Inamorata
Summary: After the circumstances leading up to Rosalie's transformation, placing her trust in another man is the last thing she ever wants to do. But after discovering Emmett in the forest and asking Carlisle to bring him into their family, how will she be able to move on from her past in order to be with the person she's fallen in love with?
Rating: M
POV: Rosalie
Couples: R/Em
Disclaimer:I do not have any affiliation to Twilight or Stephanie Meyers
Watching someone transition from the living to the undead is significantly different from enduring it yourself. Being outside of the experience is a thousand times worse. It was hard to fathom that such a strong, well-built man could appear so vulnerable and helpless. I remained plastered against the far wall of Carlisle's study while he tended to our newest family member; I hadn't moved in almost three days. I knew instinctually that we were close to the end, his heart thrumming violently inside of his chest, the erratic rhythm humming in my ears. I didn't want to be standing there, watching this man suffer but I was the one who orchestrated his fate so I felt that I should be there to see him through it, even if it were only as a ghost in the corner.
"We're almost there," Esme's liquid honey voice broke through the vicious trilling of his dying body. Her small hands squeezed my shoulders and she brushed a stray lock of hair from my eyes. I wished then that I had the words to tell her how deeply I cared for her and Carlisle and even Edward, but nothing would come. I settled for an almost imperceptible nod instead and I caught her somber smile out of the corner of my eye as she glided towards Carlisle.
It had been quite awhile since I had any decent measure of time without making use of a clock, but as the venom hurdled him towards immortality, I suddenly felt like I had been standing in the same spot for decades, not days. His body began seizing on the table, his wrists straining against the vampire-strength straps Carlisle had fashioned for just this occasion, his face so warped and contorted in delirious pain that I wished for a moment that I still had the ability to throw up. I willed myself to run, to scream, to do anything besides remain stagnant, but my eyes slipping shut was the only reprieve my body allowed. The man began to roar, the deep-chested sound reverberating off the walls and shaking the house on its frame. I heard Edward barreling towards the house and into the office, surely picking up on Carlisle and Esme's desperate attempts to restrain a man twice the size and strength of any newborn vampire they'd ever met.
And just as suddenly as the commotion had begun, it stopped. A low groan came from the makeshift bed and I heard Carlisle release the straps.
"What's happened to me?" His voice was rich and thick, much smoother than Edward's and throatier than Carlisle's. I had never heard a voice like his before, and I was surprised by the warmth that just a few words could settle into my body.
I was glad that Edward was focused on our newest charge, helping our "father" to explain this man's fate. Had he caught on to what I was thinking, I would have been mortified. Since my death, I had not thought of any man with anything more than contempt; it had even been an immense struggle for me to not treat Carlisle with distain. But when I saw this dying man with a face so eerily similar to Vera's little boy, I found myself desperate to change his circumstances, even if I couldn't be the one directly responsible for it. I just hoped that he wouldn't resent me for the rest of his eternity.
I heard the cot shift and I opened my eyes in time to see him sit up, his naked chest broad and solid, each well-defined muscle flexing as he moved. Something low in my stomach coiled and I pushed back into the wall, taken aback by the assault such a simple thing could have on my body.
"Do you have any recollection of what's happened to you? Of who you are?" Carlisle asked, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers tented under his chin.
"I…My name is Emmett McCarty, I know that much. I'm twenty…I think," he trailed off, his brow furrowing.
"Twenty will do," Edward interjected quietly, but the man – Emmett – ignored him.
"Why can't I remember?" He asked lowly. To see him so distraught pulled at my chest, but I made no move to do anything to comfort him.
"It is a natural reaction to the venom," Carlisle explained calmly. "Sometimes it's better not to try and remember too much; it can do more harm than good." I knew the last comment was directed towards me, but I studiously ignored him, choosing instead to focus on a painting that hung above his desk.
