Hello again, everyone! Okay, this is the first installment (of two, I think) of Charlotte's and Peter's story. I know I promised some of you that the Aro one would be next, but that one's been slow in coming, inspiration-wise. I'm working on that one too, but I missed you all so I wanted to get something up in the meantime. This is based on the Peter and Charlotte sections in the Illustrated Guide, as well as Jasper's account in Eclipse. Enjoy!

P.S. Can anyone spot the line from Back to the Future? :)

Charlotte POV

I was born in Lafayette, Louisiana. My father's name was Daniel. He was a professor of... something. My mother's name was Emma. I had an older sister named Mary Ellen- she was taller than me, and she had pale blonde hair like me. Our house was white, two stories, with blue trim like lace under the eaves and the windows. There were roses climbing up the right side of the veranda… red ones, I think, or maybe pink. I used to write poetry, sitting on the porch swing with my feet tucked up. I had a telescope. I had a friend named Laurie. I had a dog. His name was… it was some kind of food…

I squinted harder, determined to find the dog's name. It was getting harder every day to find new memories. The others were always telling me it was better to forget. And I was sure they were right, but I couldn't help it. All I had were those few precious memories, and I was determined to find as many as possible before they all blew away like spider silk. It really was unfair; now that I was old enough to stay calm and think like this, I found it harder every day to remember new things.

I was thirteen months old now. Thirteen months since I was riding to visit our cousins in Houston. Thirteen months since we decided to keep riding, even though it was growing dark, that surely we would reach the city before too long. Thirteen months since I had woken up, found my long curls gone, and buried my teeth in the throat of the human that was shoved into my hands.

I didn't remember thinking much during my first months as a vampire; they were all snarling and fighting and hurting and desperately drinking every drop of blood they gave me. Somewhere around my sixth month I began seeing beauty again. A drop of dew clinging to a blade of grass, the whole world reflected and distorted in its tiny mirror. A white flower, flourishing unexpectedly on the harsh, dry limb of a cactus. The stars, so familiar and yet so many more than I remembered seeing when my eyes were blue. The sound of laughter, when my fellow Octobers forgot their bloodlust long enough to get a game or a story going. The extra salt on the air when a breeze twisted in from the ocean, miles away.

And talking with Peter. That was beautiful too.

Not Peter himself; I was scared of him. Well, not scared like I was of Jasper, or of her… and only at nighttime. During the day, Peter was different. He was a veteran, and it was his job to keep us newborns in line. He had seemed impressed with me early on; I was a basket case like all the others, snarling and dirty and ragged, but according to him I was the calmest newborn he had ever met. He actually talked to me, for only a few minutes at first and then gradually longer, as my mind settled down. We only talked during the day, even now, and only when he could spare the time. In the daylight we were left to entertain ourselves, and Peter was often busy with the newer soldiers that had begun trickling in at the beginning of March.

But when he had time, he sought me out and we talked. We sat several feet apart; the daytime glitter was enough to remind us that we weren't human. This wasn't friendship, not really. But it was what I needed… what we both needed, it seemed. Nobody else wanted to talk about memories and books and science and music and history… or what we had thought was history. Now we knew that the Vampire Wars lurked behind every human conflict, bending human politics to produce the blood needed to fuel countless armies. I understood now that the war brewing in Europe had been precipitated by the German Coven, thirsty for dominance over the bloodfields of western Europe. The human Nazi regime had their own hungry agenda, but it was a pale reflection of the true purpose behind the War. Hitler was merely their puppet, just as Mussolini was the Volturi's. Our own nation's Civil War, with its scars still dotting the South, had been stirred up by some of our nearest enemy covens. The countless human soldiers who had died in that war had never known their true purpose: it was to feed us, the true soldiers. Such was the horror of this new life; such was the reason I had to find beauty where I could. Or with whom I could… even if he was part of the horror himself. But it was daylight now; he wasn't part of the horror in the daylight.

I waited for Peter now, sitting alone and mindlessly picking the nameless purple flowers that eked out a living between the rocks. Without anyone nearby to tell me to shut up, I hummed quietly, wishing I knew what I was humming. It was a beautiful tune, orderly and predictable but also tender… warm.

"Beethoven, isn't it?"

I looked up, flinching slightly when I realized how close Peter was. It's daylight, I reminded myself firmly. I smiled up at his glittering face. "I was wondering who the composer was. What's it called?"

