Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: This is my latest chapter yet... if this was a library book, I would owe like a million dollars in late fees, I realize this.
This chapter has been re-written a dozen times, and I only wish I was exaggerating the amount. It was incredibly difficult to get the conversation right and I struggled if I was making the right decision. Some of you may not agree with what I've done in it, but I found it became a necessary occurrence in order to (begin to) bridge the past and the present. Or else Bella would simply go on ignoring it forever.
Bella found herself once again in her dream world, this time feeling strangely ticked.
She didn't know how or why, but she had the feeling that the blond man in the living room had been responsible for her passing out, in a way that had nothing to do with the conformation of her mother's death or the way her mind was playing tricks on her.
So caught up in her anger, she didn't immediately register that there was something very different about her usual surroundings. The field was still the same, but the tree was missing. Instead, in its place, was a plain two story house that reminded her a little of the houses that were in what was considered the Historic Section right here in Galveston that she had driven through once. It was a single street where a handful of houses, built as early as the late 1800's still stood, all of them spiffed up by their owners, but still in tune with their original appearance. She had only seen them a handful of times (that road was the quickest way to the mall) in passing, but knew for certain that the house she was now looking at wasn't one of them. This one hadn't been shined up in any way, but despite its plainness, the structure was still sturdy and clearly well maintained.
Then, like a computer glitch, it was replaced briefly by another house- one that was very familiar. The bright yellow of its siding (a color her mother her fought her father tooth and nail to paint) glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. It was her house back in Phoenix, the one she had affectionately dubbed 'Big Bird'.
Every time she blinked, the house was different- plain, yellow, plain, yellow- until eventually the house disappeared altogether with little more than a soft sigh. The only indication that they had even been there was the front door that was still hovering in the field.
Unnerved a bit by a door seemingly suspended in the middle of an otherwise empty clearing (reminding her a little too much of a scene in a horror movie her mother favored), Bella struggled with the urge to both step towards it and take a step back.
The decision was taken out of her hands as she watched the silver know twist as the door creaked open. Whispers of conversation and a faint sound, like laughter, floated out from the wide crack and with it came the sudden visage of the tree. It literally sprung up from the ground behind the door fully grown, making it look as if the door was now embedded in the tree, as a figure stepped outside. She shielded her eyes from the sun before being bathed in shade from the leafy branches overhead. A smile lit up her face when she spotted Bella.
"Oh good, you're here!" she exclaimed.
"I'm here?" Bella choked out. "What are you doing here?" She was almost as stunned by the sight of her mother as she was by what she had on. "And what the hell are you wearing?"
Her mother usually heavily favored printed, breezy fabrics and jeans or peasant skirts, often declaring herself a perma-hippie, but the dress she wore now was plain, in a pale blue color and very matronly in its cut and style. It reminded Bella a lot of this settlement place she'd visited on a school trip once when she'd been younger, where they faithfully re-enacted the olden days (right up to the clothes they wore). All her mother needed was a bonnet over her auburn hair and she'd blend right in.
Her mother looked down at the fabric, like it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to be wearing it. "This?" she asked, smoothing her hand over the high cut collar. "I found it in there." She pointed over her shoulder towards the door. "I found a lot of stuff in there." She waved her hand dismissively. "But that's not important, I'm so glad you're finally here. We didn't think he'd ever let up enough for you to dream."
There were so many questions in that sentence, Bella wasn't sure which one to address first. "We?" she decided.
It wasn't answered by her mother, but by the door creaking open a second time.
"Daddy?" she whispered when the second person came into view.
His lips tilted in that familiar half smile that was reserved strictly for Bella and her mother. "Hey, Pic."
The nickname passing his lips caused tears to spring to her eyes. He looked exactly like she remembered. Short dark hair, impeccably groomed mustache, pressed beige button up shirt, dark jeans and shiny black boots. The only thing that was remotely out of place was the badge pinned gamely to his breast pocket. While she recognized the badge as being his own, she had never seen him wear it without his uniform. She had a feeling it was there as nothing more than a comforting familiarity.
He spread his arms and Bella didn't hesitate to run into them, burying her face in his chest and heavily breathing in the comforting scent of cedar.
"Miss me?" he asked softly.
Bella chuckled wetly. Miss him? she thought, clutching him tighter. That was like suffocating someone for a few agonizing seconds than asking them if they missed air.
