Did I write and then cut an entire chapter? Yes. Is that why this one was so frustrating to get right? Also yes. It's a long one.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to reply to some of the responses at the bottom of chapter 96, but I've responded now! To be honest I've been a little overwhelmed with life stuff recently and I've found it easier to write chapters than reply to people. I'm sorry about that and wanted to say thank you again. I haven't forgotten.

Chapter 22

The week passed in a drawn-out haze.

Before she knew it, Carys was waiting by the front door as most of the family headed out to hunt. The smile fell from her face the instant she turned away from the door, tracking upstairs to change for bed.

It was early, but she wasn't planning on staying awake for long regardless. She would be spending another night in self (and situation) imposed isolation. The only others left in the house would be Bella and Edward.

They had managed to get past the issue of Bella's overnight disappearance quite easily. She was officially "staying with Alice" for two nights due to the rest of the family's "yearly end-of-school camping trip".

Alice had come home from the Swan residence on Tuesday, skipping, brimming with pride, to say Charlie continued to be wrapped around her little finger.

It had been easier than most of them had thought it would be. Alice had only had to pout and moan about being alone in a big house before she went shopping in Portland because she didn't like camping, and Charlie had fallen for it hook line and sinker. Carys had kind of expected it would work out like that.

Others had just as easily been taken care of. A concert would take Bella's closest friends out of town, while Charlie had been recruited to go open sea fishing with Billy in the morning, before a gathering at Sue's house to watch the game in the afternoon.

Sarah and Monica had been invited to Sue's, and so they, too, would be La Push, under Collin and Brady's protection, when the newborns attached. It didn't put Carys' mind to rest.

She had to think of them as she would anyone else, she reasoned as she turned on the TV Carlisle had installed for her night of solitude. Sarah and Monica would be okay because everyone - every human, that was - would be okay.

They had to be.

There was no way to get them all far enough away at once.

Carys flicked through the channels until she settled on a comedy show, but she wasn't really concentrating on it. A minute later, she changed the channel again. And again. And again.

Eventually, after a couple of hours, she shut it off and gathered her duvet, padding to Carlisle's study for a book instead. Settled in his large chair, surrounded by his scent and the warmth of the duvet, she sighed and found the constant dread twisting her gut eased a little.

Rather than being annoyed at him about sending her to sleep as she'd expected to, Carys had spent the past three days clinging to Carlisle. She was so focused on only letting him go when she had to, if it wasn't for Carlisle having spoken to Sam at the training session, Carys wasn't sure she would have remembered.

Carlisle had joked once that he was close to likening her to a limpet. Another time, it had been a koala - on account of the modus operandi she employed to hug him while he was working at his desk - straddling him and stroking his hair while she read over his shoulder.

The truth was, he had clung to her just as much. In private. They had only allowed themselves to worry and indulge their fear quietly, away from the others, in case to see it dampened morale.

With the rest of the family, they'd remained confident as they planned and insisted that all was going to be all right. No one really believed them, but it was fine because they were all doing much the same thing.

With one sole exception.

Rosalie and Emmett had spent much of Wednesday afternoon loudly arguing. He was too excited, she thought. Too ready for the battle. She was worried his overconfidence might count against him. She was afraid he might forget: strong as he was, the newborns were just that bit stronger.

The argument had cut off so abruptly Carys wondered if either Jasper had got involved, or they'd found another way of resolving the issue.

"Without fear, there cannot be courage," Carlisle had quoted, whispering the words against Carys' ear. "I expect Emmett views it as a singularly human trait to feel fear, but then again... He fears Rosalie's loss, and his own if she were to..." He hadn't finished the sentence. Trailing off, he'd thrust his hand into Carys' hair and drawn her around for a long kiss.

By the time they had parted, minutes later, Carys had been breathless and panting. She'd opened her eyes slowly and seen her thoughts, her fears, reflected in his half-lidded gaze.

Without a word, he'd stood from his chair, lifting her with him, supporting her as she'd hooked her ankles behind his back and kissed him again.

