{ Someone to watch over me }
Carlisle looked up from the medical reports he'd brought home to give another look at, when he heard the front door close with a thud. Rosalie strode into the living room, clutching to a rather large plastic garment bag that reached the ground, ending in what seemed to be like a cascade of tulle. He noticed the little trademark sign of the local wedding gowns' shop, wondering what she was up to with of all things a wedding gown. He suspected it had something to do with the revenge she'd been executing for the past two weeks. The revenge on the men that had abused her in her final moments as a human.
'Hello, Rosalie,' Carlisle greeted her politely but as usual, Rosalie didn't bother to spare him a glance.
Esme turned from The Jack Benny Programme that was playing on TV at the moment, looking a little worried as well at what she was holding – probably having her suspicions herself – but nonetheless smiling warmly at what she probably considered her adoptive daughter. Just like she considered Edward as her own.
'Hello, sweetheart.'
Contrary to Carlisle and Edward, Rosalie had warmed up to Esme. Not liking Esme is, after all, just out of the question. How can one not, when welcomed into her gentle heart with open arms and never-judgmental eyes, no matter one's past or mistakes. Rosalie smiled back meekly.
Carlisle never spoke to anyone of it, but he envied what little bond Rosalie and Esme shared. Of course Edward knew – being able to hear the thoughts of your surrounding people had both its advantages and burdens – but he knew not to mention it. The topic 'Rosalie' was a sensitive one ever since Carlisle made the – what turned out to be wrong – decision of changing her, in the hope of finding Esme and himself a daughter, and Edward a soul mate. Though he would never regret saving her, he likes to think he would've chosen differently if he had known what misery this second life would cause her. No one deserves an eternity of misery, after all.
She threw another glare at Edward, who didn't refrain from playing his piano. Which again was not out of the ordinary as she was still irritated with how her beauty hadn't yet made Edward succumb to his knees for her.
'I'll be in my room,' she stated with little emotion, making her way to the stairs. The door to her bedroom was closed silently. Esme had a worried look on her face, but decided not to mention her thoughts and continued watching the show. She snuggled a little closer to Carlisle, knowing how much the situation troubled him, even if they didn't talk about it that often.
The moment Carlisle tried to resume with reading the reports, Edward decided to stop playing the piano anyway. He stood up and started pacing in front of the big window behind the piano. He clearly had for some reason a troubled mind at the moment and Carlisle wondered if it was because of Rosalie, but decided not to press onto the matter until he would decide for himself if he wanted to share his thoughts.
Approximately an hour had passed since Rosalie had returned home. Esme's show was already over and now she occupied herself with rearranging the flowers in the hall, occasionally going outside to pick a few new ones, all the while humming a song. It soothed Carlisle's nerves.
'She's going to kill Royce.'
And just with that, the humming stopped along with the calming effect it had had on Carlisle's emotions. The house turned silent, until Esme decided to reappear in the living room, her heels clicking on the floor.
'I thought we had a rule about sharing others' thoughts,' Carlisle sighed, though refrained from sounding angry. Edward probably had a valid reason for revealing Rosalie's thoughts, as he'd been contemplating for an hour whether to tell it or not.
'She's scared, Carlisle,' he grimaced, turning away from the elder vampire. He seemed in pain, very likely bothered by the million thoughts that were probably plaguing Rosalie's mind at the moment. Carlisle looked at his wife, who herself had a pained expression on her face, feeling deeply for the girl upstairs.
'Maybe you should talk to her?' Carlisle asked his wife uncertainly. She came sitting next to him on the couch and placed her hand on top of Carlisle's, picking out carefully how to phrase her next words.
'Maybe this is the right time for you two to have a talk.' Carlisle turned away from her.
'I'm certain I'm the last person on earth she wants to see right now.' She squeezed his hand lightly in reply, though it was Edward that spoke instead.
'I think Esme's right,' he said silently as he made his way to the kitchen. Carlisle followed him with his eyes, wanting to ask him why he thought so. But even having heard what he was thinking, Edward merely said he would go hunting for a while, rather not intruding on Rosalie's thoughts right now.
Carlisle looked desperately at his wife, thinking this really was not the right decision. Rosalie would merely be angered more by his presence and with her current train of thoughts, would probably prefer another woman to confide in.
Giving a little peck on his lips, Esme stood up and made her way to the door.
'I'll leave you two to a little privacy. If anything's wrong, you can find me at Margery's.' And after a last reassuring glance, she too left the house.
