I thought that I would finish this, I really did — but one thing led to another and then before I knew it, nearly a year had gone by, and the sequel to my fic Soul Searching still wasn’t done. I think that I started the sequel not because I had more to say on the story, but because I didn’t want to let go of Soul Searching. When I wrote Soul Searching, it was for the challenge of writing something in no dialogue, and for the challenge of creating a bizarre situation, while still making it reasonably plausible within canon. 

I want to thank my amazing beta, Kayla Ariev, for helping me with these chapters. 

This story is incomplete, and will probably never be finished, but I wanted to post it here for anyone that cared to read it. 

Letters to the Dead

 

Letter 1 • Dead Friends

Dear Bella,

Sam says I’m not supposed to write you. You’re dead, he says. People don’t contact dead friends. Well I’m not listening. He never ordered me to cut off contact with you. So it’s midnight here and Leah thinks I’m reading under the covers. She doesn’t approve of me writing you either—she’s still a bit angry, and with you leaving, it’s like she’s been betrayed again. Once for me, and once for herself … Leah really did care for you until you left us. I don’t think it’s in her nature to be forgiving. 

I’ve got to be careful not to think of these letters when I’m on patrol. Sam has us out most nights; he’s hoping that he’ll catch Cullen scent and we’ll be able to attack. I don’t think this—much—but I hope we never smell you. Of course I want to see you again, but I don’t want to watch the pack kill you. Colin and Brady, for one, are more than ready to attack; they’ve never really been in a proper fight. When the newborns came we tried to keep them out of the action. They were furious, but Sam couldn’t face the thought of having to tell their parents of a casualty. They are still so young—for all they look nearly eighteen. Colin just had his fourteenth birthday, and Brady is even younger. They’ve both got a case of sour grapes, you know, because I got to fight even though I’d been purposely shoved to the side. They seem to think I always get lucky—imprinting, and fighting, and being the center of attention while you’re around. It’s one of the things that makes me phase out of control, hearing them grouch about it. Like it’s a good thing, like they’d be singing show tunes and dancing about if it happened to them.

Sam’s still fuming that I was your best man at the wedding. You were beautiful, Bella. Your face—it was glowing. I mean it, literally. Who needed the sun when you were there? He’ll take good care of you, that Cullen. His heart may be stone and dead, but somehow he loves you. I don’t know how …

I knew when you were changed; the exact instant when your heart stopped beating. Ever since I imprinted, I could hear this faint thump always at the edge of my consciousness, and I think it was your heartbeat. It’s gone now. Even when you were so far away that I couldn’t logically hear it, I knew when you were frightened or calm or sleeping. Kind of stalker-ish, I suppose. There’s this silence now where it used to be. I could hear it slowing down that night, and then when it stopped—

Charlie comes here often. He misses you, if only he knew you were still—not alive, perhaps conscious, existing? He’s moving on though, throwing himself into his work the way he’s always done. He doesn’t dwell too much, on the surface at least.

Everyone not in “the know” is mourning you. Mike Newton actually had to get counseling. But you knew what you were doing to your friends when you chose this. That sounds harsh, but you did. I knew what I was doing when I voted for your change as well. I couldn’t stand to watch you die even while you went through the actions of living.

Wherever you get this, I hope you’re happy. I hope you don’t regret your choice, and I hope you’ll write me back. Vampire speed, because I miss you. A lot.

Love you,

Seth

 

Chapter 1 • Silence

 

Seth’s life is divided into three distinct eras. 

Before Bella.

During Bella.

After Bella.

Before Bella he doesn’t quite recall properly. It seems to him that he was happy, but he was never truly happy until those fleeting, shining moments that were During Bella. During Bella life was full, he had a purpose — a love — there was excitement. Now there is After Bella. It doesn’t seem fair that his life has seemingly ended before his sixteenth birthday. Seth wonders whether he’ll ever know passion the way it was when Bella lived in Forks. The days are emptier than ever; at each turn and place Seth sees painful reminders of Bella’s departure. His story seems to be done.

After Bella left, Leah lived out the rest of the lease on the apartment and flounced in a bad temper back home. Sue Clearwater is often with Billy and Charlie in their little club of lost spouses. Most of the time Seth is either at school or home alone (Leah doesn’t really count, holed up and brooding in her room) or hanging out with Jared or Quil and Embry. These days he avoids Quil however — where Quil is Claire is — and Seth can’t stand looking at the obsessive all-encompassing love that the werewolf and toddler share. 

He sits staring morosely at the mailbox, like he’s been haunting it ever since he posted the letter. His mom is out again for the evening, and Leah is on patrol. It’s just him — and a good thing, they’re asking why he keeps staring at the mailbox. Even he asks himself, it’s not like waiting there will make a letter arrive faster. 