It continued to amaze her that they'd made it as far as their bedroom before losing themselves in each other. They had made love well into the night. He'd taken her slowly, passionately, sometimes with a desperation that brought tears to her eyes.

Carys pulled herself from her thoughts and checked the time on the clock by Carlisle's wall of paintings.

Bella and Edward would be arriving soon.

She debated curling up on the wingback armchair for the night but decided against it in the end. The next night would be spent uncomfortably enough; she should enjoy the comfort of her bed while she still could.

Her mum hadn't believed her on Tuesday night when she'd walked just out of earshot of the house to make a quiet call about the trip. She'd had to insist twice that she was serious.

Suffice to say, Amy was not impressed. "Did they move it last year?" she'd angrily queried over the sound of Shauna eating her dinner. "Or have they simply stopped caring? No. I refuse to believe Carlisle would forget Friday of all days.

"(Oh, Shauna)," she'd whined suddenly, sweetly, her voice switching instantly from snappish to teasingly affectionate, "(oh no, lovely, oh look what a mess you've made. Is that a big mess? Is it? Yeah? Who's going to clean that up? Is it Mummy? It's Mummy!? Oh... Well, if it's for your chubby cheeks. Are you as bad as your sister was? Yeah? You are, aren't you? You eat up now... There's... ice cream for dessert! Yay! Ice cream!)"

Amy's angry tone had returned as quickly as if a switch had been flipped. Carys had tried not to laugh. She could imagine her mum turning whole-bodied away in her chair to insist, "You don't like camping in the cold. Now, if it was camping in California, I could understand it. Is it? Camping somewhere warm?

"Because you know," she'd said, drawing out the word, "how your back gets when you've been lying on a camping mat on the cold ground all night. You could always come here? I'll bake a big cake, just like when you were little?"

Her mum's voice followed her down as she settled in bed and closed her eyes, recalling the conversation. By the time she heard the roar of Bella's truck approach, Carys was halfway to her dreams.


Carys woke to a clear sky, pulled from a fitful night's sleep by the sun streaming through the windows, filling the room with light.

Her night had been comprised of strange dreams and half-memories. She had seen her father looming over her; her mother carrying her, her arm broken, to a car; Carlisle walking steadily away from her, carrying a bundle in his arms; then Victoria, whispering over and over, her hand on Carys' throat.

Try as she might, Carys was unable to grasp the threads of any particular part to remember what exactly she had seen or felt.

All she could be sure of was that the feeling of dread which had been allayed by her visit to Carlisle's study was back with a vengeance. It rose through her now, leaving her on the verge of great panic.

Thrusting one arm from the depths of the duvet, she felt around until her hand connected with her bedside table, and then her phone.

8:04.

Carys groaned.

The family wasn't due back until twelve, and she had the feeling Bella and Edward were planning on playing house while they were mostly alone. No, not the feeling. She knew they were. It was why Alice had asked for Bella's visit to be two nights long.

She checked her messages - one from her mum, one from Findlay, and one from Sarah - and left them unread for now. She was supposed to be in the middle of nowhere, camping, with no signal until she returned on Saturday evening.

Carys pulled herself from the bed and set about her morning ablutions, spending as long as she could in the shower.

Under the hot stream, her mind was entirely her own, with no risk of being overheard; Edward would never follow her there. He'd assured her of the fact shortly after she'd first spent the night in the house and had suddenly worried he might see something she didn't want him to.

No.

In the bathroom, she was safe to indulge herself in whispered thoughts despite being the only person in the house Edward could hear in that regard.

"Happy Birthday to me," Carys whispered, her sad, tear-filled words drowned out by the waterfall cascading overhead. "Happy Birthday to me... Happy Birthday dear Carys... Happy... Birthday... to... me..."

She was twenty-four.

Officially the second oldest person in the family - physically.

She was older than Carlisle had been when he died. She was older than both her Mum and Father when they'd had her. She was in her mid-twenties. She was the age she would be forever.

