A/N: Hi, duckies. Sorry it's been a while. I had huge exams in October and now FINALLY OFFICIALLY have my master's degree! Then both my son and I promptly got sick, and I developed bronchitis. Blech. Add to that work, school, holidays, and birthdays, and there just hasn't been enough time for anything. But hopefully you'll accept this as a little peace offering!

All standard disclaimers apply.

As Children After Play

"Rosie?"

Rosalie turned toward Emmett, hearing the hesitation in his voice. "Babe?"

He toyed with a DVD in his hand, and Rose felt her heart go out to him. He was so dense sometimes, but also incredibly sweet. Now his troubled face made her climb onto his bed, and she cupped his cheeks in her hands, holding him still. She stroked his face with her thumbs gently. His dimples curved under her touch, and she smiled back at him.

"Want to tell me what's troubling you?"

"I was hoping you'd answer that question for me." Emmett moved swiftly, sweeping her into his arms from her kneeling position. She laughed, letting him hold her to his chest. Normally she didn't like to feel babied, but if it made Emmett happy she'd allow it for now.

"My hero," she teased, chuckling and pressing her forehead to his. "Now will you tell me what's up?"

Emmett considered for a moment, but before he could open his mouth they distinctly heard the sound of a low, needy growl from Edward's room. Rose grimaced.

"Time to go," Emmett said with a grin. He readjusted his arms around Rosalie and jumped.

They were on the topmost tier of roof within a human heartbeat, the sounds from within no longer audible even to their vampire ears. They settled on the slightly-sloped shingles, and Rose took a deep breath, enjoying the damp wind. "We may have to use my room more often from now on," she said, settling on her side and propping her head up on her hand. "Farther from Edward's."

"But closer to Esme's," Emmett countered.

Rose shrugged. "Six of one, half dozen of the other." She pulled Emmett down by his sleeve and he sprawled on his back, hands clasped behind his head. "Now will you tell me what's wrong?"

"Not wrong really." He sighed a little bit. "Babe, it just..." He paused, searching for words.

Rosalie smiled inwardly. God, she knew him so well. Knew enough to know that he sometimes lacked the ability to vocalize what he was feeling, and she touched his shoulder gently. "That was a pretty intense story we heard from Bella tonight."

He blew out, his cheeks puffing with the exhalation. "Shit," he said, "I don't know what to do. Feels like we should be doing something, though, you know?"

"Oh, we will," Rose vowed. "There will be blood." Her voice left no doubt in Emmett's mind that she meant it.

"How are you feeling, though, babe?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean, after everything and all...hearing that must've been..."

Rose smiled and rolled over on top of Emmett, her legs falling to either side of his waist. She stopped his words with her mouth, kissing him firmly. "I'm fine."

"But - "

"Honest, Em, I'm fine." She peppered kisses across his jaw and down his throat, then latched her razor-sharp teeth on the ribbed collar of his t-shirt and pulled. The thin cotton gave like wet paper, tearing a strip out of the shirt as wide as her mouth as she dragged down his body. He laughed, watching her without moving.

Rosalie kissed his finely-muscled stomach, her tongue darting out to lap at his skin and the sleek line of dark hair that led to the waistband of his black jeans. She didn't know if she could ever get tired of Emmett's body. He was Royce's complete opposite. Where Royce had been wiry - small and rodent-like, she thought now - Emmett was a big man. He wore his size with a touch of awkwardness, like an adolescent Great Dane that has not quite grown into itself - a result of his youth when he was changed, as well as his general demeanor. Emmett was not a violent person; in fact, Rose thought, he was probably one of the sweetest men she'd ever met. Even Jasper, for all his Southern charm, had a hard, implacable edge to him that Emmett lacked.

She understood why he worried. While he hadn't been with her right after her attack, she had shared enough with him that he understood how difficult some of those days had been for her. How hard it was to cope not only with the aftereffects of such a brutal rape, but also with her newfound life as a vampire. It was something she hadn't wanted and even now did not particularly welcome. Emmett understood that, no matter how much she loved him, she would rather things hadn't worked out this way. She would have rather died in that alley than become what they were now.

