A/N Twilight is the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter 15: Sushi Lunch

JPOV

Sun Jan 16/05

The drive was quiet, but not in a bad way. Anya hummed along to the music playing softly through the speakers, and I found myself slipping into the melody with her, even singing along softly. It was strange, feeling this at ease after the emotional storm from last night. But here she was, cheerful as ever, her emotional cocktail back to the mix I'd come to know and appreciate. The grief, that awful, suffocating grief, was gone, replaced by the lightness I'd found intoxicating about her.

Thank God. And was it weird that she never said a word to me when she went about her morning routine? I mean, she had to know about us and yet she just went about her business like – well, nobody's business.

I loved hearing her sing in the shower.

We pulled up to the house, and she literally hopped out of the car as if was completely normal to be invited to the home of vampires, her takeout sashimi and spicy salmon handrolls in hand. Her mood was almost infectious, a stark contrast to the tension that still hung over me. As we climbed up the steps to the door, she paused, her voice dropping to a soft whisper only I could hear. ""Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said. Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred," she murmured, her tone almost playful, but with an edge of knowing that I won't lie, left me a little rattled. She glanced at me, a slight, knowing smile tugging at her lips. And she was once more back to humming. It was like she was determined to keep the mood light, and I couldn't help but be relieved as my family's emotional buffet was decidedly darker.

Esme greeted us at the door with her usual warmth. Anya responded with a polite smile, eyes bright, slipping right into that easy, cheerful vibe that was her emotional baseline. "Thank you, Esme," she said, her tone light, almost as if this were just another friendly visit. She even chuckled softly, lifting the takeout bag. "Hope you don't mind that I brought my own lunch."

Esme's smile widened. "Not at all, dear. Please come in." Following her to the dining room, I felt it—Anya's emotions. Calm. Happy. Like she was trying to spread that lightness around, maybe for my sake. The contrast was jarring—her effortless ease against the tension that gripped the rest of us.

And yet, her mood didn't shift. She stayed light, relaxed.

It felt a bit like whiplash after the cocktail from last night, when she was practically begging me to me to snap her neck. And now, she's almost trying to what? Put me at ease?

What the hell did this human know?

Reaching the table, she gracefully sat down and began to calmly arrange her lunch, seemingly oblivious to the weight of our stares. She took her time, unwrapping the takeout with a methodical precision that bordered on the absurd given the circumstances. Sashimi, the rolls, a plastic cup of soy sauce, and a small can of sake appeared on the table, each item placed with care. It was like she was in her own world, completely at ease.

I sure as fuck wasn't. I could feel everyone's curiosity, impatience, and unease mixing into a potent cocktail that pressed in on me from all sides. Anya was playing this perfectly, keeping us all on edge, waiting for her to make the next move. I pushed out a little calm to dial back the tension in the room.

Finally, she looked up, catching our collective gaze with a small, almost playful shrug. "What? I didn't want to assume you'd have food for me. You know what they say about assumptions—they only make an ass out of you and me." Then, with a flourish, she added, "And I am anything but an ass."

No, but you do have a nice ass. What did you expect? I'm a guy. And she's – well she's a helluva woman.

Emmett was the only one who cracked a smile, his amusement clear; I could feel the lightness in him. The rest of us weren't so easily charmed, but that didn't seem to bother her. He sat to the left of her, one chair between them, Rosalie on his side, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

I watched Anya closely, sitting to her right, close enough to feel the warmth of her contentment—so steady, so constant. It was almost impossible not to be drawn in by it. She was a bright spot in the room, her mood at odds with the rest of the family wanting to know what she knew.

Was it weird that I wanted to touch her?

Then, she did something unexpected. She calmly turned her attention to Edward, who was seated directly across from her. His usual composure was fraying, a mix of frustration and wariness that seeped into me, making it harder to stay grounded in the face of Anya's calm. My fingers itched to touch her.

"You all want answers," she began, her voice steady. "And I'll give them. But first, to ensure what I'm telling you is the truth, Eddie boy here will read through Jasper's thoughts to determine if a) Jasper's been telling stories out of school or not, and b) if I'm being truthful."

Edward stiffened at the nickname, his control slipping just a fraction. How the fuck did she know about my nickname for him? But Anya seemed oblivious as she set the terms, making it abundantly clear that she was in control of this conversation. Bold move—brazen, really—especially considering she was in a room full of vampires. But her emotional cocktail didn't waver, calm and almost nonchalant, like she was daring us to challenge her.

And damnit, it was working.

"That obviously is my first point," she continued, looking Edward straight in the eye. "You're the mind reader, correct?"

