A/N: The chattiest chapter ever. I suck at dialogue but couldn't get around writing it for this showdown. The ending is a bit telegraphed, but the next part will be quite intense (or so I think).
I thank amymorgan for being my beta and my core group of reviewers who continue to energize me with glowing praise. Although each chapter appeared to be getting reviewed less and less. I'm not sure if it means I'm updating too fast or if people are just losing interest.
Chapter 10 – Interview
"Just act natural. And stay calm," Tanya advised for the umpteenth time.
I rolled my eyes in irritation at her comment. She wasn't the one about to get her face plastered all over prime time television. I glanced down at my outfit and grimaced once again. They decided to put me in uniform for my first public appearance on camera, but apparently couldn't be bothered to actually investigate my background. My costume consisted of the dark blue service uniform of a Naval Lieutenant Commander rather than the light blue of an Air Force Captain. The jacket was three sizes too large and hung loosely off my frame, making me look like a kid who got into her mother's clothes. It was the wrong military branch, the wrong rank, and the wrong size…and it was pissing me off.
On second thought, they probably knew exactly what my military experience was…and were doing this on purpose to aggravate me.
The "they" in question was the Empire Network. I became an unwilling expert of the media conglomerate from my weeks laid up in bed, forced to watch their programs. The company ran nearly all of the television shows in the American territories, including all of the news programs shown in the human colonies.
I was as surprised as Edward and Tanya when the Empire Network was granted permission by the Legate to do a live interview with me. With Edward's help, I had finally healed enough to move about unassisted, and I assumed that Jane was going to swoop in and do a disappearing act with me. Instead I was told through Tanya that I was to be interviewed by Rosalie Hale from the Vampire Hourly News prior to being taken for a very public trial. Really public – they were already doing 30 second promos for it. I scowled at the thought of the promos. The photos they used were less than flattering. I looked like I was high in most of them.
Needless to say, I was wary of participating in any event that Jane agreed to, but it wasn't like I had much choice in the matter. Besides, it could very well be my last public appearance before I disappeared into the system, a final chance to get a message out to my dad to let him know I didn't blame him for anything, and a chance to apologize to Ben for my failure to protect Angela. So I was willing to jump through all the hoops they put in front of me...for now.
"I am being calm. This is me being calm. See…calm," I shot back. Pointing at my forced toothy smile with both hands. After being unable to use my hands for so long, I found myself being way more expressive with them than ever before.
"Look. Just don't be overly hostile to Rose. She's not that big of a fan of humans, and she's great at playing it up for the cameras. She can be pretty direct, so be prepared for some blunt questions," Tanya warned. She had been prepping me on what to expect from Rosalie Hale for quite some time once we learned she would be conducting the interview. Tanya wouldn't tell me what her history with Rosalie was. Every time I asked she would just get a slightly pained expression and change the subject. She masked it well, but I knew the expression, I saw it every time I looked into the mirror.
"I got it. Be myself. Don't be angry. Stay calm. Anything else, oh wise Yoda?" I appreciated Tanya's need to be a mother hen, but there was only so much this little chick could take.
"No, I guess not. Just don't let her get to you. She's good at that," Tanya said softly. I guessed even she realized that the time for coaching was over. "Just…good luck."
And with that, she stood behind my chair and waited. The Network had cleared out a conference room at the hospital to construct their studio set. I was strategically placed like the rest of the equipment to optimize the lighting and framing for the cameras. At least I was out of my wheel chair and sitting in a plush leather seat. If I was going to be crucified on television I might as well be comfortable. I was still enjoying the feel of the cool leather under my hands when the main doors opened, bringing the chaotic sounds of the camera crew performing last minute preparations. Out of the din, I made out the sharp clicks of a pair of heels against the wooden floor as someone approached the stage.
The lights were shining blindingly into my face, so I didn't get a clear look at her until she was almost right on top of me, and when I did, my jaw almost dropped on the floor in awe. Rosalie Hale had to be the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. With her mane of golden hair and piercing blue eyes, it's like Venus had walked straight out of a Botticelli painting to stand in front of me. Seriously, she wouldn't look out of place with a harp in her hands and little cupids dancing around her head.
Given my seemingly disinterest in men over the years, Angela used to joke that I should think about batting for the other team. I have to admit, after seeing Rosalie Hale, I was seriously eyeing the other team's dugout.