Carys had almost hoped something big might happen to signal the change, though she wasn't sure what, exactly, she'd wanted.

Originally, when she'd planned on being changed after she'd turned thirty, she'd thought about having a party for one of her birthdays.

Her first-ever birthday party.

Instead, she had woken alone on her last ever real birthday, from a bad night's sleep, on the eve of battle, no less.

Embarrassingly, her thoughts took yet another downward turn.

Carys began to feel envious. No matter how she reminded herself of the battle, she couldn't shake the feeling.

Bella had had a birthday party when she hadn't wanted one, and she'd had a roaring graduation party (again, when she hadn't wanted one), days before Carys' birthday.

It had been such a big event. It was talked about for weeks beforehand; it would be talked about for months to come.

Carys' birthday hadn't been mentioned once. She couldn't blame anyone for it. They were preparing for battle. There wasn't exactly the time to remember a birthday, and she hadn't reminded them.

She was getting married in a month and a week's time, she told herself. A big, lavish party with all the friends, family, food and wine she could gather together in one place.

There wasn't really anything to complain about, she told herself, though she didn't believe a word of it until she'd repeated the line over and over.

She was just low, she decided.

Everything going on was making her stressed. It was making her emotions fly all over the place. It made her feel and think of things worse than they actually were. It was just that it was the one day a year reserved for each person; no wonder the last one meant more than any of the others.

Carys slipped from the shower and dried off, wiping down the mirror before she unwound her long hair and stared at herself.

Rare sunny days spent outside had quickly tanned her skin, turning the warm olive to a darker brown, making her appear healthier than she did in the winter months.

Her hair fell past her waist. It was due a trim, but she hadn't trusted herself not to ask to have it cut shorter, and she worried she might be unhappy with it.

Her body really wasn't so bad this morning. If she listened to Carlisle, it was always perfection. Which was precisely why she didn't. His glasses weren't just rose-tinted, they were practically opaque. But... He wasn't completely wrong, she accepted... Parts of her hadn't returned to her normal, but she didn't mind...

It was just that thickening of her waist. She kicked herself. She was always coming back to it. It was ridiculous. Why couldn't she seem to let it go?

Carys let out a heavy sigh.

Wrapped up in her fluffy bathrobe, she sang songs in her head to drown out any stray thoughts as she finally headed out into her bedroom.

8:59, the clock on Carlisle's side now read.

Carys had spent far longer in the shower than she'd planned to. But it was a well-spent indulgence.

Once everyone returned from the hunt it wouldn't be long before they parted ways, and so Carys forewent flopping bonelessly onto the bed for a nap as she wanted to. Once she had changed for the day, she could flop to her heart's content.

The clock beeped.

It beeped again.

And again.

And again.

Carys frowned in its direction - over by the side of the bed - as it continued to beep steadily, counting down the last ten seconds to the hour.

Carlisle must have set the alarm, she thought with a sigh. He must have known she wasn't planning on ri-

Carys screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped two feet in the air, covering her face and body as the room exploded around her.

Baby's breath, bluebells and snowdrops cascaded in a seemingly neverending stream from beneath the bed; gold confetti blasted from behind her vanity, the open door of the walk-in wardrobe, and behind the settee against the wall; a banner unfurled behind and above the bed, dropping from the curtain rail with a pop!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, it read in large, swirling, bold gold letters. And below, in a smaller but no less ostentatious calligraphy, My Darling.

Carys' heart raced and stuttered in her chest.

Her breath was reduced to short pants as she pulled the sleeves of her robe down over her hands, shaking her head at the banner and covering the lower half of her face.

Carlisle had made a gesture so entirely, ridiculously, sweet. Shockingly, heartstoppingly, over-the-top.

She couldn't believe she'd spent any time at all thinking he'd forgotten, when all along, he'd planned to herald her last birthday with exactly what she couldn't put into words.

Something big - huge, really - to mark the occasion.

