A short story leading up to Bella getting changed. Bella x Edward. T for safety.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn or any other Stephanie Meyer stories.

This is not meant to be my version of Breaking Dawn, even though the event in this may be in that book.

I was never someone to linger on memories, mostly because the more recent ones were ones that I didn't want to remember. But suddenly, now that the time had finally come to end that part of my life… suddenly those memories mean the world to me.

In my mind, I had three predominant memories, the three that sometimes I'd let myself visit.

The first was Edward at the hospital in Phoenix with me, all that time ago. It wasn't a clear memory, what with the haziness from the painkillers and the intrusion of my mum – a subject who I didn't allow to feature in my memories – but it was nonetheless a powerful one. His lips on mine, his dark, cautious eyes, my racing heart beat… it was the first time I'd felt as if I truly loved him, and as if I had a reason to truly love him. The feelings still remained whenever I conjured that memory up, bearing stronger in me every time.

The second was Edward in Volterra. The warm glow of his chest, his soft eyes, the way his arms had held me with such comfort after so long apart. And the feelings! If there was one thing that I was sure I'd never forget, it was the way my heart had felt at that first moment I saw him. The tearing sensations that constantly ached me now – though to a notably smaller degree – had gone, and although I should've had other memories of when my heart was whole, no others were so vivid. I'd never been aware of the physical pain of heartbreak before then, so I'd never really noticed my heart physical condition.

The third – always the third, the final, the best – was the night we'd told Charlie of our engagement. This was probably the strangest memory, and the only one that I could be positive that no one else would ever be able to share with me, and that I'd never tell of. We hadn't done anything particularly memory-worthy, we hadn't been kissing much, and my heart hadn't been whole. But it was this that had made it so special. All it was… was Edward.

His eyes liquid gold, his lips the light pink of the sunset, his hair tousled bronze, dripping with rain. The way he'd hummed my lullaby, soft and sweet in his velvet tone. The way he'd touched my hair, my lips, my neck, as if I was the most beautiful and delicate creature in the world… as if he loved me. The way he'd kissed me. That was indescribable. Never before had I felt so much love radiate from him. Enough to – if for only a moment – block out the constant pain in my heart, make me forget about everything but him. Try to make me believe that he was enough.

And he was enough.

I kept that memory the strongest in my mind, held onto it the tightest as the car pulled up outside a small wooden shack. Knowing that I was numb, knowing that I wouldn't be able to say or do anything, Edward was at my door immediately, lifting me carefully out and into the small house. If my throat hadn't been dry I would've gasped as the interior came into sight.

The walls were painted light blue – an unremarkable colour by most standards – but it was the particular shade that interested me. And terrified me. The floor was made of dark wooden floorboards; the ceiling peaked in the middle. The curtains were yellow lace. Exactly like my bedroom in Forks.

A thousand and one memories rushed through my head, many of which were ones I didn't usually allow. Me as a baby, Renee placing me lightly in my crib as Charlie stood at the door watching, a loving expression on his face as his eyes stayed fixed on my mum. My grandma sitting on the rocking chair, me on her lap, singing me songs in her soft throaty voice, trying to drown out the sounds of yelling downstairs. Renee rushing into the room, her face red and streaked with tears, grabbing for a bag and throwing all of my stuff into it, before taking my hand and pulling me to the door. Charlie, his broken expression as he stared out my bedroom window as we drove further and further away from the house, finally disappearing around a corner.

And the Blacks. The five of them, Billy, his wife Joan, Rachel, Rebecca and… the last came to my mind with a painful twinge in my chest, Jacob. All of them sitting around Charlie's lounge room, the four of us kids on the floor, avoiding eye contact. Fishing trips at La Push, crowding into Billy's little tin boat and throwing loose bits of food over the side to attract the fish. Joan wasn't in the later memories. The ones of awkward dinners where Charlie and Billy would chat happily across the table; me, Rachel and Rebecca chewing idly on our sausage rolls as a younger Jacob slept on the armchair in the corner, unnoticed and innocent. And finally the ones that I locked out the hardest…

A dark shadow shooting past, under my window in the vague shape of a reddish-brown wolf. Jacob's laughing smile as he dropped me off at my house and I tripped over the gutter in my rush to get out of the rain. His fever-warm skin under my hand on the way to the movies that night. Every expression I'd ever seen on his face: anger, frustration, sadness, pain, concern, sarcasm, happiness, peace, love…

I winced internally.

