Prologue:
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I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Gilda Radner
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"Charlie… I'm so sorry," I carefully wrapped my arms around him, and let him cry. Was this the same, cocky Chief Swan that bashed out my taillight a few years ago? "You know," I told him, "the kids aren't really dead… they're gone forever, but they aren't dead. You have to believe that, Charlie." "Yeah, yeah, Father Clark talked to me, too." he replied.
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"Tower to C599, you are clear for takeoff; approach the runway."
It was time to leave Forks at last. I was finally Mrs. Isabella Cullen, and within a few hours, I would cease to live. Well, at least in a traditional sense. You know what I mean… Well, technically, Isabella Marie Cullen would cease to live in about twenty minutes. Edward and I were seeing to that.
After spending hours and hours trying to persuade Charlie that this would be the fastest way, and a few more hours persuading him that Carlisle (who was "flying" the plane, as far as Charlie knew, anyway) was a fully licensed pilot; I was heading off to my new life. I tried not to cry when I said goodbye to Charlie. It was so hard, knowing that I would never see him again… or Renee… or Phil … or Angela … and the list stretched on and on. I was leaving everything behind.
But not everything, I had to remind myself. I was keeping the most important thing in the world.
"Copy that, Esme," he had the voice of a god… that still made me swoon whenever he spoke.
"Good luck, sweethearts," Esme's voice crackled over the radio, as the plane started to pick up speed. She sounded concerned. "Bella, make sure that parachute is on tight. Rosie and Carlisle are waiting, just at the place we showed you. Be safe … and I love you two!!"
"We'll see you soon, Esme," Edward replied, keeping his voice straight through his mother's emotion. Edward eased the plane into the air, and we were off. I looked behind and saw Charlie waving. For the first time during all of this, I broke down and cried. I hoped Edward wouldn't notice.
But he did, of course. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder, and kept the other on the steering-wheel thingy. "Bella, love. We don't have to do this, you know."
"You promised," I snapped at him, wiping the tears away from my eyes.
"Alright, then." Edward sounded resigned, but I saw a faint glimmer in his golden eyes. He took his hand off my shoulder.
Flying was such a sensation, especially with Edward in the pilot's seat. He flew like he drove, putting Chuck Yeager to shame. Woot! I remembered something from history class.
Sometimes, I swear that I'm so happy that Edward can't read my mind and see what a ditz. He'd probably rip his gorgeous ring off my finger.
Thank goodness I was safe.
"Bella, love," Edward said, concern flooding his granite features, "I'm going to pitch the plane down. Get your parachute ready." I snapped the buckles and pulled them tight.
He nodded. "I'm going to get on the radio as we're going down, try to provide some, ah, ambiance noise."
"Okay." I was starting to get really nervous.
"Get ready to kick out your door." His voice sounded like this, jumping out of airplanes, was a common, everyday occurrence. I nodded.
He curled his right hand into a fist, and sent it through one of the control panels. It broke easily, revealing a mess of wires. He stomped down, hard, sending his foot through the floor.
"Take off your headset and wait for my word!" Finally, he was sounding just a teensy bit concerned about this operation. I obediently took off the headset, and hung it on the little hook.
He flipped a little switch on his headset. "Mayday, mayday, can anybody hear me? Anybody, anybody?"
He nodded at me, and I screamed like a banshee having an acid trip. I hope that was the ambiance he wanted. I'm not sure how I was able to scream that loud; I sounded worse than a hired mourner.
"Mayday! I'm flying an utter piece of rubbish, a Cessna 599 somewhere over British Columbia. We're going down… We're going down… too fast, too fast." He looked at me and hissed, "Get out of here!" under his breath.
I kicked the door and jumped, while Edward went with the plane.
So here I was, free-falling over Canada, screaming at the top of my lungs. Luckily, I had the parachute. Even luckier, it worked.
I fell slowly; by the time I was down, Edward had crashed the plane into a thick hedge of trees, which was eagerly burning, and was waiting with me with open arms. I landed with a thud in his hard arms. I would probably have bruises. Edward kissed me gently on the lips, and set me down on the ground.
"Welcome to Canada, lovebirds," It was Rose, waiting with the Jeep. She was wearing oversized sunglasses, perched slightly down her nose for effect, and a double-breasted black overcoat; looking like the average gorgeous FBI agent in almost every single action movie. "Edward, get that thing off her, while I called the Mounties. Then, we're out of here. Carlisle awaits, dahhh-ling," she added with a smirk.
Edward unbuckled the parachute from my chest, as 'Agent Rose Hale, FBI,' called the Canadians to report the crash, describing her heroic efforts to pull the 'victims out of the horrible, burning wreck'.
As soon as she hung up, we were off. We were on a highway headed west, pulling 120 miles an hour, when I asked, "Where's Carlisle waiting?"
Edward, who was sitting next to me in back seat, replied, "Somewhere north of Montreal. Give that man a reason to practice his French and…"
"This is going to be fun," Rose laughed and gunned the engine.
AN: Anything non-canon, non-sequitor, not spelled right, or anything, let me know. More coming soon.
Also, those of you who are curious, I picture Rose's outfit like the outfit Celine Dion wore in the music video for "Taking Chances" -- I'll provide a URL to a picture if I can find one ;)