Steel bands enveloped her, locking about her chest and waist, pulling her quickly and firmly back against an equally unyielding body.

"I can't wait to start the old jokes," Carlisle whispered in her ear.

"What are you doing here?" Carys yelped. His arms held her steady where she would have turned. "You're supposed to be hunting."

He chuckled against her ear. "I had more than my fill. You didn't think I was going to let you wallow on your birthday, did you? It's a good job you were so hungry yesterday. Superhuman speed or no, I doubt you'd have missed the flowers otherwise."

Carys laughed hysterically, her laughter turning quickly to uncontrollable sobs. Carlisle spun her in his arms, attempting to peer down into her face, but she refused him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, hiding her expression while she hit his solid chest over and over, punctuating her watery words.

"I just spent ages thinking you'd forgotten," she half-sobbed, half-laughed, "and you've just been planning this!? And now you're gonna be all well fed and glowy. I just know it. Golden-eyed, with your cheekbones all flushed; not a hint of thirsty bruises to keep me worried.

"For god's sake, you're wearing an open shirt, smart trousers, and a waistcoat." Wrapping her arms around him, she settled more securely into his cold embrace. "You complete and utter bastard."

Carlisle's chuckles, which had deepened as she spoke, turned to outright laughter. "You haven't seen my hair yet," he managed.

"Oh god," Carys moaned, "it's down, isn't it?"

"And mussed," he teased. "I feel I should warn you: I believe it may be on the verge of windswept."

"Oh god. Okay. Give me a minute before I look?"

He nodded against her head. "You'll need your composure."

Carys waited for her heart to slow before she said, moisture pooling in her eyes, "I love you so much it's not even fair."

"Shh."

"No, you don't understand. I've never loved anyone like this before, and I've never been loved like this before. It's not about what you've done, it's the gesture of it. I-I can't explain how wonderful you are. It's like you know me as well as I know myself, and I-I you're just the most beautiful person - inside and out, you know? And whoever you love is the luckiest person in the world, but you love me, and I love you too much to-"

"Shh," he soothed, rubbing circles against her spine, kissing her cheeks, nose, eyelids, and forehead until she slowly calmed and settled. "We've only a few hours before we need to leave. I plan on spoiling you rotten in that time."

They both knew what she had been about to ask, she was sure. Just as they knew what she would have recollected an instant later.

"How rotten?" Carys wondered aloud.

Carlisle raised his head and leaned back a little as if truly considering the options. "I thought we'd have coffee and pastries to start - which you'll, of course, be required to eat and drink in their entirety-"

"Of course," Carys echoed, settling her lips against his neck.

"-followed by present opening; a full English, consumed during a compulsory viewing of the last twenty minutes of The Lake House... and a... a rather large surprise I'm not entirely sure you will like..."

"But you hope I will?"

"If I were a betting man, I would have put money down when I arranged it. But first," he said, releasing her in order to take a large step away, his gaze sweeping over her, "you need to get dressed."

"Fluffy robes are a no-no?" Carys asked, looking down at herself. "For breakfast?"

"We both know how naked you are, Carys."

She grinned up at him, widening her eyes as innocently as she could manage. "You could be too...?"

"No," Carlisle laughed. Holding his hands up, he took a large step back. "Stop it. Go get dressed, you utter wanton."

"I don't think it counts as wantonness if-"

"Touché. Sinful, then."

"Mmm." Carys wrinkled her nose. "Still doesn't work, unless you're saying you didn't count our handfasting as a marriage after all."

Hands on hips, Carlisle dropped his head back and sighed thoughtfully. "Licentious, perhaps?"

"I think we both know I'm only having sex with you, Carlisle."

"Ah, yes..." Carlisle slowly lowered his chin, darting her a look from the corner of his eye. "Would you accept salacious? We are on the eve of battle, and Edward and Bella are in the house."

"Fine," Carys relented, feeling his eyes on her as she made her way. Pausing a step before the door, she cast a coy look over her shoulder and bit her lip, lowering her robe just a little.