But the last hundred memories that flashed through my mind weren't of Jacob or Charlie or Renee. They were of Edward.

The crooked smile he shot me whenever he wanted me to warm to his ideas. The way his eyes smouldered, the dark topaz intensifying until I'd lost all essence of who I was, where I was; until the only thing I knew for sure was him. The sunlight glinting off his bronze hair, illuminating it with gold and red streaks. The soft glow of his skin, whether it was the sun making it sparkle or the moon making it pale to the point where he was no more than a ghostly spectre before me.

His arms tight around me, laying with me in my bed and pressing kisses to my hair and neck. His chest rising and falling rhythmically as he whispered my lullaby, each note more beautiful and perfect than the last. His eyes closed as he rocked back and forth in the rocking chair, holding me loosely, but so close that I could never be sure how reluctant he really was to let go.

His expression now: sad, uncertain and worried. He was grieving already.

And I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to yell and scream and cry until he'd take me away from this house… this room that brought back all of those unwanted memories. I wanted to hurt him, to make him feel the physical pain that I felt right now, the way it stung my heart, my lungs, my head. The way it felt like I was about to shatter into a million pieces and be scattered across the world.

But I couldn't.

He knew what my pain was like, he knew far worse than it. He knew about painful memories and broken hearts. He knew what it was like to feel vulnerable and empty. He knew…

The pain of knowing that was far greater and far worse than my own pain.

Slowly, haltingly, I reached for him – not sure exactly when he'd placed me on the bed, but not caring anyway. He didn't react. He didn't reach back, or lean down to make it easier for me to touch him. He stayed still as a statue, his eyes full of pity and remorse and sorrow. His eyes full of me.

It was too much pain for me to bear.

Angrily – with a sharp snarl to match it – I pushed myself off the bed and into him. My arms weren't ready to hold myself to him, but I knew he'd hold me. I knew how much he needed me right now.

It didn't feel like he'd moved, but suddenly his arms were around me. I was pulled, hard, to his chest, almost choking as I tried to keep breathing against his steel grasp. His marble lips pressed to my hair, my forehead, my cheeks, my eyes… anywhere they could reach they kissed with desperate ferocity. I realised that he thought this was the end. He thought my life was over now, and therefore his too. He didn't think I'd survive.

"No!"

The strangled cry escaped my lips with more power than I thought I possessed. Using that sudden power, I pushed him away, and managed to stay standing as his stumbled back a few steps, looking shocked.

"Edward, no." I repeated, my voice already getting calmer and more controlled. The power was wearing out quickly.

Anxious not to miss saying any of the things that I needed to say, I barrelled straight into my speech, not even thinking to consider the words before they left my mouth.

"Don't be like this, don't act like it's the end of this… of us. It can't be the end yet, because you promised me forever, and forever goes for a hell of a lot longer than this has been. I want forever, I need forever; nothing else will be enough with you.

"Ever since I met you, ever since I first laid eyes on you, I've loved you. And I always will. No matter what. And with you, there isn't a beginning or an end. Because forever doesn't have either of those. It just is. It was just meant to be.

"You know I'm right."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't stop tumbling out of mine.

"I need this, and I need you to do this. You know me so much better than I do, and you know what I need better than I do, and even when the thing make me upset," I gestured to the room around us, "-it's still the right thing to do. I still need it.