Her words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but marvel at her audacity. She was confident, sure of herself in a way that few humans ever were around us.

Score one for the human.

Edward nodded slightly, his expression unreadable, though I could sense the flicker of surprise beneath his usual stoicism. Anya had done her homework, no doubt about that. The question was how had she done it?

She then picked up a piece of sashimi with her chopsticks, her movements were calm, deliberate. I watched as she dipped it lightly in soy sauce before popping it into her mouth, her gaze shifting to Carlisle at the head of the table, to her far right. There was something almost disarming about the way she continued eating, as if this were just another casual lunch and not a conversation with a roomful of vampires.

She was a spy. That had to be what she left off her resume. A master cleaner and spy.

She swallowed, her expression softening slightly as she turned to Carlisle. "Carlisle, I feel I owe you an apology for that phone call the other day, insisting the boys attend detention. But really," she added, her tone shifting to a light scolding as she set down her chopsticks, "if you insist on keeping up this charade of the teenage experience, no teenager is that perfect. Their brains aren't fully developed—they're little shits who get into trouble, ergo, get detention. Just some food for thought, eh?"

Carlisle smiled faintly, amusement and understanding mixing in his eyes. He was taking this in stride, as he always did, but I could feel his curiosity—just as sharp as mine—about where Anya was steering this conversation. Looking in, you'd think she was toying with us, but there was no malice in it. Just that same calm assurance.

My fingers moved closer.

Turning towards Alice, seated on the right of Edward, her gaze grew more thoughtful. "You can see the future, but I'm not sure if my presence here has been affecting that." She paused, picking up her can of sake and taking a leisurely drink, her eyes flicking to Alice's with a knowing look. "I know not to think too clearly or decisively—spontaneity is your blind spot, after all. But... I'm not too sure. We should chat later, kay?"

Alice tilted her head slightly, curiosity lighting up her expression. I could sense her mind working, the threads of possibility weaving and unraveling as she tried to piece together how Anya's presence might be interfering with her visions. Anya was playing in the spaces between certainty and chance and Alice was responding with intrigue and frustration.

Fascinating.

Anya shifted her focus again, this time to Emmett. Her lips curved into a wry smile as she set down her sake and picked up a spicy salmon handroll. "And you—no mistaking who you are. You're every bit the affable, burly brother, and I'd love to hear your exploits about grizzlies."

Emmett's grin spread wide, his good-natured bravado clear, in the way his chest puffed up a bit. "Anytime," he replied, his tone full of enthusiasm. He was clearly pleased with her assessment, and I could feel the pride and amusement rolling off him in waves.

My fingers were on the edge of the chair, inching closer to her.

Watching her, I couldn't help but marvel at how easily she was navigating this. Her calm was still intact, her happiness bubbling just beneath the surface, infecting the room with a kind of forced levity. She was doing exactly what she said, sharing what she knew, all things I had decidedly not told her, and fuck if she wasn't enjoying it!

And me? I was just trying to keep up, trying to decipher her intentions while being pulled along by that strange, intoxicating mix of emotions she carried. Calm, light, content, a strong belief that what she was saying was the truth—everything I wasn't used to feeling in a situation like this. Everything I wasn't used to wanting to feel.

Anya had our attention, all of it.

Fucking admirable honestly.

But then Anya's demeanour shifted. I felt it before I saw it—a sharp drop in her emotional current. The lightness that had been so constant was now laced with something heavier, something tinged with sadness and pain. Her eyes softened as she turned to Esme, seated opposite Carlisle, and the warmth she usually radiated dimmed, replaced by a quiet sorrow.

"You truly are a remarkable mother," Anya said softly. "Even if your route to motherhood was unconventional."

Esme's eyes softened in response, a gentle, encouraging smile curving her lips, not feeling the need to respond to her simple statement. I felt a pang of empathy from Esme, a quiet sadness that echoed Anya's, but also a profound respect. Her sadness, though controlled, was palpable, and it stirred something in me. I found myself caught between wanting to understand her more and the growing realization that whatever had happened in her past still haunted her deeply. She was giving Esme the respect she'd likely never had the chance to show her own mother. The thought twisted something inside me—a mix of sorrow and a strange, protective urge I couldn't quite name.

My fingers were nearly touching the edge of her chair. I wish I had placed mine closer to hers.

Then Anya turned to Rosalie, and the atmosphere changed again. The air seemed to thicken with the shift in her emotions—respect, yes, but there was something more. Something sharper. A current of anger, maybe, or disgust. It was hard to pin down, but it cut through the sadness like a knife.

"For those of us who couldn't or didn't have the courage to face our own monsters... thank you," Anya said, her voice hardening, each word sharp and precise. "Those fuckers deserved everything you gave them."

