A/N: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only making her characters do my bidding for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my sister, beta and prereader, Shelljayz and to my prereader, juliangelus. You guys know how I feel about you. :)

Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and/or reviewed. I love you all.

Two things:

1. I have submitted a piece for the Reflections of Summer Non-Canon Fic Contest. It is anonymous, so you won't know which one is mine if you read the entries, but you should check it out. If you are interested, keep in mind that only two entries have been posted as of now and there are more to come, so you will have to keep checking back if you want to read every submission. I will post the link to the blog on my profile. If you don't check it out now, I will eventually post what I wrote under my penname, so you can read it then ... if you want. :)

2. Longing has been nominated for the Energize W.I.P. Awards again, for which I am thankful. Voting starts up in a few days, so if you are interested in doing that (not just for my story), I will post details on my profile as well.

***This chapter contains non-explicit references to sexual assault and its aftermath and could lead to triggers***

The last chapter should have also had that warning. I apologize for not including one.

And now we get a little girl time between Bella and ...

oOo

Monday, December 14th, 2080

BPOV

I was lying on my back, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, playing with my phoenix pendant with my left hand and tossing a baseball up in the air with my right, the stuffed horse Jasper gave me for my birthday perched next to me. All of it was to help me do my best to think "happy" thoughts, but even ones of Wildfire, Chaos, select memories of my time with the Cullens and rare other snippets of my life did nothing to ease the throbbing in my head or quell any of my more hellish life experiences that were lurking and spinning on the outskirts of my consciousness, just looking for a weak spot in my protective walls to worm their way through. I was honestly surprised I'd lasted this long without losing my shit.

I would have preferred to be swimming in order to deal with my crazy. The physical release would do wonders for my state of mind, but I knew it wouldn't go over well with the Cullens. Carlisle, Charlotte and most likely, Rosalie, would let me go without saying anything, but Esme and Alice were a different story. They would worry and question and try to convince me to stay. It wasn't that the others wouldn't worry; they were just more willing to put that aside to let me do what I needed to do to process today's events. It didn't piss me off that Alice and Esme would fight me in their own subtle-ish way the way it would have only weeks ago. It was just the way they were, just a sign they cared, but I wasn't in the mood.

I again wished Jasper was home to chase away some of my demons. I didn't know if his touch and presence would work like it had the last time, but I was willing to give it a shot in spite of my discomfort over the idea of seeing him again. I hated how weak that made me.

A knock resounded on my door. The scent wafting from the person responsible gave their identity away as always: fresh-baked sugar cookies, white chocolate, cinnamon, tiger lily and roses. It was ironic that she smelled like her name, especially since the scent of roses was pleasant and she wasn't … not really.

"Come in," I called without directing my gaze to the creak of the door as it opened and shut or the sound of the Amazon goddess of a girl as she took a seat in my desk chair. I merely continued to toss the baseball up in the air and catch it deftly. I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of what a conversation with Rosalie might entail. Letting me go without a word was different than this.

"Jasper will kill you if he finds out you're playing around with that," she informed me after a minute.

The baseball was indeed Jasper's. It was tattered and dirty and roughened by its obvious use in a game, but that was part of what made it so valuable. The other part was the signature scrawled across the still-aromatic leather: Babe Ruth. He was still one of the greatest baseball players of all time even one hundred forty-five years later. Jasper kept it in a glass case on a shelf in his bedroom, and I had stolen it with no remorse. He was gone and I needed something to occupy myself with, so I was using something of his to do it. I wasn't hurting the damn thing. He would get over it, and if he didn't, he could kiss my ass.

"He can try," I remarked mildly when I finally brought my gaze to Rosalie and held it.

"He would succeed," she informed me resolutely, with no doubt. "And there's nothing any of us could do to stop him."

"That's not the first time someone's either straight up told me that or implied it," I said with no small amount of curiosity. "It makes me wonder why he's so much more badass than the rest of you."

"That's a complicated question, one I don't have a complete answer to. The only people that could give you one don't talk about it. It's an unspoken rule—we don't ask, they don't tell."

"Jasper, Peter and Charlotte?" I guessed.

Rosalie nodded.

"No matter how true all that is, spend enough time with me and you'll find I have more lives than a cat."

I could tell from her expression that my statement confused her, but she didn't comment.

"Are you really already looking for ways to fuck things up between the two of you when they're finally okay again?" she asked instead, arching a perfect brow.

