Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, they belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.
A/N: Written for SpaghettiTacos who suggested the pairing when I mentioned that I've written two other femslash stories. Please forgive any mistakes that you may find with regard to grammar, etc. Not because I'm lazy, but because I'm a perfectionist (reformed) who is trying not to obsess over every tittle.
Switches between p.o.v. - Leah/Rosalie. Switches are separated by a line
Warning: Femslash that does get a bit graphic toward the middle and end. Angst and fluff and syrupy at times.
She was supposed to imprint on someone else. Leah knew that with every sinew of her being – both human and wolf, and yet it was the wolf that pined. So, she avoided shifting, stayed at La Push, and closed herself off to the rest of her pack.
The others knew that she had 'imprinted', but they didn't know who she'd imprinted on. They assumed it was someone good and strong and male. Teased her about imprinting on Sam and Emily's newborn boy, like Jacob had imprinted on Renesemee.
If anything, who she had imprinted on was much worse. If she'd imprinted on little Elijah, there might be some hope for her. It would have been awkward as hell, but at least it wouldn't have been shameful and revolting. She could have become little Eli's protector as he grew up, her own growth retarded to match his, and eventually, when he was old enough, they'd marry and start a family of their own.
Her transformation from ordinary human to shape-shifting protector of the people of La Push and Forks had been the worst thing to happen to her. It was even worse than losing Sam Uley's affections had been. Heartache vs. being a freak of nature, even amongst her own people, had really taken a toll on her. Her life hadn't been easy to begin with, but now it was something straight out of a nightmare. A nightmare she'd never be able to wake up from.
Rosalie traced a thin, silver scar that ran along the outer edge of Emmett's left hip with a manicured nail. It was a scar which Bella had left on him when they'd been 'sparring' for 'fun'. He'd laughed about it. Rosalie hadn't.
Vampires weren't supposed to scar. They weren't supposed to get hurt. Period.
They weren't human, and any semblance they had to humans, other than in their looks, was jarring to her. She'd been robbed of her humanity by a cruel, heartless man, and had been gifted with immortality by Carlisle, who, even though he had no beating heart, was far more humane than the man Rosalie had hoped to marry. She'd killed him, and his friends, for what they had done to her. She didn't regret taking their lives. Not even now.
"Hey," Emmett's voice broke through her dark thoughts. He caught her hand up in his own and kissed her knuckles. "Penny for your thoughts…"
Rosalie regarded her lover impartially. She loved him. Or, had loved him, once upon a time. But now, even with his lips caressing her skin, she wasn't so certain of their love any more.
She'd moved heaven and earth to be with him, carrying him over a hundred miles to Carlisle when he'd been attacked by a bear. He would have died, but she had refused to let that happen. Circle of life and death be damned.
She'd been lonely at the time. Had missed her human life, the promise of it, and what she'd wanted out of it – love, a child. Simple things, really. What every young girl dreamed of. It had been stolen from her, in what had been a matter of minutes, but had felt like forever, and she'd never really gotten over it.
Emmett had reminded her of her friend's, Vera's, baby boy. Looking at him now, with his skin a perfect alabaster, dimples fetchingly etched into his cheeks, and his dark, curly hair, she could no longer see her friend's baby boy. That was a good thing. Or, it should be. They were lovers, after all. One should not liken her lover to a child, Dr. Freud's theories aside.
Smiling, she declined to answer his question, and kissed him instead. Straddling him, she poured every last remnant of herself into the kiss, hoping that she was wrong about what her unbeating heart was trying to tell her – had been trying to tell her for a couple of months now.
Had they needed to breathe, she'd have stolen his breath – much as she had stolen his death from him so many years ago. But, they didn't need to breathe. Didn't need to think. Didn't need to feel.
They could kiss for an eternity, maybe longer, but Rosalie broke off the kiss not long after she'd started it. She frowned, and, if she could have cried, she would have. She didn't love Emmett, much as she'd feared, and judging by the look on the vampire's face, he realized it too.
He smiled, brushed a wisp of hair out of the corner of her mouth, and tucked it behind her ear. The smile didn't reach his eyes. It hurt her when he hurt, but she couldn't make herself love him. Maybe she'd never really loved him in the first place, but had been clinging to a past she'd been unable to let go of until now.
"It's okay, Rose," he whispered.
It wasn't okay, though. Wouldn't be okay for a long time to come. Rosalie knew that, but she returned Emmett's smile, and then got up and dressed.
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