I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

Chapter 3: Encounters

Airports still made his skin crawl. Every time he walked into an airport, any airport, he was transported back to that day. He never told anyone that, not even Rosalie and she knew him just about as well as any person still on the planet. Ellis would have sensed it in a heartbeat. He wouldn't even have teased him – too much – simply because he would have recognized how big it was, that roiling mixture of fear and sadness.

He had flown since Ellis' death, though it had taken him a year to work up the courage. He had been drugged up to his eyeballs, but that hadn't diminished the sense of triumph when he didn't lose it as the plane took off. He might or might not have tried to take a chunk out of the arm rest with his fingers on the landing, but he didn't cry like a baby or ask for his mommy. It was a triumph any way he looked at it.

But airports still gave him the creeps.

This particular airport, however, was the worst of all. That made sense, seeing that this was where he'd been when they'd told him his best friend and brother was gone. Just wiped off the face of the earth in one shattering instant. One moment Ellis had been alive and healthy, the next he was gone, nothing more than a few bits of bone and ash amidst the wreckage of a crash scene.

Taking a deep breath, Edward pushed his way farther into the airport. They had reconfigured it since 9/11, of course. In fact today he wouldn't even be able to get to the terminal where they'd all been waiting that day. He could get close, and that was enough. It wasn't about recreating the day, hell no. It was about paying tribute, remembering.

Forcing a bland, bored expression on his face, Edward wandered through the airport for a few moments. Then he spotted the Starbucks right outside the new security area. He'd gone there that day. So he went today.

He got in line, trying to decide what to get and then just went with a classic, boring coffee. He took his cup, ignoring the young woman's obvious offer of something more than a caffeinated beverage and went to sit in the seats provided for those waiting to meet a flight.

The coffee was probably delicious but it might have been stagnant water for all he enjoyed it. He sipped at it, wondering what he really hoped to accomplish with this little pilgrimage. He had just seemed right at the time; of course there was always the distinct possibility that he was full of shit and didn't have a clue what he was doing. Yes, that was always possible, he conceded.

About thirty minutes later, a slender young woman, also nursing a steaming cup of Starbucks, took a seat in row opposite him, facing his direction. She didn't look up. She didn't have a book or an iPod like so many travelers. She simply sat there, her eyes on the floor, her hands clutched around the cup.

Surreptitiously, he studied her. Something about her nagged at a memory, either too old or too buried to come to the fore very quickly. She was lovely, in a quiet way. She didn't have the flashy kind of good looks that would garner quick attention in a club, but there was something classic about her that would draw eyes and admiration in a quieter setting where its subtlety could be appreciated. Her beauty seemed to be enhanced the more he watched her.

Finally, her eyes flashed up to meet his. They were dark pools of pain, a look he recognized quite well. And in that instant it came to him.

A gangly girl, all braces and blushes.

After arguing with himself for a moment, he decided that he might as well speak to her. It would be too coincidental that she'd be here – on this day – for any casual reason. Like him, it would seem that she had chosen to spend this day remembering.

"Excuse me," he said softly and her eyes shot up to his for just a moment before lowering yet again. "I know you," he said after a long pause. He had formulated a dozen sentences in his head and yet had still blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"I thought I recognized you too," she admitted quietly. Their eyes met again and this time she did not look away. He found himself strangely giddy at the little victory.

"Your mother...she was on the plane that day," he said. It was not a question. There was no doubt in his mind. Of course the papers had run profiles on all the local victims and their families. It had been big news in its time. He vaguely remembered her presence at a memorial for those lost on Flight 7798, but he had been too drunk to really interact with anyone. Everyone had read his mood quite clearly and avoided him that day, even his own family. He couldn't blame them.

The young woman nodded and suddenly Edward wished he had paid more attention so that he would at least know her name. That was fixed easily enough, he mused. He held out his hand with a slight smile. "I'm Edward Cullen."

"Bella Swan," she said and Edward's hand tightened on hers spasmodically.

Swan.

Swan.

Now that name meant a bit more than the rather anonymous list of names associated with Flight 7798. He tilted his head and gazed at her curiously. "Was your mother Renee Swan?"

Bella nodded and Edward knew she was connecting the dots just as he was. '

"Your mother...she was assigned to sit on the aisle seat in the same row where my brother was," Edward said. The airlines had released seating assignments as part of the investigation into the crash.

"Ellis Cullen was in the window seat," Bella said and he almost flinched at the sound of his brother's name on her lips. Then she shrugged. "At least that was the seating assignment."

Her mother was the woman in his dreams, the one holding his – no, holding Ellis' hand. The woman who always looked the same in his dreams as she had in the newspaper pictures, her expression frozen forever in that moment.

At first, he wondered at the coincidence of meeting her. Here. Now. Then he shrugged. It had been a relatively small plane, after all and everyone had had to be seated near someone. There had only been 37 passengers and crew that day, thirty seven lives lost. Not so much in the big scheme of things, he admitted. It was just huge on the small scale.