"I've been trying to block the memories out, to hide them away, to try and forget. But I guess when I'm faced with forever, it'll take longer for things to fade and disappear. I might never forget. And you know that. That's why I need to hurt, because it's better to hurt now, at the end, than to hurt forever. Everyone needs pain, and nothing' s immune to it. Look at you, a vampire, practically indestructible, yet you've faced pain that I don't think I'll ever have to face.

"And just because you're so much stronger and more selfless than me, doesn't mean that you can keep letting me run from my pain. Even if you hate to see me sad." For a moment I pictured his tortured expression under Jane's gaze. It shot a shiver through my body, and shut me up better than anything else could've. Except perhaps what happened next.

Edward's icy lips touched mine. But it was so soft, so loving, that they almost felt warm. The kiss wasn't long or deep, but it lingered long after he pulled away, and fixed me with the full force of his golden eyes.

"I promised never to hurt you again." He said solemnly. "And that promise was unconditional, even if you think the pain is necessary. Even if-" he broke off, a shadow crossing his eyes. "Even if I think it is necessary."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything. The pain in his eyes – the pain at thinking of inflicting pain on me – was unbearable to watch. He shouldn't have to feel that because of me. But for whatever reason it was impossible for me to communicate that to him. Impossible.

"I wanted you to choose this, I wanted you to do this for you, not for me. But as each moment you get closer to becoming one of…" his eyes burned, with pain or intensity, I couldn't tell which. "One of us. A vampire. But you are doing it for me."

I shook my head, shocked when I saw my own tears splatter onto the floor.

"Everything it for you. Everything is about you. Everything in my life… and everything after it…" I met his gaze steadily, confident and relived that my tears were halting. "It's not going to change, not matter how bad you feel about it."

And then it happened. He smiled.

It was sad, and didn't quite reach his eyes fully, but the side of his mouth pulled up into a reluctant smile. Finally I could smile too.

"Do you mean that it's hopeless of me to want you to do anything for anyone other than me?" he asked, his tone cautious but joking.

"No. I mean that I'd do anything for you, but I have my limits as to what I'd do for others."

"Like, for example, you'd jump off a cliff for me."

He said in a mock-casual tone, but his eyes were smiling and as I rolled my eyes his lips pulled into a satisfactory smile too.

"No one's ever going to let me forget that, are they?"

"Never." He whispered, his tone suddenly serious and his lips suddenly at my ear. "Never in forever."

And slowly, painfully – a burning line of fire followed by a feeling colder than ice – his lips trailed down my cheek, along my jawbone, over my chin, down to the middle of my neck. My pulse was jumping around madly, my heart thrashing my chest, as if doing it's utmost to keep going until there was no blood for it to pump. I was almost sad as I realised I'd never hear or feel that familiar pulsing again. Never be able to feel it speed up when Edward came near me.

He felt my pause, and his lips traced back up to mine, kissing them softly. I was more aware than usual of his venom-coated teeth so close to me.

Never again would I feel his coldness against my warm skin. Never again would I shiver whenever he touched me and be able to disguise it. Never again would he have an excuse to leave me. The last was by far the most comforting.

For the second time, his lips trailed back down to my neck, kissing it right at the point where I could feel my pulse stuttering. For a tiny second I wondered what would happen when it stopped. What would it feel like the moment my heart stopped beating? One word echoed through my head. Pain.

Pain beyond anything I'd felt before, apparently. That part I found pretty hard to believe. I'd felt terrible pain. Then again – the more intellectual side of me pointed out – the worst pain I'd witnessed was tearing apart my heart, this was stopping it all together, which should be immeasurably worse. I quickly shut that bit of me up.

Edward's lips drew back, and for the first time ever I felt his sharp teeth. They felt like a razor blade, so sharp that you know even the slightest prick will tear through your skin. I shivered and again Edward's lips curled back over his teeth and kissed me.

"Sorry." I whispered, my voice hoarse.

He almost laughed in response, and I could understand how he might be thinking that this was as far from my fault as possible.

I waited, but his lips wouldn't draw back again.

"You wanted to say something?"