He sat and reclined on the rocks a few feet away, squinting at nothing for a moment. "Piano concerto… which one, I've no guess. Sorry."

"No, that helps," I said, keeping my eyes on the flowers in my hand. Peter was a handsome man, tall and lean like Jasper but with lighter hair. And like Jasper he was scarred, though much less so. I liked looking at his arms the most- so strong and lean… I could so easily see him playing that instrument that looks like a huge violin, and you sit in a chair to play it… oh, what was it called? In any case, looking at his arms kept my eyes off his face. "It helps," I repeated, trying to get myself back on track, "to know it's a concerto. Now I can hear other instruments behind the tune. Peter, what's that one called that looks like a big violin, and you sit in a chair to play it?"

He laughed. "Cello."

"Cello!" I said, feeling triumphant. I tasted the word again, closing my eyes in relief. "Cello." Every time I recalled a new memory, or even a new word, it felt like putting a piece back into a puzzle that had been dashed to the floor. Would I ever have enough pieces to tell what the picture was? Who I had been… and whether there was enough of me left to be that again? I began humming again, imagining Peter as the cellist, sitting just to the right of a grand piano. But he was dressed all wrong for the stage, because otherwise I wouldn't get to watch the muscles in his arm as he played. I gathered all the flowers I had picked in a pile, beginning to weave a necklace. Peter watched me work, sometimes humming quietly along with me to fill in an important orchestral component against the melody.

Even if I never found enough pieces to make sense of the puzzle, this would be enough. Peter had been the only constant thing in my life during those horrible first months, and now I had these moments to look forward to. And this new life was getting better. I still trained, and the nights were still frightening, but we hadn't seen action since my awakening. Peter had once confided in me that the army hadn't fought a single battle in over a year- that was why there were no veterans alive other than Jasper and himself, at the moment. That battle had gone very badly, though Maria had managed to keep most of her territory. So maybe… maybe she would be content to merely defend what she had now, and there wouldn't need to be any real fighting anytime soon. Most of my group- everybody changed last October- were nearly as calm as I was now, and the Marches tended to keep to themselves, a little lower down the mountain. Maria's territory was broad, even with the loss last year, and the blood supply was good. It wasn't a good life, or even a real life, but as long as I had those pieces, and these moments, and- it must be admitted- the courage and resilience that came along with being a vampire, I could manage.

"I was trying to remember, earlier today…" Peter began. I smiled down at my flower chain; Peter was in a good mood today, and so was I. Our little conversations always went well when they began like this. Sometimes they didn't go well, especially when I was thirsty… or when Peter had had a difficult time with the Marches. "A book," he continued. "Some misfits… soldiers, I think, after the War of Northern Aggression, fire a gun at the moon, and-"

"From the Earth to the Moon, by Jules Verne," I interrupted, feeling a surge of joy as the new words left my lips. Whole paragraphs and images came back to me now, flooding my cold mind with life and searing themselves into my steel memory.

"That was easy," Peter said with a smile. "You read Jules Verne?"

"I adore Jules Verne."

His eyebrows raised nearly up into his tangled hair. I suddenly felt an urge to reach over and comb the dirt and the tangles out. But that wouldn't do… that would never do. Even if Peter wanted it. I had seen how some of my fellow soldiers spent their days, and it looked almost as frightening as the thought of going into battle. I didn't want that. And never with Peter, especially. Suppose it is a real friendship, I thought carefully- then it was only a friendship of kindred minds. That was all it could ever be. Because day always turned into night, and my friend turned back into the vampire that he was: Jasper's right hand man. The hands that looked like they were made to serenade the night with a cello turned into rough claws, grabbing my wrists too hard as he taught me moves that the other Octobers were too rabid to comprehend, or roughly pushing me back into the ring when I tried to slink away. The voice that was dreamily reciting broken pieces of Jules Verne to me at this very moment turned into orders and curses yelled into my ear as he demanded that I do better, that I fight smarter. The red eyes, sparkling along with a handsome face, turned dark with impatience and anger during ruthless training sessions, in which I could never quite manage to be as fierce as he demanded.

I finished the flower chain, holding it up for inspection. Peter smiled at it, his hand twitching toward it as though he wanted to touch it… maybe even put it on me. But then his smile faded. "Save it for tomorrow," he said flatly. "New training exercise tonight."