"Not necessarily."

I went back to staring at the ceiling and focusing on the baseball in my peripheral vision, which I had not stopped tossing even as I spoke and had my attention on her.

"It hasn't been my intention to piss him off on purpose in weeks," I said, deciding to switch hands just to mix things up, throwing the ball with my left and twisting the chain of my necklace around the fingers of my right. Rosalie watched my flawless transition with interest, impressed. "He knows that."

"That," she gestured to my game, "kinda looks like it is your intention though," she pointed out, despite how impressed she may or may not have been with my dexterity. I shrugged but wasn't sure if she caught the gesture since I was still on my back. "Anyway, that isn't why I'm here."

"Why are you here?" I questioned. I was just on the cusp of annoyed by her presence but not enough to do anything about it, like make a snarky comment or tell her to get the fuck out.

"I thought you might want to get out of Forks for a while," she answered. "It occurred to me that it would be sort of stifling here under the current circumstances, what with people in this town physically incapable of keeping their noses out of everyone else's shit."

I caught the ball with a loud thwack against my palm and didn't throw it again, instead returning my eyes to Rosalie. "And you want me to get out of dodge with you?"

"Yes," she replied, no hint of awkwardness or hesitation in her voice or demeanor.

"Where would we go?"

"Port Angeles," she suggested. "Seattle maybe. Hell, we can go to Canada for all I care. Christmas break starts in three days, and I don't give a fuck about missing the rest of this week, even if we do have finals."

We did have finals. Principal Greene hadn't mentioned it earlier but had called to inform me that I would be allowed to make them up despite my suspension. I didn't care. I wouldn't be here to.

I restrained myself from showing any form of surprise. "Port Angeles is fine."

Rosalie smiled. "There's this diner there. I've heard the one thing it dominates on that Diamond in the Rough doesn't is homemade ice cream. That's supposed to help in situations like this, isn't it?"

I wanted to yell that I wasn't in a situation that required comfort food, that I was stronger than that, and if I hadn't been a complete dumbass and risked all the touching at the dance, I could say that with certainty. But I had taken that risk, so I wasn't sure that was true. Besides, I didn't really have the energy to argue with her and ice cream did sound good.

"Supposedly," I confirmed.

"Alright," she said, her smile widening. "You down?"

"Sure." Getting out of Forks might do me some good, and Rosalie was neutral company. She may have been nicer to me lately, but she didn't care one way or another.

oOo

The diner had a fifties feel to it with its shiny, red vinyl booths, well-worn formica tables, black and white checkered linoleum tile floor and waitresses in car hop uniforms. Just beneath the sweet scent of homemade ice cream and all its fixings, the smell of stale grease lingered, probably never to fade away, and it hung in my sensitive nose the way fog clung to the ground. It did nothing for my throbbing head, only serving to make it more ill at ease. The atmosphere evoked a nostalgic feel that Diamond in the Rough didn't, but this place didn't have as much warmth nor was it particularly homey. It was still comfortable in a way, or it would have been if I'd given a shit about anything at the moment, but I didn't.

Rosalie watched me as I ate a banana split with chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla, and she was right. This place's ice cream kicked ass. As she studied me, I studied her back. We hadn't exchanged a word since I'd agreed to come here with her, and I was more than okay with that. Our silence wasn't awkward. It just was, and I liked that she didn't seem to want to force me to discuss what'd happened in the cafeteria earlier. I honestly just found that I liked her the longer we went without being at odds.

"Hey, Bella?" she finally said. Maybe she was going to make me talk about it after all. I didn't know if the thought showed on my face, but she seemed to know what I was thinking whether it did or not. "I won't talk about today if you don't want. You don't have to talk at all, but I would like to talk if you're willing to listen."

"Uh …" I wavered and took another bite of my ice cream to give myself a good reason to put off answering her.

"Not about today," she assured me again. "At least not directly."

"If you really want to, I'll listen," I agreed.

"I owe you an apology," Rosalie began, her tone strong and certain.

I frowned in confusion but said nothing. There were a few things she could apologize for, but if there was one thing I knew about Rosalie Hale, it was that she wasn't the remorseful type. She did what she did and was what she was. She made no excuses for it, and I respected that character trait. She was a straight up bitch but not a psychopath who killed without thought and didn't give a shit like Derek Henry. I might feel differently about her if that was the case, but it wasn't.

"Okay," I said slowly.