Nell, the girl he’s currently dating, walks up the street with an affected casualness that makes Seth smirk in spite of himself. The guilt twinges, like it always does when he starts seeing a girl, because he knows he’s only using them. Nell is the only girl who’s lasted a week with his mood swings and mystique and depression. She sees him and her face breaks into the wide, cheerful smile — so infectious that Seth, even through his gloom, smiles back. 

She’s got an air about her that makes people bubbly and less reserved. When she sits beside Seth on the stoop and slings her arm around his shoulders he laughs and kisses her cheek. Again, that twinge that tells him he’ll be sorry when he breaks her heart because he can’t take a steady relationship — his “furry condition” rules out close contact with anyone who doesn’t know the risks. Seth doesn’t know why he can’t push Nell away like he did the others. 

Sam, in particular, disapproves. The only thing stopping him from issuing an absolute command is the loneliness behind Seth’s eyes — that and the fact that Seth has only phased out of control when Edward provoked him that one time. Seth has almost perfect command of his emotions; it’s unnerving in one so young.

Nell is quiet beside him, her small form pressed against his by the narrowness of the porch stairs. She once told him it was impossible to feel scared next to him; he was so big and hard.

Maybe Nell is different. A small, squashed-down but hopeful voice insists. She’s nice, doesn’t ask questions, and likes you for you. She doesn’t mind that you’re scarred. 

Maybe she’s not. That’s the voice that’s angry at everything and everyone. Nell might give up just when you decide to trust her. You might lose control. 

Nell is certainly not normal. She’s got dark strawberry blond hair — almost red — and the bright green eyes that go with it. Her small form is a bundle of pure energy and optimism. She’s content to sit in silence and watch the mail with Seth, not asking questions, just accepting. Seth wonders how she learned to listen to the silence.

 

 

Letter 2 • Postal

 

Seth,

It’s odd hearing from you. Odd but nice. Everything is changing so quickly, receiving your letter was a lifeline to memories I’m forgetting too fast. It’s only been a month, and already I barely remember the faces of the people I’ve left behind. Shadowy smudges in a shadowy time. Do you think you could send me some pictures? My photo album was left in the glove compartment when we crashed the truck. They tell me it’s easier this way, with fewer links to normalcy, but I don’t want to lose the seventeen human years I had. 

Denali is as nice as can be expected. I’m trying not to massacre a town, so I stay inside quite a bit. I get along well with the coven we’re staying with. They are all stunningly beautiful — it’s hard to adjust to not being the plain human anymore. I get the feeling that one of the coven leaders, Irina, doesn’t like me very much though. It’s a large house, and I try to avoid her. I’m such a coward and I’m probably being paranoid. There is so much time to think about and overanalyze things now that I’m not able to sleep.

I’m beginning to see why Edward didn’t want this for me. On the way to Denali, at a gas station — there was a near miss. It didn’t happen, but it could’ve. There’s an eternity for near misses like that. What if one day I don’t miss? I can’t stop thinking about the way everything about me was out of control. I couldn’t think of anything but tactics to murder the driver filling his tank next to us. I didn’t do it, but I’m physically strong now, Seth. Edward couldn’t hold me alone, Emmett had to block the door until I calmed down. I ruined the passenger seat door on Edward’s Volvo. Hunting is horrific. Every time I catch a whiff of blood I lose a bit of myself in the kill. Perhaps it’s better not being able to think, just letting my mind frost over while I — feed. I’m not sure if I could do it any other way. 

I can’t talk about that out loud. Why is it so easy to write down? 

I’m sorry that you will read this. You deserve to know what I am, though. Has the imprint broken? 

If I could’ve done anything differently, I would have. I never meant to hurt you. I sometimes wish I could step back in time and change the little choices that led to this whole mess. Don’t we all? You barely spoke of yourself in your letter, how are you managing? Don’t think about me too much. I’ve — moved out of your sphere. It’s probably better if we don’t dwell on past dreams that won’t every happen. I wish I could promise you a happy ending, but I can’t even promise myself that. Please, please! Don’t waste your life on me, Seth. I know it feels like your story is over. That’s how it was when Edward left for me. There is more for you, it’s just harder to find. 

Edward wants to thank you for being best man at the wedding. He says it certainly spiced up the wedding, and nobody could have meant more to him than to have you there. You kept me sane when he … wasn’t around. 

I don’t truly regret anything but hurting you. I hope you can forgive the pain I’ve caused. As for the rest of the changes that have been going on, time will tell. I’m happy. Really. I hope this letter reaches you soon. I did write back vampire speed, but I can’t count on the speed of the Alaskan Postal service from here to La Push.