But that couldn't be changed, and Rose allowed herself, for the moment, to be glad of that fact. Because even though she knew what she would pick, given the choice, the choosing itself would hurt immensely. It would mean giving up Emmett, and that wasn't something she was entirely sure she could do. He meant the world to her. Literally. Without him, she would long ago have marched to Italy and demanded that the Volturi end her unnatural life. But she did have him, and he made this life bearable. Enjoyable, even. She smiled, nuzzling the firmness of his abs. She loved the smell of him, the feel of his solidity under her hands and teeth and tongue. Royce and his friends had robbed her of innocence, in the literal sense of the word - had robbed her of the sweet, trusting nature that had overlain the harder parts of her personality. But they had not been able to rob her of her desire, and for that she was ever grateful. She unbuttoned Emmett's jeans with a careless flick of her hand, then dragged the zipper slowly down with her teeth. She felt him chuckle, felt the way his body tensed and relaxed as she touched him. He was warm to her undead touch, and she smiled.

"Does that mean we're done talking?" he asked innocently as she reached inside his boxers, guiding the quickly-hardening length of him into the open air.

"Talk away, if you like." She licked her lips, feeling a hunger growing within her that had absolutely nothing to do with blood. "I can walk and chew gum at the same time."

He laughed, the sound cut off suddenly as she lowered her head and licked him. She swirled her tongue around the head of his swelling cock, loving the groan of pleasure she wrung from him. She knew his body so well by now, knew just how to touch him to get the desired result. Right now what she wanted most was to touch him, to give him pleasure, to watch as his body moved and shuddered. He was sweet and loving, careful and tender of her when he thought she might be vulnerable. At times she scoffed at his attempts to protect her - she was virtually indestructible, after all - but she loved him for it all the same.

Now she slid her mouth over the length of him, taking him in and bobbing her head as she squeezed the base of his cock gently, rhythmically. He thrust his hips up toward her, unable to keep still. She chuckled, the sound buzzing against his flesh, and he moaned.

"Fuck, babe," he panted, grabbing hold of a row of shingles with his flexing hands. The hard material crumbled in his fingers as he scrabbled for something to hold on to. He never held her head when she went down on him - that was one of Rose's only bedroom rules, and he never broke it. She didn't know whether her dislike of being held in that position was inborn or a result of her last moments as a human, and she didn't really care. That he respected her enough to obey her wishes was all that mattered.

He came quick and hard, with a strangled cry that Rose hoped Bella would attribute to some woodland creature if she heard it. The rest of the house's inhabitants knew better, but they were inured to Rose and Emmett's nocturnal habits by now. Living in such close proximity, it was impossible to keep everything private. Couples-only trips to Isle Esme and some of the family's other properties helped keep frustrations at bay, and now that Edward seemed to have found his mate - if the noises coming from his bedroom were anything to go by - there was nothing to cause guilt in heading away for some alone time now and then.

Rose felt herself being yanked forward, and she laughed as Emmett's hungry mouth landed vaguely in the vicinity of hers. He licked and bit at her lips and chin as he held her above him, his still-hard cock seeking her entrance. Rose reached down, guiding him into her, sinking onto him with a satisfied purr. A smile flashed across his face, his dimples flickering to life, and he began to purr, too, the sensual noises rising and falling in tandem with their movements. Rose kissed him fiercely, her fingers finding his dark hair as one of his hands snaked between them, his thumb rubbing her aching clit with just the right amount of pressure. "Mmm..." she mumbled into his mouth, halting the purr for just a moment. "Yup. I picked a good one."

He play-growled, flicking her clit lightly before resuming the circular rubbing motion that sent waves of pleasure shooting through her body. "I never did manage to thank that bear."

Esme released a sigh of fond exasperation as she heard the pebbly, crumbling sound of shingles breaking, small bits falling from the roof above their heads. She'd hoped having her room on the top floor of the house would give her at least a semblance of privacy, but tonight that just wasn't happening. She was just glad she couldn't actually hear the sounds of what she knew was going on up there.

She had, however, heard the unmistakable sounds of intimacy coming from Edward's room as she mounted the stairs just a little while earlier. She wasn't sure what to think about it. While she was happy for Edward, she wasn't at all sure that this was the right time for them to be consummating this very new relationship. Bella looked terrible - it was clear she had not been sleeping well. And that ordeal earlier this evening had taken a lot out of her. The poor child, Esme thought, as she sat at the little desk in her room, staring at electronic blueprints on her laptop and trying to concentrate. If she really wanted to work she'd go to her studio across the hall, but she didn't think she'd be able to focus any better in there. Her mind kept returning to Bella.