"Away with you!" he demanded. "And for the love of all that is holy, close the door behind you."

"Why?" She fluttered her eyelashes. "I don't mind."

"I do. You must still be..." He glanced lower. "Surely, you cannot be serious...?"

"Oh, I'm serious, all right!" Carys excitedly announced. There was more than enough time, and if he was worried about his energy, she could-

"My god," he murmured. "You are, aren't you? No. There's... No. Carys." He closed and covered his eyes. "So help me, I'm hanging on by a thread. Go, now, before I change my mind."

Carys giggled as she closed the door behind her. Rubbing her palms together, she looked first over her collection of clothing, and then over Carlisle's.

When she emerged some minutes later, dressed, as he was, all in black, Carlisle was sitting on the settee, ankles crossed, with an arm slung elegantly over the back. A cafétiere sat along with a plate of pastries on the small table before him.

"What d'you think?" Carys asked, twirling under his scrutiny.

He sat forward, a happy smile playing about his lips. "I think... I think you look entirely adorable. Though I have to wonder if you're wearing any of your own clothes," he teased.

Carys smirked. "I can see why you think that," she accepted, crossing the space quickly so that she could curl up beside him. "As for clothes, I'm wearing my own jeans. And tights underneath. And," she added as she tugged his arm around her and rolled her head back to look at him, "my own underwear."

Carlisle stroked her neck, bending over her as he spoke. "Which is to say: all else belongs to me; the cashmere turtleneck, tucked in sweater, socks..., vest?"

"Long-sleeved t-shirt."

"My mistake. Long-sleeved t-shirt and the..." He narrowed his eyes, fingering the edge of the sweater. "Woman, that is my belt. Why would you require a belt? It's far too big for your waist."

Carys shrugged. He was right. She'd had to improvise to tighten it to fit her high-waisted jeans. "I'm spending the night in a tent with Bella and Edward," she said blithely. "I don't know what I'm gonna need, or who might survive the night."

"So... The belt stays at home," Carlisle reasoned. "You can keep the rest. It's a good job, too. You should take a coat as well; Alice thinks it may snow."

Carys smugly patted his arm. "I've had my eye on your parka for weeks." More like months. He didn't use the thing. If he did, she'd never seen it. It had sat taunting her, all overly large and warm, and just out of plausible reach. "Just the sort of thing to stave off the cold."

"Have I mentioned how utterly adorable you look?" he asked softly.

Carys smiled up at him and shuffled up and around, resting her chin in the crook of his neck.

"Warm, too," she observed.

"Perhaps too warm for the walk?"

"That's the beauty of layering up your clothing. I have a backpack which can carry some of it, and a walking talking mannequin for the rest."

"That's what I am?" Carlisle scoffed. "A walking, talking mannequin?" Placing a hand above his heart, he feigned heartbreak. "Here, I thought I served a greater purpose."

Carys moved back onto her knees, brushing his hair from his eyes. "You're my best friend too if that helps?"

Carlisle growled playfully, causing Carys to giggle through a flutter in her lower belly. He shifted instantly, placing his hand on her forehead.

"What're you doing?" she squeaked.

"Checking for a fever." He'd said it so very seriously, and yet Carys didn't miss the amusement in his eyes.

"Shush, you!" she cried, batting his hand away so she could pour them both a cup of coffee. "Maybe I am still dreaming," she suggested. "It would explain why I'm so tired."

"You're still tired, love?" Carlisle asked with genuine concern. No trace of teasing remained as he took his cup from her with a frown. "Edward said you were asleep before they arrived last night."

Carys blew on her coffee. "Did he hear my dreams?" she asked over the rim of her cup. "I could only remember bits and pieces, it... They were strange..."

Carlisle looked for a moment as if he was concentrating on something, and then he turned his head up and to the side, listening out for Edward's response. "Sorry, I was calling for him. He only really paid attention to one...," he relayed. "You were tossing and turning through it something rotten... Ah... You were dreaming of me..."

