A/N: It's Friday! I did it!
The day after Bella left him for good, fleeing his apartment as he slept, Edward drove out of the city, into the surrounding mountains. Feeling like a robot, a burned out shell with turned off mechanics inside, he drove to a trailhead, parked, got out of his car, and headed up the trail with no provisions.
At the top of the trail, the peak of that particular mountain, he stood at the edge.
He hadn't known how much hope still resided, somewhere deep in the darkest part of himself, until the last of that hope had walked out his door. He hadn't known that rock bottom was still a ways off. He'd only barely survived losing Bella before; he couldn't fathom doing it again.
Standing at the cliff's edge, something strange happened.
The adrenaline coursing through him—the result of pushing through a difficult hike at an unwise speed—left him in a mood that wasn't conducive to hurtling oneself off a cliff.
Taking in huge gulps of sweet, clean, cold mountain air, he took in the world around him. Below him, the forest sprawled. In the distance, he could see the swollen river. Beyond his vision would be the city—and at that very moment, hundreds of people were doing what he couldn't seem to: picking up the pieces of their shattered lives and starting the long, heartbreaking process of rebuilding. Right then, people who'd lost so much more than he had, whose very homes had been swept away, were summoning the courage to carry on.
He'd closed his eyes and let the profound quiet sink into him down to the marrow of his bones.
And with it, some clarity.
He wanted to see his brother's first child born. He wanted to see what adventure his sister and her husband took on next.
And hadn't he promised never to hurt Bella again? He couldn't pretend she wouldn't see his suicide on the day after she left him for good as her fault.
So, he'd stepped back from the ledge; climbed back down the mountain. He'd gone about assembling the pieces of a good life—like a Ralex watch bought on the street corner: good window dressing, fully functional, but not the real thing.
Wouldn't you know it? Trying to figure out how he was supposed to live without Bella had led him right back to her.
Only for fate to snatch her away with the next breath.
~0~
"Edward Anthony Cullen, you melodramatic bastard, you're not going to do this to me."
The declaration was punctuated by a hard thump to his chest—a blow that sent a spasm of pain rocketing through him.
"You do not get to reappear out of thin air just to dump your body by my feet." Another thump. Another slice of white-hot agony right down his spine.
His eyes flew open with a gasp, his head tilting all the way back as his body seized in horrific pain. He blinked. Rain pelted down. And Bella's face hovered over him.
Bella?
Could it be Hell if Bella was there with him? He had told her once that Hell would be a mercy compared to living without her. If this was the Devil's chosen torture—to dangle her visage in front of him, a mental anguish to add to his physical pain—he had another thing coming. Her beautiful face, in any context, brought him happiness. It was the whole reason he didn't let himself daydream often.
She did look worried, though.
He thought he felt her hand on his face. "Breathe. Keep breathing," she demanded. "If you stop breathing again, I will never forgive you."
So, he breathed. It didn't feel like a wise choice—being back in his body was an excruciating experience—but he would have done anything for her. He breathed and tried to concentrate on her voice, her hands moving over him.
Awareness was a vague thing. There was someone else there. A big someone. He was vaguely aware when he was moved away from the rocks and into a more wooded area. Not ideal by a long shot, but the risk could be lessened—not being out in the open and surrounded by super-conductive granite.
Consciousness waxed and waned. He heard voices. Then only her voice, fading in and out.
"Hold on, baby. Please. Hold on."
"It doesn't end like this, Edward. Not like this."
"Please stay with me."
He fought. To breathe. To stay conscious. His body seized, stiffening in unnatural poses, his body arched up in the middle like it was being pulled by a string at his bellybutton. He opened his mouth, but couldn't even scream let alone speak.
"Help is coming," she said near his ear.
Then, just flashes.
The sound of a helicopter.
Heavy-booted feet around him.
People shouting orders. Shouting questions at him.
Bella's voice, scared but strong.
