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

Chapter 39: Strategy

JPOV

Early, Tues March 15/05

Phoenix, AZ

I wish I could say that our midnight flit to Phoenix was a spontaneous romantic getaway for Anya and me, but well, that would make a liar out of me. Truth was, it was a desperate move, and not one that boded well for our romantic prospects.

Bella was still out cold in one of the bedrooms, a blissful ignorance that I envied more than I cared to admit. Anya was stirring in the other room, and I found myself hoping she'd join Alice and me in the living room.

Alice was in her usual state of heightened awareness, her gaze distant as she flipped through the channels of future outcomes in her mind. My skin itch with the need to move, to act. But there was nothing to do except wait. I fucking hated waiting.

I was on edge, constantly checking my texts, hoping our efforts had either stalled or, better yet, eliminated James. Carlisle had filled me in on what Anya had done. Her quick thinking to draw her own blood and use it as a distraction was a move I hadn't anticipated, even from her. The fact that she'd done this knowing she'd have to sit in a car with me afterward, fully aware I'd be able to smell the fresh blood, showed just how calculated her risk had been. That's exactly how she'd put it to Carlisle: a calculated risk.

And if that wasn't enough, on the drive down, she casually mentioned that she'd visualized James, Laurent, and Victoria as WWII German guards at a checkpoint instead of the monsters they were. She figured it would help her act bored instead of terrified when they were just feet away from her on that baseball field. That was when I found myself briefly reconsidering who the real military genius was here—me or the PhD candidate with a penchant for WWII history.

Honestly, it was starting to feel like a toss-up. Especially after Carlisle sent me another text, relaying her dry remark about not letting Eddie snack on the blood vials but rather entrusting them to Rosalie. I couldn't help but laugh.

Of course, Anya would think that way. I was beginning to believe she was the only rational one among us—and not just because she had insider knowledge of how all this played out.

See what I mean? Toss-up.

I heard the shower running and tried to push down my disappointment. I understood, though. She was probably scrubbing her skin raw, trying to rid herself of any lingering traces of blood. All because she loved me. Ahh that sweet, delicious blood! Stop it Whitlock! Focus!

Eventually, she came out, dressed in what had to be her fourth change of clothes in less than a day. At least this time, they were more her style. When we first arrived and got the humans settled, Alice had immediately headed downstairs to the boutiques in the lobby. She worked her magic, sweet-talking the night managers into opening up, even though it was 10pm. It didn't take her long to find some items for Anya—including shoes.

Anya looked more comfortable now, at least in the way she was dressed, though the weight of the situation still hung heavy in her eyes. She waited patiently for Alice to slide out of her visions, though how Anya knew that subtle shift, I wasn't entirely sure. I suspected it was another detail from the "playbook."

Yeah, the playbook—her playful codeword for the series of books about Heathcliff and The Duck's romance that she was privy to but always careful not to mention by name. She never slipped, never gave away too much. I still had no idea who the author was; Anya only ever referred to them as "the creator." While I mused on her continual insistence to dance around certain topics, never once saying the word for what I or any of us actually were—vampires—I couldn't help but admire her odd dedication to euphemisms. She adamantly stuck to calling us "vegetarians," always emphasizing the importance of treaties and unwritten rules. Even the word "blood" was off-limits unless absolutely necessary, and only if she couldn't find a more palatable substitute. It was all part of the strange, unspoken game she played, one where she refused to break certain boundaries, even in conversation.

Still lost in thought, I found myself suddenly under the intense scrutiny of her gaze. Anya looked squarely at both Alice and me, her eyes flicking back and forth as if she was trying to read something just beneath the surface. I wouldn't have been surprised if she felt checking for a pulse would help her solve whatever puzzle she was working through.

Oh—of course. In her typical way of asking without saying anything directly, she was checking if we needed to hunt.

When she started tapping her foot impatiently, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Anya, we're okay. Honest. Once we got you and Bella settled, we went out for a quick hunt."

Her eyes widened at my use of we.

"Separately, Anya," I clarified quickly. "One of us has always been with you and Bella."

She nodded, relaxing just a bit, though I could tell she was still musing over what I had said. Satisfied with my answer, she walked over to the mini fridge and grabbed an iced coffee, though I noticed her eyes briefly land on the assortment of mini bottles of liquor before she shut the door.

Returning to the couch opposite us, she settled in and took several sips of her drink, clearly gathering her thoughts. Finally, she spoke.

"Any word on the Germans?" she asked, her tone casual but laced with underlying tension.

Germans? Oh—James, Laurent and Victoria, the red-eye trio, as she'd also called them. I shook my head. "No, so far they're still up north, looking for the two of you. Your—" I paused, trying to think of a euphemism that would work for Anya's need to avoid certain words. "Breadcrumbs have been invaluable. It seems to be having the desired effect on James."

