A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

I will watch through the night, hold you in my arms, give you dreams where no one will be. I will watch through the dark, till the morning comes, I will guard you with my bright wings.

I was moving stealthily through undergrowth at the base of mist shrouded mountains, searching for prey. I hated what I was doing. I did not want to be a hunter. I did not want to track something down and cause its death; but what choice did I have? I admit sometimes I did get some sort of malicious pleasure out of it, but it was always tinged with self disgust. Disgust that ate into me, formed a second skin which I couldn't shake off.

It was a sunny day, no rain. No pools of water to carry my reflection. Normally I needed to see my reflection, like a drug, but it always gave me a sense of panic. I could always see through it. Beauty is only skin deep. Like a child may long to cling to an unloving parent, as it is the only security they know. But it doesn't give them anything back. My beauty was a security blanket. I knew it was unchanging, would always be there.

Hunting was the one time I did not wish to see my reflection. It would distract me from my prey like some addictive torment, drawing me to look at it. My killing face. A terrible and terrifying beauty. Unable to turn away, I would calmly meet the gaze of my shallow reflection, but in my own self I inwardly clawed at my mind as I was helpless to stop the self-torture. My face would never lose composure, though; that would crack the reflection. Tear the security blanket.

The closest way to describe this feeling was like a maddening, burning itch that I wildly needed to scratch to ease the pain. A destructive compulsion. It provided instant relief, but the effects were more far reaching, and I tried to hide those effects from others. I wondered how much Edward saw, but I wasn't sure how much he cared. It was so hard to tell whether his disinterest was due to politeness or distaste.

Once, on my third hunting trip after being changed, I had insisted I was okay to hunt alone. When I was sure I was out of earshot of the others, I had screamed as loud as could. Probably scared all the wildlife away for miles around, but I didn't care. After all, I had forever to catch them again. Forever. What a throwaway word that has become. My scream turned into helpless hysterical laughter and I had wished that I could cry to allow for some sort of release.

But that was then. And now I was focused. I had soon learnt that screaming did nothing. I listened carefully, honing in to different sounds around me, allowing my senses to be overcome.

Suddenly I thought I heard something in the distance. My head snapped towards the sound. A human man, I was sure of it. Shouting… in pain? I was curious, I had to admit, so I ran stealthily in the direction of the sound. It was several miles away, and I reached the source of the sound in a matter of minutes.

Peering through the thinning trees into a clearing, I saw that a large, muscled man was fighting with a grizzly bear. The bear was wounded, but seemed to be winning the fight. I watched for a few more moments, before beginning to turn to leave. What business of it was mine? It wasn't my job to be a superhero, to save people. I didn't sign up for this. Violent delights have violent ends… This person had obviously gambled with his life and lost, and I did not wish to watch him die.

The stench of human and animal blood was thick. I held my breath. As I turned, the man yelled once more in pain. The sound ripped through my ears and automatically I covered them and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Leave me alone," I whispered. I didn't want this. Of course, I was the one who had come here. Another reason to be sickened at myself.

The bear gave a roar of victory and I turned to see the man lying on the ground and the bear about to give a deadly blow with its paw. Instinctively, I acted. I didn't even know why. In less than a second, I was across the clearing, and with a terrifying screech of effort I had flung the unsuspecting bear to the ground and snapped its neck.

As I stood up, my knees were shaking. Why was I shaking? I normally stalked smaller prey, that was true. The way I had just acted, that must have caused this reaction. But why had I done it?

I looked down to the man lying on the ground, noting that he was barely conscious. I should just go now, I thought. But that would make the actions I had carried out a waste. Of course, I could drink the bear's blood, but that was not why I had done it. I knew already I would not drink the man's blood, even as a scavenger. I did not want to get a taste for human blood. I did not want to make myself more inhuman.

Maybe I should just snap his neck now. That would be the kindest thing to do, to make sure he didn't die a slow death.

Why was I hesitating?

Or maybe… maybe I could hold his hand till he died, and speak comfort to him. But would I just scare him more? He would probably think he was hallucinating anyway, if he was aware of anything at this point. I bit down on my full bottom lip, considering which were the lesser evils of all the dilemmas that formed a tangle of twisted knots within my head.

I forced myself to focus on his face. He had a fairly broad face, and square jaw. I guessed he was in his early twenties, but as he lay there, defenseless, I saw some childish innocence in his features. It reminded me of something. Those black curls, those dimples in his cheeks…

Vera's son.