"I made some judgments about you, and they made me form opinions that weren't flattering," she admitted fearlessly. "It affected the way I treated you, and I treated you pretty damn awful. It's not something I've never done before, but you're probably the person least deserving of it. I really am sorry for that."

"Um, yeah, that's true," I granted easily. "Maybe not the least deserving part, but I get it. You were protecting your family, and it's not like I let you get away with your shit."

A grin broke across Rosalie's face. "You certainly didn't. I kind of hated you for that, but I kind of respected you for it too."

I shrugged. "So you're not my biggest fan. It doesn't keep me awake at night. It never did."

"I'd be disappointed if it did," she said with more stark honesty in her face, her voice and her body. "And I am protective of my family, especially Emmett."

"He's the man you love," I responded, though she wasn't looking for one. "Your mate. Of course you are."

"You're not supposed to be so understanding about this," Rosalie complained irritably.

"I'm not supposed to be a lot of things," I countered. I'd said something similar to Jasper the night of the dance which she would have heard if she'd bothered to listen to our conversation. I didn't elaborate for her just the same as I didn't for him. She didn't ask me to. "Have you ever read To Kill a Mockingbird?"

She rolled her eyes. "I've been to high school a dozen times and counting, Bella. Of course I've read it, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"There's a quote from it I've always particularly liked," I replied, taking a bite of my ice cream and swallowing before I continued. "'You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.' It's good advice I always try to remember. I don't have a lot of the same experiences as most people, so it can be difficult for me to put myself in another's shoes. That's why it's important for me to keep it in mind. I don't always, of course. I'm not perfect, and sometimes, I judge, but trying to see things from a different person's perspective tends to make certain things easier to swallow or tolerate at the very least. It can help me learn something whether it's about that person, the world or myself. I can't say that I can completely climb inside your skin to help me understand you better considering all the basic differences between us, but I'm able to climb inside it just enough to get the gist. Sure, you're attitude was annoying, but I can't be angry with you for loving your family enough to be protective of them. And really, Rosalie, there are worse things to be than a bitch."

"Are you sure you're seventeen?" she queried dubiously.

"So it says on my birth certificate," I replied with a smirk. Yeah, okay, so it was a birth certificate I'd forged, but my age was still accurate.

"I should have known I was wrong about you from the get-go," Rosalie told me flatly.

"How could you? You didn't know me. You still don't. Not really," I placated, not sure why I was bothering.

"Because of Emmett," she answered, her voice tinged with sadness. "I may believe he can be naive for always looking for the best in people, but despite that, my husband is an impeccable judge of character. He loved you the moment he met you. I should have trusted that, let it sink in and make me wonder if I might be wrong instead of waiting for the proof to bite me in the ass."

"You're not perfect either, Rosalie, and Emmett doesn't seem to be bothered that you didn't agree with his opinion of me, so what's the big deal?" I asked, scraping a heaping spoonful of hot fudge off the side of my dish and licking it off slowly. It wasn't really helping me deal with my issues, but it sure as hell tasted good.

Rosalie's face contorted with sorrow and shame, brows furrowing, lips turning down and venom shining in her eyes. "No, I'm not, and no, he doesn't, but it should bother him. He and I are perfect for each other. I know it probably doesn't seem like it since we're polar opposites, but we balance each other out, and he just gets me … in a way no one ever has. I'm flawed just like anyone else, and I won't apologize for that, but that doesn't change that he deserved better from me, Bella. He doesn't see it that way. He never does because he just accepts me for who I am and never tries to change me. He just forgives and forgets the best a vampire with an eidetic memory can."

She paused, and I waited.

"I should have been more accepting of you and more supportive of him for the simple reason that he sees you as a sister," she explained. "He always has. You don't know what that means, Bella, what a big deal it is. You have no idea what his human sister meant and still means to him."

I still waited, uncertain if I wanted her to continue, but I had said I would listen to her. I wouldn't go back on that.

"Etta was everything to him, his whole world. I won't go into a whole lot of detail because I'm sure he'd like to be the one to tell you, but Em had a rough life as a human. Most people did back then, but knowing you're not the only one doesn't provide you with any comfort or put food on the table and clothes on your back, especially when you're a kid. He did it anyway. For her, he did it because he loved her enough to put her before anything else."

I didn't know which era Emmett had grown up in, but I had always been curious about each of the Cullens' stories. I wondered if Rosalie meant it when she said he would want to tell me himself or if she was just saying it to avoid violating his trust without offending me, but when had she ever given a shit about offending me?

