"The Me and Mr McCarty" One-Shot Contest
Title: Walk On
Summary: Anyone Emmett's ever loved has died tragically. Convinced he's cursed, he has decided to end it all when an angel comes to his rescue. Can she truly save him? Or is it too late?
Pen name: hexumhunnie311
Primary Players: Emmett/Rosalie
Rating: M
Word Count: 5848
Beta'd by: allysue08
Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.
To see other entries in the "Me and Mr McCarty" contest, please visit the C2: http:/www . fanfiction . net/community/Me_Mr_McCarty_Contest_Entries/80509/
and/or the official List of Entries Page on the contest blog. http:/meandmrmccarty . blogspot .
A/N: This is the most depressing thing I've ever written, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I took some liberties with standard hospital procedures in one part, don't hold it against me if they're way off. Also, I just want to say that, without spoiling anything...I'm well acquainted with the subject matter in this story and I know that real life rarely turns out this way. Let's just say, in my personal situation, I wish it had.
Warning: This story deals with subject matter that some may find upsetting or offensive, including suicide and major character death. My sincerest apologies in advance if you are part of that group.
"And I know it aches, and your heart it breaks. You can only take so much. Walk on."
- U2, Walk On
A dark-haired man sits on the edge of a bathtub. His skin is pale, his eyes are bloodshot. He looks like someone who has seen a thing or two...and doesn't want to see any more.
On the edge next to him sit three small bottles. The man is staring at them, almost angrily, as if they've wronged him in some way.
He picks up the first bottle and pops it open effortlessly as a single tear rolls down his pale cheek.
The first for you, Edward, he thinks.
He grabs the large glass of water by his feet, takes a deep breath, and begins swallowing the contents of the bottle handfuls at a time. He chokes on some and they come back out of his mouth, flying across the room and out of sight, but he doesn't care. There will still be plenty.
The first bottle is soon empty, so he reaches for the second. He knows he has to do this quickly, or there won't be enough time...
The second for you, Bella, he thinks.
They're becoming harder to swallow now, and he has to will himself not to vomit. That would completely defeat the purpose.
His vision is getting blurry, but he finishes the second bottle and reaches for the third. He feels his limbs getting heavier and heavier. His dark curls are sticking to his forehead, soaked with sweat.
The last for you, Alice, and you, Jasper, he thinks.
He struggles to pop the lid off of the bottle and ends up sliding off of the tub's edge and landing hard onto the floor with the effort. He is crying with frustration over the child-proof cap, desperate to get to the release inside.
I have to do this for them. Just this last one...please...
Finally, success. The lid comes off and the contents of the bottle scatter everywhere. His vision is darkening; he just needs a few of them.
And there's no one left to miss me when I'm gone.
He manages to get two pills into his mouth when he suddenly hears a voice. It sounds far away, like he's under water and they're above. It's a sweet, echoing voice, calling his name. He feels a slight smile form on his face at the sound.
And suddenly, there she is. Through his blurry, half-closed eyes he can only see a glowing, graceful figure that seems to light up from within. He feels warm, welcoming hands on his arms and then on his face.
An angel, he thinks. An angel welcoming me.
Her glow fades. It's replaced by a darkness blacker than the night.
24 hours earlier...
Emmett McCarty walks slowly down the busy sidewalk, passing mobs of people who are hurrying to work. He carries a backpack and a thermos, and his eyes never break their stare at the ground. Several angry people slam into him in their haste, knocking him off balance and effectually out of their way. But not even the bustle of the early morning commute could deter him from his daily after-work routine.
Every morning at six am, once Emmett finishes his night-shift as a security guard at the local prison, he walks to the diner on the corner. There, he orders scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice. He always has a cup or two of coffee with his meal. Then he slowly makes his way across the street to his apartment building and goes to bed. He wakes up at four in the afternoon, has something to eat, watches some television, and at ten pm he leaves to go back to the prison.