I felt a tug on my dormant heart. Another sharp reminder of the children I could never have, although that was never far from my mind. I took a needless gasp of air, my head feeling dizzy with the thoughts running through it all at once.

Suddenly I could feel his vulnerability, in tune with mine. I felt a pull, something I couldn't explain. I felt like…I needed this man I had only just seen. Why was I doing nothing? I couldn't let him die. For a moment I imagined him living, staying with me, us being together. I wanted it. I wanted someone.

But that couldn't happen, could it? I couldn't do that, could I! Could I? I was able help him, save his life. Maybe he could be changed and become like me. I shuddered. How could I do that to him?

He's lucky to die, I thought with a sudden wave of bitterness. Why couldn't I be dead?

For a moment I wanted that so much it scared me. I wanted to die with him now. And be with him in heaven. I shook my head, trying to shake those thoughts away. Why did I want to? He probably had a wife. He would be with her in heaven, when she died. And I couldn't go there. I knew I didn't really want to kill myself. If it were easy…maybe. But it was painful, I knew. I didn't deserve that. It wasn't my fault.

Abruptly my mind was made up. I picked his large form up with ease, threw him over my back, and started to run.

I would take him to Carlisle. Maybe he would change him. In fact, I would defy him if he didn't. He had changed me against my will, so why should he refuse to change this man?

I knew I could not change him myself. The taste of blood might begin a frenzy; I could not be sure and I didn't want to take the risk.

I'd forgotten how far I'd come. The journey back to our agreed meeting place would take about two hours. I stumbled several times. Not from his weight, but from the fact I felt like I was losing control over my body. I was losing my carefully cultured mask. The mask I let slip in front of no one was slipping now.

I started to wish I'd fed before I'd found this man. Although his pulse was weak, the strength of his deep crimson blood that matted his clothes was so strong. I felt as if flames were licking along the lining of my throat. The physical burning sensation was almost too much to bear. Even though I held my breath, it was difficult when the pain made me gasp. I could feel the venom in my mouth, and imagine the powerful flex of the jaw in my mind as I moved in for kill. Still I resisted giving in to this forceful urge and kept on running. I had to be strong for him. I didn't want him to feel my weakness.

I heard a groan; he was giving up. "No!" I half shouted, angry.

How dare he leave me when we had come so far! I came to a sudden halt and laid him on the ground.

"It's not long now," I whispered, looking into his half-closed eyes. Without thinking I bent down and softly brushed his lips with mine, hardly touching. They were so soft and pale, as the blood had leaked out of them. Barely there. I had kissed a human! His eyelids fluttered and my lips curved up into a smile.

"I am trying to help you," I said, as I moved him back onto my back. "Just hold on. Don't be scared."

"I'm not," he managed to mutter through unmoving lips. My expression froze for a moment. Had he said that? I probably wouldn't have picked it up if it wasn't for my sensitive hearing.

I finally made it to the clearing, where Esme, Edward and Carlisle were waiting, the shock already fixed on their faces as I moved towards them from the cover of the trees. Of course, they would have smelt his blood several miles off. And I'm sure Edward would have filled them in on my thoughts. My wishes.

I was glad I couldn't see my reflection now. I knew I was an outward mess and an inward wreck. I laid my human down on the ground and walked towards them. I was sure as my hand slid from his I felt his fingers attempt to grip more tightly onto mine…

"Has Edward told you?" I edgily asked Carlisle.

"Not exactly," Carlisle murmured. "He said you had a request to ask of me. But I think I understand what it is."

Oh. I sent Edward a glance of apology.

He was staring at the man's face, his brow furrowed.

What is he thinking? I wondered. Edward heard my silent question, and his eyes moved up to my face.

"He thinks you're an angel," he murmured, barely audible. "Come to rescue him…"

The sheer absurdity of that brought a sudden ache to my heart, almost a shuddering beat. I wasn't really saving him, though, was I? I was dooming him. Angel of death would be closer.

I'm selfish, I thought. Wicked and selfish. But my mouth spoke opposite words.

"Carlisle. Will you change him for me? I'm not strong enough to do it myself. I'm scared I'll…I'm scared."

Carlisle's face was full of indecision. Esme laid her hand on his shoulder. "He looks strong," she murmured. "But he won't hold on much longer if we do nothing."

