******I do not own Twilight or any of its characters..I make no money from this...I do not intend any copyright infringement...etc...******

BELIEF IN THE ABSENCE OF PROOF

CHAPTER 3: THE MAKER (November, 1920)

Charlotte watched her mate as he lay on his back in the dust, the sun warming him and reflecting off his skin in prisms. He had been there since dawn the previous day, a look of concentration on his face. Charlotte sat next to him, waiting for him to speak. She had loved this man since before the burning…

The first time she had seen a vampire was the summer of 1880 in Big Spring, Texas. She had woken early and taken a walk around the small settlement before dawn to avoid the heat. She was sure that somebody was following her, and sure enough when she turned around she had seen him: a 6 foot tall cowboy with light colored hair that probably needed to be trimmed. He was well muscled but not overly bulky – a man who had earned his physique through labor.

She had stood, unable to turn away from the man. She knew, logically, that she should be afraid, but she had wanted to walk to him and take his hand. In the pre-dawn light it was hard to be sure, but she would have sworn that his eyes were blood red. He had tilted his head like he was waiting for her to answer a question and she had nodded, not taking her eyes off him. She didn't know what the question was, but her answer was yes.

Two years later she had been just outside the town, walking back to the home that her family occupied when a man approached her asking for directions. He was 6'2'' with a mess of blonde hair, worn blue jeans and an old shirt and he was filthy, from the hat on his head to the boots on his feet. She vaguely registered the fact that beneath the dirt and the wear – or perhaps because of it - he was glorious.

The hairs on the back of her neck had stood on end as she turned to him: blood red eyes were locked on her from beneath the rim of his hat. She knew that this man was dangerous but something stopped her from running. She felt a foreign burst of confidence and asked the one question that she didn't want an answer to: "What are you?" He had smirked and replied: "I'm your Maker." And with that he had bitten into her neck, starting a wildfire that had scorched through her body and left her transformed.

When the burning had stopped she had opened her eyes, surprised to be alive. She was lying on a cot in a filthy shack. She could see and smell and hear everything. A small part of her brain wondered what had happened to her: Had she been kidnapped? Tortured? What was she now? But 99% of her brain was occupied with the man that sat before her. It was him. He stood slowly, head bowed and arms outstretched: submissive. Charlotte had risen in one graceful movement and stood opposite him, staring at him and breathing him in while this new primal voice within her screamed that there was too much distance between them. It was all she could do to stay still.

He tilted his head and she nodded, once again responding in the affirmative to a question that hadn't been asked. Somewhere in her mind she wondered whether she should stop doing that. He chuckled nervously before speaking to her for the first time: "We are vampires. You will live forever, but you don't have to stay with me if you don't want to." Charlotte made a decision and before she knew it, she was sitting astride him on the ground, having propelled them both through the wall of the shack. She leaned forward, her hair forming a curtain between them and a world that she wasn't even aware of and whispered the first thought that entered her mind: "Forever won't be long enough, Cowboy."

Charlotte smiled at the memory, not taking her eyes off the man who lay beside her. She had been by his side – or he had been by hers - ever since. They had fled that place when the blonde stranger had interrupted them hours later. Charlotte had pulled her body from her Cowboy, placing herself between the two men. She was wild and unaware of her nakedness until she thought back on the scene hours later. She stood between the two men, teeth barred and snarling, willing to fight this man if she had to. She felt a foreign sense of lethargy come over her and slumped to the ground. She heard the men talking around her "What were you thinking, Jasper? She's only hours old." said her Cowboy. "Run. She knows that you've found your mate and has issued orders to have her killed. Run now." replied the stranger – Jasper. Her Cowboy argued with him "she'll know it was you who brought her to me – they'll kill you as soon as they get the chance." Jasper had laughed, but it was an empty sound with no joy.

Charlotte had awoken from her false sleep hours later as her Cowboy ran with her in his arms. "What's your name, Cowboy?" she had asked. "Peter Whitlock" he replied, before tilting his head. "Charlotte Whitlock" she said before closing her eyes again. She noticed an uneasy sensation that she now knew was a vampire's natural response to leaving their Maker in danger. She had lived with that feeling for 38 years in relation to a man who had spoken three words to her and then killed her: but she knew that everything that she now had was thanks to him, and was determined that he would find something to live for. She clung to the feeling of unease, because it meant that he was alive and that there was hope.

Peter still lay beside her, glowing and sparkling beneath the setting sun. The sun reflected unevenly off his body, the scars that littered his bare torso creating patterns and lines of shadow. He had gathered most of them in battles before she was born, but some were the result of the fights that seemed to have been waiting beyond every turn since they fled. He had protected her and defended her and loved her with this scarred body and she loved him desperately. She reached for his hand and raised it to her lips, kissing his palm and he finally spoke: "Somebody is coming. She sees…she sees everything."