AN: Sorry for the delay guys! Tami's been sick, I went on vacation and then I had total computer fail. But everything is GREAT now and we finally have chapter 20 (THE LAST CHAPTER EXCEPT FOR EPILOGUE) for your reading enjoyment!!!!
Couple of pieces of business. First, both Tami and I want to thank EVERYONE for being an incredibly supportive audience. The response on this story has been incredible and we are continually amazed by how much everyone loves it. Second, thanks again for nominating us for a Bellie Award for Best Collaboration! We are honored to be with such great writers and hope that you'll vote for us! Go to www[DOT]catt[DOT]net OR there will be a link on my (bethaboo's) profile for voting. Voting ends February 25th so huuuuuurrry!!!!!
Lastly, I listened to some music while writing the EPOV and I find it amusing that Tami kind of continued the theme. The song that inspired me a lot was John Mayer's "Split Screen Sadness." Make sure you look it up on youtube, it's an absolutely gorgeous song.
And yeah, this epic AN is FINALLY over so let's get on with the reunion!!!!
EPOV
The promise I'd made to not let Bella continue to run away wasn't just one I'd made to my father. It was also a promise that I vowed to myself and that I didn't stop repeating in my head the whole flight from London to New York and then from New York to Chicago and from Chicago to Portland.
It was an endless parade of airports and bad food and loneliness. But I swore that it was the last time I'd have to make a trip like this alone. Bella would be with me next time.
By the time I reached Portland, I was exhausted and grumpy and more than ready to see Bella and finally have the conversation in person that I'd been having in my head for the last few days.
Every time Bella told me in my head that she was done with me, I simply renewed my determination that I would get her back. Ultimately though, I'd learned nothing from all these pointless dialogues except maybe that I should be locked up for talking to myself.
I tramped into the concourse, trying to keep my hood down. I'd been lucky to remain largely anonymous so far, but I knew that wouldn't last.
Passing a news stand, I noticed that at least three quarters of the magazines on the rack had my face on their covers. Tucking my head further into my hood, I approached the stand, and searched for the issue of Time. I hadn't thought to bring it with me to Portland, but in retrospect I decided it might not be a bad thing to have with me when I approached Bella because, really, her feelings were written between every line. Faced with the evidence of her love, she could hardly deny it to me.
Unfortunately, I couldn't seem to find Time—which struck me as exceedingly odd. I glared at US Weekly and its cover of Bella and I kissing rather passionately, and wondered if I should ask someone if they were holding all the copies of Time hostage, but before I could decide, an old grizzled man walked around the corner of the stand.
"Can I help you?" he asked politely, and I prayed he wouldn't connect my face to the extremely similar one gracing all the magazines that he was selling.
"I'm looking for the latest issue of Time," I told him in a low voice, half-turning away from him.
"Ain't got a single issue left," he told me, and I nearly gaped at the man.
"Not a single one?" I questioned.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "They're sold out everywhere. There's some great article about that swimmer who won all those medals. Edward Cullen."
I couldn't deny that it was a great article. "I've heard it was fantastic," I said. "I just wanted to read it for myself. Thanks for your help anyway."
He turned to go, but something caught his eye past my shoulder and he got one last look at my face right as I stepped into a shaft of light coming from one of the windows overhead in the terminal.
From the way the man's face paled, I knew he'd finally connected the dots and recognized me.
"Oh my god, you're Edward Cullen," he gasped, pointing a shaking, wavering and extremely wrinkled finger in my direction. I knew that if he didn't keep his voice down, it was only a matter of time before a mob descended.
"Uh, yeah, that's me," I said, forcing myself not to blush or look embarrassed in any way. You should be used to this by now—and it's only going to get worse.
The magazine man looked like he was about to go in shock or maybe even cardiac arrest. He simply kept pointing at me and gasping out, "Edward Cullen," with increasing volume.
I pulled my hood down even farther to cover my face and hissed at him, "I'll give you an autograph, but you've got to keep it down."
Either he suddenly didn't understand English or he was too far gone to even care what I said, because he started yelling and waving his arms, every so often pointing to me.
Finally in frustration, I pulled my hood off and tried to slink behind one of the racks, but it was too late. One person after another had spotted me due to the interfering man's loud gesticulations, and before I could even grasp what was happening, a crowd had surrounded the newsstand.
