any ballistics vest used by the Corps will cover the trunk of the body, or at least the upper portion. Its purpose is to protect the wearer against small weapons rounds and shrapnel using a combination of layered Kevlar fabric construction and ceramic Small Arms Protective Inserts (SAPI), which are inserted into special pouches built into the vest. Handy-dandy pouches for things like grenades, magazines (the bullet type, not Cosmo), etc. can be attached.