Fortunately, Rosalie's attention was not on me at the moment, so she did not notice my shameless ogling. Instead, her intense gaze was focused behind me at Tanya. I was puzzled by the weariness and uncertainty that seemed to dominate her perfect face. I turned curiously to Tanya, and was surprised to see the same look reflected in her features.
"Rosie, you um…look good. How have you been?" Tanya inquired hesitantly. There was none of the confidence that I was used to hearing when she normally spoke.
"Oh you know…the same." Rosalie responded. There was a slight stiffness to her stance and hesitance in her tone.
"Well, that's good. So um…I heard you are seeing Emmett now?" Tanya asked. I sunk further into my seat, feeling like I was intruding on a private conversation.
"Yeah…I guess you heard from Kate or Irina?" Rosalie ventured. It just didn't seem natural for such a beautiful face to look so uncomfortable.
"Yes. Well, I'm very happy for you. Emmett is a good man," Tanya said sincerely. I was just shocked that Tanya managed a whole conversation without a single raunchy comment or snide remark.
"Um…look, we have a schedule to keep, so…" Rosalie eyed the cameras.
"Oh, of course. Well, maybe we can talk after?" Tanya asked hopefully.
"Yeah…sure. If I have time, the Network keeps a pretty tight schedule," Rosalie hedged.
"Okay, then maybe I'll see you later." Tanya squeezed my shoulder comfortingly and walked off stage. I watched her until she exited the room, then turned back to face Rosalie. I jerked a little at the shock of her transformation. The fidgety awkwardness was gone; in its place was Venus, regal and composed, radiating mystique and sensuality.
"Now Isabella, may I call you Isabella?" she cooed. I was completely floored by her icy blue eyes. You can call me anything you want.
"Um…S-sure. That's fine." I stammered, trying to gather my senses. Remember what Tanya said.
"Well then, Isabella, I'm sure the producer already took you through this, but I like to run through the program with you myself. It's just a ritual I have, you understand," Rosalie said. She didn't wait for my acknowledgment before continuing, "First I will give a brief intro to the interview. It will just be some basic background information on you and your situation. Then we'll go straight into questions. For scheduling reasons, please keep each of your answers under two minutes. And don't worry about censoring yourself. We are on a timed delay. So feel free to express yourself anyway you like. Any questions?" Rosalie flashed me a dazzling smile. Geez, and I thought Edward was the only one who could do that.
Rose must have taken my silence as comprehension. She nodded to the crew behind the cameras. The lights were dialed up brighter than before and I had to squint to adjust to the new setting. All attention were now focused on Rosalie and I could faintly make out the red glow on top of the cameras pointing our way.
She sat silently facing the camera, obviously waiting for her cue to begin. I saw a shadow of a gesture behind the lights, and then Rosalie spoke.
"Thank you, Jonas, and good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am Rosalie Hale. Empire Network and the Vampire Hourly News are proud to present a special exclusive interview with Isabella Swan.
Now for many of our viewers, Isabella requires no introduction. But for those who have not been following her story, Isabella, up until a short while ago, was one of the most wanted people in America. She has been at the center of a firestorm of media frenzy, both as a hero to the insurgency and as a war criminal sought by the American Legion.
Isabella's fame only seemed to grow when it was reported the Legion had finally captured her. The insurgency seemed to have interpreted the media blackout on Isabella's status as evidence of her death and had elevated her to martyr status. There has been fierce retaliatory strikes for her capture, and supposed secret execution, at the hands of the Inquisitors.
In light of the intense public interest and rampant speculation, the Order of Inquisitors has granted our show access to Ms. Swan, to show that she is indeed alive and recovering from her injuries sustained from her final engagement with our forces. We like to thank the Order, and Legate Jane personally, for allowing us such unprecedented access.
And now ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever, I give you Ms. Isabella Swan." Rosalie faced away from the camera and focused her attention on me. "Good evening Isabella." She raised her arm for a handshake. I responded in kind and had to clench my teeth as Rosalie gripped a little too hard. Obviously she felt no need to watch her strength around me as Tanya or Edward did.
"Good evening," I returned in a slightly strained voice, still trying to ignore the pain in my hand.
"Now Isabella, tell our viewers a little about yourself…" And thus began one of the most surreal experiences in my life. My intuition was correct, they have done their research. Thoroughly. As we talked about my background, childhood, and experiences growing up, the giant white screen behind us started flashing time appropriate photographs or video clips. I had no idea how they could've known so much about me, as many records were lost in the chaos of the war. I felt like I was on some bizarre game show. Isabella Swan, this is your life.
There was my father's cadet photo, looking sharp in his parade uniform.