Emmett has done this exact thing seven days a week, 52 weeks a year, for the last four years. He never takes a day off, even if he's sick. He works on every holiday, every birthday, every weekend.
His boss simply thinks he's a wonderful, dedicated employee, if a bit of a loner. In reality, Emmett McCarty simultaneously hates being alone and hates being around people. The prison is therefore the perfect place for him. He's alone on the nightshift – it being such a small county jail and Emmett being rather large in stature, there's never been a concern for his safety – and at the same time surrounded by people that he never has to interact with.
The bell above the door clangs loudly as he enters the diner. The staff know his face, his table, and his order by heart at this point, so he doesn't wait to be seated and takes up residence at the booth next to the window in the back corner. Within seconds a cup of coffee – black, two sugars – is placed in front of him. The waitress leaves again without a word and heads back to the kitchen to wait for Emmett's meal.
The waitress has waited on Emmett every morning for the last three years, though she's never learned his name. After only a week on the job she'd had his order down pat, and he hasn't spoken to her since she memorized it besides a passing 'thanks' or 'see you tomorrow'. She doubts that he even knows what she looks like.
But Rosalie has memorized every curve of his arms, every freckle on his face, every curl on his head. She knows he puts his finger in his coffee to make sure it's not too hot to drink. She knows he spoons his eggs onto his toast and lays his bacon on his eggs, then douses them in ketchup. She knows that on days he'd like a second serving of coffee, he unconsciously slides his finger around the rim of the cup. On those days, she'll sneak over and pour him another without adding it to his bill, even though free refills aren't allowed.
On more than one occasion, Rosalie has almost worked up the nerve to speak to him, ask him how his day is going, if he's free for dinner any time. But something about the haunted, almost lifeless look in his eyes always stops her. She never has the heart to disturb his solitude.
And so she admires him, cares for him, maybe even loves him...all from afar.
As she brings the plate of food to his table, she can't help but notice that he somehow seems worse today. His skin is paler, his eyes are glazed, and his knuckles are perpetually clenched and white. She sets the plate down and can't stop herself from lingering for a few moments, wanting so desperately to reach out and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, ask him to talk to her, hug him and make his pain go away. But she remains still and silent and Emmett, noticing her there, mumbles a 'thank you' as a dismissal.
As soon as she's gone Emmett begins arranging his food the way he likes it – eggs on toast, bacon on eggs, ketchup on top – and tests the temperature of his coffee. Then he sits still and tries to control his emotions.
Today is always the hardest day...
Try as he might, Emmett can't stave off the images flashing before him of this day exactly seventeen years ago...
"Emmett! Let's jump off this one!" Edward calls. He is standing on a high tree branch hanging over the river. Emmett is baffled as to how he managed to get up there. Of the two nine-year-olds, Edward is definitely the weakest.
The boys, best friends since age five, have been swimming all day in the river running behind Edward's house, alternating between breath-holding contests and jumping off tree branches and boulders. But this particular branch was higher than the others...
"Edward, don't, it's too high! Let's jump off the rocks again!" Emmett yells. But Edward has always been stubborn and out to prove that he is just as fast and strong as his friend. He ignores Emmett and jumps from the branch.
He disappears under the water and Emmett waits impatiently for him to resurface. When he doesn't, Emmett begins calling his name, hoping he came up somewhere out of sight and is playing a joke. When there is no answer, Emmett panics. He dives under the surface where Edward went in and frantically searches for him. He realizes that this area is much shallower that the other places they've been jumping in. But the water is too murky to see and the current keeps pulling him farther and farther from the place he last saw his friend...
Later that day, Edward's body is found downstream.
He is the first.
Emmett slams his fists down onto the table, startling the customers and staff around him and causing his cup of coffee to crash to the floor. Instantly, Rosalie is there with a damp towel to clean up the mess. They both kneel down, Emmett picking up the broken remains of the cup and Rosalie mopping up the coffee.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Emmett whispers, his voice breaking.
