A/N: My five hundred or so words a day has gone completely out the window this week, I originally had two whole days off, that was until work decided that was two days too many and called me in. So I have been writing this in hundred word blocks whenever I get a free moment. But onto much more exciting news, we have passed the two hundred and fifty review mark! So a huge thanks to everyone who takes the time to review, and to those who have alerted or favoured the story.

shigui: Thanks very much for your kind review, hope you enjoy the chapter.

demilovato4eva: Don't worry, I know how demanding school can be, always vying for every bit of your spare time. Thanks for taking the time to read and review.

Retired25: Thanks for the review, happy to know you enjoyed the suspense, and I hope it's not too long winded.

Sarah.A.A: Not annoying at all! I love reading your reviews. Although it wasn't Emmett at the junk yard, after rereading the chapter I liked the idea of them being a relation. Perhaps an Uncle, or other family member. They may get a mention again. Thanks for the review.

Sheeijan: I'm happy to be writing Emmett's story, and although I never thought to make the men at the junk yard any relation to him, I really do like the idea, just kind of adds to the coincidental irony. I completely agree about Rosalie carrying him across that distance, it's a wonder how much strength and control it took, and a shame that as a character she isn't recognized for it. Thanks for the review.

CullenBoy123: He really does seem to be everyone's favourite character, not that I can blame anyone, who doesn't love his easy outlook on immortality. Thank you for your review.

Matthias Stormcrow: Thanks for reviewing. Glad to know you're still enjoying, that's always my mission.

MissMartha: As the owner of a car which is made of more odd parts than original, I based the one older gentleman on the owner of a reclamation yard in my home town. The man is completely obsessed with fishing, and tends to do that manly over exaggeration when it comes to describing his catches. Undoubtedly they are some of the friendliest people. Thank you for your review.

viola1701e: I'm so happy to have Emmett within the story, if not for Rosalie, then as our comic relief. But poor Esme and her antique, perfectly decorated houses. She may have to start hiding away the breakables. Thanks for the review.

Holidai: Indeed Emmett has arrived, but even with Edward and Bella already together, I'm sure he will find something else to mock his 'brother' over. As for Rosalie, being the witness to the strains of a vampire change on the family, will hopefully give her an insight into being grateful. Thank you for reviewing.

celebritystar: Thanks for reviewing. We're sure to have a few of Rosalie's thoughts over the matter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Twilight Saga.


Chapter Fifty Three: Ursus Vir

March 16th 1935

The kitchen really did have the most spectacular view of the lawn. Sprawling onwards until it met the stunningly manicured flower beds, then onwards to the thickets and woodlands. It was a beautiful day, sunlight streamed between the shadows of the soft white clouds that billowed silently overhead. The rays of uninhibited light made the garden glow with a strange ethereal quality; I could only imagine how perfect the day would have been for a swim.

From my vantage point at the faucet, I spied another figure making the most of the excellent weather. Although hardly admiring the shimmery garden, her thoughts were undoubtedly in another place. From the initial moment she had brought the victim back to the house, and obtained Carlisle's promise to save the man, Rosalie had been unnaturally quiet. With the wellbeing of the hulking male at the forefront of our mind, she had been somewhat neglected.

It was not something anyone was to be blamed for; at the moment in time she was not the main focus of our attentions. The thrashing and moaning male, currently over half way through a change, took up the attentive nature of our deliberations.

And what a sight he made. Flesh cut to ribbons by the claws of a bear, blood pooling through his clothes and onto the floor. Everyone bar Carlisle, have been sent to hunt. To consume enough blood to stem our desires. As time went by it got progressively easier, venom polluting the scent, knitting together the slashes on his body.

It was that very blood coagulating into the carpet, that I decided to clean. In the Belfast I had managed to fill an unused ceramic wash jug with cold water, its matching basin ready with strips of rag and a paper bag of rock salt.

With everything stacked precariously, I started at the first point of blood splatter, trails of crimson up the central mauve carpet on the stairs. The marble floors having already been mopped with bleach by Esme earlier on. I poured the cold water from the jug into the bowl, dipping the first of the rags in, along with a little detergent. Onto the splatters I poured a little of the salt, before vigorously blotting each little stain with a rag.

I had become strangely proficient at removing blood stains.

It did not heed my attention that from this point in the house, the noise of the male's restless state was heightened by the hard floors and tall ceilings. We had been unsure to his period of change; such a large quantity of blood loss had to be weighed against the male's size. He was a big man, not fat, but tall and stocky. The muscles of a male who had seen hard labour, therefore predicting a passage of time was as good as an estimation.