Not having left any other choice, he placed his reports on the coffee table and made his way to Rosalie's room. When he stood before her door, he thought about how he'd only been in there once. That was when him and Esme had gone shopping for the essential clothes and furniture, back when she was only a day old vampire. Of course she couldn't come along, not wanting to take the risk of having her too close to any humans. But she'd picked out a few clothes, a bed, mirror and closet out of the few catalogues Esme had brought for her. After that, Esme had made sure the room became more and more decorated, as much to Rosalie's liking as possible. That was one of the many grounds on which they bonded; their love for shopping and decorating. He smiled at the thought.
As he brought his hand to the door and knocked, he asked if he could come in. It was silent for a moment and Carlisle feared she just wouldn't let him in. Until a few moments passed and a tiny 'yes' reverberated from the room. He carefully opened the door, afraid any rushed actions might just tear away this peculiar change of heart she suddenly had.
Coming in and closing the door behind him, he was met with Rosalie admiring herself in the big white mirror adorned with ornamental roses. She'd particularly liked that mirror, he remembered. He couldn't help but glance at how her room was decorated and wasn't surprised what good of a job his wife had done. The furniture had something of a baroque kind of style, which would've made it overall heavy if it weren't for the light and different hues of white, pink and pastels that were incorporated, complementing each other perfectly. Much like Rosalie herself; pretty theatrical, much to process and adjust to, yet breezy and vivacious at the same time. His eyes returned to her form and he was faced with her back again. Her hair was up in tight curls and she was making a little twirl, the wedding dress swirling graciously around her. She looked angelic.
Her piercing red eyes were pointed at her dainty image in the mirror, until she moved them upwards and fixed them on the figure of Carlisle in the mirror. And with that they locked eyes, even if only for a moment. It was Carlisle who broke off their silent communication, not able to keep looking at the emotion swirling in her eyes. Instead, he put his hand in his pocket and moved a little closer, all the while trying to keep a more casual composure, even if he was feeling anything but on the inside.
'I really hope I don't have to read about a murder that happened today at the local wedding gown's shop tomorrow morning, in the newspaper,' Carlisle chuckled. He wasn't sure how to start a conversation with her as the only time he'd ever really talked to her was when he tended to her injuries and guided her through her change, yet he thought the more comical approach might be the best. Again, trying to keep things casual. Light-hearted. Seeing as she let out a little chuckle herself, he'd seemed right. She looked at him through the mirror when she spoke next.
'Don't worry, I haven't killed the salesclerk if that's what you're worried about.' He noticed the snide tone. He hadn't wanted her to think that was what he was worried about. He was here for her well-being right now, not that of the salesclerk.
'I admire you, Rosalie,' he continued anyway. 'You've killed five men up to now, yet you have not spilled one single drop of blood. And here you are today, only a few weeks old, casually walking into a shop and buying yourself a dress, being so close to the substance you crave so hard. Vampires of your age find that tremendously difficult.'
She wrung the fabric of her dress between her two hands, seemingly nervous within his presence.
'It's not that I don't find it difficult.' She turned around and now fully faced him, but soon threw her eyes on the ground again. 'Not having a single drop of human blood in my system is my last connection to my humanity.' A frown appeared on her forehead and had she not been a vampire, little creases would've appeared there as well.
'And I don't want to lose that,' she confessed in a brittle voice and Carlisle knew a tear would've dropped if she'd still been able to cry. He was surprised with her honesty, but couldn't help worrying for her. He moved another step closer involuntarily, as if wanting to comfort her with his presence. But then she turned around again abruptly and the walls that she'd let down momentarily were pulled up once again.
'I know that you regret changing me,' she spoke in a firm, toneless voice. If his heart still beat, it would've made a jump, feeling hurt at her assumption. That was the last thing he'd wanted her to think of him.
'Rosalie, that's not – '
'No, I know you do,' she continued harshly. 'If it weren't for me, five men – six after tonight – would still be alive. And isn't that what you want? To spare every soul, no matter how tainted?' she asked him bitterly, not looking at him anymore. Instead, she fixated her anger on the white veil that was draped over the elegant chair next to her mirror.
'I – ' But he was cut off again.
'And I know you created me only to give Edward someone to occupy his mind with. I know the moment you decided you'd change me, you'd hoped for this perfect little puppet to fit right into this perfect little world you have created. And I turned out not to be. I turned out to be everything you dreaded would happen. A mess. One big mess!'
In her raging fit, she'd turned around and kept rambling all that had been bottled up for the past few weeks. It angered Carlisle to know this was what she'd been thinking about him. She continued her raging, her voice no longer flat and emotionless.
'You saw me and you saw a perfect porcelain doll, battered and beaten, cracked, lying in a pool of blood. But you knew; one bite and this doll would be functioning perfectly again. One bite, and she would be up and running. Better yet, she would be more than perfect. Not just beautiful; exquisite. Not just graceful, but angelic. But I didn't. I turned out shallow and vain and superficial. Ugly from the inside out! And you hate it. You hate me!'