My mother's junior achievements class, she's being hugged by all the kids she helped to tutor.
There was my mother, looking slightly younger than me, standing proudly by her Sikorsky under the hot Iraqi Sun.
A shot of my father's squadron from his first tour in the Gulf, posing carefree at the unknown photographer.
A clip of my father receiving the Air Force Cross, his eye still freshly bandaged.
My mother, frozen in time as she climbed into her modified HH-64 Dolphin, her face obscured by the sun behind the ship.
A black and white photo of my parents looking tired but happy, my father hugging my mother while she cradled a bundle against her chest.
Shaky home video of my 6th birthday, a short angry girl with braces and pigtails trying in vain to block the lens, too short to reach the hands of the camera operator. My mother's giggling could be heard behind the frame. "Stop it Bella, you look cute."
Snapshot of a gangly teenager looking grim in a PT uniform as she ran around a school track.
The same teenager, with a few more years on her face, holding her parade uniform cap in her gloved hand posing stiffly for the camera.
The myriad of images continued and I groaned inwardly at the final shot. It was one of those infamous posters Angela warned me about. I was stylized with a white gown and angel wings, holding a gleaming steel sword, looking grimly into a dark abyss off to the left of the drawing. The poster had one word in bold white letters – HOPE.
"Isabella, why do you think you have become such a symbol to those who have yet to embrace the Awakening?" Rosalie asked.
I took a second to ponder the question. "Well, I don't think of it has anything to do with me. People will always need symbols, because people always need hope. Hope for the future, hope for their children. Hope that this is not all there is. I was just a convenience."
"But do you think it is wise to channel hope through such a controversial figure as yourself? To send the message through violence? Through death?" She frowned, obviously expressing her view on the question.
I carefully worded my reply. "Under normal circumstances, no. But we are hardly living in normal times. We are fighting for the survival of our way of life. And people take comfort that there are still those strong enough to protect and defend them, through force if necessary."
"At this point in the conflict, isn't false hope more damaging then the truth? Wouldn't it simply be more prudent to let diplomacy prevail? To lay down arms so no more have to die in a lost cause? After all, isn't what you are doing simply prolonging the inevitable and increasing the loss of life?" Rosalie reasoned. I bristled at her questions.
"Nothing is inevitable. And you are not talking diplomacy, you are talking surrender. I swore my alliance to defend my country from all invaders, and I will continue to do that as long as there is still a country to defend. And if the price of that is my life, then I gladly pay it."
"So you have nothing against our kind personally, just simply doing a job out of patriotic duty?" She pressed.
Something about her question made me uneasy, so I opted for a short answer. "Yes."
"Then are you saying you hold no personal grudges for what happened to your mother?"
"What?" I blurted out unthinkingly. I never told anyone, not a single soul. Only my dad, and…Edward.
"Well, you spoke very fondly of your mother. You obviously cared for her a great deal. You must have been very saddened when she was shot down during her espionage mission."
A cold rage filled me. How dare she demean my mother's sacrifice. "She was on a rescue mission, evacuating civilians from you monsters."
"I stand corrected. It's just that according to the official Inquisitor report, the civilians you are referring to were in fact human intelligence agents collecting sensitive military info in the designated safe zones. I won't debate whether the 'mission' was just a cover to get your operatives out of our territory under the guise of a peaceful convoy. You are certainly entitled to your depiction of the events," Rosalie said condescendingly. Her beauty now cruel and cold, like a Valkyrie of old.
"However, on behalf of our viewers, I do object to the vulgar usage of the term 'monsters'. By what standard do you define monstrosity, Isabella?" She asked coolly, glaring at me with her frigid blue eyes.
I let out a shuddering breath. "Oh I don't know, how about blatant disregard for life? Taking pleasure in killing and raping and destroying until there's nothing left?" You can't hide your true nature from me.
"Then wouldn't you have to apply that definition to yourself? Tell me, Isabella, how many innocent vampires have you killed?" Her voice was sharp as a scythe, cutting the air between us.
"Not enough," I responded coldly.
"Isn't it true, that your whole vendetta against the vampire people is because you vowed to make your mother's attackers pay for what they took from you? You personally, Isabella. Not your country. Not your species. You. And the whole world is to burn for your bloodthirsty need for vengeance for your mother?"
"You fucking bitch. Don't you ever, ever, disgrace my mother's memory like that. Yes, you should all burn."
"Your mother's memory? Why Isabella, what do you mean? Your mother is alive."