It was strange to think he hadn't taken her on a long drive since their first months of knowing each other. Simply based on their short excursions to and from school, Lettie had shown time and time again that she was fascinated by the speed, eyes eagerly flickering to the passing trees, blurred people, and endless stretches of smooth road. Though they weren't able to stop and look around like they did last time, she seemed to be just as content snuggling up in the passenger's seat of the stolen car, letting her eyes droop as she gazed out the window.

He was surprised she was able to see anything at all with the little light provided by the early morning, but the small jolts of attention were enough to let him know she was doing more than dozing. That, and her mind spinning endlessly. The memories she shared with Charles Gorham, each one more friendly and affectionate than the last, played on loop in her mind. Every recollection brought along a slew of questions, and each question spurred on a new memory. Despite only spending a few short weeks together, it seemed she had no end to fond memories with him.

He's not even that good looking, Edward thought with a scoff, then immediately scolded himself for thinking something so shallow. Besides, it didn't seem that Lettie cared much for his looks, not when his smile shined so brightly in her memories.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to formulate a thought, a question, a discussion on the man, each time just falling short. In truth, he found himself not wanting to know more about Charles Gorham's personality more than his research, and only then because he possibly held the key to saving Lettie from a ruthless poltergeist.

And, selfishly, in a place so deep down he loathed to admit it to himself, there was a growing envy that Charles Gorham knew things about Lettie he was only just beginning to understand.

He was there for her when she knew nothing of herself or her new existence. He was a guiding hand, a shoulder to cry on, and a mentor all wrapped in one. Try as he might, there was only so much he knew of what she was and what made her so unique, and that was, in truth, only because she was so giving with information. Information he had given her.

His hands clenched involuntarily.

"Thank you," Lettie said quietly, not lifting her head from the comfortable nook of the door to look at him. It was the first time she had spoken since they got in the car. Edward nearly swerved the car in surprise.

"Thank you? What for?"

"Your family will be upset when they come to realize our escape." She sighed, closing her eyes a moment. "I seem to only bring more trouble."

"Hey, none of that." He reached over without thinking, grabbing her hand to lace their fingers together. At that, she finally looked at him. "I'm happy to do this. Really."

"Truly?"

"I wish the circumstances were a little different, sure. But he's a friend of yours. Even if we didn't have a murderous poltergeist after us, he'd still be your friend, and you'd still want to see him." Lettie let out a breathless chuckle.

"It is strange to think he resides so near to us. I feared I would never set eyes on him again in this afterlife."

"It can't be that unusual for ghosts to meet, can it?" Lettie pondered that for a moment.

"In all of my existence, I have only met three spirits: Samuel, Sir Charles, and only recently have I come to know of Tehri." At the reminder of the asylum ghost, Edward felt a chill go down his spine. "Your world is a vast, endless place. I am sure there are many spirits roaming this plane, but until very recently, my world was a dusty room of forgotten things. I have no memories of spirits from my human life, and only three from my afterlife."

Her honest description nearly had him ducking his head in embarrassment. His family, collectively living over one thousand years, had never met a spirit before Lettie - none they could identify and remember, at any rate. Lettie, a stationary spirit until recently, who seemed to be a magnet for the supernatural, had only met three. Carlisle was the most worldly of all of them, and he hadn't seen any spirits, nor did it seem like he knew anyone who had. If the Volturi knew of her existence, of any spirit's existence, Edward knew they would have already been recruited to the Guard, or, at least, act as reinforcements.

And yet…nothing.

It seemed too crazy of a statistic to think there were so few spirits. In America alone, there were enough haunted locations and spirit sightings to fill a library, and yet, how many were true spirits? How many were ghosts like Lettie and Charles Gorham, who only longed to see the ever-changing world?

How many were like Samuel and Tehri, who thrived in the chaos of their abilities?

"Would you want to stay with him?" The question escaped him before he could stop and think. Almost instantly, Edward bit his tongue so hard he almost sliced through it completely. Lettie, too, seemed surprised by the sudden question. "I-I mean, once we're there, will you want to stay a while? I can maybe buy you some time, but I don't know how much-"

"I am simply grateful to be allowed visitation in any aspect." Lettie squeezed his hand. "If Sir Charles is truly the spirit we are about to meet, then I am only thankful I was able to see him once more."