"I remember being attacked and then I remember feeling like I was flying, thinking that this is what it felt like to go to wherever people go when they die. And I remember the most gorgeous face I've ever seen. I thought she was an angel…" He looked up suddenly and his eyes went wide with astonishment.
"But…how…she's so…I'm so…how?" He blubbered, clearly trying to put together how I managed to carry him over 100 miles without killing myself.
"She is one of us, too," Esme spoke then, resting her hand on his forearm. "Emmett, this is Rosalie," she gestured towards me, holding out her hand for me to come towards them. I moved silently across the room, panic rising with each step but I forced my face to remain stoic and unchanging, refusing to betray the turmoil that was boiling inside of my head. Edward cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, and for that I was grateful.
I dropped my left hand into Esme's for a brief moment and extended my right towards Emmet who even sitting was almost at eye level with me. "It's a pleasure to…" I cut off by two enormous arms wrapping tightly around my body, effectively silencing me.
"Thank you!" He practically cried into my shoulder, cradling me against him. I stood stoic and in shock for a short moment before wrenching myself away from him and fleeing the room without so much as a sound.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
If I still had functional tear ducts, they would've been completely dry by the time Edward found me. I had no real explanation for my reaction, nor did I want to try and explain myself to the likes of Edward. As I sensed him nearing, I began reciting multiplication tables in my head to keep him out of my thoughts.
"Stop it, Rose," His voice was quiet but hard. He was standing about a yard away from me, leaning casually against a large oak tree, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.
"Go to hell," I growled, my fists bawling at my sides as I spun away from him, ready to sprint further into the forest.
"There's really no point in that, Rose. I'm faster than you; I'll catch you in no time," he noted indifferently. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck. "This is what you wanted. You were the one who brought him to Carlisle; you were the one who begged for him to be turned. And now that he's one of us, he's your responsibility." He paused, pushing away from the tree and stepping in front of me, mere inches from my face. "What are you so afraid of?" He held my gaze unwaveringly. He was only four inches taller than me, but I felt positively diminutive as he stared me down. It was one of the many things that unsettled me about Edward. I loved him as my family member, but I was still the most uncomfortable around him which made the situation all the more difficult.
I squared my shoulders and stepped forward into him, forcing him to move backwards a pace. "I'm not afraid of a damned thing, Edward," I snarled, my chest heaving.
"You can try to keep me from your head all you want, Rosalie, but it doesn't take a mind reader to know that bolting from a room is not a normal response when someone is comfortable in a given situation," he commented, arching an eyebrow knowingly.
I was cornered. I knew it as well as he did. But that didn't change the fact that I still didn't understand why I had reacted the way I did. Was it because he was a man? Was it because I was still wholly uncomfortable with physical affection? Was it because he was happy to bear this curse? Was it a combination of all of those? Was it any of those at all?
Edward's face softened then and I realized that he had followed my train of thought seamlessly. I sighed.
"Rose, it is okay to be unsure about all of this, but if he's going to safely transition into our world and not ruin everything we've worked so hard for, we all need to demonstrate solidarity. And I stand by what I said earlier; you wanted him, so he's your responsibility. This doesn't mean that we all won't be here to help you teach him to control his bloodlust and live according to our lifestyle, but you have got to play the major role."
I had a sudden flashback to when I was 8 years old and my father had bought me a kitten – something I had been begging for since I could talk. He had given me a very similar speech and while the situation I was currently in called for a somber tone, I couldn't help but let out a short, staccato laugh. The corners of Edward's mouth twitched as he caught the memory, but he quickly became impassive again, his hands returning to his pockets as he stepped away from me, facing back in the direction of our house.
"Is Carlisle mad?" I asked then, realizing how inappropriate my reaction had been.
"No. He understands you, Rosalie. Far better than I do, even with my weighty advantage," he replied offhandedly, continuing to move away from me.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. It was an unnecessary human habit, but one I retained nonetheless.
"Are you coming?" He called, already a good 200 feet away from me.
Yes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
