Chapter Info

Title: Memories

Number: 20/36

Warnings: Angst, slight sexual content

Author's Note: Greetings! As you may have noticed from the warnings, there will be some slight sexual content in this chapter. Seeing as it's not plot defining, you are welcome to skip over it. Like before, it's marked with .x.x.x.x. both before and after it. At this point, I'm almost done with chapter thirty-six and I'm excited, and yet sad to be so close to being done with this! We have less than half the story left and I'm trying to decide if I think there's enough potential for a sequel. I have a small idea, but I need to see if I can expand. I also wanted to say that my computer cord broke xP so if anything seems off, that's why. I'm on my old computer and I'm not able to get to my regular files. Luckily I have most chapters already saved in my doc manager on here, including this one. But still, if anything is off, just let me know so I can fix it. Thanks in advance! And thanks for reading! This chapter is a bit different than usual, so I would love to hear your reviews, comments, thoughts, and questions about this story!

Goldielover and AHealingRenaissance: It amuses me that the consensus is now that Edward is an asshole, because I honestly didn't think about that while Iw as writing it. xD This chapter should explain the painting more and hopefully answer some other questions, though I know not all of them. That will be next, I promise. xD Like I said in my A/N, this chapter is a bit different, but I hope you like it anyway. Thanks for reading and commenting!

earthlover, silverhawk88, EclipseRosen, rossannie14, Don'tBelieveInFear, and PaulineT: I'm so glad you are all excited that she got her memories back! I hope you all like this chapter, and thanks for reading and commenting!

-Carlisle-

Carlisle hadn't felt good about leaving her there alone, but then Alice gasped and looked at him in horror. Immediately he stopped talking and ran upstairs, knowing if it could his heart would be pounding. The look on Alice's face told him all he needed to know, and he was at his study door in barely a second. He couldn't breath, fear and panic choking him as he shoved through the door to get to his mate.

The night before had been one of the best of his life, he finally got the love of his existence back into his arms. He had been foolish to think that nothing could go wrong now that they were together, but she was human still so he knew that things could go wrong easier than they had before. When Edward said she wanted to turn, every instinct was rejoicing that she wanted to join him in eternity, but he still didn't want to damn her. He should've asked her the first time, though if he ever said that to her afterwards she would've been extremely upset with him, and he was young enough to not know better. However, he wasn't positive anymore if they were damned and soulless. If they were, how did she come back to him?

But that could come later, because he yanked open the door to watch as she fell to the ground unmoving, her body so silent and still other than the shallow breath and beating heart. Even with that, it almost felt like she was dead because he could feel nothing coming from her. No emotion, no life, and he was terrified.

"Abigail!" he called loudly, his voice full of fear and devastation as he quickly went for her, bringing her into his lap. She was so limp that he checked her pulse and breathing even though he could hear it anyway. "Abigail! My love, please. Please wake up, please... Sweetheart, what's wrong? Wake up!"

His voice, he knew, had carried downstairs because Emmett and Jacob stood in the door, both almost as fearful as him. Other than Carlisle, they were the two she was closest to, and so they moved in next to her quickly, only Emmett paused as Jacob kneeled down to check her vitals same as Carlisle, though the blond knew that the wolf could hear them anyway. A hissed curse drew Carlisle and Jacob's attention up to Emmett and immediately Carlisle knew what caused it. His heart sunk and his breath caught. He hadn't seen the painting since 1984 when Alice first helped him cover it. While he had the woman in his arms, it didn't help the searing agony that coursed through him.

"When did you paint her?" Jacob asked, brow furrowing.

"1873."

The wolf stayed silent and ever so gently, Carlisle swept her up into his arms. Emmett and Jacob knew there would be no touching her. She was in a vulnerable state and if anyone came near her, they would have a very protective Carlisle at their throats. He took her back into the room she had been in before, and she didn't make a single noise as she laid there, her breathing and beating heart the only noise in the room as they all studied her, the doctor in Carlisle warring with the beast to figure out what was best.