That was the moment Carlisle snapped and his compassionate nature took over. On impulse, he ran over to her and reached out, trying to embrace her, touch her; anything to comfort her and make her think otherwise. She felt hated; he wanted her to feel loved. What he hadn't expected was the excessive amount of fear that suddenly flashed in her eyes, her flinching, backing away and in the meantime stumbling over the foot of the chair, falling to the ground and cowering away into the corner. She hid her face in the mass of tulle around her dress, whimpering little no's in protest.
The sounds brought him back to that dreadful April night when he'd found her, lying motionlessly in a puddle of light coming from a lantern while a late aftermath of winter had made sure she was sprinkled with little droplets of snow. He remembered how he'd lifted up her skirt to inspect her injuries, but how she'd – with what little strength she'd had left – pushed away his hand, whimpering the same protests as she did now.
Carlisle cursed underneath his breath for making such rash decisions, knowing fully well how people recovering from a traumatic experience like rape reacted to them. He'd seen countless cases back at the hospital. Thinking more clearly now, he carefully crouched in front of her but decided not to reach out anymore or touch her.
After a moment, she looked up from her dress, the fear still lingering in her crimson eyes. She scoffed, as if she thought her reaction was ridiculous and exaggerated.
'How silly of me, to think you'd hurt me.' And with that, the frown reappeared, realizing how irrational her fear had been as she was a vampire with enough strength to beat Carlisle if it came down to it.
'I'm happy to hear you know at least that much. I'm sorry, I should've known doing that would make you,' Carlisle thought for a moment to search for the right word. 'Uncomfortable,' he replied gently.
'Do you really think I hate you?' he couldn't hide the hurt that lay thick in his voice.
She shrugged and pouted her lips, which seemed so unlike the elegant, always in-check and composed Rosalie he'd come to know for the short amount of time they'd lived together under the same roof. Hunched away and almost drowning in layers and layers of white fabric, she seemed like a little girl. The little girl he'd imagined having one day, back when he was human.
He sighed, not entirely sure how to go about these issues now.
'If I'm completely honest with you, the chance of you perhaps turning out to be a perfect equal for Edward did play a part in my decision to change you. As did the hope of you turning out to be like a daughter to Esme and myself. But first and foremost, I just didn't want to let you die. So young and so much still ahead of her. How could I choose to end it then and there?'
He saw she wasn't entirely convinced yet and that was fine. He had learned the hard way that when it came to Rosalie, they'd have to take baby steps. But they were steps nonetheless and they were for once headed in the right direction. Instead of reaching out again, he first asked her.
'May I?' and only then did he hold out his hand. She sheepishly brought her own tiny hand in his and he pulled her up. Striding over to the mirror, all the innocence from a few moments ago was replaced again by her straight and graceful posture. She occupied herself with smoothing out the creases that had found their way into the train of her gown.
'I suppose I can see the irony in going after Royce in a wedding dress,' Carlisle continued, going over to the phonograph standing in the corner of her room and rummaging through the LP's she'd stacked on the commode next to it.
'Pretty theatrical, isn't it?' she smiled maliciously to herself, Carlisle noticed in the corner of his eyes. He didn't like it, but he understood. Those men hadn't felt any remorse or guilt when they'd left her for dead in the streets that night.
'I've killed his friends one by one over the past two weeks so he'd know I'm coming for him. I know where he is. He's locked himself in a tiny vault, guarded by his men 24/7,' Rosalie seemed to find it all quite amusing, but Carlisle could sense the fear she felt underneath it all. Facing the man responsible for her hurt; it must not be easy.
'You can't stop me, Carlisle.' She made sure he heard her.
'I won't, even if I don't approve of taking a life, unless in defense,' he sighed. 'But I know – I've seen where you're coming from and I think this sense of revenge you have is not misplaced.'
It turned silent while their backs were turned to each other; Rosalie still studying herself in the mirror while Carlisle continued to go through the vinyl records.
'Thank you,' she silently spoke. And he knew that was that. He wouldn't ask her about how she felt, even if he knew she was scared to death. But proud, vain Rosalie just wouldn't admit to that, now would she? So he wouldn't bring it up, unless she did so herself. Instead, he picked out one of his favourite songs and looked at the label.
Ortophonic records
VICTOR
- Someone to Watch over Me –
Composed by Ira and George Gershwin
Performed by Gertrude Lawrence
1926
'Do you know you look absolutely stunning in that dress?' he asked her and it seemed to have caught her off guard. But she smiled proudly anyway, enjoying the compliment he gave her.
'I do hope I'll get to see you in another wedding gown one day, for entirely different reasons.' He turned around now, smiling sincerely. She didn't budge, but he knew she was listening.