Edward barely stopped the sigh of relief from escaping him.

"And you trust he'll have the information we need?"

"Sir Charles is a brilliant mind. If he was without the information at the time of our initial meeting, then there is no doubt he had since learned something useful. I have never met a more inquisitive mind in all my existence." She smiled to herself. "It is as if his mind is an endless sponge and the world's knowledge a mere cut of water."

"I'm glad he was able to teach you so much about your world."

"Yes. Without Sir Charles, I would have been lost, and Samuel's cruel games would have had an even greater impact. I am fortunate to have met such a brilliant person." She laughed again. Edward felt his chest constrict. "He was very easy to talk to."

"Is that so?"

"I was able to tell him much about my life that I had not been able to tell anyone before."

"Even me?" It was a pathetic attempt at a joke, falling completely flat thanks to his awkward delivery, but Lettie laughed anyway. She squeezed his hand again, and he reflexively returned it.

"You know many of my secrets already."

"But not all of them."

"I find that terribly unlikely."

"Your favorite color?"

"You are well aware it is blue."

"What about your favorite food?" Lettie laughed.

"As I have only recently tried Esme's delicious meals, he would not have known."

"Your favorite movie?"

"Even I am unaware of that answer!" She squeezed his hand.

"Does he know how you died?"

The car fell silent instantly, the happy mood dissipating just as quickly. Lettie turned to look out the passenger window, but she was too slow to hide the way her face dropped. Edward swore under his breath.

"No, I'm sorry. That was too far. I didn't mean-"

"No."

"What?"

"No, he does not."

The car lapsed into silence again. Edward's fingers tightened around Lettie, terrified she would let them go and another pit would form between them.

"I'm sorry." He sounded utterly pitiful, but he wasn't too proud to grovel. Not when he let his jealousy come over him like that. "I shouldn't have asked."

"I am surprised you have not tried more frequently," she said with a breathless laugh, devoid of humor. "Emmett has tried many times, and I would not be surprised if the rest of your family was just as curious."

"Emmett is an idiot, but he means well." She smiled.

"A very lovable fool."

"Everyone in my family has faced some hardships, especially about how they died." He desperately wanted to pull over, but the thought of having to face her when he was feeling so vulnerable made him hesitate. He gripped her hand tighter. "You know my story. It's not a happy one."

"I recall."

"Not to say that since I told you mine, you should tell me yours!" he quickly correctly, mentally berating himself for speaking so ineloquently. "I only mean, no matter what it is, I'm here for you. I won't think of you any differently."

How could I, he thought as he brought her hand to his lips, allowing himself to indulge in the skin-to-skin contact, when all you've ever been is understanding to me?

The car lapsed into a long silence. When Lettie didn't speak, Edward used their interlocked hands to turn on the radio, trying anything to give her a moment to herself. The road and the music did enough to make her thoughts fuzzy.

Poor timing seemed to chase him whenever he went. Ever since he was turned over one hundred years ago, mistake after mistake seemed to plague him. Every day conversations, small mishaps in conversation, those were easy to write off. He's had millions of those, and the outliers only stuck out because there was something memorable about them. But otherwise? His human hunts brought only misery to his family, only months after Esme finally settled into her life as a vampire. It was only by their patience and mercy that he wasn't tossed aside. He killed her abusive ex-husband months before Esme expressed interest in seeing him again, if only to have some closure on her human life. If it hadn't been for his depression, Rosalie might not have been turned, and she could have died in a human way instead of being forced into an eternity of regret. Even recently, if he hadn't ignored Emmett's pleas to join him on a hunt, then his brother wouldn't have killed a human after so many years of self control. His bright personality may have hidden it from people who didn't know him, but the guilt nearly swallowed him whole.

And even with Lettie. If only he had arrived sooner, then Stephen wouldn't have found her, and his horrified face would never have burned into her mind, forcing her to recall it in cruel randomness. If he had better timing, his family would have been introduced to Lettie in a peaceful way, not allowing their cruel words and actions to stain every future interaction. If he had better timing, then maybe Samuel wouldn't be chasing her, and Sir Charles wouldn't be needed, and they could've lived peacefully in the woods, spending their days studying the plants and the bugs and the quiet trickle of water. His vampirism, his powers, his hunger.