I pursed my lips, sliding the necklace over my head anyway. "They'll all be dead by tomorrow," I replied stubbornly, twisting each flower in succession to make them face forward. My dress might be ragged and a size too large, with far too many bloodstains- though less than my last one, I thought smugly- but that didn't mean I couldn't spruce it up a bit. Even with my hair gone, I was more beautiful as a vampire. Not that it mattered, but it was something. I didn't miss my spectacles one bit.

"Did you ever remember the name of your dog?" Peter asked.

"No. Your mother's name?"

"No."

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Maybe."

I fiddled with my necklace, wondering what new "exercise" Jasper had dreamed up this time. Sometimes I thought he did it just because he was in a bad mood. Which he usually was. But why did Peter have to bring it up now, and ruin our remembering time?

"Remember what I told you," Peter said quietly, as if he had heard my question. "You'll never win based on strength or speed. You'll win by outthinking your opponent, by being creative, by staying calm enough to think at all. Don't fight harder; fight smarter. That's what will set you apart from the pack."

"I don't want to be apart from the pack, if I'm in battle," I grumbled. "I want as many of them in front of me as possible!"

"Battle," Peter scoffed, as if it were some kind of joke. A muscle clenched in the back of his jaw, and he suddenly stood up, walking away from me without another word. I flopped backwards onto the rocks to stare up at the sky, refusing to try and guess what I had done to offend him this time. I closed my eyes against the sun.

I was born in Lafayette, Louisiana. My father's name was Daniel…

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I only saw Peter once more that afternoon, from far off. He and Jasper were arguing about something. Whatever it was, Jasper obviously had the last word, because he sauntered off while Peter stayed alone, looking angry and thoughtful. I tried to catch his attention and I know he saw me, but he ignored me and went off toward the Marches.

Night came too soon. This new exercise must have been important, because everyone was here; us Octobers, all the Marches, even Maria. Jasper and Peter were pretty adept at keeping the Marches in order, but when Maria was present everything was too quiet. All of us could remember our final human moments, if nothing else- her teeth at our throats, and the fire that she brought. And so while she rarely involved herself in our training or discipline, we all kept out of her way.

"This exercise will help you in two ways," Jasper called out, waiting for everyone's attention. "It's important to be able to adapt your fighting when you're disabled, and it's equally important to keep fighting when you're in pain."

There were a few uncomfortable murmurs in the crowd, but Peter shouted for silence. "We'll be pairing Octobers against Marches for this exercise," Jasper went on. "You and your opponent will both lose an arm and then the fight will begin immediately." The murmurs began again, more frantically this time. I squeezed my eyes shut, my right hand trailing up the necklace to touch the jagged scar already on my shoulder. It was a bite, from one of my first fights. At least if the arm were torn off this time, there shouldn't be a new scar. The fearful murmurs around me grew louder.

"You would all do well to listen to Jasper," a female voice said, cutting through the clamor. Everyone quieted and obediently turned to face Maria; she hardly ever spoke to us directly. "Some of you seem to forget that we are in the midst of War," she continued harshly. "I found enemy scents on our southern border earlier this week, and once last week. The Guatemalan Coven is growing bolder. If I know them, they will attack soon. So if you hope to survive that battle, you'd better dedicate every minute of your nights to training and practice. Is there anyone here who thinks they don't need to practice anymore? Anyone who thinks they're ready?"

It was so silent now that we could hear the wind howling through the canyon ten miles away. One of the Octobers – his name was Manuel- had answered that question once. Maria had laughed and set him against Jasper in one-on-one combat. It was the last thing he had ever done.

I tried to watch the pairs that went before me, tried to study how everyone was compensating for their lost arm, but it was too much. I was so nervous I was gasping for breath like a human, and I knew that wouldn't help me. Fight smarter, I scolded myself.

When my turn came, I forced my feet to carry me out into the ring. It was only a "ring" in the sense that the crowd of onlookers was circled around a large open space, half of them looking frightened or excited, and the other half grimacing as they held whichever shoulder was busy fusing with the arm that had just been replaced.