Okay, definitely did not tell Anya that. The Ice Queen's usual guarded expression slipped for a moment, revealing something vulnerable beneath. A flicker of pain, maybe, or a memory surfacing. I couldn't be sure. But it was clear that Anya's words had struck a nerve, touched something deep and raw within Rosalie.

The room was still, every eye on Anya as she leaned back in her chair. She seemed relaxed on the surface, but her eyes were sharp, watching us all with an intensity that belied her calm posture.

The emotional whiplash was back in full swing – one moment calm, the next heavy with sorrow, then cutting with sharp-edged respect.

Damn I had to move my hand, Eddie boy was a little too curious especially when Anya leaned back in her chair.

His curiosity and my family's was causing the tension to rise around us. As for me? I was in turmoil—caught between the sadness she'd shown Esme, the fierce respect she'd offered Rosalie, and the strange, almost intoxicating draw I felt toward her. It was like she was pulling me in, wrapping me up in her shifting emotions. And then, just as quickly, she shifted back. That familiar baseline of contentment, with a hint of mischief all interwoven with a strong belief that she knew exactly what she was talking about.

I really wanted to emote that back to the room, but the look Edward was giving made me held back.

Damn. It would have been fun.

"So," she said, a small smile playing at her lips as she locked eyes with Edward, "mind reader—do Jasper and I pass muster?"

Edward's brow furrowed in concentration. I could see him trying, straining to pick up anything from Anya's mind. But all he had was my own running commentary as she shared a truth about each of us. Useless to him. We were both blind.

"Osti de câlice d'tabarnak!" she suddenly exclaimed, thrusting a hand toward Edward. "Hold that thought—I forgot Jasper." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as Emmett, catching on, tapped out a drumroll. I felt a flicker of amusement from her, that mischievous spark lighting up again. "Contrary to popular belief in Forks, your name is not Jasper Hale, but rather Major Jasper Whitlock, youngest officer of the Texas Cavalry, at your service." She gave me a sharp salute before turning back to Edward.

Which left me just as in the dark as he was. That was definitely not what I expected her to say. How the fuck did she know that? And fuck, how much more did she know?

Edward's expression softened, and I could sense how it pained him to say the following. "I can't read your thoughts," he admitted, his voice low. "But from what Jasper's shared... you seem to know us better than you should."

Anya's smile widened, like she'd been expecting Edward's admission. "Good," she said, leaning back. "Then we're on even footing." She took another leisurely drink of her sake, completely unbothered by the tension in the room. It was like she held all the cards—and knew it.

Carlisle broke the silence first, his voice gentle. "Anya, how is it that you know so much about us?"

She set her drink down, fingers lightly tracing the rim, before she met Carlisle's gaze. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "Know much, I do," she intoned, her voice dropping into a spot-on Yoda impression. "Homework, I have done. Ready, I am."

Emmett snorted, unable to hold back his laughter. "Oh, this is gonna be good," he muttered, clearly enjoying the show.

Carlisle raised an eyebrow, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as well. "And this homework... where did you find it?"

Anya chuckled softly, the smile still playing on her lips. "In the pages of a book, Carlisle," she answered, her tone returning to normal but still teasing.

Esme leaned forward, concern creasing her features. "A book? What kind of book, dear?"

"A very revealing one, Esme. Full of surprises," she replied.

I could feel the curiosity and unease swirling around the table. Everyone was on edge, yet she kept the mood light, almost playful. It was fascinating to watch her navigate this, balancing between teasing and tension.

Emmett, clearly not finished, leaned forward, a grin stretching across his face. "So, Anya, how does a librarian know how to swear in French?"

Her smile didn't falter. If anything, it widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she turned to him. "Why, from burly men who wrestle grizzlies, of course," she said, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated, playful manner.

Emmett laughed, loud and genuine, clearly pleased with her answer. I could feel the warm ripple of amusement spreading through him, that I decided to emote out to the room.

I couldn't help but feel a tug of admiration for how she handled herself, even as my mind kept circling back to the question that hung between us all: how much did she really know? And how much was she still hiding? She was giving us just enough to keep us intrigued, but not enough to satisfy our growing curiosity. Books? What was she playing at?

Alice tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as curiosity sparked. "Are you suggesting we're... characters in a book?"

Beside me, Anya let out a soft laugh, the sound light and almost musical. She was genuinely enjoying this. But then, as quickly as the laughter came, it faded, and she turned more serious. "Perhaps," she said, her voice softer now, more reflective. "Or perhaps you're more real than any character could ever be. Sometimes, the lines blur. Reality and fiction, truth and story... they're not always as separate as we like to think."