"But that isn't how he feels about me," I protested, dropping my spoon on the table. "About you, sure, but not me."

"Isn't it though?" Rosalie challenged with an arched brow and an obstinate expression. She crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for me to contradict her, but I couldn't because I was fucking speechless. "Em is an easy-going guy who loves people, but that doesn't mean he loves them. There's a difference between being a social person and being trusting, and he doesn't trust easily. It's because of what we are and because he's just as fiercely protective of the family as I am, but he does love you. He does trust you. He always has. It was an instant connection between the two of you, for him at least, and the only other people he's formed a bond with that quickly are me and his human sister. I was jealous. I still am."

"You have no reason to be jealous of me, Rosalie," I scoffed with a dismissive wave of my hand.

"I have plenty to be jealous of," she argued. Her tone was matter-of-fact and slightly impatient. Almost everything she'd said to me had been. It reminded me of Charlotte and what Edward had told me about the two of them having a lot in common, only where Charlotte was subtly unyielding, Rosalie was more obvious about it; but while that was true of Rosalie and she had a definite air of menace about her when she was pissed, Charlotte undoubtedly gave off a more lethal vibe than her friend at all times, an unparalleled resolution. Rosalie was not to be taken lightly, but Charlotte was the bigger threat.

"What is it that changed your mind?" I inquired because I really had no clue … until I did. It came to me as if I'd been hit by a bolt of lightning. Fury filled me and my eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. When I spoke, the words were a harsh accusation, bit out with venom, "You overheard my phone conversation with Mrs. Davidson after my road trip, didn't you?"

"Yes," she said with no trace of remorse. "You looked sick when you left the room. Emmett and I were worried, so we stuck around to make sure you were alright. I know it violates the 'no prying' condition, but we were willing to risk it. At the time, concern trumped rules."

"Well, you can shove your changed opinions up your ass, Rosalie," I snapped. "I don't need your fucking pity."

Rosalie laughed humorlessly for a moment, then sobered and regarded me evenly. "I don't pity you. I'm not in the habit of feeling sorry for people."

That was another thing I knew about her, but my gut still screamed that she was a fucking liar. I wanted to lunge across the table and stab her in the eye with my blunt spoon. It was too bad the metal wouldn't penetrate it.

I stayed stubbornly silent. I refused to acknowledge that I knew she was telling the truth. No one was supposed to know what I'd gotten up to in Louisville aside from the people who already knew, little though they did, and that was because I'd had no control over their discovery of it. That was bad enough.

"I happen to admire and respect people who pick up and muddle through the shit life heaps on them," she revealed offhand. "What I overheard nailed home that you're a person who does that. That's what started to change my mind, and the more I observed you as time went on and took into account the things I'd misread, the more I started to admire and respect you. Then there's the part where you protected kids. I like kids, and I would have done the same thing."

Now the fact that Rosalie Hale liked kids enough to protect them was a surprise.

"It's what happened today that truly cemented my new view of you though," she continued. "You really fucked Gavin up, Bella, and I kind of love you for it. It was freakishly awesome, and I really, really want to ask you about it. I won't though, at least not today. I did make you a promise that you wouldn't have to talk about everything that went down. I rarely make them, and I keep the ones I do."

"I'll tell you what I told Carlisle," I interjected. I didn't want to have to keep revisiting this, so I figured I would nip it in the bud and tell her my half-lie. If I controlled the context, I was more likely to avoid getting asked questions I would have to answer with more lie than truth. I repeated what I'd told her "father" word for word. "When you live on the streets, knowing how to defend yourself is necessary. I saw my fair share of street fights and picked up a few things along the way. I wasn't exactly a stranger to having to implement what I learned."

Rosalie nodded as she processed my answer to her unasked but directly implied question, but she chose not to throw in her thoughts on it, which was fine with me.

"If it was me Gavin had felt up, I wouldn't have been able to show the restraint you did. I wouldn't have stopped until I killed him, and I wouldn't have given a shit that I was in the middle of the cafeteria in front of a bunch of witnesses."

Carlisle had said that abuse of any kind was a touchy subject for him but had neglected to mention it was to anyone else. It wasn't particularly surprising that it bothered Rosalie. Abuse should bother everyone, but I wasn't expecting such a violent reaction from her, that she would risk her family's secret to stop a guy who could stoop low enough to do such a thing. I wasn't quite convinced Gavin would ever take that behavior to such an extreme, douchebag though he was, but what was even more shocking was that it was almost as though Rosalie would have killed him in my defense.