I couldn't help it; I totally panicked. Never before had I been surrounded like this with no backup, no security—and worst of all, though I hated admitted it, no Carlisle.
My heart rate escalating and people closing in around me, yelling and shoving pieces of paper and pens in my face, all I wanted to do was drop through the floor and disappear forever. Maybe Bella and I could take an extended vacation until this all blew over—maybe to the Caribbean or a far off island, but definitely somewhere that had never heard of the Olympics because I didn't think I could handle this kind of scrutiny and mobbing on a regular basis.
"Wait," I yelled as loud as I could. "You've got to back the fuck up." I put all the authority I could into my voice with the hope that my status as a famous athlete and celebrity would force them to listen.
The crowd around me thankfully stilled and quieted, clearly waiting to hear what else I was going to say.
"Does anyone have a copy of Time?" I asked calmly. Carlisle had told me once that if the authority figure remains calm, the attitude will often rub off onto the followers. I was praying that in that moment he hadn't just been talking out of his ass.
Several hands popped up with copies of the magazine. I took a copy from the woman closest to me, grabbed a sharpie out of someone else's hand and carefully and clearly signed the cover.
The woman, who was in her early thirties with a cute brown bob, smiled at me, not with adoration in her eyes but simple understanding. I decided she might be the only non-crazy person here.
"It must be hard," she said sympathetically, as I handed the magazine back. "I read the article that Bella Swan wrote, and it was beautiful. Is it true that you've broken up?"
"That isn't in the article, is it?" I asked with alarm.
"Oh no, that's what Perez is reporting," she said a bit sheepishly. "But then I saw you here in the airport, and thought maybe you were here to see her. I've heard she lives in Portland."
The crowd around us was listening intently to our conversation, no doubt ready to steal anything I said and sell it to the closest media outlet, but I continued talking anyway. Better interested listeners than a frantic mob.
"She does," I confirmed, "and I am here to see her. We've had a bit of a . . .falling out. But I'm going to fix it."
"Oh dear," she said with sympathy brimming out of her brown eyes. "I hope you can."
"I have to. I love her. I want to marry her." I figured that as long as I was confessing all my business to a group of total strangers, I might as well go all in. For some unearthly reason, this was completely different than confiding my private life to a reporter. It was almost as if I suddenly felt amazingly connected to my fans in a way I never had before. All the guards and security that Carlisle had insisted on had just been another layer of protection between me and the world and though they'd prevented me from filtering into the world, an unrealized and hidden side effect had been that the world had been blocked from my view too.
I'd lost touch with my fans. I'd lost that intrinsic connection to those that followed me and cared about me—in reality, I'd almost lost touch with myself.
I realized, too, that this was what I'd loved so much about Bella's article. She'd delivered the real me back to the fans, and though she knew I wouldn't like it, she'd told the unvarnished truth about Edward Cullen, both the swimmer and the man. She'd only left out Edward Cullen the lover, and for that, I was eternally grateful. Though I was experiencing an unprecedented reconnection with the people who loved me, there were still some things that I wanted—no, that I needed—to keep secret.
A man in his late twenties next to the woman, patted me on the back and I saw the camaraderie of a similar quest in his eyes. "Go get her back, man. Don't let her get away."
"Don't worry, she won't," I reassured him and myself. Even though I'd presented a united front to both Carlisle and Esme and the world, deep down I wasn't as sure as I pretended to be.
What if, horror of all horrors, Bella slammed the door shut in my face?
I contemplated this hideous possibility, my stomach flip-flopping into dozens of knots, as the woman organized everyone into a queue and I signed autograph after autograph.
When everyone was finally done and my hand was cramping from all the signatures, I snuck off with the benefit of the PDX Airport Security and caught a cab to Bella's apartment.
While I was in the air, Carlisle had emailed me the address of Bella's apartment, obtained from the newspaper she'd worked at before quitting and freelancing for Time. There was also some other rather intriguing information that he'd found out while getting the address, and I filed it away in my brain to tell Bella when everything was hashed out and forgiven.
