Chapter Seven Visiting Hours
Bella Swan, remembering 2004.
Sleeping with my window unlocked was nothing new-- I'd been doing it since I was a kid. My reasoning? Fresh air at a moment's notice. Simple, but so important to me.
Renee hadn't cared about my "bad habit" the way Charlie had. Of course, she had always seen the best in people; no one would ever take advantage of anyone else, not on purpose. In her mind, I was perfectly safe. That mentality is probably why she became a teacher. Charlie, on the completely opposite hand, hated the fact that I could never remember (or chose not to remember) to click the tiny lock on my window. He didn't care that I was on the second floor of the house in Forks--he was still convinced he would one day he would be woken from a deep sleep to hear me screaming bloody murder, and would have to consequentially axe down my door to save me from a wild serial killer. That mentality is probably why Charlie became a cop. And probably were I got my overactive imagination from.
But, it was the unlocked window that brought him to me. Even in my over-tired, distraught mood, I had imagined him coming to me through the window.
I hadn't been sleeping for the past week, not since the accident. Always, as I started to fall asleep, my body would jerk me back awake in a panic, a cold-sweat clinging to my body. The pain was awful, the crying never stopped and the continuing realization of the sheer loss was incredibly devastating. But the sleeplessness-- its effects--literally drove me over the edge and landed me in the hospital.
But at the time, it had all seemed so real. I had been motionless on my back as the window slowly slid open. Frozen, my heart beat quickly at the prospect of what I had been daydreaming about for the past week.
That he would come back for me.
As I watched him jump from the window sill to my carpet, I slowly sat up, mesmerized by what could not possibly be happening in front of my eyes.
"Bella," his voice so ragged and full of emotion, it stumbled over my name, cracking at the end. It was loaded with pain and love and everything in between.
"Edward? Did I fall asleep? Is this a dream?" It had been the only explanation that made sense and I was okay with it because he was there and nothing else really mattered. It was so real. The pause dragged on as his face went through various emotions. He stepped towards me and that was enough to finally unfreeze my limbs. I jumped from my bed, took the three steps it took to reach him, and threw my arms around the figment of my imagination. The very solid, very warm, figment of my imagination--with soft lips and sweet breath. Our lips met once, twice…I wasn't sure I would be able to stop, figment or not.
"Bella. God, oh Bella," at his words, I pulled back from his embrace, finding his eyes quickly with my own.
"Edward, it's okay. I'm here…we're together. I'm going to try and stay asleep for as long as I can. I miss you so much," I murmured, reaching out and touching his cheek gently.
At that, he scooped me up and carried me back to my bed, where he laid me down gently.
"I had to say goodbye," he whispered, brushing back a lock of my hair, his lips brushing my forehead as his arms wrapped themselves around me once more
"I miss you so much already," I replied, my heart aching. "It's not fair, Edward. Why you?"
His face changed and I wondered vaguely why I had created such an emotion-laden figment.
"I miss you too, Bella. I had to see you, one last—"he stopped suddenly, tilting his head, "I miss you, Bella. I didn't want to leave you like that. Please try not to hurt anymore. I'll be taking care of you, even though I'm not here anymore."
I brought his hand to my face, rubbing it gently against my cheek.
"Is this how I was supposed to find you? Through my dreams?" I asked, recalling his parting words. His puzzled look told me he didn't know what I was talking about. Shouldn't my figment know everything I know?
"Edward?" I sat up slowly, a frown on my face.
"I need to go, Bella. It's time," his lips found mine again. This time the kiss was filled with something else. A finality of sorts, but also of longing and desperation.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bella," he stood then and turned to the window, his voice choked with more than my brain wanted to register.
"Edward?" I repeated, rising from the bed. He was already halfway through the window when I reached him and took his shoulder.
"Why are you using the window? This is a dream, just disappear." I couldn't believe those words had escaped my lips—disappearing was the last thing I wanted Edward to do and yet it was a challenge. Proof.
