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Rosalie's actions in Breaking Dawn are considered atrocious by some. But how would they react if they truly understood her motives? This is Rosalie's chance to tell her story. Warning: while the first two chapters can stand on their own, without spoilers, the rest of the fic will have major Breaking Dawn Spoilers.

Story Notes:Disclaimer: I don’t own Twilight, Rosalie, Bella, Emmett, or really anything except some of the cool phrasing that I might steal for my own use someday… Nah. Stephenie Meyer owns it all.

8. Chapter 8

Rating 0/5   Word Count 965   Review this Chapter

Bella slept fitfully, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Rosalie wiped it off with a cloth, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. She had never understood before, the attraction of watching someone sleep. But now she knew why Edward kept doing it, despite the danger.

Edward rested his head on Bella’s shins, as if he were sleeping as well. Rosalie ignored him.

She was so peaceful now, not that Bella wasn’t peaceful to begin with. She was strangely unruffled by anything, not vampires, not having their babies... Rosalie was sure that Bella could survive this. Her will to live was strong, as was her desire to keep her child alive. And there was something restful about watching her sleep.

What would happen if Bella did die? Rosalie would be sad, of course, and Edward wouldn’t last too long afterwards, and but then… Rosalie would be left with her dream. She would have both Emmett and a child. The idea was tempting, so very tempting to entertain. What if the child had Bella’s brown hair, like Emmett’s? Or pale skin, like a vampire? Would he be beautiful, like her? Almost, almost, he could be her and Emmett’s child. Her entire being craved this. It created a small crater in her silent heart, an empty yearning that she couldn’t quite swallow down. Was it so wrong to wish for?

Edward hissed. “So that’s why you’re doing this. It isn’t for Bella at all. It’s all about you. It’s always been about you.” His voice raised the smallest fraction of volume. “You’re blind, Rosalie. You only see what you want, and you are blind to the consequences of what it will take to get it. You’re no better than a murderer, Rosalie. Revenge is one thing. That was understandable, justifiable. This is simply for your own gain. You’re a murderer. You would rather be blind, rather destroy her without meaning to, just to get what you want.”

Rosalie flinched, and Edward got to his feet, his eyes tight, his hands angry, white fists. His words were measured, slowly, as though he couldn’t trust himself to lose control even that much. “You don’t care about her one bit. You would rather destroy this family. You would rather tear us apart, kill her, destroy me… I’m sorry Carlisle ever changed you in the first place.” And then Edward ran.

Rosalie let out a soft breath. That thought had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, merely lacking the words. She didn’t wish Bella would die, that was true. It wasn’t out of callousness or disregard for Bella’s life. Bella, while irritating in ways that only seemed apparent to Rosalie, was an important part of their family, now. If she left, she would leave a hole behind.

But even though Rosalie didn’t want Bella to die, she could not shake away the desire. Rosalie would do everything she could to keep Bella alive, but if she couldn’t… She could deal with that, too.

“Rosalie?” It was Esme. Rosalie wondered how long she’d been standing there. “How is she?”

“Bella? Much the same. She’s asleep, now.”

Esme nodded. “She’s very lucky, you know. Having a child is an incredible, life changing event. And she gets to have one with the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with.”

“Did you manage to forget about the whole “almost dying” thing that’s got everyone else stirred up?” Rosalie asked, unable to keep the sarcastic edge out of her voice. Edward’s words had hurt, and Rosalie was going to take any thing that gave her relief or distraction, even snapping at Esme.

Esme nodded. “I am aware. But she chooses this… There is danger involved in any choice she makes. We are all uncertain of the future. Alice’s gift does nothing for us here. Is it wrong to want the possibility of happiness?” There was a wistful expression on her face.

Rosalie’s head snapped up. “I don’t know. Is it?” Her voice was suddenly strained and passionate, as though she were asking for far more than the question was made for. Maybe she was.

Esme smiled sadly at Rosalie, understanding in her eyes. “No. It isn’t wrong to hope. It is wrong to let that hope take over you, however. There is a real world out there, and it doesn’t exist in dreams.”

“Is the hope worth it, then?” Rosalie asked. “If what you dream of never comes, is it worth it?”

“Oh, honey,” Esme murmured, and reached over to pat Rosalie’s hand. She took a breath before she continued, and Rosalie became very still. Esme was never hesitant unless it was important.

“There are few human memories that I would relive if I had the chance, those few that made the rest bearable. The day I met Carlisle was one. And those few months I was pregnant and then gave birth to my son…” Her eyes went distant. “My son lived only a few days. I still wish that I had the chance to raise him into a man. But those wishes, they don’t disappear like that. They’re still there. And some days I can ignore them.” She smiled and came back to earth. “I can’t tell you if they are worth it. The cost is different for everyone. That’s a choice you’ll have to make yourself.”

“I don’t like that answer,” Rosalie replied honestly.

Esme smiled again, still sad. “Would you rather me have lied? Sometimes we need the truth more strongly than we need a lie.” She drew her hand back. “I’ll let you think. Edward needs someone to speak with him at the moment.” And Esme faded away into the background.

Rosalie was left alone with a sleeping human girl, and her own thoughts. Neither were comforting, and both twisted together and spiraled her mind into dark paths she thought she had left behind her.