They didn't speak for a few moments, but to his surprise the silence was not uncomfortable. He finished off the now cool cup of coffee and watched as she did the same. "Would you like some more?" he offered. "My treat."

She smiled widely then and once again, she became more beautiful in his eyes. "Anymore and I'll never get to sleep."

Of course, not being able to sleep tonight of all nights was going to be about a lot more than caffeine. He acknowledged that truth with a nod. He looked around him, watching all of the scurrying travelers who were already annoyed and short tempered. He studied the families waiting for loved ones and remembered when he too had just always assumed that that loved one would arrive safe and sound.

Abruptly, he turned to look at Bella. "I'm done here," he decided suddenly and he knew that he was. Whatever he had hoped to find here had eluded him. Then he studied the young woman sitting across from him. Or perhaps not. "Would you like to get out of here with me? Get something to eat maybe?"

She hesitated for a moment. "My car is here," she said.

"I'll drive you to your car and you can follow me," he offered. "Or I can drive us both and bring you back for your car. Whatever works best for you."

She seemed to consider it for a moment and then shrugged. "I'll follow you, there's no need to drive all the way back here just to get my car."

"Good enough."

~~~~AATG~~~~

They were sitting in a small diner. He had just consumed a delicious cheeseburger with the works and a huge order of fries. Bella had been no slouch herself, making short order of a Cuban sandwich and an order of fried pickles. They were currently sharing a piece of apple pie ala mode. His belly was trying to tell him that enough was enough already, but he didn't stop. They hadn't spoken much during their dinner, content to eat and simply be there with each other.

"Okay, so I have to ask you..." Edward began, leaning forward. "I know why I was there, but why exactly were you there?"

She didn't meet his eyes; instead she studied the pie between them and lifted her shoulders in a movement that was not quite a shrug. "I don't know exactly," she said. "It just felt like that was where I needed to be."

"That's how I felt," he told her and her eyes met his again. The pain was not quite so evident now, but it was there, lingering. "So," he said with an obvious air of beginning again. "Give me the Cliff Notes version of Bella Swan."

Grinning, she took another bite of pie and ice cream. After a moment, she put down the fork and sighed. "Well, that's easy enough because my life is so damned boring."

"I doubt that," he protested.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, abridged version of the Life and Times of Isabella Swan..." Licking her lips, she leaned her chin on one hand. "Born and raised in Forks, Washington. Only child of Charlie and Renee Swan. Used to be a klutz but managed to grow out of it. Perpetual book worm and I hope I never outgrow that. After...after, my dad and I had it rough for a while but managed to finally get it together. My mom's best friend, Sue Clearwater helped me with all the girly stuff that my mom never got to, and when her husband, one of my dad's best friends, died about five years ago, we all just sort of started making our own family. So now I have an older sister, who just got engaged, and a little brother, who seems to delight in tormenting me. He and my Dad and Sue have actually just moved to the East Coast so I miss them. A lot. I'm a nurse now, which amuses my family since I used to faint at the sight of blood." She quirked one brow at him. "And now it's your turn."

"Edward Cullen, one of three children born to Esme and Carlisle Cullen. Ellis...Ellis was my twin brother. He was older by two minutes, a fact he never let me forget." She chuckled at that. "And my little sister is Rosalie. She's been my rock. She's hugged me when I needed it, but more importantly she kicked my ass when it was called for." He smiled. "I teach high school economics, history, and civics, which pleases my parents immensely since they're both educators." He shrugged. "And that's about it. See? I'm not that exciting either."

"So you admit I'm boring?" Bella challenged with a smirk.

"What? Oh no...I mean-" Then he caught the teasing glint in her eyes. "That's just mean."

"But you fell for it," she pointed out. "Which makes you gullible."

"Guilty as charged," he confessed. "Still, I did talk a pretty girl into having dinner with me." He winked. "I can't be doing too badly."

The waitress approached with their ticket and Edward realized with a shock that they had been sitting there for two hours. He put some cash on the table and recognized that he didn't want the evening to end. "Listen, I know this sounds...I don't know, maybe bizarre or impulsive or...I don't know what else, but I'd really like to see you again." No guarantees in life, he reminded himself. If you feel something good about the person you're with, you speak it.

"Are you trying to make me fat?" she asked and he blinked.

"What?"

"Well, you seem to be the kind of guy who plies a girl with Cuban sandwiches and vast amounts of pie and ice cream so I was just wondering if you were trying to fatten me up or something."

"Okay, next time we can eat celery sticks and a Cheerio," he offered.

She paused, considered it. "Nah, I'm good with pie and ice cream. You can't go wrong with ice cream."

"Good," he said. He took out his phone. "So...what do you say we exchange numbers?"

"I guess you're trustworthy," she conceded with a grin.

Twenty minutes later, Edward was driving home and thinking about the unexpected encounter with someone from his past. The evening hadn't been at all what he expected. Somehow, he had imagined they would spend all of their time hashing out different accounts of the crash, or at least sharing stories of the ones they'd lost. Instead, it had just been a pleasant evening between a man and a woman he found very attractive.

He smiled, catching his own eyes in the rearview mirror.