Tureen full of hot soup on the floorboard of her car, Rosalie pulled out of the garage and onto the long drive. The lane twist and turned, Rosalie taking it far too fast, but knowing it so well that there was little in the way of danger. Approaching the highway, she slowed and then, though there was no traffic to speak of, she paused, her car idling quietly.

Winter in Washington was such a strange time of year. Sometimes there were snowstorms, sometimes only a light rain like every other time of the year. The trees remained green, at least most of them did, and the moss somehow continued despite the snow. What she was looking at now, however, was unusual. Along the side of the road, peaking out of the bushes were small white flowers. The cold and snow should have left them shriveled or even dead, and she supposed had she come down this lane tomorrow they would have been. Today, however, they looked like tiny wisps of lace. The little flowers, so pretty in their purity, were survivors. She stared at them long and hard, fighting with herself. Flowers were nice. People liked nice things. They reminded her so much of Bella, pale, beautiful, surviving against all odds, found in a place they shouldn't be. But it was too much. It was too open. How could she hand Bella flowers without it saying 'let me love you, please?' And she couldn't say that. Saying that would be far too scary, far too vulnerable. It wasn't what she did. She had been the same person for so long that she was sure she couldn't possibly go that far out on a limb. Bella wouldn't want that, right? Of course not. She wouldn't.

The snow stuck to her hair as she stepped out of her small red car, her lips pressed into a tight line, her jaw set, she went over to the bush, heels slipping on ice and began to pick, grumbling at the flowers that it was their own fault that she was doing it.

Flowers in hand, she glanced around for something to make a bouget with. The snow fell into little perfect shapes on her skin, not melting but sitting like new little beauty marks. Reluctantly, she pulled the ribbon out of her hair, letting the blonde tumble down, and wrapped it around the flowers. She hadn't planned for her hair to be down, it hadn't been brushed, nor did it look her best, but… she looked down at the bouget in her hand, and added a few small branches from the bush, adding the rugged with the soft, and smiled.

It was beautiful.

Just like Bella.

She rolled her eyes at herself, groaning, unable to stomach herself, and got back into the car.

Her tires spun a little on the icy road as she floored it, before she spun onto the highway, off toward Bella's house at full speed.

She wasn't nervous as she pulled up to the Swan house. She wasn't. She wasn't. Her mouth simply felt a little dry. It was probably in response to the disgusting soup. She cleared her throat once, twice, and let herself out of the safety of her car.

Soup in hand, she walked carefully up the driveway, wondering as to how it was that Chief Swan hadn't salted their driveway. Her high heels ground a little as she skipped over icy patches, her thoughts on Bella and her crutches. This wasn't safe. Before she left, she would salt this driveway. If they didn't have salt then she could... she could deal with going back to that store. She could.

She made up her mind and knocked.

It only took Rosalie half of a moment before she knew that salting the driveway was pointless. Bella hadn't been anywhere.

She cleared her throat, shifting in place and blinking, doing her best to wipe the shocked look off of her face, hopefully before Bella even registered it.

Bella looked horrible.

The bruises were abundant, closing one eye and creating new colors up and down her delicate cheek and jaw.

He had hit her. The thought filtered through her mind with barbs, completely unwelcome and painful. The monster had hit her in the face repeatedly but had been mindful enough to be sure that he only hurt her badly instead of accidentally killing her, or even simply putting his hand through her skull. He had done it on purpose. It had been calculating. It had taken thought and careful planning.

A violent desire to break him again ripped through her as her eyes swept Bella's face, stretching the silence into short but oh so long moments.

It wasn't just the bruises that made her look so ghastly, so broken. Bella's face was also swollen, splotchy and red. The eye which had been closed by James's hand was crusted over as if too painful to wipe the tears entirely away. She had been crying, and from the look of it, she had been doing it a lot and for a long time.

Many emotions passed through Rosalie at once when she realized that; confusion about why the tears were being shed, anger over the fact that Bella had been given any reason to cry, revolution about the crying, and pain, genuine pain that Bella was feeling any pain herself.

