AN: I'm so sorry this has taken me so long. But here it is. The final chapter. S x

(Twenty Seven)

I make sure I'm there before anyone else is awake. Only the birds and a homeless man who shuffles on his bench bed as I pass, hands tucked into his armpits, trash bag of his belongings under the bench alongside an empty bottle of cheap vodka. He wears a beige trench coat and his shoes look like they were once polished before the day's work. It's a stark reminder of how easily you can lose it all. I think of Bella, and the guy who lived outside her old apartment—her kindness toward him despite her own problems. I stuff a ten dollar bill under his bag, but he doesn't wake.

It's built into me to avoid people in general. Thankfully there is no one moving amongst the graves.

I scan the headstones, looking for the newer memorials, those not taken over by moss with faded words. His will be pristine. If there's anything I understand about my mom, it's that she loved my dad. Now that he's no longer here, she will throw herself into anything to do with him. His memorial, raising money for a charity in his name, making sure his final resting place is attended to. The connection between her children and her husband seems to be the only link she's quick to loosen when she wants to. Perhaps we remind her of him too much. Alice, with Dad's blue eyes and dry sense of humor. For her I was the cause of her loss and the only reasonable place to lay her grief. Grief disguised as blame.

I find him eventually, beside a great elm tree. The headstone is black granite with gold lettering. It takes me a minute to bring myself to read the words engraved there. Carlisle Edward Cullen. Beloved husband to Esme and father to Alice and Edward. May we meet again soon.

She's planted flowers all around and, as I expected, the granite gleams in the early morning sun. For the first time I think about how it must be for her, to have lost the man she'd loved and lived for, for the last forty years. A lifetime.

For a few minutes, I sit down on the bench that also has his name etched into a small brass plate. I listen and I breathe.

Then I feel really fucking stupid because there's nothing that makes me think he is here. No feeling or sign. I'm not at peace to have finally visited him, to sit on this bench made for that reason.

The space I used to try to fill with anything I could get my hands on—liquid, powder, or the warm body of Bella— is still there sometimes. I need to try to close it up as best I can.

"Hi, Dad." I immediately feel like an idiot. My voice is too loud for this place. A crow comes to land in the tree and caws down at me. 'What a fucking idiot' is probably what it's saying.

What am I supposed to say? How are you? Is it comfy in there? I laugh without any humor and sit back, rubbing my hand down my face and tipping my head back to look into the leaves above. I close my eyes.

What I should say is: I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I let you down. I'm sorry I was a disappointment, and the son you didn't deserve. But as I think back to that night, a suffocating pain crushes me, and I cut off my thoughts as I always have.

I look back at his grave and it dawns on me that more than anything, I'm ashamed. He's gone, but I'm still here and it's the least I can do to remember.

It was 30 degrees out with a layer of dirty slush on the ground, in the damp dark behind a shitty bar where no one with any sense would hang around. And so no one knew he was there. Other than me. I can't remember the words that we exchanged. They're lost into the black hole of that night. I do know they were angry and cutting. Designed to stop him from getting close enough to see how much I was destroying myself. Whatever I said, it worked. He didn't follow me any more.

But he didn't make it home either.

He lay on the ground for two hours. His body failing, cracking, pain ripping through him, destroying him until he was unable to breathe, his heart unable to beat. Broken.

He was dead when someone finally found him.

Cold. Alone. And then Gone.

He was looking for me because he loved me. He never stopped believing that I was deserving of his love; anyone's love, no matter what pain I caused.

And in the end it killed him.

That is what I have believed for a long time.

But if I've learned anything through these past few months, it's that I have to accept what I've done. I can't change the past, but there are things I can change going forward.

So I think about him. What he would say, what he would want. And apart from an inevitable smack around the head, he would want me to be the man he always hoped I would be. He believed that deep down, under the lies and addiction, that is who I always was. He believed I was lost and he needed to find me.

He didn't realize it wasn't up to him.

I stand and crouch down beside his grave, resting my hand on the cold stone. The tightness in my chest returns. I've always been able to deflect it, but this time I let it grow. It fills my ears and throat with pressure that builds until I think my own heart might fuck itself up. But it doesn't, and when it subsides I tell him I'm sorry. I will do better. Try to be who he wants me to be. Who I want to be.

I stand and swipe away the tears that escape for the first time since he died. The pain is still stronger than any drug I've shoved into my body, but perhaps now I know I can take it and still stand afterwards.