Rosalie, though fairly certain he's not actually addressing her, places her hand on his to stop him. He stiffens but she doesn't move and finally, after three long years, he looks at her. She smiles.
"I'll clean it up, it's ok. You enjoy your meal, I'll bring you another coffee," she says quickly, overwhelmed with the long-awaited interaction.
He looks at her for a long time, and she starts feeling uncomfortable under his gaze and turns away to continue cleaning. The broken stare seems to wake him from his trance, and he shakes his head violently and stands up.
"I just, I'm sorry, I need to go now. I'll just leave the money here. I'm sorry."
He reaches into his back pocket and removes his wallet, but his hands are trembling so badly that he drops it to the floor beside Rosalie. It flops open to reveal a few credit cards and his driver's license. She can't help her curiosity, and quickly reads his information before reaching to hand it back to him. She can barely contain her shock when she realizes that he lives in the same building as her, just one floor above. And at last, at last...she knows his name.
Emmett. McCarty. Emmett McCarty. Emmett McCarty.
She repeats the name in her head so many times that she doesn't realize Emmett has retrieved his wallet from the floor and is quickly walking toward the exit. She can think of nothing to say to stop him and simply watches him leave from her spot on the floor.
Tomorrow, she decides, tomorrow I will talk to him.
The door to Emmett's apartment slams so hard a picture frame crashes to the floor and shatters. Emmett ignores it. He storms into his bedroom and drops into bed, fighting tears but losing miserably.
It's always this way. Once the images start, they won't stop. Over the years, the only way Emmett has been able to control them is with sleeping medication. Only when he's knocked out cold in a dreamless sleep does he find any respite.
He stumbles into the bathroom, blinded by tears, and grabs the small bottle on the counter.
Bella, falling. Blood everywhere. Sickening cracks. Awkwardly bent limbs...
He manages to get the lid off and dry swallows two of the pills, then goes back to his bed and waits for sweet relief.
More screaming. More blood. More dead, lifeless eyes. More friends in their graves. Emmett, alone.
Finally, Emmett sleeps.
Beep...beep...beep...beep...
The alarm clock hits the wall and breaks, but Emmett is unfazed. It's not like he'll need it anymore anyway.
He begins his daily routine – showering, eating, lounging. But today, he lingers in the shower longer than usual, struggling to find the motivation to make it through one more night of work. Today, he not only washes up his plates after eating, but gives the entire kitchen a good scrub as well. After, he decides to clean the entire apartment to make it presentable. He'll be having visitors soon.
By the time he's done, it's time to change into his work clothes and get ready to go. Then he grabs his backpack, fills his thermos with hot coffee, and leaves for his very last night shift.
On the way, his mind wanders. But this time, it's not the usual depressed thought or painful memory. He briefly remembers the bright smile on the beautiful face of the waitress at the diner, and then suddenly the violent images that Emmett managed to suppress this morning have returned. Now, there's no escape as they flash in his mind's eye.
Emmett hasn't been in the water since he lost Edward. To Bella, this is unacceptable.
When they met at the age of eleven, they were friends immediately. Emmett, who had become quiet and reserved since the death of his friend, was enlivened by Bella's outgoing, adventuresome, and sweet nature. The two became inseparable and now, at sixteen, Emmett had started looking at her in a new way.
On this particular summer day, Emmett and Bella decide to go out to La Push and head for the beach. Bella runs into the surf immediately, but Emmett sits on the beach and watches her. She's grown into such a beautiful girl and he can't take his eyes off of her. When she finally makes her way back to him, she's so happy and lovely that as soon as she sits on the towel next to him, Emmett leans over and kisses her.
She's completely taken aback, but her shocked faced soon morphs once again into smiles and, Emmett is happy to see, blushes. She leaps up from the towel and pulls him up with her. Then, they're running for the cliffs that they've often seen the boys from the reservation diving off of. Though he's never had an interest in trying it himself, Bella has always wanted to.