To my surprise, there was no steady drizzle of rain. Bella had made it point several times to tell me how much I'd hate living in Oregon due to the nearly constant cover of cloud and rain, but as I looked out the cab window onto the beautiful landscape of downtown Portland, I knew she was wrong. I'd lived for many years in Southern California but I was adaptable enough. Somehow, this place suited Bella down to the ground and if it was what made her happy, I'd gladly move here too.
By the time we pulled up to Bella's address, a cute little apartment building in a suburb of Portland, I was sick with nerves. What if she slammed the door in my face? What if she wouldn't even open the door to begin with?
I had to admit I wasn't surprised to see the several news vans parked in the lot. I paid the taxi and tried to walk nonchalantly to the stairs that led to Bella's apartment, hoping that the reporters wouldn't notice my distinctive form. No doubt they'd been waiting for this moment since Bella had returned to Portland.
For once luck seemed to be on my side and I reached Bella's door with nobody visibly emerging from either of the vans.
Breathing deeply, I knocked hesitantly on the door. I'd already decided that getting Bella back was probably going to be the thing I remembered most about the Beijing Olympics—it was certainly the hardest thing I'd ever done, anyway.
Bella didn't answer the door immediately and my heart staccatoed out of control. Then I heard her footsteps walking towards the door, and I listened hard, wondering if maybe the sounds were simply a figment of my imagination wishing hard that she was in fact walking towards me.
But apparently it wasn't only my fervent wish that was pulling her towards me—it was actually reality as I heard her call out, "For god's sake, just leave me alone."
Uh oh. She must think I was a reporter, camping out on her doorstep. Well, I was perfectly willing to camp out on her doorstep, but I sure as hell wasn't a reporter. I was debating if I should speak up and inform of her of the truth, when the door opened unceremoniously and Bella's glaring face appeared in the open crack.
The glare immediately dissipated from her face, to be replaced by a shocked, open-mouthed stare.
"Edward," she stammered, looking more surprised than happy, "what are you doing here?"
I thought it would be perfectly obvious to Bella what I was doing here, and maybe it was to her too—she was just saying it just to say something.
"I'm here to see you," I said simply, extending my hands towards her.
The composure on Bella's face cracked then and she hesitated, but before I could figure out what she was about to do, the door was slammed in my face.
I sighed and leaned against the opposing wall. "Bella, please," I shouted, hoping my voice would carry through the wood of her door. "Open the door."
There was no response, and it was at this moment that a woman, undeniably a reporter, popped her head around the staircase, saw me, and let out a gasp.
Great. This whole situation had just gone from good to bad to even worse.
BPOV
I leaned against the door, afraid that my legs were going to collapse. I was shaking, wondering if all my daydreams of seeing Edward again had caused me to finally go crazy. It was probably another reporter, one who resembled Edward and I'd foolishly let my imagination get the worst of me. He was probably collaborating with the other reporter outside, gleefully noting that I'd called him Edward, ready to spill the beans the moment he got the scoop.
But what if it really was him? What was he doing here on my doorstep? And why did he have a reporter in tow? Could he be here for revenge--in anger and retribution for me leaving him like I had? The more I thought about it, the more I realized how implausible this really was. Edward had always been a gentlemen towards me, and was more likely to keep his anger hidden then display it for the world. Maybe he was here because he had read the article and wanted to let me know what he thought, whether good or bad. That seemed like a perfectly good explanation.
Or, a little voice in my head chimed in, he's here because he still loves you and wants you back. I felt my heart jump at the thought as I began replaying our moments together. Him laughing at one of my more clumsy moments, or something I said. Holding my hand for the first time, kissing me for the first time, and then kissing me in front of the world. Our quiet conversations as we snuggled together in his bed, sharing our deepest secrets. And finally, his eyes full of love as he asked me to be his wife. I ruthlessly quelled this idea, trying not to get my hopes up. I was the one that had chosen to leave him in the first place, and frankly, I knew I deserved the loneliness and heartache I'd been experiencing. Edward was probably over me already, and came to thank me.
I heard the murmur of voices outside my door, and knowing that I'd eventually have to talk to him, or at least see if it really was him standing on my doorstep, I sighed and opened the door. I gasped. He was real. Edward really was here, looking as breathtakingly handsome as always. He glanced up from the top of the staircase where he was talking to a dark haired reporter. "Bella, wait," he said as I was about to close the door again, "I need to talk to you!" Our eyes met and time seemed to stop as I was held captive by the almost pleading look in his eyes.