"Did she hit her head?" Jacob finally muttered and Carlisle slowly shook his head.

"No. Alice had a vision and I knew it was her. But she just collapsed and I think it was because of the painting. She must have looked and..." He trailed off because he didn't know where his thoughts were leading him.

"Maybe the memories came back," Jacob suggested with a shrug. He stood on the other side of her, posture tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. Carlisle could see he wanted to comfort her and he clenched his teeth, but gave him a firm nod and the wolf looked grateful. He sat down and slowly pushed some pieces of hair off her face. Carlisle was surprised at how the possessiveness was less with Jacob, but perhaps even his beast knew that Jacob loved her like a sibling and not romantically, and that Jacob could take care of her as much as he could. And he also knew he and Jacob could never take the place of one another in her life.

"C'mon, Bunny, I know you're in there. I know you want to wake up. Whatever you're seeing...it's okay, we're all here, and we love you." Carlisle had never heard the young man's voice so pained and he actually reached over with a free hand to clasp his shoulder, but pulled away when brown eyes focused on him.

Carlisle nodded for a moment and then checked her vitals again. If she didn't wake up soon, they would need to get fluids in her so her body didn't give out on her. But he hoped to god she didn't test that, because he didn't think he could survive if those emerald hues never opened.

"Come back to me, my sweet Abigail..."

.x.x.x.x.

-Jossund, Norway 1779-
-Abigail-

The coast shone brilliantly with sunlight as boats bobbed out on the water before them. The humans on the boats were too far away to see the vampires sitting on the shore, and the wind was blowing the wrong way to allow the fairly newly turned Abigail the opportunity to catch their scent.

While she was doing much better as the days went, they still stuck fairly close to the outskirts of cities and the trees as now and then, she had more trouble than she wanted to admit. Her husband was so strong in his endeavors, only growing stronger, while she felt like she was failing. He told her time and time again that she was just turned three years ago and he over a hundred, but she couldn't help but compare herself to him, and feel the dreaded feeling as if she were holding him back.

"Come, you must see this cabin. It is beautiful." His calm, quiet, serene voice brought her out of her depressed thoughts and had her turning for him. She loved it there, but she didn't want him to have to hide in rural places just for her. He worked so hard to be able to endure humanity, and she was making him take so many steps back—

"My love," he whispered and his arms had wrapped around her while she got caught in her mind trap again. "I know what you are thinking. Please, do not. I am here because I wish to be. I love you, and I would spend centuries in this cabin if it meant I could be with you. Please, come inside and as can be together, okay?" She pressed herself against his chest and let out an unneeded breath, before giving him a shaky smile. She wasn't quite sure if she could allow herself to believe it, but she wanted to desperately. And she knew she would give him anything.

"Yes, my dear," she whispered, rejoicing in the look of joy that crossed his face, and allowed him to tug her inside.

.x.x.x.x.

-London, England 1873-

"You must sit still, ma'am."

The artist's exasperated voice didn't calm the vampire down, in fact, she just giggled harder. While it was very easy for vampires to sit still, Abigail wasn't like most vampires. For one thing, it was easier to act human as she never drank human blood and so therefore had much of her humanity left. She was almost as good as her husband at resisting the scent of human blood, something she took much pride in because she knew her husband was the strongest man in existence. He didn't have any help with weening himself away from humans and onto animals. Her heart ached at the thought of him spending decades locked away deep in the forests of England in an attempt to control his thirst. By the time she met him, he was already very controlled, even though he still hungered for it. But by the late eighteen hundreds, it didn't even register in his mind and she was ever so grateful that she was mated to him because it made it that much easier when she was turned not to become a monster herself.