Emmett, completely unaware of what she has in mind, is soaring with his and Bella's first kiss. One that he hopes will be the first of many...
Suddenly, Bella is on the edge of the cliff, her smiling face looking at Emmett with intense adoration and that mischievous glint in her eyes that he's come to love. He doesn't process what she's about to do until it's too late.
"Bella, don't!"
She's gone.
What the boys from the reservation knew that Bella did not was the exact place to aim for and how far out you needed to jump to avoid a cluster of jagged rocks in the water below...
She is the second.
Emmett forces himself to shut out the last image he has of Bella – bloodied and broken on the rocks below – and realizes he's come to a stop outside the prison without remembering how he got there. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and begins his last shift.
For some reason when he's at the prison, he doesn't dwell on the events that ruined his life. He does his paperwork, keeps an eye on the security monitors, and watches some late-night TV on the 19-inch sitting on his desk.
But when he's clocked out for the night and steps outside into the cool morning air for the last time, he's bombarded with the last image, the most recent, the pain more raw than the others.
As Emmett tries to make himself comfortable with only his sleeping bag and tent between him and the hard ground, he hears Alice and Jasper giggling only yards away and groans. The last thing he needs is to hear his friends boning while he's stuck in the wilderness with them.
He met Alice and Jasper at orientation for their freshman year of college. Now, three years later, the pair had convinced Emmett that spending Jasper's 21st birthday camping in the mountains would be the time of their lives.
Emmett, who didn't speak up much nowadays, went along with it as long as they promised the camp site would be far from water and cliffs. They'd kept their promise, but so far the trip wasn't very much fun for him. He'd been eaten alive by mosquitoes, twisted his ankle on a protruding tree root, and was starving because Alice hadn't packed nearly enough food for the three of them. The added bonus of hearing his friends having sex would be the icing on top of the shit-filled cake.
The growling starts next, and he nearly vomits.
"Guys, seriously, are you growling at each other? I'm like two feet away!" Emmett yells angrily. Only then does he notice the giggling has stopped, and the growling is much closer to his tent than it had been a few seconds ago.
"Em, what are you talking about? We're not growling..." he hears Jasper call at the same time he hears the zipper of their tent opening.
The next few moments happen so fast that Emmett only remembers leaving his own tent, and then a blur of screams and pain.
When he wakes up in the hospital a few days later, he learns that he and his friends were attacked by a large, territorial male bear. He is told that odds are the bear had been attracted by the smells of their food. The doctors assure him that while he was injured severely, he should make a full recovery.
Alice and Jasper were not so lucky.
They are the last.
Emmett stumbles back into his apartment, gasping for air, hating himself. These last memories only serve to bolster his decision. There will be no breakfast at the diner today, no sleep. There will only be the end. His end. Finally.
He considers writing a note, only to realize there is no one who will read it, no one to say good-bye to, no one to apologize to except those who have gone before him. He's spent the years since Alice and Jasper's deaths making sure of that.
And so, the dark haired man sits on the edge of his bathtub next to three small bottles...
Rosalie taps her foot, a nervous habit she's never been able to break even though it generally annoys the crap out of anyone in her vicinity. She simultaneously feels silly and worried.
He's always here at 6:15 every morning. It's 6:45. He's never late. Something must be wrong, says the worried side.
He's a grown man with his own life. Maybe he had to go straight home. Maybe he had to work overtime. Maybe he's just not hungry. There are a million explanations, says the side that feels silly.
And yet she can't shake the nagging feeling of anxiety, the overwhelming feeling of dread pulsing through her. She's so preoccupied that she drops three plates in a row, gives an elderly couple mugs of milk instead of coffee, and forgets so many orders that eventually her boss tells her to go home and relax.
But she can't relax, and even though she believes Emmett will think she's insane and probably call the cops on her for stalking him, she needs to know that he's alright. She grabs her purse, clocks out, and heads to her – and Emmett's – apartment building. Instead of walking up the two flights to her own floor, she walks up the three to his. She finds his door, takes a deep breath, and knocks loudly.