"Why are you here?" she choked out on a sob.
Her father pulled back and brushed the tears away from her cheeks like he'd done when she was a child. "We're here for you, Pic."
She hitched in a breath. "Am I dead?" It was entirely possible that when she fainted she had smacked her head and that those three people in the living room had watched as she bled out on the floor.
Her mother laughed, stepping up beside them and combing her cool fingers through Bella's hair. "Of course not, silly."
Bella didn't know whether to be relieved or saddened by this news. She decided to play it safe and go with sarcasm instead, if only to allow her a minute to gather her bearings. "Great. So I'm not dead, I'm just crazy."
He father huffed out a gruff laugh. "There's the Bella I remember," he said fondly. His face grew serious. "We're here to tell you to stop running."
Bella stiffened and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest, frowning when a glint of gold caught her eye and she noticed that her father's badge had been replaced with a star, something etched into it, but the letters to faint to read. Wasn't that just a... She gave her head a shake and it was his regular badge again. "I'm not running from anything."
Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's all you've been doing for years."
Bella jerked away from her hand. "Oh yeah? Then why don't you tell me what I'm running from exactly."
Her father looked at her knowingly. "I think you already know what we're talking about."
He couldn't be talking about that, could he? How did he even know? "But they're just dreams!"
"Are they?" he asked. "If you really believed that, why did you move here? You told me a few years ago you planned to go to Washington University, my alma mater. Why the change of heart?"
"My teacher," Bella insisted stubbornly.
Her father shook his head sadly. "I was always amused by your tenacity, Pic, even proud of it most days, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. Not anymore. You took such a big step by moving here, why'd you stop?"
"What's so important about being here?" she yelled. "And if it's so damned important, why the hell didn't you tell me earlier? You've been dead for two years and you," she whirled towards her mother, "two days!" she spat and then immediately slapped her hands over her mouth as the callous words escaped her lips. "Oh my god," she choked out. "Mom... dad...I didn't... I'm so sorry."
"It's alright Bells," her mother whispered softly. "We wish we could of told you sooner, but we couldn't."
Her father approached her mother's side and laced his fingers with hers. "We didn't know before," he explained. "The pieces weren't in place."
"And now?" Bella asked expectantly, looking between the two of them.
"And now they are," her mother replied simply.
"Quit being so vague!" Bella cried. "Just tell me!"
"We're not doing this on purpose, Pic," her father replied calmly. "You have to understand that we're not the ones you have to ask. We don't know everything; it's only our pieces that are in place."
Bella was growing increasingly frustrated. She didn't know it was possible, but this was quickly turning out to be even vaguer than her other dreams. "Who exactly do I have to ask? And what do you mean pieces?"
"Our memories," he said, completely ignoring her first question.
"Is that what that is?" she asked, pointing at the door that was still behind them. "The door to your memories?"
"No," he hesitated. "They're yours, Bella."
Dread froze the blood in her veins. "My memories of what?" she whispered.
"Before."
"Before what?" Her hands tangled in her pair, pulling roughly at the strands when they remained silent. "You were just strolling around in there, tell me!" she demanded frantically.
Her mother took a step forward and cupped Bella's cheek. "We can't, Bells," she said sadly. "We can only talk about the ones we were a part of, with the others we could only observe."
"Then tell me something about the ones you were a part of!"
The door Bella belatedly realized had been cracked open since her father had stepped through it, suddenly slammed shut, the sound causing her dream world to shudder, as it seemingly absorbed the tree back in it until there was nothing but empty field behind it.
"What's happening?" she gasped out.
"Our memories, the important ones, are too firmly entwined with yours, Bella and right now they are bound by that door. So until it is fully open, there is nothing we can say."
"Then why bother with all of this?" she asked angrily. "Are you just here to tease me? Punish me? What?"
"Steps," her father said. "You can't do Step Three without doing Step Two first."
"What the hell does that mean?" she half-screamed. "You have to tell me something!" she grasped quickly for something she wanted the answers to the most. "The dreams," she begged.
"They're not just dreams," her mother confirmed. "But to begin to understand them, you have to ask the right person the right questions."
"Who's the right person?"
"Someone who was there," she whispered softly.
Bella darted her eyes between her parents and the door at their backs. "I can't wait that long!" she cried, dodging around their arms.