That's enough for now.

I'm not deluded enough to think that it's going to be easy. The black hole I fell into is still right behind me. One backward step or slip and I will fall into it again. But for now, I don't want to.

After everything that's happened, the world's starting to look a little different. I would say hopeful, but then I'm not really into that hippie shit.

I'm walking to an AA family and friends session, something I would have avoided at all costs. But even though my guts twist at the thought of what's to come, for once the fear doesn't make me want to run to the nearest bar. Instead I feel like I'm facing a challenge, one I'm finally ready to take on. I've been doing a lot of that recently—facing up to things. Trying to fix what I've fucked up and letting go of the stuff that's too broken… without letting it break me.

When I arrive at the hall on 42nd and Blake, the usual suspects are there with the exception of Em, who is doing good despite everything the world has thrown at him. Or maybe he's thrown himself at. It's not the same without him here, but he's always in the back of my mind. Sometimes as a warning, but mostly as a sort of fucked-up guardian angel.

Maggie is fluttering around a man who is a masculine mirror image of herself, before time and alcohol took its toll. She spots me and immediately flaps at me to join them. The man looks like he wants to bolt, folding his arms, using them as protection. From what, I'm not sure. But I hazard a guess. People have acted that way around me, too. Vulnerable from memories of people breaking; being broken.

That's the thing with these family sessions—they're part of recovery, but everyone who walks into that room knows there's going to be pain. A lot before there's any healing.

"Edward, this is my son Mike. Mike… Edward." His eyes keep darting to the lectern at the front, anxious for it to start or to be over with. Either way, I feel the same.

Maggie spends the next few minutes telling me all about Mike while he looks increasingly uncomfortable. He's as pleasant as you'd expect in these fucked-up situations.

There's a tap on my back and I turn around to see Ally. She's bundled up, cheeks red. I'm torn between being happy to see her and regretting asking her to come. She throws herself at me with the biggest hug she can manage. I rest my head on the top of hers for a second, letting myself appreciate that she's here while she squeezes as hard as she can. I acknowledge that she's alone, ignoring the inevitable disappointment that comes hand in hand with my mother. She pulls back, and the look on her face tells me everything I need to know.

"She had a thing she had to go to."

I shrug and let it roll off my shoulders, pretending it's water and not rocks. I never expected anything less. Though expectations and hope don't always align.

The chatter lessens as Marcus comes to stand at the front and everyone finds a seat. There's more here than usual. Not everyone has someone with them, but even one person is more than some of us deserve. He explains how it'll work, the usual health and safety bullshit, and then invites people to speak.

Maggie goes first and, at times, there's a pain in my chest, her grief and regret like a clenched fist. Silent tears slip down her son's face, which is set like stone. I don't know if that's a good sign. Sometimes the damage is irreversible.

When it comes to my turn, Ally leans over and squeezes my shaking hand. "We're here for you," she whispers.

I walk over to the front—everything is a blur. I'm in an out of body experience standing in front of all these people.

"Hey, everyone. I'm Edward and I'm an alcoholic," I say robotically and everyone else responds in the usual way. I can pick Ally's voice out easily, but I can't look at her. I clear my throat. "I want to say thanks to my sister Alice for coming today. It hasn't been easy for her or anyone close to me." I cough again, catch Marcus' eye in the crowd, and he gives what he thinks is a reassuring nod but comes across patronizing. Prick.

"One of my regrets—probably the biggest—is what caused… what happened the night my dad tried to find me. The last time I ever saw him. I've spoken about it before so you know the state I was in and what the result of my actions were." There's a few more heads nodding in agreement. "But what I didn't explain was that that night was also Alice's birthday. So she lost her dad, but she also lost her day, the day that celebrates her. Now it's grief rather than celebration. And I can never take it back." I find Alice's face in the crowd, as she wipes her tears with a tissue. She still smiles and shakes her head at me in disagreement.

I have to pause, my mouth dry and my words unsteady. I grab a bottle of water and have a drink, taking my time to breathe as I screw the cap back on. "Alice, I want to tell you how sorry I am to have done that to you. On top of all the other shit I put you through. Now you're a new mom and I guess, whether you like it or not, I'm an Uncle to Elsie." Alice has clasped her hands over her mouth, tears flowing freely. "I know you're sitting there thinking 'shut up, I forgive you, I love you.' I know you will tell me all these things over and over, but I don't think I've earned the right for you to forgive me properly yet. But I hope I can eventually be the big brother you deserve."