"Bella," Rosalie said on an out-breath, coming out more like a sigh. "What is it? What's wrong?" The soup sat forgotten in her hands, sagging a little under the weight of her worry. She took a step closer, looking for a new injury, a task which was impossible given Bella's current state.

Bella's face twisted, her one good eye looking up and away, over Rosalie's head as she blinked. It was so dismissive, so hard, that Rosalie gaped, stung. "What are you doing here, Rosalie?"

Her mouth fell open.

Bella was too often sarcastic, sometimes in a masochistic way, other times in a sadistic way. She wasn't the wallflower that Rosalie had originally assumed, her flares of temper had proven that to Rosalie long ago, and she loved that. She loved the hint of backbone that popped out now and then from Bella. She loved that she was a strong woman and she wanted deeply to help nurture that so she took shit from no one. But never, not in the months since the school year had begun, had Rosalie heard her voice so cold. She hadn't even sounded so frozen after Rosalie had kissed her.

She blinked, taken aback, her head jerking a little as if slapped. "Wow. It's nice to see you too."

Bella didn't answer.

Baffled and more than a little offended, Rosalie held up the tureen, realizing she had forgotten the small bouquet on the passenger's seat. A slimy writhing thing in her stomach told her that perhaps that was a good thing.

"I made you soup."

"You what?" Bella asked the thin air above her head, her jaw clenched tight.

Rosalie wanted to reach toward and massage it loose again. It had to hurt having it that tightly clenched. "Soup." A thrill of panicky ice curdled her stomach when a stray tear slid down Bella's already wet face. "Bella, what's wrong? Are you in pain? I can go get Carlisle." Bella crying. She had only seen it happen once before, and even then it had been brief. Bella didn't cry. She wanted to wrap her up, could have done if she hadn't been so impulsive and fucking kissed her. Friends hugged. Friends who had kissed the other one when the other one had a boyfriend didn't. She mentally swore at herself again.

Her words seemed to startle Bella. Her eyes dropped to Rosalie's face, her one open eye suddenly wide with incredulity.

"What do you mean, what's wrong? Everything is wrong!"

She huffed, smothering the bitchy and automatic response she wanted to release in response to that dramatic statement. "Tell me what you mean?"

"I almost died!" Both of them flinched, looking around to be sure that Bella hadn't been overheard. "I was tricked by a psychopath because I'm an idiot. My whole body is broken. My parents think there's something huge going on with me. I think they think it's drugs or a gang, which isn't totally inaccurate. And my boyfriend just left in the middle of the night!" Bella's words came out in a slicing hiss so venomous that they made her wobble a little on her crutches. "He just left without saying anything to me at all. Oh, and, you kissed me!"

The polite smile that had been on Rose's face fell. She had been pleased that until that last moment, she had been left off the list of things that were wrong, pleased that maybe she hadn't messed up that badly. She supposed that had been wishful thinking. Shoulders slumping, Rosalie lifted the soup a little. "Can I come in and put this down, please? It's hot."

"You can't feel it!" Bella snapped and Rosalie lost some of the control on her very sharp tongue.

"No, you idiot, but you should eat it while it's still hot."

"I'm not hungry," Bella bit back but some of the pressure between her eyes seemed to lessen as Rosalie slipped and called her a name.

Her teeth ground. Be nice. She wanted to be nice. She wanted to be there for her. Calling her an idiot was not how to do that.

"Okay." She grunted and, without permission, she pushed past Bella, careful not to knock her over off of her crutches and entered the house for the first time.

She paused for only a moment, all too aware of exactly where the kitchen was from her long hours of babysitting duty. Her glance fell to the living room where the couch had been made up for Bella with a few blankets and a few bags and boxes of snacks on the table. Her eyebrows furrowed. That wasn't right. Bella should be in a bed where her body could be comfortable enough to sleep, to heal. She should be eating whole foods that were healthy and rich with nutrients. Where was her father? How had he left her on the couch with Cheetos and a bag of Sour Patch Kids? She stomped through to the kitchen, wondering how she could insert herself into Bella's daily life enough to be there to help her heal.

Where was Edward? Shouldn't the boyfriend be doing this instead of the unacknowledged mate? Oh, she wanted to be the one to do it.