As it was, her humanity sparkled in her topaz eyes as she grinned and fought to keep herself from giggling again. It was difficult, though, because Carlisle was doing absolutely nothing to help her out with her task. He stood to the side of the artist, his own eyes alive and beautiful with amusement as she tried to morph her face back into one of serenity. The human couldn't hear the words that Carlisle was saying quick and quiet under his breath; human ears were much too fragile for that. But if he had, she was sure he would've been very flabbergasted that Carlisle was saying such things in public. As it was, she was glad the human sense of smell was much lower as well because she was disguising her arousal with amusement.

"You, my husband, are a wicked man."

"My apologies, my dear Abigail; however, you knew that when you married me."

"I had no idea you were so forward."

"We have had almost a hundred years together. I have no idea why you are surprised at this now."

She giggled again and earned another exasperated look so she forced herself into a statue, even as Carlisle continued to murmur all of his filthy words. She was glad, and not for the first time, that she couldn't blush.

It took another hour of sitting still and enduring his words before the artist was finished and Carlisle moved himself forward to look. His arms were locked behind his back and he looked over it carefully, as carefully as he would've her face, and held out a hand to beckon her closer. She went immediately and without comment, pressing herself against his side, and peaked around his arm to see the painting.

"No piece of artwork can compare to my Abigail's beauty," he said in a contemplative voice. The artist went red and looked almost enraged, but Carlisle's look quieted him. "However, you did a fine job at capturing her. This will do lovely. Thank you." He pulled a small bag with many coins in it that he handed over.

The artist snatched it up, looking inside, eyes widening as he looked back. Carlisle merely smiled and allowed one of the artist's apprentices to wrap it in fine linen to be stored in the Cullens' carriage to take home. Knowing Carlisle, the payment was probably three times what had been discussed and she was ever so proud once again to call him hers.

He helped her into the carriage and climbed in after her, sitting next to her and calling to the driver, who was also human.

Abigail leaned up to run her fingers through his hair and kiss him adoringly, his fingers caressing her cheek before he pulled away to nuzzle her neck. Both purred and hands wandered, only pausing long enough once they arrived home so they could enter and take the painting to the room that contained the rest of Carlisle's collection. It was hung up and she smiled, pressing to his side.

"I have no idea why you wished a portrait of me when you could have something much more beautiful."

Carlisle hissed and tugged her to his front, his eyes blazing. "You speak blasphemy, wife," he growled. "There is nothing on this earth that can compare to your beauty. You stagger me, my lovely Abigail."

"And you flatter me, husband." She paused. "But why of me? You already have the real article. Why should you need a portrait?"

"If I were to lose you—" His voice suddenly anguished, his look tortured, but he stopped as she put a finger over his lips.

"But you shall not," she whispered, leaning closer. "You will always have me, Carlisle. Nothing can ever take me away from you. I love you."

He groaned in longing and lifted her to him then, kissing her urgently. "I love you, too," he growled raggedly against her lips.

Then he took her, lifted her skirts and pushed down his trousers, pressing her against the wall and making her cry out as he filled her over and over again, growling into her neck and completing her once more as she sighed her bliss into his neck.

.x.x.x.x.

-Minneapolis, MN 1955-

Abigail huffed. "Why have we not seen this nomad yet?" she demanded as she stepped over yet another pile of rubbish on the ground, her nose wrinkling at the stench as she avoided touching the heel of her pumps in the rot.

While it wasn't as if she were tired, she was frustrated that they couldn't find what they were looking for. This nomad had killed every night for the past two weeks, two or three people a night. Humans, of course, took notice and were starting to blame the work of a serial killer, but the coven knew the truth. While the Volturi were planning on stepping in any day, they knew they couldn't let anybody else die and so they set out to try and find this nomad themselves. They were going to ask him to leave, and if he didn't, they would take care of him. Carlisle loathed the idea, ever the pacifist, but even Abigail talked him into taking the necessary step if needed. The nomad couldn't be allowed to continue his actions.

Carlisle watched her steps and chuckled softly, his arm around her waist tightening and helping her over the garbage that he simply stepped through.