He couldn't think; he could only experience. Pain. Terror. The solace that, always, he could hear her; sometimes see her form at the edge of his sight. Every function of his body seemed to be attached to a dial that spun wildly. His vision sharpened then blurred. The noise, the chaos all around him dialed up to a roar and then faded to a hum. His body was racked with fire and doused with ice.
Consciousness ebbed.
And flowed back to a different scene. Someone called his name. A doctor? They asked questions. He muttered answers. He wanted to sleep. He did.
He was poked and prodded into wakefulness. Another doctor. Instructions. Could he move this? That?
And, in quiet moments, Bella was there by his side.
"Talk to me," he whispered.
The sound of her voice was his only respite.
Edward understood, in a far off way, what was happening to him.
In the shock of seeing Bella there in the middle of the same nowhere he'd banished himself to, Edward had done one of the dumbest things he could have during a lightning storm. He had leaned his left hand against a boulder—a super conductive, granite boulder. Lighting struck the rock, and the bolt had entered his hand, raced through his arm, sent electricity throughout his body, and exited through his shoulder, singeing the hair just below his ear.
Externally, he was fine. There were small burn marks on his hand and shoulder. He had a truly bodacious, probably temporary, scar—a pattern of lines and branches that went all the way up his arm—but nothing major.
As for his internal injuries. Well, what could one say about being cooked from the inside?
Theoretically, he'd been lucky. His organs and extremities all seemed to be working—some better than others.
Time passed in strange lurches and lulls.
Then, Edward opened his eyes.
At first, all he saw was white. Not the blinding white that seared his retinas. Just bright white. He wondered briefly if the flashes of consciousness had misinformed him. Was he dead? Was this the infamous bright, white light?
A low murmur drew his attention next. Bella.
Was this Heaven then? It would be fitting if the music of his heaven was the sounds of Bella's voice. He could be happy for eternity with that.
"Okay, I will," she said. "I love you."
It sounded like she was talking on the phone. I love you. Who did she love?
Maybe this was Hell after all. Maybe the Devil had figured out that the sound of her voice was anything but torture to him. An eternity having to listen to and watch Bella move on, though… That might be considered torment and hellfire.
Then again, it was a torture Edward had inflicted on himself regularly these last eight years. He'd imagined her happy with someone else and burned.
So maybe he was just alive after all.
With that, the rest of the room came into clearer focus. More sounds filtered in—the beep of machinery, the footsteps nearby. He felt the thin sheet beneath him and the warm blanket on top of him.
Fully aware of time and place now, Edward took a steadying breath before he let himself turn his head.
He had been struck by fucking lightning, and somehow, the most surreal thing about the whole experience had been this woman's presence. Back on the mountain, her voice was the only thing that kept him anchored to some semblance of sanity. The pain had been so horrific, so constant, it threatened to drive him out of his mind.
But always, he was aware of this absolute miracle of her presence. She had appeared so suddenly—like a lightning strike herself—and had been there every time he opened his eyes. In the surreality of pain and semi-consciousness, he'd been terrified she was a figment of his imagination.
If she was, the delusion seemed to be persisting. He watched her. She sat in a chair angled toward him, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head turned to look out the window. She was lovelier than any of his daydreams, which seemed to give weight to the idea she actually might be real.
Finally, the aches of his body got the better of him. He had to move. He had to readjust. He grunted as he shifted, and she turned to him, jumping to her feet.
"Hey, you're awake." Her eyes searched his. "Are you really awake this time?"
"I think so," he said, his voice a screamed-sore whisper. He cleared his throat, biting his lip against the ache that sent through his body.
"Good. Good. So, uh… I don't know if you remember from this morning, but the doctor wants you to try eating. They brought a few easy things for you to try. Are you up for it? Are you hungry?"
There was something about her voice that drew his attention. He studied her for a beat. Something was wrong. There was nervous energy radiating off her.
"I could eat," he said, because it was what he thought she wanted to hear.