But two days later and he was beginning to display all the signs of final advancement, his skin had become a pale sheen, all wounds had now healed, and his heart was beginning to flutter irregularly.

Closer to the noise I travelled, cleaning each individual step and washing away the stubborn blood that had become entangled within the fibres. My success was tangible, until I came onto the landing. The male had convulsed violently as he was carried, further opening one of his chest wounds, and pouring a great onslaught of red onto the rug. There was far too much to save the antique Persian, it was rolled up and added to the burn pile. My last job came in the form of the carpet within the spare room, but from the continuation of rapidly falling blood in the hall, the cream textile was saturated. It had been doused in ethanol to mask the pungent smell, but the stain had spread and imbedded itself. The changing man had been moved to one of the larger rooms, allowing for extra space once he awakened. But leaving a mess behind.

I tipped away the bloody water in the kitchen sink, cleaning the porcelain vigorously with copious amounts of scented chemicals.

"He's definitely approaching the end." Carlisle announced, departing from his study to take a seat at the kitchen table.

"I honestly thought it would have come along much quicker, considering the blood loss." I replied, stowing the ceramic bowl and jug back under the sink.

"Perhaps the extent of his injuries affected the progression." He said. "It is a miracle that he managed to survive the journey back to the house."

"A certain jou de vive is needed to merely want to survive, let us hope he is open minded." I said, discarding the soiled rags with a wrinkle of the nose. "You managed to contact the hospital?"

"While I do not confess myself a fan of the telephone, in this instant it came in most useful. They have been notified it is a family emergency." Carlisle replied, clasping his hands together atop the table.

"It's convenient, I'll admit that. But I dislike not being able to see people's faces when I'm directly speaking to them. I find it awkward." I announced, aimlessly wiping down the marble counters and around the faucet.

"As much as we decree to dislike the thing, I dare say it's become increasingly popular. Almost every new house built is being directly connected to the communications grid." He responded, shifting through a mass of newspapers to find today's.

"Perhaps I am unsociable in saying so." I began. "But I have an aversion to the fact people can contact us so easily. I don't like answering the telephone to be told by an operator someone is attempting to call, especially if it's someone I'm not expecting."

"Times are changing." Came his worldly reply.

I came to agree, but the man upstairs decided to release a particularly loud moan of protest, reminding us there were pressing matters at hand.

"Have you spoken at all to Rosalie?" Carlisle asked.

"No, Esme tried before her hunt, but it seems she is reluctant to talk about it." I replied quietly. "Edward says her thoughts are quite turbulent, she keeps going over what happened."

"She has yet to look in on him." Carlisle added. "I do not wish to come to an unwelcome conclusion, but those are the usual signs of someone who has taken to pushing the blame upon themselves."

"Guilt. Which is preposterous, he was already at death's door. Is this not a better alternative than death?" I questioned rhetorically. "She knows me well enough to realise I have no qualms about prying when I am curious. I'll swap my chore with you; volunteer myself for the challenge of speaking to her."

"What's this chore, before I agree?"

"Nothing strenuous." I assured to his comical frown. "The blood stain on the spare room carpet will not be removed; therefore it's probably best to just cut it out." I handed him one of the kitchen knives. "There is a pile of things to be burnt out on the gravel; Edward said he will bring back some dry kindling for the fire."

"You've got everything under control, haven't you?" He said with a kind smile, taking the offered knife.

"It's the least I can do." I replied quietly, feeling quite abashed in my sentiments.

"You know I am forever thankful for your unwavering support, especially when things have been difficult. I shall therefore leave Rosalie to your capable hands, and be on with my chore." He departed the room with enough grace to make one weep.

I could only fight the ache in my cheeks, where I was sure a blush would have once settled. How nice it was to hear such kind words regarding ones character, especially from someone you respected as much. I removed the linen apron from around my waist, and with renewed vigour to my person sort out the family member who had taken a dent to theirs.

Through the house I traipsed, passing from the master's side of the house to the servant's quarters, and then towards the formal dining rooms and the great glass house; most of which were still under renovation.

The large sun house was not an original feature from the first phase of the building, instead a later addition from the previous tenants. But what style they had, to add such a grand extension. A room where one could sit and read, surrounded by nature, but not bothered by the forever changing elements. It was no great surprise that Rosalie had taken to hiding within such a room, the numerous indoor plants swaying next to the double doors, made the whole place so very tranquil.