"I could have killed him," I admitted blandly, which was true, and I didn't know why I told her. She just watched me as I said this, and I didn't know what was going through her head, but I didn't care. I did have something to ask of her. I just didn't know if she would agree to it. "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention any of what went down with Gavin to the guys when they get back."

Rosalie frowned, disbelieving and confused. "I won't, I guess," she promised, not reluctantly exactly but her answer still came slow. "You know they'll still find out though, right? It's all anyone in Forks is talking about. The moment they set foot in the parking lot at school, they'll hear about it. They might even find out before then if they go in to town."

"Yes," I conceded. "I do know that. I just want to put it off for as long as possible."

Emmett and Peter, even Edward, were ridiculously protective, and I didn't want to deal with it. It was fiercely annoying, especially since I was very capable of defending myself and had clearly shown that. I knew I would have to deal with it eventually, but that didn't mean I had to dive right in to the irritation.

"You think you could talk to the others?" I requested hopefully, praying I didn't sound desperate.

"Um," she wavered, still frowning. "Sure."

"Thanks," I said with a smile.

She nodded tersely. "Look, I know I've wrecked any chance of us being friends with the way I've acted towards you," Rosalie said with regret a few moments later. "But I'm hoping we can at least be friendly, especially considering what you've become to the family. You are family."

I opened my mouth to tell her she hadn't wrecked anything but snapped it shut. I couldn't make a declaration or promise I couldn't keep. I wouldn't. I was leaving. It wouldn't be fair. Plus, I never did that anyway.

She sighed, and I wondered if she'd hoped I would tell her she was wrong. She seemed almost disappointed that I hadn't.

"I would like to tell you about my past and how I was turned," she carried on. "It will shed some light on why I acted the way I did, the way I do. It will help you understand. It isn't an excuse. I don't believe in excuses, but it will offer an explanation, and I feel like I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything," I insisted.

"Maybe not," she admitted, "but I still feel like I do. Please let me."

"Did you talk to Edward?" I asked with suspicion. It seemed odd that they would share their histories within a day of each other unless they'd talked and formed some kind of conspiracy.

Rosalie frowned again. "No, why?"

I shrugged noncommittally. In actuality, I felt awkward as hell at the prospect of learning about her life, even if I was curious. "No reason."

"Look, if you're uncomfortable with the idea because you think I might expect you to reciprocate, you don't need to worry about that. I already know more about you than you thought I did, more than you obviously want me to. That knowledge for sharing my past is a fair trade, don't you think?"

"I'm not so sure it counts as a fair trade since you didn't find out because I told you myself, but I may be willing to consider that semantics if you buy me another banana split," I bargained slyly.

"Bribery is another one of your many and varied talents, I see," Rosalie noted with a chuckle, amusement decorating her face.

"Bribery, though not entirely inaccurate, is such an ugly word. I prefer to call it a superior negotiation tactical skill," I countered.

Rosalie's eyebrows furrowed. "You are the strangest girl, Bella, but you've got yourself a deal."

Then she flagged our waitress down and ordered another banana split for me and a piece of lemon cake for herself so she wouldn't stand out so much.

When my second frozen treat arrived, I finally gave her my answer. "I guess if you really want to tell me, I won't stop you."

"I do want to," she said, "but it might take a little while to get through my story. It's difficult for me to tell."

"Take your time," I responded. "I don't have anywhere to be, and you're my ride anyway."

Rosalie took a deep breath and folded her hands atop the table, resting them there a moment before she shifted them to her lap in a nervous gesture. I had never seen the great and superbly confident Rosalie Hale nervous before; it was disturbing. After another few seconds, she fiddled with her fork before she lopped off a hefty chunk of cake and brought it to her lips. In a clever maneuver, she slipped it into her napkin while making it look like she'd put it in her mouth. She chewed to keep up appearances and went back to fiddling with her fork and taking deep breaths through her nose. Once she was done with her little performance, she closed her eyes, took one last deep breath and released it slowly. With that exhale, all anxiety slunk out of her body and her back straightened with silent strength. When she opened her eyes to look at me again, I noticed that the haunted sheen that often colored them was more prominent than usual, and I had a gut feeling I wouldn't like the story I was about to hear.