I look down at the lectern and focus on the grains of the wood, to keep myself in check. I hear a chair scrape back and footsteps coming toward me. Ones I'd recognize anywhere. Alice stands on her tiptoes and gives me a huge hug, her tears soaking through my T-shirt, and she sniffles before whispering so only I can hear. "I love you, you idiot. And I don't need you to be anything other than yourself. And what happened… it wasn't your fault. Believe that, please."

She tightens her arms once more and then returns to her seat. Marcus starts to stand to ask who wants to go next, but I stop him. "There's a few more things I'd like to say to people who aren't here. If that's ok?" Marcus gestures for me to continue and the hall falls quiet again.

"My Mom couldn't make it here today. Or wouldn't—that's probably the truth. She blames me and I understand because I've broken her heart twice. Losing me and losing my dad. I have no idea how I'm meant to build that bridge, perhaps it's too badly damaged. Blown up, set on fire, and hit with a hurricane kind of damage." That gets a few laughs from the crowd and even I smile, but it's half-hearted. "But I hope I… I hope we can try, and maybe she can forgive me as well." Even as I say the words I know it might be impossible.

I hold my hand up as I see movement from Marcus again, daring him to interrupt.

"There's one more person I want to mention who also deserves my apology. I met this person and she was..." I don't fuck around with my words for once and say what has been growing since I laid eyes on her. "She is everything I've ever wanted. But when we met she was dealing with her own issues, so she didn't need my shit as well." I get a few grunts of agreement and even more nods. We've all been here, finding solace in another broken soul. "I was so fucking lucky to find her, I know that, but too weak to give her the respect and distance she needed as I tried my best to get out of this fucked-up mess."

I scrub the back of my neck and clear my throat for the last time. "I want to have the chance to start again with her. To apologize for letting her down. That's the least I can do. I just need her to know I'm trying," I laugh, "and that I think about her all the damn time. It's driving me crazy."

"It's 'cause she's the one for you, Edward!" Maggie shouts.

"Yeah," I agree, because I know she is right .

I get a round of applause as I take my seat back next to Alice. She grabs my hand and squeezes it, not letting go until the meeting has finished. I'm glad for the gesture because my whole body is vibrating with energy, and not all of it bad.

"We're here for you," she whispers again.

It's not until after the end of the meeting, I realize she meant more than just my family.

When I walk out of the hall and into the night, I see her standing against the wall. The lights from the Red Lantern spill onto the street, turning her red. Bella.

She hesitates, but after I smile she wraps her arms around me, breathing my name into my neck. The relief to be holding her overtakes the shock that she's standing in front of me. I don't want to let go, but others are leaving so we have to step to the side.

"You're here," I say.

"Yeah."

Her eyes are red and her nose is flushed, but she's smiling. She's never looked more beautiful to me.

"Have you been standing out here the whole time, in the freezing cold?"

"Yeah, no. It is kind of chilly." She shudders and stamps her feet, which I use as an excuse to get closer, tugging a little on her coat. She steps forward again, but still keeps a space between us. "I came with Alice. Well… she said she was coming here and asked if I wanted to come to hear you speak since your mom couldn't. And I wanted to come back here, I—" She pauses. "This place it's… I dunno. It's—"

"Miserable?"

"No. It's… there's so much that happened here. I thought maybe coming here would make sense of some of it?"

"And did it?"

"A little." She tips her head up to look at me, worrying at her lip. I want to kiss her. "Maybe a lot. I was sitting outside the main door, in the hallway, so I did hear some of what you said. Most of it actually," she admits. "I thought you should know that." Her cheeks flush a little, but she reaches out and touches my hand, twisting her fingers through mine. The sensation runs the length of my body like a storm.

"Did it help you understand why I'm such a dick?"

She laughs a little. "You're not."

"I was to you."

Another, quieter laugh. "Maybe."

