Originally a one-shot, but I wasn't happy with the ending, so this is a bit of an epilogue. And it's not entirely impossible, so shut up. Think of it as a Christmas freaking miracle.

Merry Christmas, all!

Twilight FanFiction
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen


The sun shines brightly over the grass, and the trees sway idyllically in the light breeze. It's a rare sunny, smogless day in New York City.

Thousands, millions are gathered. But there's no sound, other than the wind as it rushes between high-rise buildings, ripping down streets. The few, wispy clouds above race across the sky, vying for first place in their eternal competition.

A platform at the head of the crowd is raised, with a few important-looking people sat upon it. Behind them, the empty space where once there were high-powered buildings serves as a reminder to all, as if they needed reminding.

As the two minutes of silence draws to an end, the crowd stay so. Each and every person there knows someone affected by this tragedy, this disaster. And the effect of that is showing now. Silent tears are shed by fathers, mothers and children alike. They cry for ones that they lost on the fateful day.

The silence ends, and the Mayor of New York City stands. There's no need to gesture for silence, but he does so anyway, standing before millions of grieving people.

He delivers a speech, and there's polite applause, but no words can mitigate for the horror that has been caused.

Among the crowds, there's a family. A family, not bound by blood, but by marriage and disaster. There's the Cullens. The Hales. The McCartys, and the Swans. They hold hands, and they cry together, for Bella and Edward. For the child that they lost, for the tragedy they withstood. They knew that they wee lucky, though; other people they knew had lost everyone.

And they still had each other.

A fire-fighter stands, and he, too, makes a speech. But more people listen this time. This is a man who was at the forefront. He fought the fires, and he's been there every day since, searching desperately for bodies among the wreckage. He's barely eaten, he's barely slept. This is a man who has given everything.

He tells a story. It's a story of a man who showed such heroism on that dreadful day. It's a hopeful tale; the idea that one man could display such bravery in the face of such evil is astonishing.

It's a tale, like so many others. It has people weeping where they stand. Because everyone has heard the stories already.

And then, tow people step forward. It's a man; he has his arm around his pregnant wife. He's lost a leg, and she's lost an arm. Both are scarred. They always will be. These are survivors. Dug from the debris nearly twenty-four hours after the initial attacks. Somehow, they survived everything.

They smile, and they bless America. But not just America, because the whole world is watching. These two are lucky. They survived. But others did not.

The man steps forward, and he tells his story.

"I was terrified for my Bella, but I couldn't go and find her, there were too many others. I must have pulled hundreds from the wreckage, but I couldn't help them any more than that, and for that I am sorry. Eventually, my floor was clear… but I hadn't found my Bella. I ran up the stairs calling her name, but the smoke was too thick… I thought I'd never find her… but, somehow, I did… we were buried by the building, and we must have been there for hours, though it felt like much longer. I held her the whole time, and she kept me sane. I was only able to survive until they found us because of her."

She smiles up at him, though the tears glisten in her eyes. He smiles at her, and it's an expression of hope. They sit down, as everyone in the crowd lights a candle. The flickering of each flame lights the darkening sky, and it's beautiful.

America has suffered, but now there's hope.