"You were holding a bundle," Carys recalled. She could remember he was walking away from her, and no matter how fast she ran, she was never able to catch him.

"A swaddled baby," Carlisle corrected in a low, confused tone. His brow furrowed. "Precisely."

"What?" Carys insisted. "What did he say?"

But Carlisle wasn't speaking to her anymore. Edward had his full attention.

"Myths and legends, nothing more... I know this..." He sounded worried, upset. "Ignore my thoughts, Edward, listen to what I say this time. Stuff and nonsense. Yes, such thoughts slip through on occasion... No, no, not at all."

Carys couldn't understand what he was talking about. What was stuff and nonsense? Were they still talking about her dream? What was he thinking about?

"Carlisle?" she prompted again.

He snapped to attention as if surprised to find her still there, watching him. He cleared his throat, his expression easing into one of calm reassurance. "Nothing, my darling."

"That's not what you were saying," Carys insisted. "You were saying something about ignoring your thoughts. It's just a dream, right? Why were you worried?"

He sighed. "I can see I'm not getting this past... I..." His voice turned to entreaty. "After the battle, will you promise me again you'll see a doctor?"

"I don't see how that-"

"Please, my love? There's one in Seattle I can recommend. It will be perfectly safe then." He had mistaken her sharp intake of breath.

"I really don't mind if you-"

"No," he insisted, grabbing her arm. He appeared horror-struck for an unknown reason. "No, my impulses are wrong. You need an impartial..." Carlisle's face cleared again in an instant, easing to a smile. He returned his cup to the table, slapping his palm to his thighs as he stood. "Come," he said sweetly. "Give me a moment. I'll be back with your presents."

Carys caught his arm and dug her heels in, knowing it wouldn't make much of a difference, but he stopped with his back to her. "What are you thinking?" she asked again, worried all the more by his reticence.

"I..."

"Are you thinking I might be pregnant?" she asked quickly. She hadn't thought he might have thought the same. If he did, it was no wonder he was so unwilling to talk about it. He didn't want to hurt her by a passing fancy.

He kept his back to her. His hand flexed at his side. "It's impossible," he declared. "Cambions and dhampirs are the stuff of myth and legend. It must be your pill, or something far more sinister."

"Oh, Carlisle." Carys kept her hand on his arm in case he bolted. Leaning over, she dropped her cup to the table beside his and stood to hug him from behind. "I thought the same thing."

"You did?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes." She slowly moved around to his front, taking note of the muscle twitching in his jaw and the way he couldn't quite meet her eye. "And I know it's impossible," she said. "You don't have to hide it from me in case I got my hopes up. I know it can't be that. You don't have to pretend you haven't wondered it."

"I'm sorry," Carlisle whispered, his hands curving about her waist as he finally, finally met her eye. "I'm sorry I can't give you children. I wish I could, Carys." He paused as he reached up to stroke his thumb over her brow, trailing down to run over her cheekbone. "I've had far longer than you have to acknowledge there's no possibility-"

Carys pressed up, speaking past a lump in her throat. "Carlisle, I'm alright. I-"

Carlisle's eyes grew sadder if it were possible. "You're giving up so much," he whispered. "So very much."

Carys searched for the right words. He wouldn't believe her if she told him she didn't care, and it would be a disservice to them both to lie. The seconds dragged on until she promised, "I've made peace with it."

"Have you?" He searched her face and frowned when he saw the truth shining in her eyes. "Have you really?"

Carys nodded, palming his cheek. "You forget," she said ever so gently, "if you were human, it wouldn't be a guarantee that either of us could have them to begin with. You're my best friend, the love of my life, and there are some things we'll never have. But that's okay."

Carlisle pulled away from her, shaking his head vehemently. "No, it isn't."

Carys followed after him, forcing him to look at her. "It is for me," she insisted thickly as hot tears welled in her eyes. He scoffed painfully and tried to turn his face away but she wouldn't let him. "It is, lovely. It is. Come on. Don't make me cry today any more than I'm going to. It's my birthday, remember?"