I could feel Edward's eyes boring into me now. Lifting my motives, spun in dramatic turmoil, from my head.

"Carlisle," he whispered. "She carried him more than one hundred miles bleeding on her back."

I saw Carlisle's expression change as a wordless communication seemed to pass between them. He seemed to understand the full weight and implications Edward's sentence held. I wondered in a brief flash of irritation if Edward understood my motives better than I did, like a friend who remained calm in a situation and knew how to help you better than you knew how to help yourself. Friend or…brother.

Carlisle seemed to understand that I needed this, and why I couldn't do it. He began to walk with me back towards my human.

"His name is Emmett," Edward called.

Emmett. My human was called Emmett.

I knelt down and instinctively placed my hand in his, and felt a thrill as his fingers responded, tightening around mine. Of course it was probably an automatic response, but…He needed me. The only person I had known since I had been changed – or before, really – who had needed me.

From the corner of his closed eye a tiny tear drop slid down the side of his face and I wiped it away before the others could see it. I felt so…protective of him.

Carlisle knelt down beside me and looked into my eyes again, trying to decipher what he found there…although my eyes were on my angel's face. Then he turned to look at Emmett's face.

"Please…" Emmett murmured, his head twisting and turning like he was having a bad dream. What was he trying to say? Please help me…or please make the pain stop? I knew which of those I had been wishing for when Carlisle saved me.

Carlisle seemed to take this as some sort of cue. He took an even breath and then without another moment hesitation, swiftly bit Emmett's throat, wrists and ankles to begin the surge of venom through his veins.

Emmett roared in pain, writhing immediately and I couldn't quite hold back my own gasp of pain that escaped my lips, no longer because of the smell of his blood. I didn't want to cause him pain, not when he had been through so much. I wanted to break out in tearless sobs, but my jaw hardened in resolution. I had made my choice. The only question was, had it been my choice to make?

But I didn't say I was sorry. That was what Carlisle said to me whilst I was going through my transformation, and what good had it done? I wasn't so sorry, not as much as I should be.

I carried Emmett under shelter of the large tent that we took with us. We brought it because it was more comfortable when it rained, as we often stayed here for several days.

It was just me and him, for my family was giving me some privacy. And so I watched as he seemed to grow and change before my eyes, which didn't leave his face for a second, not even when shadows fell around us, bringing the sky down with them. So the first night began. I didn't even bother blinking once; I just gazed down at him from beneath my long lashes, thrilling whenever his eyes met with my large and vulnerable ones. The only thing I said to him was, "The pain will end soon, Emmett. I promise." I repeated it like a mantra.

At one point I started to sing to him, too, in a soft, low register. Some old hymn that my mother used to sing when I was little. I only remembered a few of the words now, the ones that had stuck with me. They spoke of finding hope and overcoming suffering.

Did I tell him he was becoming a vampire? No. I was too much of a coward. I remembered all too well the horror of that word during my change. How I shied away from it. I had been so angry then that they did not kill me when I'd asked them to. Yet I had doomed another to this fate. I wasn't fully ready to face that yet, so I pushed aside the word.

I didn't once let go of the hand I held in my own. With my other hand I pressed him gently down, so he was in the immovable prison of my arms. I stayed like this until his pain began to subside, nearly seventy two hours later.

His eyes slowly opened and immediately moved to my face. They were a violent shade of red, but full of wonder. His muscles were massive and his grip on my hand suddenly seemed incredibly strong. I tried to release my hand from his grasp, but sensing this he loosened his hold, only slightly. He was finally able to speak.

"Who are you?"

I gave a small half smile, my eyes still full of sadness.

"If…if you want me I'm yours."

A/N: 'Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose' comes from the 1913 poem Sacred Emily by Gertrude Stein. It means 'things are what they are.' A variation of this I used for the title.

In this case I interpret the phrase as showing how stubborn Rosalie is. She is who she is. She has a lot of tenacity but this is not necessarily negative. She is fierce in standing by what she believes in, and perseverant with she thinks is right; she'll always keep on trying. It also refers to the situation. Things are what they are and she has to live with that and the difficult choice she had to make. Was it fate?

I know the quote form Romeo and Juliet, 'violent delights have violent ends' is about love, but I still thought that it fitted.

The song lyrics under the heading are from the song 'All love can be', from the film 'A Beautiful Mind'. It is sung by Charlotte Church.

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