I made my footsteps deliberately noticeable, scuffing the bare soles of my feet loudly against the slate.

"Such a nice day." I mused airily, moving past her seat to stand at the open doors. "Perfect weather for a swim."

"You know I dislike such a thing." She scoffed.

"That's because you have no experienced to the joys of clear water swimming, wait till we go to Alaska. Ice cold and cryst-"

"Let's cut the small talk shall we." She interrupted bluntly. "What do you want to know? You want to know why I did it. You want to know what could possibly possess me to jeopardise the family in such a way. What do you want to know, Isabella?"

"First, I want to know why you're brooding like a fractious child." I replied, cutting straight down to the nitty gritty of our honest relationship.

"I'm not brooding." She bit.

"Could have fooled me." I stated. "And I have got this strange inclination that there's some kind of guilt running through your mind?"

"Did Edward tell you that?" Came her quick snark.

"He didn't need to. You've being doing an excellent job of impersonating a hermit, doesn't take a genius to realise something's not right. And you know I'm not one to tip toe around niceties, we've been through too much for that crap."

She cast her topaz eyes to the ground, letting out a ragged sigh. "I don't know what happened, or why I had to." She whispered quietly. "He just looked so much like little Henry...the dimples in his cheeks, the curls of his hair."

I didn't pry into who little Henry was. But attempted instead to impart a little sentimental comfort, sitting down next to her to create level eye lines.

"I couldn't leave him there." She declared, wringing her hands. "I can't explain why. I just wanted to save him."

"You don't have to explain it to me." I replied. "I've seen it happen before, twice now in fact, I've witnessed such a thing. Both yourself and Esme have been examples of that."

She thought for a moment, eyes locking on the fabric of her skirt. Before asking "Why?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I have seen many a change fuelled solely on a need for disposable forces, and few based on compassion. Maybe it is an example of humility or perhaps a desire for others to be given a second chance."

"A second chance." She repeated. "Do you think he will see it that way?"

"Honestly, if he has half a brain he should do. And he will be thankful to you for giving him that chance."

"If he doesn't?" She pressed.

"Tough. You can't change what's happened." I tried. "It may be a pain to hear, but until he awakens we can't speculate on his character. We're just going to have to wait."

"I hate waiting." She sighed, playing idly with the ends of her hair.

"Why don't you go look in on him?" I questioned. "He's progressing nicely, quite a handsome man now he has been cleaned up. The venom has done its job well."

"How long? Before it ends, I mean." She asked, seemingly ignoring my prompt.

"Not long. His heart is already fluttering, that is usually what happens before the violent palpations, and then it will stop beating altogether. I'd say a couple of hours."

She nodded her head in acknowledgement, but thusly made no attempts to move.

"I'm going to go sort out some clothes for him, we can go into town when the weathers better and purchase some things." I replied off handily, taking to the floor with a lingering walk.

"I don't mind helping." She said quietly.

"Alright, I'm sure we can find something." I said, hiding my smile well beneath the plan. Her pride would not allow her to ask for aid, but that did not mean a little push in the right direction couldn't be successful.


At quarter to four in the late afternoon, the mauled human began progressing into the final phase of his change. The fluttering of his heart turned into the uncontrollable rapid palpations, forcing his lungs into hyperventilation. Quickly we were coerced into action, Rosalie and Esme went to scout out the immediate area; the former volunteering all too readily.

Much to Edward chagrin, I was to stay behind, an extra set of hands to keep the large male under control should he act out. The three of us then strategically positioned ourselves within the rather empty room, keeping the door wide open and careful not to crowd around the man. I stood a little way back from the others, pressed firmly against the bare wall and ready to implement myself.

"He can feel its decline." Edward whispered, corresponding perfectly with several irregular beats.

But we didn't require his mind reading ability to identify the sound of a struggling heart, several times within the space of half a minute the muscle faltered in its function. Then with little warning it stopped silent.

Ten seconds turned into twenty, then into thirty, forty. We waited poised and on edge, flexing our hands in nervous preparation.

It happened too quickly. He inhaled a great breath of unneeded air, sitting up all too fast and sending himself to the floor. Smashing not only the wrought iron bed frame, but the bedside cabinet.

The very first word uttered from his mouth came in the form of a confused. "Shit?"


A/N: Oh how I hate leaving it on such a cliff end, but it seemed like a good and natural place to stop. I say it every time but thanks for reading.