Love, 

Bella

Chapter 2 • Ruby

 

She pulls on her dark, skin-tight outfit and smoothes the wrinkles in the fabric over her hips in the mirror. She can’t concentrate on the way the outfit hugs her figure — her eyes are drawn to the glowing ruby ones in mirror, which belong to her. Bella’s eyes aren’t savage; they reflect the softness her body had once shown. Still, the red color makes her streamlined face so blatantly inhuman. She wanted these eyes, these hard curves, this face that still isn’t hers. When Edward put his teeth to her throat, Bella agreed to it all. 

It’s worth it.

She struggled in Edward’s stone grip — eyes beyond reason — trying to barrel past Emmett to the source of the salty sweet scent that burnt her throat even as it enticed her forward. 

He whispered with lips touching her ear, attempting to bring her back to herself. Even his satin voice and the feel of his lips couldn’t reason with the primal call of blood. Bella’s eyes were stained dark with hunger. She reached out and swiped past Emmett, damaging the passenger seat of his Volvo. 

Just a middle-aged man who had cut himself somehow, getting out to fill his car with gas, that was all that had started this. Her first taste of wanting something so badly her instincts took her to a place where no one was reaching her. Her mind wouldn’t function, she didn’t know what she was reaching after — she didn’t feel the metal crumpling beneath her fingertips or Emmett’s iron grip around her while Edward spoke a string of words that barely made sense. 

It was the sound of his voice that gradually brought her back to the surface of the rust-stained cloud she’d been tangled in.

This was blood lust. 

Bella shakes her head to clear it from the memory of her weakness. She pants for air that she doesn’t need, the force and horror of the memory making her shudder. She can’t dwell on it because the memory will drive her crazy with enough time. It’s crystal clear, unlike her human memories. Those have a blurry edge reminiscent of old photographs, though it’s only been at most a month since she was changed. Bella doesn’t want to remember so much of her human life — but there is also so much she wants to keep. 

The ice of Edward against you watching a movie, before his body took on the same neutral temperature as everything cold felt to her now. 

The smile of Alice when she saw a particularly amusing vision or a perfect outfit.

Jacob Black, half dressed, leaning against the Rabbit and smirking at her with a grocery bag that held two lukewarm sodas. 

The warm smile of Charlie when she cooked the fish he’d caught, the delighted giggle of Renee when Bella brought home flowers from the grocery store.

Seth holding her tightly when it all was too much, how warm and comforting and solid he was.

These were the things she wanted to remember, these and so many more things she wanted to hold onto with all her newfound strength

 

Letter 3 • Gravity

 

Dear Bella,

Edward left you that time, so you know about the hole that doesn’t stop or fade, just stays and never lets you forget. I can’t stop writing you, planning out letters, seeing something you’d like and turning to show it to you. I should stop thinking of you, stop remembering, and move on. Knowing you, you’ll blame yourself for every bit of my pain. I wish I knew how to help it. Do you really want to hold on to these memories? It’s worth it to me; the words help me remember you as you were, instead of how I know you are now. When it’s just words on paper, I can almost forget your new scent that clings to it. 

I’m learning how to drive, Embry and I fixed up an old wreck and it works enough for getting around the Rez. It feels so odd to be driving, living. I like it, but the first few weeks after you left, it felt like life shouldn’t go on. Like there wasn’t any gravity holding me to earth. You said I hadn’t said much about myself … There’s not much to say. Life in La Push is slow; it’s too hard to find distraction here. Cliff diving … isn’t something I can handle just yet. I’ve been trying the dating scene, and there’s this girl. You’d like her, she’s called Nell. She moved here a little after you left. Apparently my mom and her mom were really good friends before something happened to make them leave the Rez for a bit. She’s small and optimistic, and I wish I could tell her everything about me. It’s too hard to fall in love when there are so many secrets that need keeping. She’s different than the other ones though. I wish I could trust myself enough to fall in love for real. How can I do this to her, bring her into a world of so much danger and heartbreak? 

I don’t know much about being a vampire, the struggles and pain. I do know what it’s like to know that any second I could lose control and hurt somebody. Somebody I love, a random stranger — it wouldn’t matter. I’m fairly under control these days, but there’s still always the fear that all the bottled up emotion could pop out like a cork from a Champaign bottle. I’m sure you can empathize. I just wish I knew how to deal with it. I wish I could say it gets easier, Bella, but it doesn’t. You probably know that by now.

I can only hope that Edward and immortality still suits you. I have a feeling that it is. You were never meant for me, and my stupid wolf genes messed it up. I can’t promise to move on and I can’t promise to be happy …  but I can promise that I’ll live my life to the fullest I can manage. I wish I could say that I knew how to let go. 

Whatever you do, whatever happens … remember that I love you and always will. 

Seth