No answer. She knocks again.
Nothing.
Feeling more and more like a creeper by the second, she puts her ear up to the door.
Silence.
But just as she's about to walk away feeling like an idiot, she hears a thud followed by the sound of something scattering onto a hard floor. Not sure whether to be concerned at the noise or insulted at being ignored, she tries the knob. It's unlocked. She walks inside and hears a strange noise coming from down the hallway in front of her. It's a mixture of choking and sobbing. Alarmed, she calls Emmett's name as she runs down the hall, pulling her phone from her pocket at the same time.
The door is open. Emmett is on the floor, his eyes half closed, his face pale. He is surrounded by empty bottles and pills. Rosalie grabs his arms and his face and tries to rouse him, but he's cold and clammy and she fears the worst.
"Emmett! Emmett! Can you hear me? Emmett, please hear me...please..." she sobs as she dials 911. She's barely coherent enough to respond to the dispatcher's questions, but manages to hear him ask if she can find a pulse on Emmett.
She frantically prods his neck, searching for his pulse, cursing herself for not paying closer attention in high school health class when they were taught how to do this properly. She sobs harder when, by some miracle, she feels a soft thump thump...thump thump...thump thump...
But even as she feels it, it begins to slow and fade...
Beep...beep...beep...beep...
Emmett tries to reach for his alarm clock to shut the damn thing off, but his arms feel like lead. In fact, his whole body feels much heavier, even his eyelids. He struggles to pry them open. This doesn't feel like an ordinary morning.
He finally manages to open his eyes just enough to be practically blinded by harsh lights and blurred colours. He also begins to make out sounds beyond the annoying, constant beep of his alarm clock. Murmurs, hushed whispers, and a strange tapping noise.
Why are there people in my room? And why won't one of them shut off that damn alarm? he wonders silently.
He tries to swallow, but his throat feels raw and painful. He groans and the tapping suddenly stops.
"Emmett?"
Who the fuck is in my room?
"Emmett, can you hear me?"
He finally manages to open his eyes fully and allows them to adjust to the brightness before scanning his surroundings. He's not in his room. He's not even in his apartment. And the constant beeping is not from his alarm clock.
He's in the hospital, hooked up to tubes and wires, and there is a blonde woman standing next to his bed. She looks so familiar...
"Emmett, thank Christ, you're awake. How do you feel? Would you like some water? Oh, I should call the nurse. You'll be ok by yourself for like, a second? I guess I can just press this button instead, but I think that's for real emergencies – "
"Who are you?" Emmett croaks out, interrupting Rosalie's ramblings.
Her face falls, and Emmett suddenly recognizes her and feels guilty for not placing her sooner.
"I'm Rosalie – " she begins.
"From the diner. You give me breakfast...every day. I'm sorry. "
His throat is on fire now and he wonders if she remembers that glass of water she offered him. He gets his answer when she rushes from the room to get the nurse. When she returns, glass of water with a straw in hand, an awkward silence ensues while they wait.
"Rosalie?" he rasps out after taking a large sip of water through the straw.
Her eyes quickly brighten and she looks at him eagerly.
"Why am I here?"
And just as quickly, her face morphs into stunned horror. Emmett is frustrated that not only can he not remember what happened, but that he also keeps making this beautiful woman frown.
Don't get attached, Emmett. Get the information you need and send her packing. That's the only way...
It is this thought that brings it all back to him; his way of life, his seclusion, his curse, and the decision that would have ended it all.
That should have ended it all.
"No! No, no, NO!" Emmett yells, smashing his heavy fists into the mattress. Rosalie takes a few steps back and puts her hands over her mouth. The nurses rush in and struggle to grab Emmett's arms to hold him down. He is blind with rage over the knowledge that he failed.
Rosalie stands horrified against the far wall and watches while Emmett is sedated. He drifts off quietly and the nurses usher her out of the room. She sneaks back in a few minutes later when they're not looking.