Neither of them spoke again until sunrise.

"I do not recall much," she admitted quietly.
Edward was quick to turn the volume of the radio down, as much attention as he could spare directed on her. Though she didn't look at him, she did angle her body back to face the front, giving him a glimpse of her profile. She seemed almost expressionless, as if she was recounting a book of facts rather than a painful memory. He knew the technique all too well and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. She returned it gently.

Her mind conjured flashes of memories, overlapping and stuttering together like a poorly stitched quilt. Before him was Lettie, human Lettie, whose face flushed red as she danced around her room, twirling in various colored gowns. Her friend, Clara, laughed as she watched from the bed. He had seen Clara's face in Lettie's mind so frequently that it was like seeing an old friend, especially because of the bright smile she had, her own hair and outfit disheveled from goofing off. It took a moment, as the room looked brighter and more furnished, but it was the room he had claimed for himself in the house in Wateeridge, only hours before he met Lettie.

He watched with rapt attention, squeezing her hand to remind him that he still needed to drive them safely.

"The day was filled with preparations. There was to be a ball, for what I do not recall, but Clara had been talking about her dreams of being carried across the dance floor by a dashing man, so I gifted one of my pearl ornaments for her hair. Clara, in turn, borrowed one of her Mother's newest dresses so I would have something to wear." She smiled fondly. In her memory, Lettie twirled to face a large, ornate mirror, now wearing the yellow gown he had seen only briefly so many months ago. It looked better unburnt, sunny and warm, matching the woman wearing it. "You see, I only had what was left of my Mother's gowns, and they were no longer in fashion. My Father adored how I looked in them, but they would not do for such an occasion."

Her real hand ran over the fabric of her blue gown, her smile turning sad.

"I was to be accompanied by a new face in our town, a dapper gentleman I no longer remember the name of. I can only think that my Father granted permission because we were to be wed."

Edward sucked in a harsh breath. Lettie didn't seem to notice.

"I was to be the envy of the ball, and no simple dress would do. Though I was thankful at the time that Father was too drunk to see me off, meaning he did not question my new attire, I often wished I could have hugged him one last time."

"Lettie…" She shook her head.

"Death and regret are old friends." She squeezed his hand as if to reassure him that she was alright.

In her memories, Lettie and Clara approached a familiar building, the decrepit building bustling with noise. People were milling around, clearly taking a break from the heat inside. In the blink of an eye, she was in the center of the room, jumping lightly from foot to foot, the music so loud it was all he could hear. She was moving too fast to see anything clearly.

"I do not remember much of the ball, though I do remember dancing until my feet were aching and being too happy to notice until my partner went to fetch us some refreshments. I looked for Clara to keep me company, but no one had seen her. Despite her shy personality, it was unlike her to leave a ball so early. So, I went in search of her."

The music and the dancing disappeared, suddenly engulfed in darkness. It was a memory Edward knew well, the dark room and the laughing voices. A scream. Lettie's? Clara's? More laughing. A flash of light.

"And then…" Lettie's mind roared red, a fire so hot Edward, for a moment, believed her hand was about to burst into flames. Both of them were thrown suddenly from her memory. Tears pooled in her eyes. Edward swerved, quickly skidding to the shoulder of the road. "And then…"

"It's okay," he hurried out. A car behind them blared on its horn, but Edward barely spared them a glance, not bothering to cut the engine before he took her hand in both of his. "You don't have to say anything more."

"No, no." She shook her head. The tears continued to gather, spilling over the fall down her cheeks. "I must! You deserve-"

"I don't deserve a thing, not even the story of your past." She looked at a loss for words, so Edward leaned over, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Her body locked up for a brief moment before clinging to him, her hands involuntarily seeking out his frigid skin, using him to stave off the fiery memory. "I'm sorry I made you think of that."

"I wish that I were not so cowardly to hide the memory from myself," she whispered, squeezing him tighter, "but it eludes me, even now."

"Thank you for telling me," he whispered back.

By the time they were back on the road, Lettie's tears dried from her face, the car was silent again. Only, this time, Edward couldn't help the new, stronger fondness that seized his nonbeating heart whenever he looked at her.