This will be a very short storyline- with three or four chapters, max. I'd always enjoy writing Rosalie's POV, and this little story is my chef d'oeuvre, so far. Please R & R!

(Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Dang.)

The Call

Click, click. I hum to myself as I tinker underneath the massive sleek, black hulking Mercedes- Carlisle's ride. I love this one. Though I prefer the outrageous, daringly classy types, mostly convertibles, there's just something about this one that makes me smile with wonder, every time. Maybe it's the grandness, maybe the absolute power that radiates from every inch of airbrushed Onyx Black metal. Maybe it's just me, crazy as I am about cars. But I just adore this one.

It often amuses Carlisle when I gush about his cars. Well, obviously. It's instinctively hard to connect a pretty face like mine(an understatement, of course) to my mechanical frame of mind. When Emmett and I aren't, well, doing other things, we talk cars. Which is what I love about us. When you go past all the passion, all the physical, and often whimsical aspects of our relationship, we can still have a decent clever conversation and share our likes and dislikes. As human as that sounds, I love it. Every moment spent with him, I feel complete, knowing I have found my one true Other Self, my Soulmate.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, a delicate, precise movement to prevent my mascara from smudging and adding to the grease, when it happens. My phone rings. I huff a sigh of frustration. Just as things were getting interesting.

Reluctantly, I slide myself out from underneath the car, and get to my feet in a quick, fluid motion(I love how graceful I can be), picking up the phone in the same instant. I glance at the caller id, and freeze. The last person in the world who would ever call me.

I remember the last time I spoke on the phone to my brother. I cringe, and shiver involuntarily, knowing that that call had led him to suicide. He's on his fricking honeymoon. What does he need me for?

All this has passed through my mind in the span of a half-second. Bracing myself, I hit send.

"Hello?" I say uncertainly, choosing at the last moment to keep away the sarcasm from my voice.

I am shocked by the whisper that answers me. "Rosalie? It's Bella. Please. You have to help me."

Bella? I have barely had any interaction with my new sister-in-law for her to call me like this. She is way more close to Alice- even Carlisle, or Esme. So why is she calling me?

Considering the stress in Bella's voice, I assume the worst immediately. Something's happened to Edward. But what? And how is this frail human unharmed?

"What's wrong?" I ask quickly, then slow down my words a little. Any faster, and she wouldn't understand. "Is Edward alright?"

"Edward's fine, nothing of that sort." Bella replies quickly, then hesitates. Nothing of that sort? I wait for a moment, and hear just her quick, stressed-out breathing.

"Then what's wrong, Bella? Are you- did you guys fight or something?"

"No… I… I-"

To my horror, I realize Bella has started to cry. I feel real concern in me, which surprises and elates me. I do care for my sister-in-law. She's family now.

In the gentlest voice I can muster, I ask her, "Bella? Tell me everything. What happened?"

"Th-there isn't enough time to explain," she sobs, but I can see she's rushing through her words. "Rosalie, I- I'm pregnant."

Still. Silent. The world has stopped still around me. I can no longer hear Bella's sobs. Like a candle-flame in a storm, my concern for her is whiffed away. And fire rages through me- a hundred times worse than the fires that brought me to this life- the fires of jealousy. Why? Why? Why this insignificant, little, plain human girl? How can she have everything? The love of her life, friends, family, a child… To still be human and still have your angel for yourself. Why her, and not me? Pain- deep, wronged pain pulses through me. So unfair. So unfair…

Almost mechanically, I say, "Oh." My voice is flat, emotionless. Totally in contrast to the fires raging in my heart. I still don't know how I'm not screaming.

"Oh, Rosalie, you have to help…" Her voice trails away. Help? Help? What sort of help would she need now? From me? She so wonderfully blessed, from me, so damnably cursed?

"Help?" I say out loud, my voice cracking. Hell's fires, my voice cracked. For the first time in six decades.

"He- he- Edward. Edward doesn't want him! He talked to Carlisle…"

It takes an actual, long second for it to hit me. A human brain's thinking process time. When it does hit me, I draw in a sharp hiss of shock.

"Don't let them kill him, Rose, help me!"

Bella's cry seems to awaken a new being in me. The fires within me swell to an even larger magnitude, but they are no longer fires of envy. All my concern for Bella returns tenfold. I must protect her. I must protect the child. I must help her.

"How dare he!" I roar. I hear Bella's gasp of surprise, a sudden silent moment, and then her meek, soft voice, "Edward's here."

"Put him on." I snarl.

"It's Rosalie," I hear her say, rather unnecessarily. I know he would've already heard me.

"Rose?" His familiar voice somehow infuriates me more.

"You fiend!" I hiss.

"We're coming home." I don't understand the flat, resigned tone in his voice. But I do recognise it. The last time I spoke to Edward on the phone, he had the same tone…

I don't give a damn.

"I'll be waiting." I murmur, all of my vampire venom oozing metaphorically into my words.

I hear him sigh. "Please. Don't make this harder."

I ignore the plead. "I'll be waiting," I repeat.

"Alright." His voice hardens. I know he hates this tone of my voice. Oh well, the feeling's mutual. "We're leaving now. But I'll have you know I'm not changing my mind."

I can hear Bella's stifled sob through the phone. A string of profanities rise up in my throat. I choose the next-best, simplest answer.

I curl back my lips over my fangs and let loose a wild, ferocious snarl rip from my throat.

"Same to you," he mutters, and ends the call.