.A/N.: Ok Guys, if you want to kill me, you have every right too. I'm sorry, It's just that I started reading this new series and I got too hooked for my own good. Whenever I had free time I would read instead of write. But today I put my foot down! Or rather….I put the book down! Lol yay me! Please for give me???

BTW, to those of you who have read "Vampire diaries" which do you prefer? Edward or Stefan? I'm having a hard time deciding :P

Recap:

"I have a brother?" Damien whispered slowly and I saw a small smile tug on his lips. The endings of his mouth turning upwards.

I could feel my own smile creeping it's way on my face as I whispered back, "Yes, a brother…"

Painful happiness

Pain makes me smile

Happiness makes me cry

Looking back I could see

What could have been…

How you missed me…

Damien's POV

"Really? Mom actually painted a baby that looked like me?" I asked in childish enthusiasm. My grin was wide and my happiness was beyond words. I did not lose my family. I had a member left. Not just any member! A brother! I have a brother! This was the nine thousand, four hundred and seventy fifth time I though about these words. I have a brother!!! It never got old.

Edward was sitting crossed legged opposite me on the hardly grassy ground and I mirrored his position. Our knees almost touching whenever I jumped a little at a new piece of information about my… our family. Could my smile get any wider?

"Yes, I remember seeing the picture and asking her who the baby was. Her answer to me was 'a lost angel,'" he answered in a tone full of wonder and joy, "that was the name of the painting. It was beautiful and some of the ladies that came to her tea parties tried to persuade her to either offer it to them as a gift or sell it, but mother never consented." His smile widened as he now understood the reason behind it.

I could almost feel my tears fall, if such thing were possible. My mother did love me. I really did have a mother that loved me as her son. And according to what happened tonight, she still did. According to tonight's events, she and my father were proud of me. If I were to need happiness to live instead of blood, I would have exploded from the amount of joy that filled my body, clenched at my heart, blurred my mind and burned my eyes.

Show me, please. I thought to Edward in a small voice.

He smiled kindly and nodded. Our minds were still connected, I could not read his thoughts but I could sense it. Feel it. But once he granted me permission into his memories I could see them as clearly as my own. I could sense his thoughts but not his memories. For memories, he needed to be willing to show me, and Edward was very kind; he never hid a memory from me when I asked for it. It was something we discovered while we were talking.

I felt Edward concentrate on dragging the memory that had been buried in the back of his mind for decades. I clenched my teeth in excitement and tried to persuade myself to sit still as I waited very impatiently to be ambushed by the unclear (because human eyes weren't as sharp as ours) but very much desired memories.

********

"Mother?" I said as I lifted my eyes off the piano keys to ask her if that new tune was good enough to play in the next party. I did not like the parties mother hosted in our house but I was forced to be present. Mother's hope was for a lady to catch my eyes in one of her parties but that was the farthest thing from my desire. And I surely did not understand hers. Didn't she want to be proud of her son who had died fighting for his country? Wouldn't it shame her if I stayed behind like every other coward? Shouldn't it be every mother's dream to see her son remembered as someone who made a difference? Then why wasn't she supportive of my intentions? That was the part that I did not understand.

But mother was not present in the room with me. She was here merely minutes ago. I stood up and left the wonderful instrument behind as I searched for her.

Of course I found her in the drawing chamber. She was sitting on a wooden chair in front of her newest painting. The window behind her profile allowed the sunlight to cast down on her small figure. Her bronze, wrapped up curls almost seemed blonde in the light. Her green eyes that were focused on the painting almost looked like they were wet with tears. She licked her thin lips slowly in concentration as she moved her hand away from the painting to acquire some more paint. She looked so beautiful sitting that way that you could have mistaken her for a wondrous portray.

I averted my gaze to the painting and saw a child. Its skin was a little pale and it had the same grey eyes of my father's. The child was folded in a blue blanket covering its legs and stomach. His small hands were stretched upwards as if trying to catch something. He had a very big smile on its face that if it were a real child it would be laughing. The picture made me smile though it did not cause so to my mother.

"Mother?" I whispered and her hand stopped on the painting. She turned her face to meet my gaze and my eyes went wide. Her eyes really were wet. She had been crying. "What is wrong?" I asked alarmed at her pained face.

She forced a smile on her face and I didn't miss the amount of effort it took. "Nothing, my dear son," she whispered in an irritatingly controlled way. "I might be a little under the weather."

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes, it would not be a polite thing to do. "Please forgive me, but I am not capable of believing that," I said as politely as I could.

I saw her eyes tighten but her smile was kinder than before, if such thing were possible. She set down the painting brush and the color pallet on the small table next to her and opened her arms for me. I willingly walked to her and sank in her warm embrace. She smoothed back my hair with her fingers and laid a kiss on my forehead. "Do not worry about me. I am all right. It's just that… Do you remember how some of my paintings touch my heart in ways? Reflects some of my hidden thoughts?"

I nodded and waited for her to continue.

"This one is one of them," she whispered a little shakily.

I tightened my arms around her for support and she understood the gesture because she patted the back of my head.

"I will be fine," she promised.

I looked at the painting again. This child surely wasn't me. I do not recall ever seeing him before. "Who is this child mother?"

My ear was on her chest so I could hear both her quick heart beats and her hard gulp. "It is a lost angel, my dear." Her voice was faltering even more than before.

I stared at the painting, noticing fore the first time the small, white wings that the child had. There was a Halo drawn too but my mother did not yet come to paint it. "And what does it stand for?" I asked a little timidly. Obviously it meant something to her and I was afraid of causing her pain.