I froze, knowing that I didn't have any other option. Knowing how determined and dedicated Edward was when he wanted something, he'd probably camp out on my doorstep until I finally gave in. If I shut the door on him again, I'd only be delaying the inevitable. I opened the door wider, silently inviting him in to my apartment. He leaned down toward the reporter and murmured something too quiet for me to hear and walked towards my door. I stood back on quivering legs, allowing him to enter, then shut the door behind him and locked it for good measure.
I turned around to find Edward watching me, amusement in his eyes. "You know how they can be," I explained somewhat defensively. "Yesterday I made the mistake of not locking the door and one actually walked in!" He didn't say anything, but did nod his head in agreement with me. An awkward silence descended over the room and I fidgeted, not knowing what to do. In all of our previous interactions, I'd never felt this uncomfortable in his presence, even when I'd seen him first on the airplane. I finally motioned for him to follow me into the living room and watched as he sat on the couch.
He looked good, although a little thinner than I was used to seeing him. He also looked like he hadn't been sleeping very well. Probably because of the press hounding him constantly. I could safely say I knew something about that now. Looking at him sitting in my living room was bringing every emotion I'd been so unsuccessfully trying to bury back to me. I wanted to throw myself in his arms and beg him to take me back, to love me again. But, I knew I couldn't. I'd made this choice and I was going to live with it. Edward probably despised me, probably thought that I used him like so many other people had before.
I sat in the chair across from him, willing my emotions under control. Somehow, I knew I was going to be the one to have to break the silence. "What do you want, Edward?" I asked, my voice harsher than I'd intended as I tried to hide its quaking.
His voice was soft when he answered me. "I read the article." He was watching me intensely, taking in my expression as he said it. I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. So he had come to talk to me about the article.
"Oh," I stated, not knowing what else to say. He remained silent. "Was it okay?" I asked hesitantly, knowing that they'd trusted me and hoping it was what they'd had in mind.
"Bella, how can you even ask that?" Edward asked. "It was perfect. Better than I even dreamed, really. I know we were expecting a lot out of you, but you did so much more. You made me seem human somehow, not the superhuman swimmer that everyone saw me as before and during the Olympics, but a person with feelings, goals and dreams. I have to admit that it wasn't what I was expecting and at first, maybe I was a little put off by it. I wasn't expecting it to be so personal, but I realize now that you accomplished something that I doubt any other journalist could have. You captured the real me."
"So you liked it?" I asked happily, so glad that I'd at least done that for him.
"I loved it. One of the reasons I actually came here was to thank you. So, thank you for putting so much time and effort into this and creating something brilliant," he said seriously. He leaned forward in his seat as if he was going to touch me, then hesitated and sat back again.
I was shocked. I'd been expecting him to spout words of anger at me at the very least, but here he was thanking me for the article. "I just wrote about you, Edward. About the person that I came to know in Beijing. It really wasn't that hard," I added, trying to keep the love I felt for him out of my voice. While it had been easy to come up with the words to write, it had been incredibly difficult for me to remember our conversations and interactions with one another, time with him I'd thought to never experience again. But here he was, looking at me with such intensity that my breath caught.
"Y-you said there was something else you came here for?" I asked quietly, not daring to hope that he wanted me back.
He sat forward in his seat and this time reached forward and grabbed both of my hands in his before I could pull away. The shock of his skin on mine set my heart to beating rapidly and I longed to be closer to him. "Actually, there is. I know that we didn't part on the best of terms, if any terms at all. I must admit that when I read your note, I was devastated. Waking up and expecting to find you in my arms, then to have you gone was the worst feeling I've ever experienced. It was worse than if I'd lost all the races in Beijing."
I looked away from him in shame. "I'm sorry, Edward. It really was never my intention to hurt you like that. I just," I started, but Edward interrupted me by putting his hand on my cheek and turning my face toward his so I could meet his eyes.
