(Xoanon: an image of a god that has been carve out of wood, or some other kind of pulp. Just so you know, the reference is Greek, and didn't purely come from 'Doctor Who'. On occasion, mystical creatures were also carved. It is a little known fact that some believed that if they carved the image, they would be found and protected by that spirit, god, goddess, or entity. In a state a madness, some would carve images of their loved ones, as if somehow that would reunite them after the most heinous act a person could commit: killing one's own self.)

What You Are

Chapter 25: My Xoanon

There was darkness in front of her, behind her, even beside her.

Everything hurt, everything melting away.

But that hand reached out, a white, pure hand, knowingly reaching for hers.

She could not smile through the heat, she doubted it was really there at all. Yet, reach she did, in search of something she had never before experienced.

"See? I told you… I'm an ugly thing."

"Ugly? No… you're not ugly. You're just you. Open your eyes, you'll see."

"My eyes are open."

"Really now, then you must be blind."

"Don't tell me this is heaven or hell. I don't believe in that."

"I don't know, but I don't really care. I just… I need you to open your eyes."

Rosalie tried, blinking several time. Eventually, her sight cleared. Nothing but white in front of her. Then nothing but white, red, and the image of the woman long past gone, covered in her own blood, marked by her wounds. "This isn't real. There's no way that it could be."

"I don't know, it seems as real as it's ever going to get."

"Bella," Rosalie murmured in stunned awe, "your guts are hanging out… You shouldn't even be able to talk."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Now I know this isn't real… Is that all you can give me? Some snooty, holier than thou speech about what is and isn't reality."

"You're dead too. Even if I wanted to kill you, you've gone and done pretty good job of that yourself."

"Alright fine," Rosalie sighed at length, lifting her hand to move some of her hair out of her face. She paused when she noticed that it was black as soot, her skin was charred, but she felt no pain. "Where are we then?"

"I don't belong here, but, I don't know where you belong, either. This is where I say goodbye. My soul can rest now, you followed me. I knew you would."

"Like you knew, you bitch."

"You're beautiful, you know."

"Shut up…"

"So beautiful, even in your own darkness. I wanted to see it too, how far you'd go," Bella said honestly, her hands folded behind her back. "I guess, I wanted to think that I was enough. Something about that really meant a lot to me."

"I said shut up!"

Bella shook her head. She couldn't, not now. "I once heard you ask me what I was to you. I wanted to know the same thing about you. I wondered, what was this person to me? I thought about it more and more. Whenever you'd watch over me, I felt complete."

Rosalie, betrayal in her eyes could only feel angry about that. "You're not supposed to say things like that!"

"It felt like it was supposed to happen." Bella continued, walking forward until her fingertips reached Rosalie's cheek. "Since I'm dead, maybe I was wrong, but, strangely I'm not too upset about it. I think I know now… what we are."