The story Bella related to them earlier was disturbing to say the least. Esme hadn't at all liked the dead, monotone sound of the child's voice as she spoke, recounting one painful incident after another. She'd glanced questioningly at Carlisle, who indicated that he'd answer any questions later, once Bella couldn't hear them. Part of Esme railed at that; she didn't want to talk about Bella behind the girl's back. But she understood what he meant. Talking clinically around her would likely not go well at the moment. She was too raw to understand and accept Carlisle's professional objectivity. Though Esme knew that where Bella was concerned, it was exceedingly difficult for Carlisle to remain objective. The shy little human had got under his skin, as she had with all of the Cullen family members. His innate parenting instincts - so strong, especially for someone who had never had biological children of his own - took over with Bella. He was still a doctor, yes. But it was becoming harder and harder for him not to see her as one of the "kids," and he couldn't hide that from Esme. She knew him too well for that. It had hurt him deeply to acquiesce to Bella's request and take her home yesterday. He wanted her here, where she was safe and cared for.

Esme did, too.

She puttered around her room, trying to kill some time. Carlisle was still in his office, and she didn't want to bother him when he might potentially be on the phone with someone who could help Bella. Esme glanced at a clock - it was nearing two in the morning. She didn't know how likely it was that CPS had someone on-call twenty-four seven, but would he still be in his office if he hadn't been able to locate anyone?

Finally deciding that she wasn't doing any good pacing her bedroom, Esme slipped down a flight of stairs to the second floor. All was quiet in Edward's room now. She stepped toward Carlisle's office, then hesitated. A sudden thought made her pace toward the guest room that had been set up for Bella, and she cautiously opened the door.

The room was dark, and she didn't need to turn on the light to know that nobody was in there. It felt empty, and she could hear neither breathing nor heartbeat. And while the luscious scent of Bella lingered, it was not strong enough for her to actually be in the room. That could only mean one thing. Esme shut the door, pursing her lips. She didn't know what to think, and it disturbed her that she couldn't be more definitive about this. She wanted to be happy for her son - she desperately wanted to. He'd been alone so long, so quiet, so wrapped up in his anger and isolation, and now it seemed like...like a light had been switched on. Like the appearance of Bella Swan had given him something besides himself to think about. To care about. But Bella was damaged - anyone who had seen her in the living room telling her story could have seen that. You didn't even have to hear the words to know how broken the child was. So small, so fragile... Esme shook her head. Rosalie was right; Edward didn't know how to help a girl like Bella. Not really. And yet...and yet...she'd seen him pull her out of that panic attack. She saw with her own eyes how his low voice and gentle touch reached her, and she wasn't a fool. Whatever was going on between them was mutual. Did she have a right to object to that? To warn them about something that might just be the best thing that had ever happened to either of them?

She knocked lightly on the office door as a warning before opening it. Peering around the door, she caught sight of Carlisle at his desk. Poor man; he looked tired. Her heart went out to him, and she crossed the room on silent feet, her sure hands reaching for the exact muscles in his neck and shoulders that she knew ached.

"Is it that bad?" she asked, kneading with her strong fingers.

Carlisle let out a breath, dropping his head forward toward the desk and letting her work her magic. "I don't know yet," he said.

Esme dug her thumb into a tense knot at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, earning a groan of gratitude as the muscles quivered and began to relax. "Did you get hold of anybody at CPS?"

"No," he said, sounding disgusted. "Just the automated line. I left a detailed message." He reached up with one of his hands, tapping a spot on his shoulder. "Here," he pleaded. Esme moved her hand obligingly, rocking the heel against the sore spot and hearing his thankful sigh. "That's one of the problems living in the middle of nowhere like this. If we were in Seattle, someone would have come to see Bella tonight."

"But I thought it was a statewide agency?"
"It is," Carlisle said. "But that doesn't mean they have case managers and social workers spread evenly throughout the state. Someone will have to come here from the city, and that takes time. And every minute we wait, that poor girl is in constant fear that her father will manage to get to her. It's not fair."

"No, it isn't," Esme said, stroking firm fingers down his neck. She wanted to be frustrated, too, but it would do no good for both of them to sit here feeling angry. That was at least part of what a partnership was about - taking turns supporting each other. She'd needed comforting plenty of times. Right now Carlisle did. "Is there anything we can do in the meantime?"

He made a pleased noise as she hit another knot. "I don't know yet," he said honestly. "After I dead-ended with the state, I put in a call to an old colleague. You might remember her - Marietta McCauley."

"Vaguely."