"Okay. Good. Good. Here, let me…" She busied herself, pulling the small table toward him and pushing it over his bed. She used the remote to get him into a sitting position. Of the small collection of mostly liquid foods, she chose a cup of broth with a few tiny squares of vegetables and held it out.
Bella gave him only a few seconds to get his bearings before she was on the move again. "Scoot," she said, moving the table away and gesturing at the bed. When he moved over, she sat on the edge, taking the plastic lid off and putting it directly in his hand.
Edward watched her over the rim of the cup as he lifted it to his lips. Her eyes were on his trembling hand. Her brow was furrowed with clear worry. He concentrated, trying to make his fingers and arm work as they should. He took a sip, though his shaking hand made broth slosh over the lip of the cup.
"Oops." Bella reached out, cupping his cheek. Her thumb ran over his lips at the corner of his mouth. "Let me—"
He put a hand over hers against his cheek, stilling her frenetic motion. They both froze as though simultaneously realizing they were touching. A very different kind of electricity traveled down Edward's spine and through his veins. Maybe the intensity of it was due to the fact his veins had been electrocuted not thirty hours before, but he didn't think so.
This was just what it felt like to be touched by Bella.
She was so close to him. She blinked rapidly, as though locked just as he was in this stare. He set down the cup of soup and gave in to the impulse to set his hand on her knee. The air between them was static, alive, but tinged too with something fraught.
"Edward," Bella whispered. She swallowed hard, her eyelashes fluttering as she closed her eyes. Her words quivered. "Can I kiss you?"
Breath left him.
It had to be a fantasy. This couldn't possibly be real.
But hell if he was going to miss out on this godsend.
In answer, he tilted his head toward her, inviting. He could feel her breath on his mouth. She leaned forward, pressing the barest kiss against his lips.
It was like breaking the surface of the water a second before his heart exploded. Somehow, he'd gotten used to living without air, but to have it back, even for this bare instant, was relief and light.
Bella whimpered. She cupped his face in both her hands and kissed him in earnest then. She kissed him with fervent urgency, her fingers running up into his hair.
He rode the wave of emotion, overwhelmed. His hand splayed at her side. His lips moved with hers—a dance still so familiar to him, though it had been so many years.
This. This was what he'd lived for.
One more taste. One more touch. One more moment of divinity. To be hers again, consumed.
The sound she made against his lips then was a sob, and he tasted salt in their kiss. He pulled back, realizing her eyes were closed, tears coursing down her cheeks. "Bella?"
"I'm sorry." Her hands fell to his shoulders.
He held his breath, positive she was about to shatter his heart. Of course. One's ex-wife didn't just appear on a mountain to rock his world.
"I'm sorry," she said again. "I don't even know if… I don't know why… I mean, I do know… I was just so relieved."
"Relieved?" he asked, trying to understand.
She sniffed hard, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes. "Right now, when you opened your eyes, it was the first time I saw you again. Yesterday, I really thought you were going to die in my arms. And since then, the doctors haven't been able to say if you would ever be yourself again. You were so lost, Edward. You were so…" She shuddered and covered her face with both her hands. "I just couldn't cope with the idea of a world without you."
"Hey." He slid his hand to the center of her back, pushing her toward him lightly. "It's okay."
To his continued shock, she leaned into his embrace, burying her head at his shoulder as she cried quietly. "I was just so scared."
As quickly as she'd curled against him, she straightened again. "No. Wait. This is crazy. I shouldn't… I know I don't have the right to touch you. I don't know your life. Maybe there's someone who should be here instead." She ducked her head. "Alice and Emmett didn't think so, but they didn't know who that Tanya woman was either."
"Tanya?"
"She's been calling here asking about you."
"She's… a trail buddy. We talked. She knew I was going up the mountain."
"A trail buddy." Bella nodded. "That's good." She flushed and ducked her head. "Because, if she was more, then she should have been here. That's what I meant."
She looked so lovely with her cheeks pinked like that. He'd almost forgotten her blush, and he was instantly smitten again, seeing it.
And…
Was he picking up signals where there was none?