My opponent was a woman, at least; that was good. They fought dirty and tended to bite more, but not as deep. At least I usually ended up in one piece. Peter walked up to stand beside her, but Jasper jerked his head toward me. Peter switched places, his face expressionless as he gripped the back of my right shoulder with his left hand, and my wrist with his right. I went as slack as I could, letting him draw my arm back; it would probably hurt less than way. He waited for Jasper's command; the crowd grew louder as they began shouting their encouragement and their taunts. Jasper was having some trouble with my opponent; she was fighting back as he tried to get a hold of her arm.

"Hold still or I'll leave it off all night," he said harshly. She screamed once more in his face, but let him slip behind her, mirroring Peter's position.

"Fight smarter," Peter murmured behind my ear. I nodded, gritting my teeth.

"Now," Jasper said calmly. I felt Peter's thumb dig deep into back of my shoulder as his other hand pulled my arm back sharply. There was a pair of cracks like thunder, and pain shot through my right side, as well as through the arm that Peter was tossing aside now. The other woman was screaming again, snapping at Jasper as she tried to grab her arm back. He tossed it aside and shoved her toward me. I was silent, but it really was hard to think when your arm had just been torn off- and when you could see and feel the arm twenty feet away, flapping on the ground and trying to claw its way back to you. Peter kicked it further away, shouting for me to focus.

I had barely turned back when she hit me like a freight train. She wasn't much bigger than me, but much stronger, being so young. I spun as she grabbed at me, deflecting the main force of her attack and making her roll off me toward her good side. She stumbled in her disorientation, but didn't fall. I kicked her backside as hard as I could, earning a round of laughter and cheers from the Octobers. But the Marches gave an answering cheer when she bounced back like a flash, her nails digging into my face and her other knee kicking me in the stomach. I bared my teeth and twisted my face down to bite her hand, so she let me go. We circled each other again, panting. I felt my face begin to heal. My shoulder and arm were throbbing- not pain anymore, exactly, just aching to be reunited.

She lunged again, this time so fast she got me head on and squeezed the air out of me. I stumbled backwards, scrambling with my one arm to get at her throat, or at least her eyes. Not willing to let go or shift her hold, she craned her head back and snapped at my fingers, which I jerked back.

"Go on the offensive!" Peter shouted.

How was I supposed to go on the offensive with her hanging around my stomach like a dead weight?! I couldn't even breathe to snarl at her properly. I threw both of us to the ground, hoping to even the odds. I landed on top of her and bit down on her ear. She finally let go, rolling away and leaping to her feet to jump at me while I was still down- she was so fast!

Fight smarter.

Instead of trying to get up in time to fend off her attack, I rolled farther to the edge of the ring. Some March's foot kicked at my face, but I wasn't trying to get away. I reached out and grabbed my opponent's detached arm, swinging it like a club as she jumped. It hit her right in the mouth, knocking her off course. On a whim, I threw the arm at her. She caught it and cried out in relief, automatically turning the arm upright to reattach it herself. Completely oblivious to me- I couldn't believe it had worked! I jumped her from behind, getting my teeth on her neck and looking to Jasper for approval.

"Excellent!" Peter shouted. "What did I tell you, Jasper?!"

But instead of giving the signal to stop, Jasper swept his finger in a circle, watching me carefully. He wanted me to keep going. My stomach twisted in revulsion, but I bit down deep into the back of her neck, twisting my head to try and dislodge hers. Her elbow slammed back hard, sending me flying. She caught me as I fell, getting her teeth onto my good shoulder.

"Enough," Jasper called before she could bite down. "Next pair." He turned to Peter, shaking his head slightly. As he turned back to the crowd to speak about what my opponent and I had done right and wrong, Peter stared at me, his eyes dark. He snatched up my arm and brought it over.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as he handed it to me. I brushed the dirt off and held it in place, sighing in relief as the familiar tingle of healing began.

"You were doing so well," he said in a low voice. "Brain over brawn. What happened?"

I shrugged with my good shoulder. "I'm not a soldier, Peter. I don't like tearing people apart."

"I can see that," he said coldly.

He glared down at me while I healed, his eyes drifting between the wound and the next fight which had already begun. I finally let go of my shoulder, wiggling my fingers experimentally. I was thirsty. "I want blood," I said in a trembling voice.

Peter's glare softened for just a moment, but then it was gone. "Not tonight," he mumbled, looking back toward the fight.

My throat blazed hotter with need, and with jealousy. "You'll feed tonight," I said accusingly. He fed nearly as often as Jasper did; the mark of Maria's favor.

