Spirit to Flesh: A Twific by LittleWing, betad by the infallible Jessica1971
A/N: A great big bear hug to everyone who read and reviewed Ch.11. Each one of you made my day better and better. I also need to plant some seriously sloppy kisses and leg humps on bellasunderstudy1 for giving the most awesome reviews AND rec'ing my story in her latest update of the sumptuous tale Make Me Believe. You guys leave me speechless.....
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or The Love Letter. I'm just playin around and havin a ball. No infringement intended. No money made. Viva Le Fan Fiction!
Chapter 12: Last Chance
Edward burst through his front door, his voice hoarse from yelling, his hands raw from alternately wringing and punching the steering wheel.
"Bella," he called out with what was left of his voice. "Bella, please…please be there."
As Edward grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and sat down, he felt instantly calmer, or perhaps just less crazed. Yes, he thought. He knew their connection was still there.
His writing was incoherent, half-sentences blurred through the stream of his tears, but he was not worried. Edward knew that when she got his letter, she would know the meaning behind whatever he managed to get on paper. He tried to tell her everything that happened, how utterly destroyed he was at having missed their one chance, with the few broken words he had in his mind. His efforts were a poor substitute for lucidity, for a logical narrative, for even a fraction of what he felt. He was still acting on instinct. He could only do what was necessary. Finally, unable to continue with a coherent thought beyond why, he wrote:
What does this mean - tell me, Bella? How can it be that I touched you before I even loved you? How can it be that you are not here now, when I need you, when I love you so much I can not find the words for this pain I feel - always in your absence? Fate can not be this cruel.
Tell me what to do. Tell me how to be where you are. We can not be forever longing.
He forgot to sign the letter. That was unnecessary. Bella would know.
He walked out the door to find his car still running with the door open in his driveway. He questioned the prudence of getting behind the wheel for only a moment before jumping in. His body had gotten him this far. He would trust it the rest of the way. He knew the drive to Manhasset Post Office by heart. He was sure he could get himself there and that was all the plan he needed.
The smoke coming from the far end of the street caught him off guard. It didn't register until he was parked that it was the post office that was on fire. Understanding the urgency, his body went into immediate action, sprinting forward towards the smoke and the flames. He managed to elude the first group of firemen that tried to apprehend him, but was not quick enough to dodge the second group and avoid tripping over the tangle of water hoses.
Edward felt himself float as they picked him up and carried him backwards, away from her. Though his mouth was open wide and moving, he registered no sound; his eyes, though burning, were tearless. Only his arms and legs knew what to do as they kicked and punched at their captors. Hard concrete met his back sharply as they threw him on the ground and ordered him to stay put. The fall should have knocked the wind out of him. Perhaps that's why they felt comfortable enough to turn their backs and leave him on the sidewalk.
But, for Edward, air was not necessary right now. What he needed was to get into the post office and deliver his letter, his last letter, safely to her.
Did I tell her I loved her? he asked himself. Yes, she knows. He was suddenly overjoyed that he had sent Sylvia's snapshot of him by the piano last week as a surprise. The irrational euphoria carried him to his feet, pushing him towards the back entrance of the post office that he had discovered late one night on his way back from delivering a letter.
Edward kicked the door open easily, sneaking past the chaos and onlookers. The black smoke enveloped him as soon as he stepped inside. He was glad that he didn't need to see. He knew this place thoroughly, having spent many nights wandering through the halls, contemplating how this physical building could act as a portal to the past.
He darted up the stairs holding his breath. The deposit box was on the main level to the right. He was almost there.
As he turned the corner, he was met with a floor beam blazing across the hallway to the deposit box. Backing up for a running start, he cleared it easily. But as he landed, his lungs took in the smoke and he began choking on the ash.
"Just a few more feet," he commanded himself. "Don't black out!"
His hand pulled the letter from his back pocket just as embers from the ceiling began to sprinkle down on him. Quickly, he tucked the letter into his jacket to protect it. He didn't notice the singe to his ears and neck.
As he reached the deposit box and pulled his hand from inside his jacket, he felt the floor beneath him tremble as the ceiling above began to give way. The last thing he remembered before feeling the weight of the floorboards hit his shoulders was the sensation of the letter slipping from his hand.
A/N: Am I evil? Will Bella get the letter or will it burn, burn, burn in the fire? And what will become of our poor Edward? I'll update on Friday, but you can flame me today. Jump in, I'll love you. Okay, enough teasing - breathe, I promise it will get better....