'I've always wanted a daughter,' he reminisced nostalgically, tracing the letters on the LP. 'Don't get me wrong, I love Edward dearly and couldn't wish for a better son than him. But you don't get to walk your boy down the aisle, now do you?' he chuckled.
Rosalie raised her eyebrow, curious as to where he was going with this.
'You don't get to give him away like you get to give away a daughter,' he turned around, placed the LP in the record player and let the song play.
'I had hoped you could be like a daughter to me.' When he looked at her, she had this face he couldn't quite pin-point. Perhaps confusion was the closest to describing it.
'Me?' Her voice uttered.
The song had begun playing by now and he moved closer to her again, making sure not to startle her. Taking the veil that had seemed to be forgotten, he fastened it on the little comb that was lying next to it.
'Yes, you,' he stated simply while he fastened the comb in her hair and letting the veil fall around her figure, hoping the gesture wouldn't frighten her again.
It didn't.
'Now,' he sighed contently as they both looked at her image in the mirror. 'May I have this dance?'
She followed his hand in the mirror with her eyes while it made its way to hers. She gently put it in his and nodded while he tugged her to the center of the room and placed his left hand on her middle, while his right held out her hand. She placed her right hand on his shoulder as they began waltzing to the song. The words seemed awfully fitting to the progress they'd both made tonight.
'How is it that you've been more kind to me in the short amount of time I've known you than my father was in my entire existence? Even if I have given you no reason to do so?' She wondered out loud.
'Your father was unkind to you?' Carlisle feared, wondering how much misery she had gone through other than that unfortunate spring night.
'Not entirely unkind, but not necessarily very caring either,' she concluded.
'I suppose it's just in my nature. It's impossible for me not to care,' he smiled, yet his smile was very soon replaced with worry when he noticed Rosalie had stopped swaying to the sound of the phonograph and looked like she was about to burst in tears. Had he done something wrong?
'Ros –?'
'I'm terrified,' she whispered as her face crumbled in distress.
He wasn't entirely sure how to react, because he'd never expected her to admit to how she really felt. At least not right now and definitely not to him of all people. But before he could decide on how to react, she'd already slumped forward, slowly dropping her head on his shoulder. She started sobbing, clutching his vest for dear life.
Hoping he wouldn't frighten her, he slowly brought his arms up and cradled her little form in them. She stiffened at the contact, but didn't shy away. That was the thing about patients recovering from PTSD; when the contact is unexpected, they freak out. However, whatever they were sharing right now had been Rosalie's choice. So she handled it far better.
'You don't have to do this, Rosalie,' he whispered while her body shook with sobs that would never truly come.
The only response she seemed to be able to muster was shaking her head violently as she buried her face into his shoulder. 'I do. I have to', she slurred.
Carlisle moved his free hand to the nape of her neck, gently running his hands through her hair, hoping the gesture would calm her down. He was happy to hear the sobbing finally diminish, until a final sniff made her move away from him, yet not releasing the fabric of his vest. Her face went from distress to embarrassed confusion.
'I'm sorry,' she said, silently releasing his vest now too. 'I can't keep my emotions in check anymore. Something I did so easily before I turned into this mess.' He grimaced at her last word, hating she thought so little of herself.
'That's no surprise. You see, everything is heightened. Your strength, your mind, beauty, vision, scent. But so did your emotions. How irrational your fear may be – because if we're blatantly honest, you have absolutely no logical reason to fear Royce – it is still there, and now amplified by one hundred.'
Her red eyes had been avoiding his, clearly ashamed by her sudden outburst of emotions. She released a breath she clearly didn't have to release anymore. Old habits die hard after all, even those insignificant little human ones. And after that, all hesitation and fear fled, making place for a dazzling smile. 'Is my hair still passable?' she asked breezily, as if nothing had passed between the two of them just mere moments ago.
'Not merely passable. It looks impeccable,' he smirked in return.
'Good,' she nodded confidently, knowing far too well her hair was impeccable. 'I want Royce's last vision to be that of an angel, only to realize I was the devil all along.'
She moved her eyes to the clock, seeing it was half past seven in the evening. Not it was Carlisle's turn to frown, not liking the anticipation that brewed around her. 'I should be going,' she said.
'Did you hunt today?' he asked, perhaps trying to prolong the inevitable death. 'It'll be easier to control yourself if you've fed.'
She nodded. 'I asked Esme to come with me today. I knew I was going to do it tonight, so I thought it best to go hunt first.'
He smiled bitterly in agreement. 'Well, off you go then. And if anything's the matter, you come here at once, okay? You come home.'
With a simple and final nod, she turned around and left graciously, leaving Carlisle to his own thoughts in the enormous and empty bedroom.