"Shh, Bella. Just listen to me first," he said gently and I nodded my head as tears came to my eyes. "I was angry at first. So angry that I didn't talk to anyone, even the press, for fear that I'd lash out at them. I admit I felt used and betrayed, that I knew you and then you changed into this totally different person who only wanted to get ahead in her career. It didn't jive with the Bella I had come to know, but it was the only explanation I could come up with for you leaving me like that. At first I waited in dread for a TV report with you dishing all about me, or an article to come out in a tabloid, but it didn't happen and I gave up even looking. I figured then that you may have cared about me, but not enough to be with me and live my life with me. That was painful, but it was something I could understand. It eased the hurt a little. At least you hadn't used me, but you still weren't there. I realized that my life before you, where I had thought that swimming was all that mattered, was one that was empty and unfulfilled. That it wasn't until I met you that my life had meaning and the whole world seemed brighter. I retreated from the world as much as I could, not even spending time with my family and limiting my time with anyone else. It wasn't long before I knew that I'd even give up swimming to have you in my life. That's how much you mean to me, Bella," he finished intently.
I was in awe that he was sitting there telling me this. "I-I don't know what to say, Edward. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought you would get over me quickly, would realize what different worlds we come from and see that I would never fit in. I thought that away from it all--the stress and tension--that your feelings would fade," I explained, crying harder. He had been experiencing the same type of pain I had ever since I'd left. I couldn't believe otherwise as he described his feelings and saw the agony in his eyes as he remembered.
"Is that why you left?" he questioned sharply and I looked up at him confused. "Did you leave because you're feelings were going to fade, or you thought that mine would?"
"I thought that everything would change and you'd realize that I'm not for you, so I left to save us from further pain later on," I explained.
"Bella, I can promise you this. You are everything to me. I don't care how different our worlds are, or how hectic our lives get, I will always feel the same way about you. I love you, and that's never going to change," he declared emphatically. "I'm only sorry that I didn't come for you sooner. It took me reading the article to come to my senses."
I looked up at him in wonder. How could I not believe him? He'd come here to talk to me, even after I'd broken his heart. Now I needed to decide if I wanted to risk all for him, or retreat to my safe harbor that had been making us both miserable in the first place.
"Bella?" he questioned at my silence. "Do you still feel the same way, that we could never make it because of my fame? Because if you do, you know I'm just going to keep coming back until you realize that we belong together. You're not going to get rid of me so easily this time."
This was it. The time to make a decision, and this time I knew what it would be. I wasn't going to let my fears get in the way of happiness with the man of my dreams, the only man that I knew now that I had ever truly loved. I knew what I had to say. "I'm sorry I hurt you Edward and I can't promise to never doubt and to never be scared again, because this is all so new to me, so real and unlike anything I ever expected, but I do love you. I think I started to fall in love with you the minute I ran over your toe with the luggage cart, maybe even when I humiliated myself by knocking over the stewardess. Every moment we spent together, I just fell more and more under your spell. Leaving was the hardest thing I ever did, and to be honest, I don't think I'd have the strength to do so again even if I wanted to. And I'm never going to want to," I declared and he pulled me into his arms and held me so tightly against his chest I could barely breathe.
"We'll take it slow if you want to, but Bella, I'm going to marry you someday. The ring is yours whenever you're ready, but just so you know, I can move to Oregon so you can keep your job, but I'm not living apart from you ever again," Edward growled possessively in my ear.
I laughed in pure joy, elated that he was here in my arms, and this time we were going to let nothing stand in our way. "Actually Edward, I am jobless at the moment," I said pulling back to look at his shocked expression. "I quit," I stated proudly. "Laurent and I had different ideas as to what constitutes good journalism."
"I wondered why the article came out in Time first," Edward mused. "Well, these are details that we can work out later, but first, there's something that I've been dying to do since the minute you opened your door looking all fierce and ready to do battle with the evil press. But I have to tell you, when Carlisle called to get your address, he found out that apparently Laurent's boss decided that he was a complete idiot for forcing you to leave, so Laurent was apparently fired and if I hear correctly, he's been blacklisted." I smiled at Laurent's karma, but was cut off as Edward's lips met mine in a slow, sweet kiss that healed all the hurts I'd caused. I was finally home, with the man I loved. Edward was right. We could work all the details out later. We had the rest of our lives together.