Her words hung in the air, and I felt rattled once more. The way she spoke—calm, assured, like she knew things we couldn't even begin to comprehend—left me unsettled. I needed to know more, to figure her out, yet at the same time I was holding back. Maybe it was the way she'd effortlessly turned the tables on us, or the fact that despite Edward's best efforts, her mind remained a closed book.

Shit, she had a military mind. Military intelligence and master cleaner?

The others were equally silent, caught between curiosity and caution.

Anya's fingers toyed with her sake can again, her posture relaxed, as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell in the middle of our conversation. She must have sensed the rising frustration around the table because she suddenly held up her hands in mock surrender. "Revenons à nos moutons. In all seriousness, yes—a book. Well, a series to be precise. And a popular one too."

She took another sip of her sake, only to frown when she realized the can was empty. That flicker of disappointment almost made me smile. Even now, she managed to keep things light, though I could feel the tension in the room ratcheting up. Time to emote that playfulness of Emmett again.

Emmett laughed, his voice booming through the otherwise tense atmosphere. "Wait, are you saying we're famous? Like, people read about us?"

Anya grinned, flashing a mischievous smile. "Oh, you have no idea, big guy." She took another piece of sashimi and dipped it into her soy sauce before popping it into her mouth.

But not everyone was amused. I felt the shift in Edward's mood even before he spoke. His eyes darkened, his voice low and dangerous. "That's impossible. We've taken every precaution to remain hidden."

Anya raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharpening. Swallowing her food, she answered him, "Yet here we are. And trust me, the details are... comprehensive."

The room seemed to tighten around us. I could feel the unease spreading, a mix of disbelief and growing tension. Rosalie, who had been silent until now, crossed her arms defensively. Her irritation spiked, a hard edge cutting through the room. "Prove it."

Anya sighed, setting her chopsticks down with a calm deliberation. "Alright. Let's not break any unwritten rules or treaties, shall we?" She looked pointedly at Carlisle, who nodded subtly, permitting her to carry on.

She continued, her tone measured, careful. "I won't refer to you directly as... well, certain nocturnal beings. But suffice it to say, your family has a unique lifestyle choice, abstaining from the more... traditional dietary preferences of your extended family."

If her aim was to cause a room of vampires to be speechless, I'd say she got it in that one statement: She had successfully laid out the truth, or at least a version of it.

Score two for the human.

It was Alice who broke the silence. Her eyes widened. "That's why I couldn't see you clearly. Your decisions are... unconventional."

Anya nodded pondering this before slowly answer, "I suppose being from a different reality does that."

Carlisle leaned forward, his eyes intent. "Different reality?"

Anya took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for what came next. "Yes. In my world, you all are characters from a series of books. Fictional. Not real. And yet, somehow, I've found myself here, in this... universe where you're very much real. Not to mention broody Heathcliff." She jabbed a chopstick in Edward's direction, her exasperation clear. "For the love of all that is holy, tone it down a notch!"

If that didn't get under Eddie boy's skin, Anya started humming the chorus to "Wuthering Heights", that playful glint still in her eyes. I thought the weirdness of the situation might snap under the weight of everything, but instead, Emmett grinned and, to everyone's surprise, joined in, singing along in a deep, exaggerated falsetto. "'Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy, I've come home...'

Anya chuckled, her mood lightening as she turned to Emmett. "I knew you'd be fun."

Eddie boy looked like he wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed, his expression caught somewhere between a scowl and a forced smile. But I could feel the tension in the room easing, even if just a little. Anya's humour was disarming, with a kind of irreverence that felt... well, refreshing.

Carlisle, ever the faithful patriarch, steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. "So, in this reality of yours, we're just characters in a book? A work of fiction?"

Anya nodded, her expression turning more serious. "That's right. And before you ask, I know how insane that sounds. But it's the truth. Where I'm from, you're all just words on a page—a story. But here... here you're real. How, I don't know."

My entire family had one feeling after that statement– disbelief.

Score three for the human.

Rosalie's voice cut through the silence, sharp and skeptical. "And how did you end up here, in this reality?"

Anya's gaze flicked to Rosalie, and I saw her expression sober, the lightness from earlier fading. "That, chica, is the million-dollar question," she muttered, almost to herself.

Rosalie's skepticism didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—curiosity, maybe, or a reluctant acknowledgment that Anya might be telling the truth.

Edward leaned forward slightly; his intense gaze fixed on Anya. "You're saying you were pulled into this world, but you don't know how or why?"