"I should warn you, Bella," she said gravely. "My story isn't a pretty one, and it doesn't have a happy ending."

"Okay," I responded just as gravely. I hated that I'd been right about not liking what I was about to hear.

She fixed her gaze on a spot to my left before she began. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, probably because of the nature of what we were talking about, to keep any gossipmongers from overhearing. It also held a slightly dream-like quality to it I never would have thought her capable of, "I was born Rosalie Lillian Hale to Helen and Roderick Hale in Rochester, New York. It was 1915, and the world was much simpler than it is now, at least at first. As I'm sure you know, it was only two years later that the United States joined World War I, or the Great War as it was called then, and just another before the Spanish Influenza struck, though I wasn't old enough to be affected in any significant way. It took a little time for us to recover from the aftermath of those events, but we bounced back as we always seem to do and things were looking up. Then Wall Street crashed in 1929, and everything went to shit, but my father held a secure job at a bank that left us firmly in the middle class. We were almost wealthy even, and it was almost as though the Great Depression didn't exist for us, even though its effects could be seen every time I left the house.

"My parents were proud and smug about our social status but unsatisfied with it. What they had wasn't enough for them, and I suspect that no matter what their status, it never would have been. They had aspirations, you see. You could call them social climbers. They were the definition of them actually, and they saw me as the way to climb to the top and gain all they desired.

"I was extraordinarily beautiful when I was human, which is why I hold an edge in looks now that I'm a vampire. After my twelfth birthday, heads turned whenever I entered a room or walked down the street. My parents spoiled me, doted on me because of my beauty, because every time I was with them people paid more attention to them."

Rosalie's voice had shifted since she began, her more modern speech melting back into the more formal style that was prominent when she was human and her voice drifting into a subtle version of the accent she would have had at the time—nasal and adding a double "e" between most words whose second letter was "a," like "hee-appened" instead of "happened." Edward, being from Chicago, would have had the same accent when he was human because Rochester and Chicago were both in the Inland North region, and I'd been to both in my travels though I hadn't lived in the former but had in the latter. Their accents were, indeed, practically, if not, identical, and it was strange to see this little snapshot of Rosalie from so long ago and to think that it connected her to her brother in a roundabout way. I wondered if they knew, if they had ever picked up on the similarity, but they must have. Their hearing was just as good as mine.

"My father bought me pretty dresses, and my mother cooed at and complimented almost everything I did," she continued, still focused on the spot to my left. Just as Edward had in the car the day before, she seemed lost in memories, in a world long past and nearly forgotten, and I had to question if she was aware of her current surroundings and the people in them. I debated on whether or not to remind her, to pull her out when she was so deep in memories I knew would soon turn hellish, but I wasn't sure that would be welcome. If I interrupted now, she may not be able to get through her story at all, and my knowing it was important to her. I would rescue her only if she needed it. "They were so focused on me that they barely acknowledged my two younger brothers, which bothered me less than it should have for a long time.

"Despite all their devotion and praise, there was an emptiness to it, a falsity and a coldness that I was always aware of to an extent," she confided. Rosalie had not moved once except to draw in the air she needed to speak since she began, and it was eerie but perhaps necessary for her. There was no sadness in her tone but it wasn't all business either. It was merely truthful with the slightest air of vulnerability that anyone who didn't have my training in reading people wouldn't pick up on. "It was another thing that should have bothered me more than it did, but all of it, the attention and material things, made me vain and self-centered, and I still am to this day, but it did still bother me.

"Their social ambitions were more important to them than their children, and I was only worth how much I could accomplish for them in that regard," she said disdainfully, a bitter snort accompanying the revelation. It was the first time she'd shown any real emotion since she'd begun opening up, and I couldn't help but think that I might have been lucky all these years without parents of my own. I had no one to disappoint me or let me down the way hers had. I also couldn't help but notice a certain similarity between the two of us there: I was only worth whatever I accomplished for the scientists and politicians behind my creation, but my purpose in life was even more specific than the one her parents had deemed hers as well as infinitely more important.

It was after this that Rosalie looked at me for the first time. Our eyes met, both our gazes unreadable, and locked for several moments before she returned them to the spot to my left. "When we were in public, I was their little princess, but that wasn't so much the case behind closed doors. I guess it didn't bother me as much because I loved being me. I had everything I wanted: beauty, the envy of my friends, pretty dresses and the sound possibility of getting the future I'd always dreamed of. The one with the big house and furniture that someone else would clean and the modern kitchen someone else would cook in. It did still hurt though. I just refused to acknowledge how deeply, and my vanity helped with that. It helped me push the hurt that my parents didn't truly care about me to the back of my mind and continue living a charmed life that was untouched by hardship."