"I love you," he replied, turning to me. Tears fell down his face freely, carelessly. He grabbed my hand from his shoulder and pulled me to him, our bodies pressed close, I could feel him shaking, his body wracked with silent sobs. When he pulled back, his eyes were slightly damp, as they took in my face with a darkly tender look. I reached to brush away his tears but he shook his head and kissed me. The passion knocked me breathless.
"I can't," he choked as our lips parted. "I can't," but he turned from me and found the massive tree in front of my window with his feet.
"Don't go," I whispered, my heart wrenching painfully.
"Listen to Charlie, Bella. Lock your window. I'm not the most dangerous thing out there," his voice was flat. He didn't look back.
He was gone.
The next thing I knew I was in bed, opening my eyes. Two days later, I was locked away in a mental hospital, convinced Edward had really come to me. That Edward was still alive.
--
Bella, 2009--Friday. Two days before.
"I can't believe I said that," laughed Alice lightly, accepting the double chocolate chip frappaccino from the Starbucks employee. I sipped my chai tea latte quietly. I was still incredibly shaken up from Alice's words only hours ago. We took a seat by the window and Alice's smile disappeared from her face.
"Bella, I'm sorry that I freaked you out. I don't know what got into me," spoke Alice, her voice quiet.
"Tell me about the dream," I answered. After Alice had uttered those three chilling words, "Edward is alive", she snapped out of whatever trance she had been in and started at me blankly. She said she couldn't remember how she'd gotten to my room. She didn't remember picking up the arrowhead, she didn't remember walking to my room. And she really couldn't remember ever having spoken to me.
But she remembered her dream.
Having put it off until we'd both been adequately caffeinated, Alice finally sighed in defeat and looked at me apologetically.
"You know the majority of my dreams don't mean a thing, right? And in this case, we both know there can't be anything to it." I nodded, but waited for her to continue.
"It was dark, but it was day time; the sky was completely overcast and the rain—it was coming down. I was in this building, in a hallway. I'm not sure where or why but I felt scared. At first, I didn't know who I was looking at as he slowly walked towards me. He was tall, his messy bronze hair longish. He looked at me sadly, almost pleadingly. There was something wrong with him, but I couldn't tell what—not right away. He had his hands crossed over his chest and he was obviously in pain. He began to approach me and I knew instinctively that it wasn't him I was afraid of. He uncrossed one arm from his chest and stretched out his hand like he wanted to give me something. But before I could take it from him, there was a loud shot—sounded like a gunshot—and then a scream from somewhere—from another room, near-by.
"His eyes completely changed and that's when I realized who he was. I knew him from you pictures, Bella. His eyes went from painfully sad and flat to completely alert and alive. Our eyes met, he said "Bella" and he dropped something. It was that stupid arrowhead I found yesterday. As he turned to follow the scream, I saw that his arms had been covering a wound in his chest; a gunshot wound.
"Next thing I knew, B, I was standing in front of you and you were crying. And I had no idea why."
I remained quiet a second as I tried to make sense of her dream.
"It was so…you were so serious, Alice. You said it with such conviction. And your dreams are so—it just really freaked me out," I replied, taking another sip of my chai.
"Bella," started Alice slowly, "I want to be honest with you. This dream felt…it felt real. It felt like—like one of…my scary ones. But obviously it can't be. For my entire life, I'd been so convinced that these dreams were spelling out reality for me, in some way or another…but I think this last one, this one about Edward, is spelling out something more metaphoric instead of real."
"Metaphoric how?" I asked, ignoring the table of three guys who were very obviously checking Alice and I out.
"Well," Alice eyed me uncertainly. "You still wear the ring. I think maybe I know you better than you think I do, B. You pretend to be happy and fine, but you're not always that way, are you?"
I started down at my drink, feeling my cheeks redden slightly.
"Are you completely miserable, Bella?" she whispered, her eyes anxious, her head bending forward towards me.
I looked up at her through a teary smile.