"She's head of the forensics lab at the University of Washington now, and works with both state and local police when a body needs identifying." Carlisle straightened, stretching slowly, as Esme's hands finished their work and dropped away from his skin. He smiled and turned his chair toward Esme, slipping his arms around her waist and bringing her close. She wove her hands into his pale hair as he held her. "I couldn't give her details, not without breaking confidentiality. But we spoke at length about her contacts with law enforcement."

"And?" Esme prompted, when Carlisle stopped speaking.

He sighed again. "Honey, it looks like we're in for a long, difficult fight here. Bella's age is working against us; CPS always works faster with younger children. Bella is seventeen. That puts her at the end of the line, as far as they're concerned."

"Does the fact that we'd be happy to take her in as a foster child mean anything?"

"Not as far as that goes," Carlisle said ruefully. "I asked Marietta, and she said no. The fact is that younger children simply are a bigger priority. She also confirmed that Charlie's job is also going to be a problem. Police close ranks. They protect their own, even if they don't agree with what's going on."

"Then what can we do?" Esme asked. "Do we leave Forks? Take Bella with us?" The idea was not unappealing; though she liked this house and did not particularly want to leave Forks yet - it was not time, in their cycle - she did like the thought of whisking Bella away from here, away from everything that had hurt her, and letting her start over in a new town.

"Let's see how this plays out before we start considering anything that drastic," Carlisle said, squeezing her gently. "Marietta gave me some ideas. We can try filing a civil suit against Charlie. It will be an uphill battle and the onus will be on us to prove that he was in the wrong. But a civil suit will force the state to act."

"If we won."

"Yes." Carlisle looked up at her fondly. "If we won. We can also help Bella try to get emancipated minor status, though that's also a difficult battle."

"It sounds like we have a lot to talk about with her," Esme said. She sighed inwardly. She didn't want to have to keep piling more worries on Bella; she had enough already.

"Let's wait the weekend out," Carlisle suggested. "See if CPS calls. If we don't hear anything by Monday night, then we can discuss the other options with her."

"Good idea," Esme said, stroking her fingers through Carlisle's hair. She smiled at his elegant facial features, the sharp, angular beauty of him. "Give her a few days to relax. She needs it."

"And tomorrow is her birthday party," Carlisle reminded her. "Do you think Edward and Rosalie are right? That she shouldn't have any gifts?"

Esme smiled. "I know what you're thinking," she said, "and yes, I think they're right. It's too soon to give her the family crest."

"You didn't hear what I heard coming from Edward's room," Carlisle protested.

Esme laughed. "Oh, I did, believe me," she said. "Let's give them a chance to work this out together, just the two of them. We can be the meddling family later. For now, let's just give them some time."

Bella woke to warmth. She blinked slowly as her brain regained consciousness, unsure about the signals it was receiving from her body. Heat, yes - delicious heat. And movement...but she wasn't the one moving. Something was moving around her. What was it? She put out a hand, and a strange sort of resistance met her fingertips. It wasn't just air; it was...it was...water?

She forced her tired eyes wide open, only to find herself naked and wet, immersed to her shoulders in a big jetted bathtub, the water swirling and bubbling slowly around her.

"Hey."

Bella squeaked, jerking away from the male voice that sounded behind her. She whirled, trying to cover herself with her arms, water sloshing out of the tub with the force of her movements.

"Easy!" Edward said, holding his hands out toward her, empty, in a calming motion. "Easy, sweetheart, it's okay. You're okay. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you."

But it was too late. Panic welled inside Bella, squeezing her veins, ricocheting around inside her ribs with painful bursts. She propelled herself out of the tub, sloshing more water into the foggy bathroom and slipping on the tile floor, falling to her knees. She cried out as her leg twisted and her kneecap hit the hard tile at an awkward angle, sending shooting ribbons of pain up her thigh. Scrambling, using her hands as much as her feet, she wrenched the bathroom door open and made it back to her room in record time. Whimpering, her mind whirling, unable to wrap itself around what had just happened, she crawled across the floor and wriggled under the tall bed. The long drape of the gold comforter obscured her from view, and she huddled against the scratchy carpet, panting a little and shivering now that her wet body was out of the hot water.

What had happened? Bella curled into a ball, lying on her side under the bed. She took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the tightness in her throat that wanted her to cry. She didn't want to cry. Crying wouldn't help her understand any better. She swallowed again, her throat aching with unshed tears. She'd woken up...woken up...warm. Naked. In a jetted bathtub. With Edward Cullen. And that was not okay.