"Yeah," Anya replied, her tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. "One moment I'm on the train heading home, reading—your book, actually, for book club. Though God knows why I brought that with me on my trip. And the next thing I know, I'm looking into Doc McVampy's golden eyes. Wondering if there'd been an accident." Her expression was serious, but there was a hint of exasperation in her voice, like she still couldn't quite believe it herself.

"You were reading our book?" Alice asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. "And then you just... ended up here?"

"Pretty much," Anya said, her voice edged with frustration. "One minute, I'm lost in the story, and the next, I'm part of it. I'm not sure how or why, but here I am, stuck in this world that shouldn't even exist."

Carlisle, leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "So, you were reading about us—about this world—when you were... transported here?"

Anya's patience was clearly wearing thin. She sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing as she placed her hands down on the table with slightly more force than necessary. "Yeah, that's what I said. Are you deaf, or are you all just a special kind of stupid?"

Human: 4; Vampires: 0

The room went dead silent. Well, quieter than a room full of vampires can go, but you know what I mean. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emmett trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh. I couldn't help it either; a grin spread across my face, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing outright. Anya's bluntness was a shock to the system, but damn if I didn't love it.

Carlisle, to his credit, took it in stride, though I could see a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "My apologies," he said smoothly, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "I just wanted to be sure I understood correctly."

Anya rolled her eyes, clearly still annoyed. "Well, now you do. So can we move on from the recap and get to the part where we figure out how to get me out of here?"

Emmett couldn't hold it in anymore; he let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "I like her," he said, grinning at me. "Finally, someone who doesn't tiptoe around us."

Anya raised her hand for a fist bump, grinning right back at him. "Right back at ya, big guy."

He didn't hesitate—he bumped her fist with a grin, his large hand dwarfing hers. The instant their hands connected; I felt a sharp shift in Anya's emotions. Her eyes widened just a fraction, and for a brief moment, she seemed almost impressed. Something in that brief contact of my brother's hand touching hers had confirmed something for her.

What the hell had Em confirmed for her? And why did she seem so satisfied by this?

Edward, however, was less amused. He shot Emmett and me a glare before turning back to Anya, his expression serious. "This is serious, Emmett," he muttered, then looked at Anya. "And if you want our help, you might want to be a little more... cooperative."

Anya raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Cooperative? I've been more than cooperative. I've told you everything I know, and all I've gotten in return is a bunch of repeats of what I've already said. I'm tired, I slept on the floor, and I'd really appreciate it if we could skip the redundancy and get to the part where you help me get home."

Carlisle nodded, the amusement fading as he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "You're right. Let's focus on finding a solution."

Anya's irritation softened slightly, though she still had that sharp edge to her. "Thank you. Now, let's see if we can actually get somewhere, like home."

Emmett couldn't help himself when he shared, "She's got a point, though. We're supposed to be the smart ones."

Anya let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "No, sadly, your... creator... had you pegged as more of the jock with rocks for brains, if you catch my drift."

Emmett's grin widened, clearly enjoying the banter, but before he could respond, Anya added, "Although, on second thought, I do believe they got it wrong. Hell, they got a lot of things wrong."

WRONG? WHAT?

But before anyone could press her on what exactly had been "wrong," Anya abruptly stood up, her sudden movement catching us all off guard.

"Right," she said, clapping her hands together. "I'm gonna blow this popsicle stand. What d'ya say, Tex?" She looked directly at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Ready to go?"

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden shift in mood, but also intrigued. "Where to?" I asked, a hint of a smile playing on my lips.

"Anywhere but here," she replied with a wink, clearly eager to escape the intensity of the room.

Emmett chuckled, shaking his head. "You two have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Anya rolled her eyes dramatically. "Which, coming from Mr. 'I wrestle grizzlies for kicks,' that leaves us a pretty wide range," she snapped back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I couldn't help but smile at that as I stood up to join her. "Indeed, it does."

Carlisle looked like he was about to say something, but then he just nodded, as if deciding it was better to let things play out. "We'll talk more later," he said, his tone making it clear that this conversation wasn't over.

"Looking forward to it," Anya said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm as she turned and headed for the door. I followed her out, the tension in the room lifting slightly as we left the others behind.

A/N: When I first conceived the idea of this fic back in 2011 this lunch scene was the first that popped into my mind. I wanted to play on how when Bella came over for lunch she ate ahead of time, Edward was embarrassed that they were making her Italian and Rosalie was pissed off. I loved the idea of Anya arriving there with her sushi - the closest food to what the Cullens' eat and having a leisurely lunch while dropping bombs left right and centre. Sorry it took me 13 years to put pen to paper but I'm happy with how it turned out.