"Not completely, Alice. I've got you, haven't i?"
Alice smiled back, but it didn't touch her eyes.
"Always. How long…how long do you think…?" she couldn't finish her question, but I understood.
"I don't know, Alice. But it's been five years and sometimes…" I hesitated. I had never divulged much information on my feelings about Edward to Alice, and she had always been okay with that because she understood my pain. "Sometimes I feel exactly the same way as I did when he died. I don't know what it will take. I just know how much it hurts. And how much I want to continue to feel the hurt because it keeps him alive, Alice." I hesitated again, glancing around the café to buy a second more of time.
"I'm afraid of forgetting him."
"Oh, Bella. Bella. You could never forget him. You've got so many memories; he was your first true love. He changed your life in so many ways. But you need to remember him without sacrificing yourself. You're alive, B, and he would never want you to give up a single moment of living. I think that's what my dream was trying to show. Edward would have given up anything for you, even his own life, to make sure you're happy and safe and secure."
I nodded, tears trickling down my face. Alice was making good sense. I knew she was right.
"I love you, B. I know I like to pretend that I do, but I don't always know what you're thinking and I don't always know how to deal with your sadness. You have to tell me what you need, okay?"
I smiled as Alice grabbed a napkin and wiped my falling tears.
"Honestly? Nothing would make me happier right now than helping you pick out your outfit for your date with Jasper tonight."
Alice's mouth dropped open.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. And then I've gotta head into the office and let this article squared away! Dr. G is going to kill me if I keep putting this off," I joked as we stood up. Alice draped an arm around my shoulders and we took off
"I think I dreamed of this day once," laughed Alice as we tossed out cups into the trash can and exited Starbucks.
I felt bad changing the subject, I really did. But I had a lot to think about and shopping was the only way to distract Alice while I kept pretending.
Only for a little longer, I thought, pulling gently on the ring around my neck. Just a little longer.
--
"Where is Dr.G?" I asked, striding purposefully into the office that served as home base for the school university newspaper.
"You can stop looking so serious and important, Swan. He left about an hour ago. Said if you ,and I quote, "ever show up with only the most important front page story to date", to call him or he's going to fire you as editor. He sounded kind of anxious," answered Eric Yorkie, his grin teasing. He had his feet propped up on his desk as he skimmed today's edition of the Seattle Times.
I had to roll my eyes at that. Dr. G was one of the most laid back professors at this university. He had only been teaching at the university for a year, but he was well liked by students and faculty. He was always full of jokes and teased us all relentlessly. He was by far, my favorite professor.
"Well, the story is pretty much finished. Honestly, I don't know why he pushed this one so hard as a feature. There was barely anything to it. And definitely no scandal. He may change his mind about putting it on next week's cover."
"Maybe you're just a shitty reporter," spoke a voice from behind Eric. I raised my eyebrow towards Lauren Mallory as I stepped over to my desk and opened a drawer.
Lauren and I had had the unfortunate experience to go through high school together and although she had been rather close with one of my good friends Jessica, she had pretty much hated me from day one. I never really knew why, though Jessica had always blamed it on jealousy.
"You won Edward Masen, Bella. The day you two showed up to school, very obviously a couple, Lauren's previous jealousy banged shut your coffin. You know how hard she had tried to seduce him." Jessica had explained to me years ago.
"I don't think Swan would be our editor if she was a shitty reporter, Mallory," replied Eric with an eye-roll, going back to his paper.
I just ignored the girl and continued to search my desk, looking for Dr. G's home number.
When I finally found it written on a tiny crumpled piece of paper, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the digits quickly.
It went straight to an answering machine.
"Hey Dr. G, it's your greatest and most competent reporter calling, aside from Yorkie, obviously. Just wanted to let you know that the story is almost finished, I'm adding the finishing touches at the office. If you want to meet me back here sometime this weekend, you can look over it and marvel at the lack of anything scandalous. Call me back and let me know."