"I would think it wouldn't be too much longer," he said. "We've caught his scent more than once tonight. He's out here somewhere."

She huffed. "Well I wish his scent would lead us to a grizzly bear," she muttered earning another laugh from him.

"I'll take you hunting tomorrow."

"Good. I'm getting thirsty." While they knew they had no worry that she would drink from a human, even stronger at resisting now than she had ever been before, it was safer all around if she fed. The last thing she wanted to do is slip up after nearly two hundred years. The disappointment that would surely come from Carlisle would be unbearable.

"Don't fret, my dear. I'll make sure you drink." Carlisle smiled softly, tugging her towards a random alleyway. They had planned to go a couple more blocks down, but she felt his need to kiss her right then and there and at least the alley offered somewhat of a protection.

The only light came from a burning barrel that homeless humans had left going, but there was no sign of them. For a moment she noticed that was odd, but then her back was pressed against the wall and her husband was growling into her mouth. His growls always did things to her, things he well knew, and she melted into him, gloved hands reaching around to clasp at his neck as he pressed against her.

Their kiss was deep and desperate and she knew he would never take her right in the alley—her sounds belonged only to him—but that didn't mean she couldn't wish, couldn't hope for the little bit of excitement that went with the taboo subject of being caught. But she also knew if they were, and someone saw her in such a way, Carlisle wouldn't hesitate to show his beast whether human or not.

Too focused on each other, warning bells didn't ring for them until Carlisle was tossed away roughly and Abigail was grabbed around the throat. Carlisle's dangerous growl would forever be engrained in her mind and she struggled to get away, but the grip never faltered. Either she had seriously been lacking in defense training, or this nomad was simply older and stronger than she.

A chuckle reached her ear and Carlisle stopped in his tracks, eyes black with fury and more than a bit of terror as he took in the situation before him. She struggled again and yelped as her body was pulled flush against the creature that held her, another familiar growl reaching her ears. She could tell even of she wasn't looking that Carlisle was all beast now. She was in danger, the threat real and dangerous, and since this creature was a vampire, he would stop at nothing to get her free.

"How quaint," the nomad said in a voice sleazy with amusement and contempt. "I'm so glad I never mated. Makes the world much more...tedious." He chuckled and sniffed at her throat making her wince and Carlisle to take a step forward, but the nomad yanked her back a step. "I don't think so, big guy. You see, you've been messing up my hunting grounds. I can smell you all over and it's rather unappetizing. But I finally figured out a way to get you off my trail." He smirked and squeezed tighter and, although he couldn't actually suffocate her, she still whimpered. Fear pulsed through her and her alarmed eyes lifted to Carlisle.

She had never seen him more feral in all their life together. Rage and terror had blackened his eyes. Breath came out in quick snorting bouts, and his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. He was trembling and she knew if she wasn't standing there, her body being used as a shield for the nomad behind her, he would've already attacked. As it was, he wouldn't risk her life by charging, and yet she saw how torn he was as leaving her there also risked her life. She could see regret and guilt and hopelessness shimmering with his rage and terror, and she longed to run her fingers through his hair, longed to comfort him and keep her promise of never leaving him.

"So let her go and kill me," Carlisle finally said and her eyes opened wide in horror. She started to shake her head, started to argue, but the nomad shook her again and she whimpered.

"Why would I do that? You are my threat here, not her. I want to hurt you the way you've been hurting me as you've mucked up my hunting grounds. Seems only fair that I take something you want, doesn't it? Since you've taken what I want."

"Please," Carlisle begged. "Please, I'll do anything."

The nomad shrugged. "Too little, too late."

Everything next moved too quickly for Abigail to understand until it was too late. The nomad leaned down and suddenly a white hot branding iron of pain went through her. She opened her mouth to scream, a small sound escaping, but it was drowned out by the sound of metal being ripped apart.

She couldn't move. She couldn't blink or speak or breathe. She heard something heavy hit the ground as Carlisle's eyes flashed suddenly and his agonized roar filled the air.