She sits next to Emmett's bed again, just watching him. He looks so peaceful while he sleeps, and she aches with the knowledge that it's only temporary.
The next day, after calling out of work and returning to Emmett's room, Rosalie sees that he's awake and propped up in bed. He's much calmer today, though eerily so. He glances up when she walks in and, before she can take another step, he stops her.
"Tell me what happened. All of it," he says quietly.
His reaction yesterday told her that he remembered his part of the story, so she quickly relates her own.
"I know your morning routine by heart. At least, the part that involves the diner. You didn't show up and I...I had this horrible feeling and I was worried. I saw your address on your license when you dropped your wallet the other day and I live in that building as well so I stopped by your apartment and I found you..."
He raises his hand to stop her, aware of the rest. And it is just as he'd feared. Entirely without his knowledge, he'd let someone get too close. Now he has to tell her the whole story, let her know that he isn't safe to be around, that they are better off not knowing each other...that he is better off dead.
He motions to the chair with his head, then stares at her as she makes her way back to the place she hadn't moved from all night, unbeknownst to him. As soon as she's seated, he begins.
"You saved my life, so in my mind that means you have the right to know why I wanted to end it."
She immediately straightens up in her chair and clasps her hands tightly.
"Well, it's really pretty simple. I'm cursed."
Rosalie looks at him curiously, unsure how to react. She slowly nods, urging him to explain. He takes a long, deep breath. The pain of speaking this openly is written all over his face.
"Anyone I've ever gotten close to is gone. My four closest friends are dead. One drowned, one fell off of a cliff, and two were mauled by a bear. I was with them all when they died, and I'm to blame for their lives ending too soon. So I isolated myself. I dropped out of college. I don't speak to my family. I don't have any friends. I don't party, I don't socialize. I go to work, the diner, and home. And every day – every single day of my life – I remember my friends. I remember the happy looks on their faces just a few moments before they died. I remember the devastation of their families, the strange looks people started giving me, wondering if I'd killed them all. How could someone be present at so many gruesome deaths and not have played a part in some way? I can't let anyone get close to me, do you understand? If I do, it'll just happen again. And the way I live...is no life. I don't live, I exist. And what's the point in existing if you're alone? So, I decided the world would be better off without me. And now, I'd like you to leave before I let you get too close. You're a sweet woman and you tried to save me, but it's too late. You need to save yourself."
He finishes and folds his hands calmly in his lap. He thinks it odd that he didn't feel uncomfortable sharing his deepest secrets, his worst memories, and his bitterest pains with a complete stranger. He waits for her to run for the door.
But she doesn't move, not even to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Emmett does his best to ignore her set jaw, her crossed arms and her determined stare. He rolls onto his side and feigns sleep, hoping she'll get the hint eventually and leave him to his misery.
She doesn't.
In fact, for the next week while Emmett is held at the hospital, she only leaves his room during his visits from the resident psychiatrist. It's enough time to catch a bus home, shower, change and make it back just as they finish. She's not even concerned that the diner may fire her. There are more important things.
Emmett doesn't speak to her. He hasn't since the day he asked her to leave. She talks to him though, fairly constantly. She tells him about her life, about how her mother walked out when she was five. How she'd always dreamed of moving to Hollywood after high school and becoming a movie star. How she'd had her tickets booked and her bags packed when she'd gotten the call that her estranged mother was gravely ill in the shitty little town of Forks, Washington. How she was so desperate for a relationship with this woman that she stupidly agreed to put off Hollywood for a few months to go to Forks and take care of her mother. How she'd gotten a part-time job at the diner, which turned into a full-time job once her mother passed away. How she'd never gotten the relationship she'd wanted and now she is stuck in the hole of a town for the foreseeable future.