Setting the soup on the table she didn't turn to help Bella as she hobbled in, looking as though her supporting leg wasn't quite strong enough to hold her up.

There was a smell, Rosalie realized too. Her nose wrinkled, put off. So the wolves had been there recently. Insolently she wondered if the boy had been there, or if it had just been the man.

She closed her eyes, barely swallowing her jealousy.

"I just, I can't believe he's gone," Bella mumbled, more to herself than to Rose.

Her teeth ground in aggravation, teed off by the scent of the dangerous creatures in Bella's house, teed off by the fact that she was there for the first time since baseball and yet Bella was talking about Edward. Unable to snap about either thing, she instead found something else to snap about. "Why aren't you in a wheelchair so both legs can rest?" she accused.

Bella's glare was sharp. "This house isn't wheelchair friendly."

Rose's teeth ground, knowing it was true. Could she get Bella to come to heal at her house? She could have a contractor out to make the house, the stairs, anything wheelchair friendly that afternoon. It could be done in forty-eight hours, taking the strain off of Bella's body all while letting her be cared for as she should be, as Rose knew Bella deserved. She could fix her bed up, there was a medical supply store in Port Angeles that she passed on the way to her B&B. She could keep her leg elevated. She could be sure she stayed warm and fed. She had just signed up for a subscription to this new thing, Netflix, that would send her DVDs of movies in the mail. She could maximize her subscription and make sure Bella had plenty of movies and warm blankets. She could get a TV for her bedroom. Her wants and needs could be cared for and she would even have a doctor nearby. Rose was sure she could do the exams herself. She knew enough about medicine to do that much. Yes. She was going to make this happen. This was the best thing for Bella. She needed to heal surrounded by affection and company, not alone in a house with junk food. Rosalie had cooked the soup. She could cook anything now. She—

"You can't just come over here."

Snapped out of her thoughts, Rose's arms crossed, her eyebrows high as she turned to her.

Bella's pale bruises face was suddenly a much deeper shade of red, though Rosalie wasn't sure if that was from the sudden burst of anger or if it was simply very hard to keep her poor broken body upright.

"What?" Rosalie drawled.

Bella looked like a can of soda, shaken and ready to explode. "You can't – I don't know – you can't just come over and act like we're friends!" She shouted, nearly tipping over. Rosalie reached but Bella's lips pulled back into a snarl. "I got it!"

"Oh, we're not friends now?" Rosalie shot back, her hands still outstretched to scoop Bella up and force her off of her weak legs.

"You kissed me!" Bella cried at top volume.

"I know!" She shouted back, caught up. "And I meant it!"

"I know!"

A slow and cocky grin spread across Rose's face. She had said it. There would be no misunderstanding on Bella's part. She had kissed her and she had meant it. And Bella knew it.

"But you can't just come over like – like, like, like this!"

"Like what?" Rosalie shouted right back, matching Bella's heat with her own. Her temper was too hot, too quick to withstand someone shouting in her face without shouting back.

Eyes wild, Bella searched. "Like – like - like," she stuttered and Rosalie's grin grew, honestly enjoying this. "Like pressure! Like you're pressuring me to have feelings for you!"

Rosalie snorted. "You do have feelings for me!"

The look that crossed Bella's face was, in Rosalie's book, priceless. It was such a stunning vulnerability, so shocked that Rosalie had said something like that.

"You said my name in your sleep, not Edwards. Mine! You kissed me back, for god's sake! That means something."

Bella's head shook a little, not in agreement but instead in confusion. "Maybe."

Maybe!? Rosalie opened her mouth to shout again but Bella swayed, making her want to reach out again. Maybe, she internally scoffed.

She did. She had feelings for her.

She had to.

Please, she wanted her to…

Please, let her have feelings for her…

"Can you at least try the soup for fuck sake?" she snapped, wounded and scared.

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh my – are you a child, Bella? Seriously?"

"Fine!" Bella growled. Wobbling madly, Bella shuffled quickly to the table. The lip to the tureen clattered as she slammed it down on the table and lifted the old-fashioned glass ladle.

Rosalie watched with nervous pride as Bella took a large slurp, not bothering to be polite about it.