"It is…" I felt her take a deep breath because her voice broke and I tightened my arms around her again. "A… a tribute… A tribute to every mother who had l-lost a child in some w-way…"

What did that mean? Did she lose a child? Did she witness someone losing a child? Was she a lost child herself? Questions raced in my mind that I did not have a single answer for. I pushed them aside and focused all my thoughts on one thing. My mother was in pain. She was suffering and I should try to make her feel better.

So, I pulled away reluctantly but only enough to look in her wet eyes, which tried so hard not to meet mine. "Would you like to talk about it mother?" I mumbled quietly, telling her with my eyes that I would listen.

She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. She was hiding from my gaze. My anxiousness was stirring madly inside of me. I bit the inside of my cheek and asked, "isn't there something I can do to help?" My voice was so desperate that it made her open her eyes.

She averted her gaze to the floor as if ashamed of what she was about to say and whispered hesitantly, "I know it's too much to ask of you, my son… But c-could you please a-allow me to w-weep while h-holding you?" Her voice was small, as of a child in fear.

At once I pulled her in my arms. Mother was always the strong one in the house. She never showed weakness in front of me and I was old enough to know why. She did not want to burden me. She did not want to put too much on my shoulders. This was the first time she showed me her weakness, and she needed me. So I hugged her tightly to my chest as she wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face in the crook of my neck. I could feel her tears on my neck and shoulder and I stroked her hair silently as I let her weep over whatever it was that gave her an unhealing wound. She held on to me as if holding on for dear life and I said nothing to stop her. I stared at the painting of the angelic child that had caused her so much pain.

Some of the lines were shaky, and I knew it was due to her pain of drawing it. I studied it carefully and when my eyes fell to the very end of the blue blanket, I saw two initials written in black.

D. M.

************

"Damien Masen…" Edward whispered after the memory was over.

I was silent. If I had seen this memory sooner my grief would have been too much to bear. The knowledge that I had lost a mother that loved me so much, even when all I'd spent with her were two years that I could not even speak in. I would have found a way to commit suicide just to be with her again and tell her that she had not lost me and to feel that I had not lost her.

But seeing this now, after meeting her merely hours ago, I could actually smile at that memory. She's not broken now. She had been watching over me and she knew that I was alive. She was proud of me. Even knowing that I am what I am, she did not resent me. She did not regret having me. She loved me.

I remembered the saying of 'I never knew looking back at the laughs would make me cry, and looking back at the pain would make me smile'. At first I did not understand what it meant, but I did now. The pain only proved her love for me and that she never forgot about me. Just like me.

"Hey, are you all right?" I felt his hand on my shoulder and I shifted my gaze back to him. I must've stared off for a long time because his thoughts were full of nothing but worry that I was in pain.

I smiled and put a hand on his, "I'm fine. Thank you for sharing your memories with me… little brother…" I half teased him.

He smiled, "I actually like the sound of that. When Emmet says it, it irritates the hell out of me…" he said chuckling.

"And I like the sound of it too. More than you can ever imagine," I said honestly. "I'm happy that you're my brother Edward."

"As I am. You are truly the brother I would have wanted if I had the choice of having one."

I grinned and stood up, pulling him with me. "So since I'm your older and wiser brother…" I teased as we walked back to the hospital. He could hear where this is going and saw his eyes go wide. "Then I should give you advice about girls since you and Bella are back," I grinned wickedly.

"Never!" He said in mock horror, shaking his head violently.

"Aw come on Ed! I have to play my role as your big brother well. Just one tiny advice… or ten," I said stepping in front of him to block his path.

"I do not think you're advice would work, since your experience isn't in her type." His lips were twitching and I'm sure mine were too. "Bella is definitely not a blonde!"

I lunged forward and pushed him off his feet. His back hit the ground hard but I knew he wouldn't feel it so I stayed on top of him as I mocked fury, "are you making fun of my fondness for blondes, Edward Masen?!"

He turned us both around such that my back was against the ground, "Maybe I am… maybe not… what are you going to do about it, Damien Masen?!" His voice was challenging but still light.

My eyes met his and mine narrowed, "You do not want to fight me. You're too young to be destroyed!" I warned lightly.

"I could say the same to you!" His eyes narrowed too.

"That's it! Whoever surrenders first doesn't get to tell the others the big news. And gets to make a fool out of himself in front of them," I challenged him, naming my terms.

He was almost laughing, as if he could ever win against me. "And whoever wins will name exactly what the loser does to make a fool out of himself. Are you in?" His grin was wild and his eyes amused. I'm sure I looked the same as I pushed him off of me and threw him across the field. I stood up swiftly, crouching a little as I smirked at him.

"Bring it on, little bro!"

A/N: So nothing astonishing here, but well, I just had to put a brotherly moment between them. Plus, I really wanted to write the memory. So who do you think will win??? Hope you liked this chappy. :D

Yara k: Thank you so much Yaya! I was surprised when I saw your review lol! THANK YOU. BFFE!!!

Twilighter: :D Thank you so much! I'm so happy to know that you thought it was Perfect!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jennifer: :D Well, sorry I didn't surprise you but I'm still happy you liked it!!! Thank you so much! :D

Terry: Thank you so much!!!! Lol, sorry I scared you there but I was terrified myself. Believe me when I tell you I was in total shock when I read in the reviews that ppl actually liked the chappy and I was like "Did I post the wrong chapter?" lol, so thank you so much for your awesome review. It made my smile toothy lol.

Mish: :D eeeeekkk! Thank you so much! And yay! Another perfect! :D THANK YOU!

LOuise x: :D Genius? Wow! Lol thank you so very much!!! You're great and so are your reviews :D