"You want blood?" Peter hissed. "Get back in that ring and earn it." He stormed off, shoving aside a March who was in his way. The newborn growled at him in protest, but he snapped at her face with such ferocity that she scampered back to her fellows.

I clenched my teeth hard, refusing to cry. My hand crept up to touch the necklace, but it had been lost during the fight.

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Peter didn't come to talk to me for the rest of the week. I saw him arguing with Jasper again once, with the same result as before. A couple of times I saw him staring at me, looking as though he wanted to say something. But I had bigger things to worry about than my non-friendship with Peter.

A battle was coming. Maria had decided to make a preemptive strike on the Guatemala coven, and this morning she had announced that tonight would be the night. To make matters worse, we weren't even taking the Marches with us; they would stay behind with Maria. This mission required intelligence and quiet, she said; they weren't ready for something like that. I didn't understand it; even if they gave us away, wasn't it better to have twenty-two instead of eleven? I finally went to Peter, quietly suggesting that strategy be reconsidered. He just stared at me, looking angry again, until I apologized and slunk away.

I could feel electricity in the air as we were silently marched down the mountain. It seems fitting, I thought miserably. I wondered idly if a lightning strike could kill a vampire. Maybe if I was lucky, I would burn that way, and not the way I feared. Maybe I wouldn't even have to fight.

"Stop here," Jasper ordered, turning to face all of us. "We're about to pass near a human village. We're going to feed before going on." We all buzzed with excitement, and I felt a smile spread on my face despite my anxiety. They had been making us Octobers wait for days at a time now. I lifted my nose, eagerly sniffing for human scent, but I didn't smell anything.

"You're all to wait here while Peter and I go on ahead," Jasper went on in a dull voice. "Maria has decided that you all deserve a special reward for all your hard work these past weeks, and it'll make you even stronger for the battle tonight." He paused for effect, his eyes sweeping over us. I felt my anticipation growing. "Every single one of you will get to feed alone tonight."

We all started cheering at once, even me. Feeding alone! It was always such a relief. Feeding just wasn't the same in a group; you had to guzzle your blood because someone might finish before you and try to steal your kill. I had only fed alone twice before now. I instantly forgot the battle, grinning as I sniffed the air more eagerly. But I supposed it made sense that I couldn't smell anything; they had to go and fetch it for us.

Jasper came back a few minutes later, calling one of the larger males to come and feed first. I waited, my throat burning more every time Jasper returned and picked someone besides me. It seemed inefficient; why didn't they just spread us out so several of us could feed at once? I wanted my blood now. But I wasn't about to open my mouth after last time.

"Why aren't the others coming back?" one of the shorter males, Wyatt, asked the next time Jasper returned.

"Some of you will have unique roles in the battle tonight," he explained over his shoulder. "Peter and I are doing some one-on-one training with those that have already fed." Wyatt grumbled something in response, but fell quiet when Jasper shot him a threatening look. I realized that Jasper looked odd now, almost… shaken. It seemed that even the fiercest, most experienced warrior got afraid on the eve of battle; it didn't exactly make me feel better.

Once Jasper was out of sight Wyatt turned to the others, boasting that he would be picked for one of the special roles. Everyone else's excitement began to grow; I just felt my throat tightening around my thirst. I hadn't a hope of being picked for a special assignment, which meant that I was probably just going to be torn apart in the front lines before the battle even got going. Would I even get to see Peter again? I didn't mind the idea of dying, as long as it was quick; this life wasn't something to hold onto. But suddenly, the thought of never seeing Peter again made me hurt inside. I had never even told him goodbye. Maybe he would let me stay near him in the fight.

As our group grew smaller and the sky began to blink with lightning, I grew even more nervous. What if the Guatemalans had gotten the same idea as Maria because of the weather, and were on their way right now? Jasper had told us that evening thunderstorms were the best time for battles; all the crashing sounds were drowned out by the thunder so that if a human were nearby, they wouldn't realize what was going on. That was the only universal law governing the Wars; we could never let the humans know we existed. But what was the point of being careful for the humans if we were going to split up like this? You couldn't follow the law if you were dead.

Jasper came back again, his dark eyes looking over the three of us that were left.

"You're up, Charlotte."

HAHA CLIFFHANGER! Oh, come on, you guys know what happens next :)