Bella squeezed her eyes shut, starting to shiver in earnest now, her body shaking as it tried to process the panic and also the cold. She couldn't move; she knew the bed would be warm if she was able to crawl out from under it, but she just couldn't. She wanted to, but her body would not do it. She tried telling herself that it was okay, that she had nothing to be afraid of in this place, but it didn't work. Not this time.

She'd fallen asleep in Edward's arms sometime during the night. Bella remembered that. It had felt wonderful to be held like that, wrapped in warmth, the sleek firmness of his body cupped around hers. But he'd moved her while she slept, moved her into a bathtub, and somehow that just wasn't all right. She shook, her end-wet hair trickling cold water down her back. She wanted it to be okay. What girl wouldn't love to wake up in a bathtub with the mysterious bronze-haired Cullen? Bella shook her head a little, burying her face in the scratchy carpet. It was just another thing that proved she was not normal.

A pair of bare feet came into view, and Bella flinched back into the darkness under the bed. She wished she'd remembered to close the door, but in her panic that just wasn't a reasonable thing to expect.

"Babe?"

The voice was Rosalie's. Bella studied the feet again for a moment. The toenails were purple. It wasn't Edward, then.

"Babe, I know you're down there." Rose's voice was gentle - gentler than Bella could ever remember hearing it. "I've got a towel here for you." The hem of a beige towel appeared, hovering just above the carpet. "Come out?"

Bella shook her head. "No," she croaked. Even for Rosalie, she didn't want to come out. It was safe here, in the dark under the bed.

Rosalie was silent for a moment. Then Bella heard her move. She saw knees on the carpet, and then Rose's pale, gorgeous face appeared. She slid under the bed beside Bella as if it was the most normal thing in the world, moving slowly and carefully. She brought an armload of towels with her, and wrapped Bella carefully before spooning her cold, granite-hard self around the human girl, who was huddled so small under the bed.

"So..." Rose said, tucking an arm around Bella's waist, idly stroking the knee Bella had pulled close to her chest, "before I murder my brother, you mind telling me exactly what he did?"

Bella felt her face flame. She rubbed her nose against a hem of towel and sniffed. "It's stupid," she mumbled.

"Listen to me, babe," Rose said, and her voice was firm, brooking no nonsense. "Anything that made you act like this is not stupid. Whatever he did - no matter how silly it may seem now - was not okay. Got it?"

Bella swallowed. "But he didn't know."

"Doesn't matter," Rose said, adamant and unyielding. She rubbed Bella's knee again with her fingertips. "You've got a new bruise forming."

"How do you know?" Bella asked wonderingly before she could think. She wasn't supposed to ask about things like that, but in her fear she'd forgotten.

"I can feel it," Rose said, offhand. "Will you tell me, babe? What did Edward do?"

Bella sighed. She knew it sounded lame, but she didn't have any better answer. "He didn't ask," she said, her voice small.

Rose was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed. "Oh, babe." She squeezed Bella gently, and Bella felt herself begin to relax. While she didn't know why Edward had felt safe to her - before this morning - she did know why Rose felt safe now. Rosalie was strong and unyielding. She was not unfathomable like Edward. She said what she meant, and she was very clear about it. "He should have known. That's not silly or stupid at all. You're right. No matter what it was he did, he should have asked."

Bella opened her mouth to argue, but she was cut short by Rosalie's voice.

"And don't go arguing with me about this, babe. He should have known never to do anything without asking first. He knows you don't like surprises, and he knows you're not comfortable with intimacy." She squeezed Bella gently again. "I don't want to know exactly what he did, unless you feel like telling me will help you feel better. I don't need to know. I just need you to know that, whatever it was, it wasn't okay. Not without asking."

"She's telling the truth, sweetest," Esme said gently. Bella tensed; she hadn't even heard the older woman come in the room. She raised her head a little, and felt the pressure of a gentle hand on her towel-swathed hair. Esme's pale face was soft with concern, and she stroked Bella's cheek with a cool hand. "Please. I know it's hard, but try to believe us."

"Esme," Bella whispered. She felt it welling up inside her again - the aching wish for a mother, one who could give comfort that Renee was incapable of sharing. Bella's throat tightened with tears again, and she reached out.

"Oh, baby girl," Esme murmured, and caught Bella's hands, drawing her out from under the bed. Rosalie helped, pushing gently, and Bella found herself tucked firmly into Esme's arms. She buried her head in the slim, feminine shoulder, feeling the tears finally spilling over.