With Anya busy absorbing my answer, Alice seized the moment to ask, "Anya, do you have any idea what's next? There are too many variables in play for me to get a clear read on what James—ahh, the German—has planned next."

I could feel Anya deflate at the question, her emotions fluctuating between guilt, annoyance, and fear. She had been doing everything she could but being put on the spot like this clearly weighed on her. The pressure of knowing how this was supposed to unfold, yet not being able to predict every move, was wearing her down. Fuck, how I missed her baseline emotional cocktail.

Watching her struggle to find the right words, starting and stopping, Anya abruptly got up from the couch and began to dance and lightly sing to herself, We're Here for a Good Time.

Was she hoping that this was a romantic getaway? Because that's weird, even for her with Alice my ex-lover and Bella the fucker's girlfriend in tow. No, I doubt that was her reason for this particular song; she sang the chorus a few times and I could sense a shift in her emotions, as if she had come to some sort of decision.

"Screw it," she muttered, more to herself than to either Alice or me.

She came back to the couch and looked at us, determination now replacing the uncertainty in her eyes.

"I know that my presence when the Germans arrived caused your creator's carefully constructed plot to go to hell. I also don't really remember much about this part in the book, given my preoccupation with Team Jasper." She winked at me, and I couldn't help but smile at that. "But I do know three things:

"A—Bella is a teenager, and they do what teenagers do: ignore common sense and think they know what's best.

"Which leads to point B—Heathcliff will come in at the last possible moment to save the damsel in distress.

"Put those two together and the best I've got is that eventually, Heathcliff ends up here in Phoenix. There will be some sort of dramatic fight scene, because it's a ridiculous trope, and all will be sunshine and rainbows for the teen lovers."

"But", she paused, her voice growing serious, "I circle back to the fact that I was also at the baseball field, which is clearly a deviation. So, I'm fearful of point C—this is no longer just some sappy romance for me. This, for whatever reason—fate or the universe—is my life now, and I'll be damned if that child in there"—she pointed toward the room where Bella was sleeping, oblivious to the anger beginning to roil off of Anya—"messes up my love life."

Her tone softened as she turned her gaze to me. "I love you, Jasper, and while I can't stop you from doing what you do best, please promise me that you won't take any unnecessary risks. And I'll do the same."

Her words hung in the air, loaded with that impossible sincerity she always had when talking about us. I could feel the surge of emotions—love, fear, protectiveness. She wasn't just talking about herself anymore. This was about us, about what we had become.

"I love you too, Anya," I said softly, knowing the courage it took for her to be so open about how the love story ended. She was starting to let go of the Dreamworld, wasn't she? To believe this wasn't just some temporary detour. Three months ago, I'd been a background character—fiction, in a love story for teenagers. Now, she was choosing me over finding her way back to her real life, to her family in Montreal, her future. The life she had before all of this. And here I was, a struggling vegetarian vampire, and she was willing to gamble it all on me. Made my dead heart crack.

It wasn't just fear of losing her. It was the madness of it all—her giving up so much to stay here, in a world that made no sense, with a man who was literally fiction not so long ago. The weight of that sacrifice, of what she was willing to risk for us, was almost too much to bear. But it also made me more determined than ever to protect what we had. To protect her. "I promise," I said, my voice low but firm.

Alice had been fairly quiet during our shared declaration of love, but I caught the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It was classic Alice—she couldn't help herself. The moment Anya and I finished speaking, Alice leaped up from her seat in a flash to envelop Anya in a tight hug.

"I knew it!" Alice chirped, her voice bright with excitement. "You two are perfect together!"

Anya, caught off guard but clearly touched, returned the hug, a soft laugh escaping her. "Thanks Alice. Now as much as I'd love to focus on my own love story," Anya eventually said, her tone light but serious, "we do need to figure out what to do with Sleeping Beauty in there." She nodded toward the room where Bella was still fast asleep.

I was curious if Anya had any suggestions, if she could remember any more specific details about how Bella might make things worse. I could feel the question forming on my lips before I even realized it.

"Do you have any ideas, Anya?" I asked, my voice steady. "Anything from the playbook that might help us keep Bella out of trouble?"

Anya sighed, leaning back into the couch as she seemed to sift through the fragmented memories she had of the story. "I wish I had more to go on," she admitted. "I know Bella's a danger magnet, and from what I remember, she's going to do something reckless. She's headstrong, convinced she knows best, and that's how she ends up making things worse."

She paused, as if trying to pull more details from the recesses of her mind. "But the specifics? They're blurry. I just remember her getting it into her head that she can handle things on her own. Which, of course, doesn't go well."

Well shit, that's not much to go on.

A/N: Canadian Thanksgiving is this weekend! Next scheduled update is Tuesday, Oct 15/24.

What will our military geniuses come up with? Or is the plot wildly off course?