And she would never ever forget that noise as it burned her ears, permeating every part of her body.

Or...it would've, if she still had it. The nomad's sick laugh met her ears and she watched helplessly as Carlisle fell to his knees. Footsteps appeared in the alley and she recognized Edward and Alice, but it was too late. She was flying through the air and landed in something that licked at her face, hot and burning.

Oh god, the burning.

She felt herself burn as her essence faded into nothingness, the sound of her beloved's agony the last thing she thought of.

.x.x.x.x.

-Forks, Washington 2007-

The feeling of burning echoed through her body, and she realized it wasn't the first time she had felt it. Before her death, the last time she felt such an agonizing pain was as Carlisle's venom worked through her blood and changed every inch of her into a vampire. That time she remembered screaming and writhing, barely conscious enough to understand that she was alive and not burning in the fiery pits of eternal damnation. Because it had ended only three days later and she woke to her angel standing strong and pained beside her.

Her angel was the same man who had the painting of her made almost a century after they found each other. He was the same man who took her on that beach so many times. He was the same man who asked her opinion of changing Edward. Then Rosalie, Emmett, and accepting Alice and Jasper into the family. He was the man whose horrified, terrified, anguished face she watched as she was killed right before his eyes.

He was the man she adored and loved more than anything in all of creation.

In 1753, Abigail Margaret Goodwin was born to Richard and Mary Goodwin in the heart of Wilmington, Delaware. She was an only child and her mother loved her very much, but her father was a cold man who loved nothing and no one other than wealth. When her mother died from smallpox, it was up to Abigail to become the lady of the house. She cooked and cleaned and took care of her father in ways no ten year old should have to. But Abigail grew up a beautiful young girl; however, she turned away any suitor that came along. Her father, as a physician, was wealthy, but he wished to be wealthier. So when Mr. Howard Drake came along and offered twice her dowry, her father accepted. Mr. Drake was twice as old as her, and so at twenty-two in the first week of 1776, she ran off.

Abigail remembered the rest from her dream, because that's when she met Carlisle and became his mate for eternity. She remembered every moment of their time together, remembered every time they made love, every kiss. She remembered moving from country to country, city to city as they settled as long as they could in one place and then moved on once it became too hard for them to keep their cover story. She had married him two months after she had changed and it was difficult because the priest was, of course, human and she was still a newborn. But Carlisle's hands tight on hers and the resolve to never disappoint him made it easy to keep her teeth away from the human. And the black of her eyes only slightly scared the priest while the red surely would've sent him running.

She remembered sitting for her painting. She remembered the year on the island in France. She remembered finding Edward, Rosalie, Emmett. She remembered Alice and Jasper finding them. And she remembered her death, the nightmare she had since she was going expanding and making itself known. She remembered it all, and knew that these weren't dreams, these were memories of the other her she spoken of with Edward.

Part of her knew she should be scared, after all she's was a vampire who died and came back to life. None of them had any clue that was possible, they all thought they had no souls, but she was proof that things weren't always as simple as black and white. Plus, she could never be scared of Carlisle. He was the center of this, because he was the center of her world. Everything she is and everything she was, is because of that beautiful man. She owed him everything and she was glad that it was her that night instead of him that wound up succumbing to the nomad's kill. He was important, so much more important than her, and she couldn't believe she found him again, that she got the chance to come home.

"Carlisle," she murmured in her sleep, unaware of the commotion the simple word caused. But she still slept, trying to comprehend the memories and put them in the right order.

Only then, once she flashed through all one hundred and seventy-nine years of her life with Carlisle, did she start to waken. Twitches of her fingers, twitches of her arms. There was something calling to her, begging her to open her eyes and she knew immediately it was the call of her mate. Of course she would wake up. Silly man, she thought. She would always come when he called for her.

Struggling ever so slightly, with a simple flutter of delicate lashes, Abigail Margaret Goodwin finally opened up her eyes and woke up.