Disclaimer: Twilight and Somewhere in Time are not mine.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting, the website has been having some issues and has been telling us all weekend to 'check back in a few minutes'. The good news is I am working on the next chapter now and will post it tomorrow morning if the website allows.

Enjoy!!

Chapter 3: Try, Try Again

EPOV

My mind Is reeling with its new discovery when Dr. Cullen comes home and Esme leaves us to talk. Now I know why I'm here. Now I know what questions to ask. Hours pass as Carlisle and I discuss many things. I learn that Ms. Swan sought Dr. Cullen out as a graduate student and helped finish putting him through school and earn his doctorate. She has been funding his research ever since. Often times she had been the only financial supporter of his work. She strongly believed in him and became a close family friend and, when she passed, he was surprised to find that she had left her entire estate to him and his wife asking only that he continue his research.

Before I leave late that night I become well versed in Dr. Cullen's theories on auto-suggestive time travel. He believes that through self-hypnosis, one can travel through time seemingly on faith alone. He was once able to do it himself, he says. He put himself in a relaxed state and focused on the past very intensely. For a flicker in time he believes it to have worked.

It was imperfect. In the room of the past, among the 'antiques', were modern items. He felt that they were what weakened his hypnotic state. He was whisked back into the present and was so exhausted he wasn't sure what would have happened had he been able to stay. The rigors on his body and mind had reached dangerous levels from the hours and hours spent in concentration. So much so that he has no intention of trying it again.

Now that he has Esme, the fear of being separated from her is enough to ensure he would never be able to achieve that kind of focus again. Carlisle is happy to talk at length on this subject. I feel it might have to do with the fact that I am not a skeptic. I want to believe. I have been awake for two days straight but I am too excited to stop now. As I drive home, to the hotel, I begin to make a list of the things I'll need.

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Weeks later, I am ready. I have followed Dr. Cullen's instructions carefully. I think I've become a bit of a nuisance to the coin shops and collectors in the area. They don't understand my need for them to reach out to other shops and have the collectable money sent to me right away. I'm just a crazy new collector suddenly and impatiently obsessed with money from the early 1900's. I've collected as many coins and bills as I could quickly find from that era in as mint condition as possible and today I will pick up my suit. The suit was hard to find. I had to comb many websites to find a vintage suit in new shape from that decade that would actually fit me. I need to make sure not to appear too fashion forward. The vintage clothing dealer assured me over the phone that it was at the height of fashion that year but was no newer than that. I think I will like wearing a hat. I've never had much luck taming my messy bronze hair. I can't help but smile as I think that I'll just have to wear my bowler all the time.

The tailor had me try on the jacket one final time and expressed awe at how much men's fashion has changed. Being a man, I don't see much difference. I have a bowtie and a waistcoat, the cuffs and collar of my shirt are a bit weird, but the rest is similar enough to today's clothes in my eyes. The tailor points out all the neat pockets, some are even hidden. He grabs a penny from the register to demonstrate a small penny pocket to keep an emergency coin or two. "…for back in the day when pennies were actually worth something," he laughs. There's even a spot for a pocket watch. It warms me to think of carrying my gift from Isabella in my 'new' suit on my journey to meet her once again.

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I have failed.

Hours and hours spent in my room at The Grand trying, unsuccessfully, to hypnotize myself back in time. Wasted. I change out of that ridiculous suit and throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater and storm from the room. I find myself, once again, in front of her picture. I don't understand why I am so drawn to her.

Why? Why didn't she talk to me the night of the concert? Why give me the watch and fund a doctor obsessed with traveling through time? She must have known something. My going back to meet her makes sense then, doesn't it? I'm beginning to think that I'm losing touch with reality. What was I thinking? I'm so disheartened. Bracing myself, I lean on the display case below her smiling face and hang my head.

I look upon the hotel registrar displayed beneath the glass for the thousandth time, once again, memorizing her signature. The delicate loops and sweeping strokes of her name penned by her own hand. I notice how, like her portrait on the wall, even her signature stands out among the others on the page. And then I see it. Room 416.

My name.

My signature.

The air whooshes from my lungs as I realize the truth. I was there.

I was there.

With her.

I didn't fail. I just hadn't succeeded.

Yet.

With renewed conviction, I forgo the elevator and sprint up the stairs to close myself in my room. I put my period clothing back on, ready to begin again. Knowing, it's only a matter of time.

A/N: Please remember to review and let me know what you think! :o)