I hung up and mentally stuck my tongue out at Lauren. Immature, I knew that, but she always brought out the worst in me.
**
Edward, 2009--Friday night. Two days before.
I entered his apartment from the window above the fire escape just as his answering machine clicked off. It was late Friday night, Gleason was out with some colleagues, and this would be the last time I would step foot in his residence until Sunday, the date of his ultimate demise.
Everything was as it should be, nothing out of place. As I pressed the play button on his answering machine and listened to his messages, I walked through the apartment, my eyes closed. I had long ago memorized the layout, but now it was time to test myself. Without hesitation, I ran myself through rooms, imagining everything accurately in my mind. No question, I was ready.
"…adding the finishing touches…lack of anything…call me back…" The last message was full of static, but I dismissed it quickly. Most messages that came through Gleason's machine were from students of his at school. They were of little consequence.
Before I left, I planted a small couple bugs that were designed to destruct without leaving a trace of evidence at a pre-programmed date and time. This was especially for Jimmy, the technology lead of the operation. He generally listened in to make sure everything was going as planned. If there were any problems, he was the one to report it to Jonze, who would then make the decision to send backup. Or not, as it were in some high-risk cases.
Now all I had to do was wait. The clock was ticking and I was ready. I felt more relaxed than I should have felt as I stopped at a diner to grab some food. I wasn't sure when the last time it was I actually ate a full meal and the steak and potatoes, despite its lack of quality, felt absurdly great as it settled into my stomach.
I checked my watch; 12:55am, and wandered back to my loft. I had easily avoided much thinking time, but as I unlocked my door and threw my bag on the couch, my brain suddenly woke up and Bella flooded my thoughts. Instead of letting them eat me alive, I sat at my piano bench and allowed my fingers to travel the length of the ivory keys. I closed my eyes and let the music flow through me, my emotions so close to the surface, so raw, demanding attention.
Before I knew it, I had composed a new song. But this one was not pretty; it was not one my mother would have smiled and clapped her hands together for. No, this one was raw and gritty. Full of pain. Broken.
"Détruit," I uttered to myself as my long fingers continued the song, adding chords and a dark, haunting melody.
The word popped into my head and stopped me mid-song.
Bella had taken one semester of high school French before she gave up on learning another language. She had learned a few simple words and small phrases here and there, but her favorite word was "détruit". When she told me that it meant broken, I asked what it was she liked about such a sad word.
"Listen to the word, Edward. There is so much more to it than just what it means. It's like music, every letter just sings to me. It's so beautiful and haunting and sad. But there's hope, too. Just because something's broken, doesn't mean it can't be fixed. Broken things can always be fixed."
I smiled softly as her words echoed in my head. Always the optimistic one. I wondered if the Bella of today would agree with high school Bella. I doubted it.
As I carefully wrote the notes on some sheet music, I added the title without hesitation.
Détruit.
**
Sunday night came at me fast and as ten o'clock approached, I packed up all the supplies that I would need, double checking to make sure I had everything, and then slid the gun into the waistband of my dark jeans. The bugs had reported nothing unusual was going on. Gleason was alone in the apartment and instead of waiting until later; I decided to get it done now.
That was my first mistake of the night but wouldn't be my last.
I drove my car within a few blocks of Gleason's apartment and parked in a dark side street, walking the rest of the way, inconspicuously. It was storming and I was drenched, but it didn't matter. Taking a breath, I pushed open the door to the complex and made my way up the stairs to the third floor, ignoring the elevator, knowing I would have a greater chance at remaining unseen this way. His door, thankfully on the corner closest to me, was the only thing that stood between Gleason and his certain death. I wiped back a lock of dripping hair, knocked on the door quickly, and took the gun from my waistband, holding it low with both hands. I plastered a friendly smile on my face in case he used his peephole.
He didn't.
"Come in, door is open!" called his voice from the other side. Was he expecting someone? I cringed slightly, but clicked open the door with my gloved hand and pushed it with my foot, my eyes quickly taking in the main room in less than a second.