Puzzled, I unthinkingly pulled away to look him in the eyes. How did he know that I wanted to speak before I even did?

"Did I?"

He nodded, attempting a smile but mastering more of a grimace.

"What was it?"

He seemed uncomfortable, almost embarrassed. "You said, a little while ago, that before you… before this, you wanted everyone to know how you felt." He paused, obviously hoping that was enough. My mind was still blank. "How you felt about me."

I shivered again, maybe it was more of a tremble really, but it was because I realised he was right. I'd told him – in a casual way – to remind me to write a letter to Charlie and Renee before this happened, to explain as much as I could before it was too late. At the time, all I'd wanted to explain was why I'd never be able to see them again, but now I wanted to explain so much more.

A pen and a piece of paper were set out on the small, round table on one side of the room. I looked up at Edward, who inclined his head towards them wordlessly.

Dear Charlie and Renee,

This is hard - you have no idea how hard -to do… to write this. Because in this letter I need to tell you everything about me, all the stuff that I'll never be able to tell you later. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you why, please just know that I can't tell you because I love you too much, and that if I told you… that's not something that I can think about.

I know that I'll never be able to understand the love that parents have for their children; it's so unconditional and unstoppable that I suppose it doesn't exist in any other way. You're born with that sort of love, you can't earn it or create it.

I glanced up at Edward as I wrote this bit, but he didn't seem concerned.

And I'm not writing this because I don't love you, I'm writing it because I do. So much. I'm writing it to tell you that I'll never forget you – never – or what you've done for me. And maybe in three or four years I'll be able to talk to you again, over the phone or something, maybe even see you, but by then I won't be me anymore.

Edward growled at my shoulder, either because of how close I'd gotten to saying too much or because of how I'd said I wouldn't be me. Maybe both. I ignored him.

I guess to start with, the most important thing for me to say is that I love him, Edward, and that none of any of this is his fault. He didn't want it, I did. So blame me, not him, okay? Edward is everything to me, I need to be with him; this at least I think you can both understand. He's too big of a part of me for me to be able to let go, no matter what happens. I love him more than anything else. Sorry.

And I know what you're both probably thinking, you're thinking that this is the same mistake you two made: getting married too early, rushing something that only gets better over time. But can you trust me when I tell you that it had to be rushed. It had to be. Time was the one thing that Edward and me never had.

Soon we'll have heaps of it, plenty of it, too much of it by some standards, and then we'll slow down again. I promise.

I'd just like you to know, that right now I'm thinking of you – both of you – and us, as a family. We haven't been a family for so long, it's strange to imagine you two reading this together, maybe crying a little. It's nice though. Whole, complete… right, I guess. For me at least. Obviously for you it isn't.

I used to block out all those memories, the happy ones of all of us. I think I thought it would make it awkward between the two of you, if I always treated you like Mum and Dad as a couple, not as separates. But to me you always will be Mum and Dad; it's that's simple. I'm sorry if it's awkward, but you're my family, so even though you mightn't be a member of each other's family, you're both a member of mine. If it helps, pretend you're cousins or something.

But to be honest, I only have one clear memory of us as a family.

Remember when we painted my room? I was almost one, and could barely hold a paintbrush up properly. Dad spilled the entire tin on my floor, and then we had to try and paint the whole room before the spill dried. I, of course, slipped in it and got covered in blue paint. All I remember clearly is the smell. It was awful. But strangely, that's always been a happy memory for me, maybe because it's one of my only ones.

I loved you then, unconditionally and forever, and still love you now like that. I always will. Forever.

I paused when a single tear dropped onto the paper, pooling in the empty space above which my pen hovered. Edward's cold steel hand carefully grasped mine, which I suddenly realised was shaking uncontrollably. He guided me in writing the last few lines.

Edward says sorry, and promises that you'll see me again. Him too.

Love, unconditionally and forever, Bella.

P.S. I'll never forget you.

So that was Memories Forever, I plan on continuing it.