Her feet swiftly ate up the short distance and she wrapped her hands firmly around the warm metal of the knob. She pulled firmly once, than began tugging more erratically when it refused to budge. She sobbed, pressing her ear to the door and straining to make out the whispers she could hear on the other side.
A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. "It's locked," her father said stoically.
"But why?" she choked out, soaking the grains of wood with her salty tears. She was so close to having ten years worth of confusing dreams explained, so close to understanding why she felt like something had been missing from her life.
The same hand turned her around and drew her back into the warmth of his embrace. "It's been cracked open the smallest bit for years."
"The dreams," she murmured against the scratchy fabric of his shirt.
She felt him nod against her head. "That's why they were so vague. They were meant to make you curious, to make you dig deeper. But you kept pushing it closed, Pic. Your denial locked it."
"I didn't mean too!" she cried. She felt numbness sweep through her. "I was right, I am being punished."
Her father shushed her, shifting her face away so he could cup her ruddy cheeks. "You're not being punished for being scared and confused, Bella. Don't blame yourself for that. Anyone in your position would be."
She attempted a smile. "You wouldn't be."
He chuckled. "If I had gotten them while I was alive, you bet your ass I would have been. Especially if they came to me like yours did." He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face.
"Why did they have to be like that?"
"Do you think you would have been more accepting if everything hit you at once?"
She shrugged. "It would have been a lot less stressful, I think."
He looked behind her pensively. "No, I don't think it would. That door holds a lot, Pic. More than you can even imagine. I think it only gave you what it did because it could have hurt you to get it all at once."
Bella was reminded of that old movie, The Butterfly Effect in which the lead character went back in time to change his past, and every time he came back to his present, his brain practically dribbled out of his ears as it attempted to catch him up with everything he'd experienced in his altered past. She supposed she'd take rocks, trees and flowers over aneurysms any day.
"Is it going to stay shut forever now?"
"A door can't stay shut forever, Pic. You just need to remember that every lock has a key."
"Do you have it?" she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. "It's not a key you can see, not one I can just give you."
Her shoulders slumped. "What is it then?"
"Acceptance and forgiveness."
"Well, who am I supposed to forgive?"
"When it's time, you'll know."
Bella huffed and stepped back. "Is this what happens when you die? You get all mysterious and start sprouting off Yoda like advice?"
Her father smirked. "One of the perks, it is."
Bella sputtered out a laugh, surprised she could even still feel humor after all the emotional upheaval. She frowned when she felt the air ripple around her and the edges of her dream world started to fade.
"What's going on?" she panicked.
"You're waking up," her mother explained, taking her place back beside her father and, for the first time since he died, looking happy and completely at peace.
"Will I see you again?" she asked softly.
"Anything is possible." Her mother grinned. She approached Bella and gathered her tightly in her arms. "I want you to promise me something, sweetheart."
"Anything," Bella breathed into the soft skin of her neck.
"Don't let my death stop you from opening up, from moving forward, from taking chances. From listening." She pulled back and cradled the back of Bella's head, tears glistening in her hazel eyes. "Me and Charlie were so blessed. We got to have an amazing and wonderful daughter twice." She kissed her forehead softly. "At least it was for a little longer this time."
Bella's eyes widened. "Twice?" she gasped. Does that mean what I think it does? It couldn't... could it?
Her mother's words repeated in her head. 'Anything is possible.'
Her mother smiled secretly. "I love you, Bella. Everything will make sense as long as you keep your promise."
"I love you too, mom. And I promise."
Her father was next, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. 'Stay strong, Pic. It's gonna be a bumpy ride. I wish I could prepare you more for it, but it's not my place, not yet. Just remember two important things kiddo, truth is stranger than fiction and in the end, it's up to you to decide on whether or not it's worth it."
The dream shimmered, her parents fading more with each passing second.
"If what's worth it?" she called out hurriedly.
Her father's lips moved, but the response was delayed and just as her eyes opened, it echoed through her head.
"A second chance, Pic. A second chance."
A/N2: For those that are still with me, thank you so much for reading.
I would also like to apologize to anyone who's reviews I did not respond to for the last chapter. I usually respond to each and every review, but they got away from me after such a long absence with this story. I won't let that happen again and promise to respond to all the ones for this new chapter.