Then she finally looks at me straight. Her brown eyes are alive. Fierce. "You made some shitty, shitty choices but I think I understand you more. The things you've been through… the things you've taken on, blamed yourself for. You've grieved alone and still punished yourself for everything that's happened. I hope that you can finally see that you don't need to. At least not on your own." She shushes me with a finger on my lips when I start to speak. "It takes a lot of courage to own up to your own faults, to accept who you are and to try to do the right thing while not forgetting or ignoring what got you to this place." She drops her hand to my chest. "I want you to know that I know who you are. In here." She taps me on the chest, leaves her hand there. "And I'm looking forward to spending more time with this Edward."

My ribs are constricted and I can't find the words to repay her, so I lean forward and kiss her, just once, fighting the rush of something like love that's shooting through my veins. It makes me want to kiss her again and again until her knees are weak, and the rest of the barriers between us crumble.

The door swings open again and Alice appears, her small smile tells me she knows she's interrupting something. "Sorry guys. E, I love you, but I gotta get home to Elsie. Bella are you coming? We've got to catch the next bus in ten."

"Sure." Bella steps back but doesn't let go of me until she is almost out the door. "I hope I'll see you around soon."

"You will."

Alice gives me a look and a hug, whispering in my ear. "I'm so proud of you, and Dad would be, too." She steps back, knotting her scarf tight and pulling on gloves as she reminds Bella about the route, which I'm grateful for because it gives me a moment to process her words and the emotions that rise like a tidal wave when I least expect it.

"See you soon, Edward." She waves as does Bella, then Alice turns around and gestures between us, winking. "You deserve her."

I hope to God she's right.

I find myself standing at the edge of the bridge. The black waters churn as a tug boat disappears beneath. My hands are like ice against the rusty red steel, fingers that will take a while to thaw.

I never thought I'd end up here. Not this bridge, but metaphorically. My life is starting to feel like my own again. Not the old Edward, before all the addiction. I think he's gone now. But maybe the new me isn't so bad after all. I laugh at this thought.

I hear the squeal of a bus as it brakes behind me, the doors sucking open, then the engine as it moves on again. I sense someone behind me, feel a hand on my back.

"You're not gonna jump, are you?" Bella asks

Our first meeting flashes through my mind—the wind, the roaring water, her red dress, sheer panic. The warmth of her in my arms.

"Not today," I reply. "You?"

"No."

We watch the water passing below, standing side by side, waiting.

She slides her hand into mine and I realize that she's the one who has found me this time. "I don't want to leave without you again."

I look at her and I feel the desire that's always been there. The same that's lived under my skin since I watched her that very first day, reflected back at me. But there's something else that wasn't there before. Something heavier, permanent, that doesn't race through my veins like a lit fuse, a slow burn of knowing this woman is meant for me. I lift up her chin with a finger, tip her face to mine.

"I can't promise you everything will be perfect."

"I don't want you to."

"You should."

"I just want you."

"Bella," I say, my voice dragging over my last barrier. But neither of us are listening.

She grabs onto the collar of my coat and pulls my lips to hers, kissing me slowly. I pull her closer and wrap her up in my arms. Months with only memories of her can't compete with the weight of her against me; can't compete with her warmth and taste. I groan when she pushes against me, deepens her kisses, oblivious to the wind and the city still pulsing around us.

We crash together, hands grasping, lips crushing, breathless and lost to each other.

Lost to the bridge, the Sound, the traffic.

The horns blaring.

The cab driver.

The doorman at my place.

If this were a true redemption story I would stop here. I would kiss Bella and promise to see her again soon, take it slow. But it's not.

I've visited Hell and somehow made it back.

Maybe I'm not the devil after all.

But I'm no angel either.

Our night doesn't end until I've re acquainted myself with every inch of her body, and she's screaming out my name.

And once that night ends, another day begins.

745 days of being sober. I'll still have many more to count. But being with Bella, the numbers come more easily. I can chop them up in different ways now, too.

502 days since I first laid eyes on her.

346 since she changed my life on that bridge.

345 since I realized I loved her.

332 since I found the courage to tell her.

213 days since I started to rebuild a relationship with my mother.

467 until Em is up for parole.

45 days until Elsie turns one.

15 days until I start a new job.

2 days until we move into our new place.

Every single day, I have something to be grateful for.

And though not every day is easy, every single day… I live.

AN: Thank you for sticking with me. Huge HUGE love to Meg iambeagle for pushing me to finish this and for making it pretty. And to Choc for always being there for me. You ladies are fabulous. Soooo this is the last chapter ... BUT there is going to be an epilogue and ... it's almost finished! I'll see you all soon. x