"Come in, come in. Just taking dinner out of the oven. Drink?"
And then there he was an oven mitt on one hand, a wine glass in the other. He barely had time to register that I was not who he'd been expecting before I squeezed the trigger and put a bullet in his chest. The wine glass bounced clumsily as it hit the white carpet, spilling its contents all over. I leaned over quickly to find a pulse with my gloved fingers. Nothing. He was dead.
As long as we spent studying the habits of our targets, as much time as we spent analyzing their every move, the finality of most of my hits astounded me—always over before I knew it.
My head turned as I heard footsteps coming from down the hall. At that moment, I was thankful for two things. That the elevator was all the way at the other end of the hall and that my silencer, annoying and as heavy as it sometimes was, was also part of protocol. I headed for the window above the fire exit and opened it swiftly just as a voice called out.
"Dr. G? What's up with the door…." A strangled gasp followed the unfinished question.
The window was hidden from the view of the front door which allowed me to safely pause at the sound of her voice. It sounded so familiar…so…
I chanced a look back. She was leaned over Gleason, one hand covering up the hole I had just made to his chest, the other digging threw a purse as she chanted "oh god" over and over. I couldn't see her face but it was the glint of silver dangling from around her neck that caught my eye.
A ring. Her ring, my ring. The ring.
My heart forever, keep it safe.
Oh god, no.
I couldn't comprehend the sudden turn of events. This world did not involve Bella, she did not belong in this scene…and yet, there she was, an intruder in the gritty underworld in which I occupied. My heart pounded painfully. I knew I had to move, had to get out there. But how could I when she was so close, when she could be in danger herself?
What happened next was completely done unconsciously. Watching her sob as she pressed her hand into Gleason's chest, I could not stand it. The pain I was seeing was so completely different than the pain I saw in Jaspers pictures. This was so real. Bella, right in front of me. Crying. I swung my legs back through the window, as a crack of lightening caused the electricity to flicker and then shut off. The apartment was suddenly bathed in darkness, lit only by the storm outside.
I walked slowly towards the door that would reveal me to Bella, my mind a haze of nothing but the complete and utter desire to touch her face, to calm her down. To cradle her in my arms and sooth her. All reason was out the window as I put my job, my freedom and my life in jeopardy—but none of that mattered anymore and had I paused to think for even a second, I would have wondered how I had ever let any of it matter.
This was Bella. Bella.
I stopped in the entrance to the main room as she looked up, surprised. As another flash of lightening struck, I saw her forehead was covered in Gleason's blood from where she had just brushed aside a lock of hair with her blood covered hand.
She jumped to her feet at the sight of me, backing up a couple steps towards the door. Blood literally dripped down her face as her eyes took me in. Her face had the same look of disbelief as it did almost five years ago, when I had appeared at her window. When they had forced her to write that off as crazy.
She looked like she'd seen a ghost, and really, she was right. But oh god, Bella.
She continued to stare at me her mouth open slightly, emotions crossing her face faster than I could identify them.
And finally, I had to. There was no going back. I took a step forward, towards her, stretching out my hand, my shaking hand.
She cringed and backed away into the frame of the door. I dropped my hand quickly. What the hell was I thinking? But it hurt too, so much, to see her looking at me like that—like she didn't know me, didn't trust me.
Like she was afraid of me. Pain stabbed at my heart.
"Bella."
A/N: I'm totally grinning right now. Why, you ask? Because I'm leaving it there...right before the shit really hits the fan:) You're welcome ;)
You guys continue to amaze me. Thanks for all advice, suggestions and flattery (the cheque is in the mail).
The next chapter will go back to see Bella meet Jasper...also, we'll see exactly how and why she ended up at Gleasons aptmt...and then of course we will catch up and pass the prologue into unchartered territory.
What do you think will happen next? How will Bella react once the shock wears off? Put your ideas in a review! :D