Carlisle embraced her, handling her as if she was made of porcelain. "I'm sorry...," he all but whimpered against her hair. "I haven't been able to... If you see another doctor, they will give you a diagnosis, and..."

"It'll put your mind to rest?" Carys guessed.

"Yes."

"Unless," she joked after a moment's silence, trying to distract them both, "little Cambion Cullen's all tucked up in there as we speak."

Carlisle's arms tightened as he let out a throaty peal of surprised laughter. "That's Dhampir Cullen to you. Cambions are half-demons. Dhampirs are half vampires."

"Dhampir Cullen. Can't really shorten that as easily, can you? Imagine it at school. 'Dhamph... what an... Interesting name...'"

They chuckled together. It was working. He appeared less agitated, less upset. It worked for her as well. On some strange level, it made her feel better to joke about it, to ease the tension.

"I haven't missed a pill since the day after you came back...," she mused. "That's... Going on..."

"Thirteen weeks to the day," Carlisle supplied with a quirk of his brow. "By now, it would have formed all ten fingers and both hooves."

Carys buried her face in his collar as she giggled quietly.

"Ah," she sighed, blinking back sudden tears. "Huh."

They sobered, holding each other for a long time before either of them thought to break the silence. Carys shifted a little, unsure of what to say.

"Shall we move on to presents?" Carlisle suggested tremulously.

"Yeah," she agreed with forced cheer, releasing him to clap her hands together. "Let's see if you topped my birthday presents to you!"

Carlisle rolled his eyes. "Socks, two ties, new cufflinks, and one hundred and fifty adopted deer? I think I can do better."

Carys snorted and clutched at her sides, bending over. "I forgot about the deer!"

"There's a whole section of Scotland," he dryly observed, "I can no longer hunt in for fear of-"

Carys wheezed and gasped.

"-killing my adopted deer," Carlisle finished.

Carys cackled. "Imagine!" she shrieked. "Your deer babies! You-you'd be- like-oh god! You'd be like 'nom nom nom-oh no! I dra-nk my-no! No, not Ti-Timothy!' Oh!"

"It's not nearly funny as you think it is," he complained. When she only laughed harder, he pushed her gently onto the settee.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Carys tried to recover - both from her heartache and the utter release of amusement. It took until Carlisle returned, sat beside her, and threatened to open the presents himself for her to finally gain control. Carlisle, despite his threat, waited patiently, his eyes shining with amusement, until she did so.

"Now these are only mine, of course," he told her once she'd sat up. "You'll have to wait for the rest until after the battle. The flowers were the first. Your second present is this." He handed her a gold envelope.

Feeling a little as if she'd been offered one of Willy Wonka's golden tickets, Carys opened it to reveal a pair of tickets to somewhere named Isle Cullen.

"We'll be taking a jet," Carlisle said excitedly, unabashedly proud of his choice. "I mocked up the tickets. A week alone together once all this is over, and we'll return for our honeymoon if you'd like. It is a small island I own off the coast of Brazil."

"How didn't I know you owned an island!?" Carys gasped. Gobsmacked was the only word that came close to how the news affected her.

"I wanted to surprise you," he said by way of explanation. "I've been planning on renaming it, Ivy Isle."

Carys stiffened. "Who's Ivy!?" she queried immediately, crossing her arms over her chest. "And why do you want to name an island after her!?"

"What?" Carlisle asked, confused. He stared at her for a few moments until he let out a sudden roar of laughter. "You're Ivy, Carys! Carys Ivy-"

Carys shrank in on herself. "Oh shit! Yeah. Sorry," she said shamefully.

"You're so adorable when you're jealous," Carlisle said as he bent to drop a kiss to her burning cheek. "You blush so prettily."

"Shove off," Carys murmured, darting furtive glances from the corner of her eye. "Do I get to suggest a better name?" she asked. He nodded, and so she grinned. Spreading her hands wide, she said, "I want to name it Carl."