Emmett wants to speak up several times during her stories. He wants to ask why her mother left, what she had gotten sick with, why she didn't save up every dime she could and get the hell out of here. He wants to comfort her when she gets the sad, faraway look in her eyes while talking about her mom. But he does none of these things. He stays resolutely silent, pretending not to listen, when really he is soaking up her every word.
At the end of the week the psychiatrist, not entirely satisfied that Emmett is mentally stable, insists that if he wants to be released, he must abide by three conditions. One, he must take anti-depressants. Two, he must meet with the psychiatrist at least twice a week for hourly sessions. And three, he cannot, under any circumstances, live by himself.
Rosalie is within earshot outside the door to Emmett's room when the doctor lists off the conditions. A million different scenarios run through her head when she hears them...
Emmett staying in the hospital forever...
Emmett running away...
Emmett attempting to take his life again...
And she's made her decision. She walks into the room without knocking.
"He can live with me."
Emmett is not happy.
But this isn't his usual unhappiness. This time, he's angry.
After practically being forced to live with Rosalie in her tiny apartment, forced to sleep on her lumpy couch, forced to take anti-depressants under her watchful eye every time, he's pretty much ready to scream.
And the worst part of it all is that...he's enjoying every minute of being with her.
Where a painfully shy and sweet-tempered girl in her mid-twenties had once been now stands a strong, independent, fiercely protective woman. She is quirky and funny and never lets anything dampen his spirits if she can help it. A few times, she even makes him smile just by smiling herself. He needs it to stop. He needs to get away from her for her own good. He does his best to ignore her and not speak.
But as time goes by and days turn into weeks of their cohabitation, he finds that the thought of being without her is depressing him more than anything else. She is the one small ray of light in his dark and dreary existence.
One night while they are eating dinner, Rosalie decides that enough is enough. The last thing Emmett needs is someone to coddle him. He needs someone who will stand up to him, who will make him see reason. What he needs...is a friend.
"Emmett, we need to talk."
He freezes with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to his mouth and looks at her. He immediately thinks she's going to ask him to leave. He's imposed on her long enough. She needs to get on with her life. He both hopes for and dreads this. He puts his fork down and turns his full attention to her.
"I think we should be friends. You know, like, officially," she says bluntly.
Emmett shakes his head, surprised but prepared.
"We've been through this. That's a bad idea. You'll only get hurt, or worse, and – "
"No. Just stop. Do you hear yourself? Do you? You truly believe that just by knowing you, I'll die? You truly believe that something supernatural is going on with you? That you're really cursed somehow? Emmett, it's time to snap out of it. Tough love is what you need, and by being my friend that's exactly what you'll get. It's not open to discussion. We've been friends without you realizing it for weeks now. Me putting a label on it doesn't mean I'll get struck down by the bubonic plague the next time I leave the house! People die, friends die, family dies, and it's sad and it hurts and it sucks ass but it's part of life! You can't blame yourself, you just have bad luck. And luck can change, but you have to change it."
She is breathing heavily with emotion and anger. Anger at herself for speaking this way, anger at Emmett for not seeing reason, and angry that he was dealt this lot in life in the first place.
He is silent for a long time, watching Rosalie in all her furious, nostril-flaring, red-faced glory. He sees for the first time how truly beautiful a person she is on the inside. She almost makes him want to try...to go on...to live.
"Have you been having the daymares?" Rosalie asks quietly, using the word she came up with for the violent daytime attacks of memories Emmett has been prone to for so long. And it is at this exact moment that he realizes it's been a long time since he's had one. In fact –
"Not since the day I...the day you...that day I didn't come to the diner for breakfast," he stutters out, still uncomfortable talking about the day that was supposed to end his life, but ended up changing it forever.
Rosalie gives him a smug smile and he manages to return it. And she knows, deep in her heart, that this is the moment. This is the moment that is going to start the road toward recovery for Emmett. It will be long. It will be difficult. And they'll probably both come out battered and bruised on the other side. But they will come out...together. She holds out her hand.
"Friends?"
He hesitates for the briefest of moments before taking her hand in his.
"Friends."
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