There was a moment when she thought that the soup had perhaps been too hot to drink. Bella's eyes went wide, bugging out of her head, then her already red face turned the shade of a ripe tomato before, in a spray, the soup came spitting back out of her mouth, spraying the table.

"Oh my god!" Rosalie shouted, jumping back at vampire speed to avoid the spray.

Bella yowled, her hand covering her mouth as if to protect it from a blow. "Oh my god!" Rosalie watched with horror as Bella's face twisted into a grimace. "Oh my god! What did you put in that?" she shouted, hobbling her way to the sink where she turned on the water and dunked her mouth under it. "Jesus, Rosalie! What the hell is that?"

Rosalie twitched, watching Bella in frozen panic as Bella gagged over the sink.

"It's like pure salt!"

Rose blinked, clearing her throat. "So um, you didn't like it, then?"

Bella glared.

She snarled, embarrassed. "Well, I'm a fucking vampire!" Hurt, she glared harshly at her. She had tried for god sake. "I've never cooked! Even when I was human, the house had a cook!"

The look on Bella's face was unreadable.

"Look." Bella's defeated voice was soft, heavy, and Rosalie didn't like it at all. "I was about to lay down, okay?"

She stepped forward, unable to stop herself. "Can I help you? Let me help you up to—"

"No!"

"Okay!" she snapped, taking a step back. Her stupid stubborn obnoxious girl!

"Can you just…"

Rosalie took another step, anxious to help.

"I just need, I need to think, okay? Can you just go? Please?"

Rose's mouth dropped open, somehow honestly shocked. Was she getting kicked out? She was getting kicked the fuck out of Bella's house! Her heart ached, pain lancing through her at the clear rejection and as usual, it showed up as anger. "Fine!" she snapped, her glare harsh.

"Thank you!" Bella shot right back, just as much acid in her voice.

"You're ridiculous!"

"Fine!" Bella shouted, her voice beginning to grow shrill.

Rosalie began to stomp by, considering very seriously simply throwing her over her shoulder and forcing her into her bed, marooning her upstairs with no way to get down and no choice but to let sleep take over. Or maybe even throwing her over her shoulder and taking her home. Instead, she growled at her, a genuine cat-like growl. "Text me if you need anything!"

"I don't have your number!" Bella shouted back, her voice strained as she turned to turn to follow Rose's progression to the door.

"Fine! Text Alice!"

"Fine! God! Fuck!"

"Fine!"

"Take your fucking salt soup!"

Rosalie sneered, offended. "That's great language coming from a lady!"

"I'm not a fucking lady!"

"No shit!"

"You're one to talk!" Bella shouted, her anger making her spin to watch Rose move at vampire speed to pick up the tureen and dump the contents into the side of the sink with a garbage disposal. There was a squeak of surprise and Bella's broken body began to tip.

"God damn it!" Rosalie shouted, setting the crockery back on the table with an aggressive slam that split it in two. "Damn it!"

Bella was in Rosalie's arms before her body hit the floor, her crutches clattering as Bella's unbroken leg gave out, and ooooh, it felt so good to feel her. Her arms tightened, holding her securely, safely as Bella cried out in reflexive pain. Rosalie reached out before her cast covered leg could smack the ground, her hand catching it and resting it gently on the floor.

She looked down at Bella's startled face and the feeling she had felt in the ballet studio took her over again. Warmth, serenity, desire, and…

Bella's arms flailed, trying to get herself upright before her body had fully settled into Rosalie's arms.

"This is what I mean!" Bella shouted, trying and failing to right herself. "Stop standing there and being all beautiful and expecting things!"

Rosalie's smirk was automatic as she looked down at Bella, who glared back. "You ever notice that even when you're insulting me you call me beautiful?" Her voice had come out like a purr, pure silk.

"Rose!"

"Fine! I'm leaving! Fuck!" With a brief internal debate about taking her home, she set her upright, the crutches in hand and turned. "Fuck!" She shouted again as she grabbed the door and ripped it open. "Fuck!" It slammed behind her and she headed back out to her car.

The tires screeched as she pulled away far too fast, her tires slipping a little on ice. In the passenger seat, she saw the flowers and glared. Rolling down the window, she chucked them out with an angry cry.