But she had kissed him.
But she hadn't been alone on the mountain.
"There's been no one since you," he said quietly. When her head snapped up, he smiled. "It just hasn't been in the cards."
He straightened up slightly, squaring his shoulders as much as he could and tempering his tone. He wouldn't let her see how hard this next question was for him. "How about you? I heard you on the phone. Is being here with me keeping you from someone?"
She looked confused for a moment, but then nodded. "Oh. No. That was my mother. We, uh…" She rubbed the back of her neck, looking sheepish. "There's been a lot of therapy. We try harder to keep each other involved in the other's life, you know?"
He thought of his parents and ached, missing them. "That's good."
She looked down, her fingers pulling up his blanket a bit and smoothing it out. "There's no one waiting up for me. There was, for a little while." She looked at him, clearly gauging his reaction.
He winced, but he nodded slightly.
She offered him a sad smile. "You and I? We did make a good team, Edward. That was never our problem. And knowing how good my life could be with the right person?" She sighed, looking back down at her hands. "You're a hard act to follow. That's what he said when he left."
"I'm… sorry?" He really wasn't.
And she knew it. A small smirk played on her lips. "Don't be." She rested a hand on his leg. "I never regretted us, Edward. It was so good for so long. You weren't a mistake; I never thought of us that way."
Cautious, he let his hand rest near hers, and when she didn't move away, he twined their fingers.
She sighed. "You and I? We got hit by a hurricane. And the person I was when it was all over couldn't be married. Not to anyone."
He didn't speak at that, but he understood. Though what he'd done to her was terrible—some part of him couldn't cope with a relationship when he was so broken. Now, he could admit to himself that, if she'd stayed, he might not have given himself the room to heal.
He swallowed hard. "So, this person you've become likes to hike then?" he asked, trying to alleviate the heaviness that had settled over them.
"Oh, hiking." Bella laughed. "I figured out a lot of things I thought were self-fulfilling prophecies. I thought I was clumsy, and so the idea of hikes made me nervous. But damn, the views." She shrugged. "I decided I could do it. The more I did, the more confident I became, the less clumsy I felt. I have a group of like-minded friends. One or three of them go with me now."
Edward nodded, slipping pieces of the puzzle of his memories the last few days into place. He offered Bella another smile. "Then, of all the mountains, in all the world."
"I had to walk onto yours." She brought her other hand up to cup his cheek with a light caress. "We really are fated, aren't we?"
"You don't believe in fate."
She scoffed, a grin spreading wide. "Edward. You and I climbed the same mountain, in a state neither of us lives in, on the same day. And just to make sure I didn't run away from you again, someone or something struck you with goddamn lightning." She winced, her hand tightening around his.
Edward's throat tightened. Since he'd opened his eyes to find her There, the light of hope had flickered on. He'd tried to tame it; hope had brought him nothing but pain last time, but it persisted. And with each passing moment between them, the light of it grew brighter, burned hotter.
"Fate's got a cruel streak then?" he asked, voice gruff but teasing.
Bella's lips crumpled. "Lightning, Edward." She shook her head, her voice trembling. "There we're better ways to get my attention."
His heartbeat picked up, nerves twisting. "Okay." He licked his lips, wondering if he was really about to press his luck.
But he had almost died.
And she was there.
"How about when they spring me, we go for a cup of coffee?" He was amazed when the words came out light.
She sucked in a breath, and he held his, bracing for rejection.
But then, she smiled. "A coffee date?" Her gaze was so soft.
"It feels like a good place to start," he said.
~The End~
A/N: Unless my prereaders get their wish for futuretakes…
Many thanks to Ausha, May, Adelaide, and Betsy for their help along the way. And big smooches to Di for excellent editing. And Marie for excellent bannering. Thank you to the folks at the FicLab for sparking this little ditty into life.
And you! Thank you for all the birthday love and for joining me on this delightful (I had fun writing it) little angst fest. I hope you are quite satisfied.