"Carl?" he replied, nonplussed. "Why Carl?"

Carys leaned in, grinning, and proudly whispered, "'Cause it's an Isle."

Carlisle immediately dropped his head to her lap. "You cannot call the island Carl Isle." His words were muffled against her leg. "I hereby rescind all naming rights."

"You can't do that!" Carys argued. "It's a present! You can't take back a present!"

Raising his head, Carlisle looked her in the eye. "The stay is your present," he said firmly. "Naming it Carl, indeed."

"You were going to name it Ivy."

"I was... I..."

"Yes?"

"It's not going to be called Carl, and that's that." Reaching over, he eased the tickets away from her and replaced them with a large, heavy parcel.

Carys hefted it in her hands. Books. She had no doubt. "I wonder what this could be," she teased.

"You know exactly what it is. Now open, open. I want to see."

He meant her face, of course. He always wanted to see her face whenever she opened a present, whether he could immediately work out her thoughts or not. Whether she liked a present or not. He liked to see the moment of surprise; as if he was collecting each and every one.

Carys carefully picked at the wrapping paper, revealing the spines of all three red-leather bound books, inscribed with gold lettering, along with a white box above.

She clapped her hand over her mouth.

Squealing, she placed the bundle ever so gently to the side, then jumped on Carlisle, kissing his hard cheek, his jaw, his lips, his temple, peppering him with affection.

He laughed, but, after a few moments, stopped trying to fight her and gave himself over to her kisses instead.

Carys pulled back. "You're sure!?" she asked, shaking his shoulders, though the move only served to shake her instead. "What if Edward hears!?"

"I'm sure," Carlisle said with a loving smile. "Edward read the first, and he heard much of the second two. Therefore, if you use the torch-" he glanced towards the package "-you can read as much as you'd like tonight."

His diaries. He'd gifted her three of his diaries. Carys picked the bundle up again, unwilling to remove them from the safety of the paper just yet.

1675

2003

2004

"I can't take these on a camping trip," she whispered reverentially. His thoughts, his feelings. The first year he thought to detail his life, and the first two years he worked at Forks Hospital. "I'm not sure I'm supposed to be reading them at all..."

"I wrote them to be read from the beginning. By whom, I had no idea. You, I suspect. I had not expected you would be human, of course... Regardless, I've recited parts for you already. Do you like them? Truly?"

Carys looked up at him, happy tears blurring her eyes. She chuckled, wiping them away. "I love them," she said. "Thank you. I'll take such good care of them, I promise."

Carlisle's eyes flashed, warning her an instant before he palmed her jaw and kissed her. His uncompromisingly hard lips pressed and slanted with bruising passion over hers, stealing her breath and wits in equal measure.

A/N: any guesses what Carlisle's big surprise might be? I'll give you a hint. We've seen two big hints in the story - one in the first chapter of Eclipse, no less... I hope this chapter sort of answers the question of why certain things haven't been fully noticed yet in the story, and kind of shows that if [redacted] is happening, it's going to be VERY different to the book.

Thank you to: Dreamy-Girl2016, Ghostwriter71, GuestMG, BubblyYork, hellocherryblossoms, BMBMDooDoo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Sakura19Haruno95, chellekathrynnn, Shelley J88, LizzyB (Thank you!), Ella (I definitely agree. I don't think it's limited to those three, but I think they're the main ones we see. They have strange and unhealthy relationships with their parents in some cases too, and friends in other cases. The least only healthy relationships we see are mostly left off page, to the imagination of the reader, which is interesting...), KortneyBreAnne, Momochan77, TheWiseQueen, KEZZ 1, Kimkrys, Nana (I hope this chapter may have sort of answered your questions just a little... All will be revealed in time... But I don't think you're getting ahead of yourself necessarily! I'm changing canon, which is why you may not recognise it as being typically Twilight-esque), Guest (haha! Hope this chapter answered the question as to why they haven't!), and jhaenox for your reviews!