That was a core difference between Rosalie and I. I had known hardship from birth, though it had taken me years to figure out that that was what it was and that it wasn't normal, that it wasn't something to be expected, that it was bad, but I knew by the end of her story that that would change. Rosalie knew hardship now. I could see it in her eyes.

"When I turned 18, my mother and father saw a true opportunity to make a play for a higher status than they had. One day, my mother 'forgot' to send my father's lunch with him to work and sent me to bring it to him. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was a set-up," she said, and there was more bitterness there than ever before, but when she spoke again, her voice had returned to the even, dream-like quality it'd had since the beginning. I admired the strength it must have taken. "Royce King II was there. His family owned the bank my father worked at and most of the other profitable businesses in Rochester. They were the royalty of our town, which was fitting considering their last name. Obviously, Royce was the heir to it all, but he'd gone to school and gotten his degree in finance, so the bank and running numbers was the natural place for him to end up. He was at the age where he was being primed to take over so his father could devote more of his time to the other family businesses.

"Just like everyone else, especially men, Royce noticed me, and later that night, roses arrived and every night after. He told me just a few days later that my eyes reminded him of violets, and they started coming along with the roses. My room was overflowing with them, to the point that I smelled like them when I left the house." There was a faint twist to her features now—delight. It had pleased her to receive tokens of admiration, and I hadn't needed a description of her as a human to know it would have. Rosalie liked being admired; it was a trait she'd never hidden.

"Royce and I didn't often see each other because he was so busy at the bank or so he said. Who knows if that was true. We didn't know each other well, but our courtship proceeded anyway. That's how things worked back then—you didn't have to know the person you married well," she explained, but that was something about that time I already knew. "We attended many parties together. He liked people to see me on his arm, and I liked it too. He was handsome with blond hair lighter than mine and pale blue eyes. I remember thinking he was the only man in Rochester with looks worthy enough to stand next to my own, if you didn't count Carlisle and Edward anyway, but they hardly ever came into town. Royce may have been handsome enough to stand at my side, but his physical appeal didn't eclipse mine, which pleased me." There was a smirk there as she said it that amused me even if I didn't see the point in vanity.

"I liked that being a King opened every door to me and that every red carpet was rolled out in welcome wherever I went because we were together. A future with him meant I could have all the things I'd ever wanted for myself. It's why I didn't protest in the least when he proposed, even though it had only been two months. I didn't even need the encouragement from my parents, though I received it in earnest. Other than those superficial things, our relationship was based on nothing more than physical attraction. I was young and didn't know any better, that there should be more, that there should be love. Unfortunately, I realized that too late." And there was that bitterness she'd shown before, but it was slight. Yet again, it was a statement more bluntly truthful than anything else but not quite matter-of-fact. It just was.

"My best friend was Vera Tate." As Rosalie said the name there was a fondness there I'd only heard as she spoke of Emmett, though I suspected it would have been there when she talked about the rest of the Cullens and Whitlocks but I'd never heard her do that. This was the first time we'd ever spoken so candidly after all. It was the first time we'd ever really spoken at length or about anything serious ever. "We had known each other for as long as I could remember. She was the only person who'd never envied me, not my beauty, my family's wealth or my engagement to Royce. She was pretty in a more conventional way, her looks no match for mine. She didn't turn heads, no one did double takes when she passed by, but she was kind, sweet and gentle. She didn't put up with my vanity or my selfishness. In a way, she brought out who I was at my core, my best self I hid away so my parents' lack of affection wouldn't hurt so much."

It was the first time even a hint of the hurt she'd felt and probably still did over her parents' apathy leaked into her voice, but it still made no appearance in her demeanor, and I felt the odd urge to hug her. Sometimes the lack of those things showed how much more it hurt than giving in to the emotion did.

"I was more comfortable with Vera, freer, and I loved her dearly. She and I were very different. She was strong in a way I wasn't. Her family wasn't wealthy as mine was, and the Depression hit them hard. She worked herself to the bone because of it, never with a complaint, and helped her parents put food on their table and keep a roof over their head. She could take care of herself and was independent in a way I could never have been. Vera had no desire to find someone to take care of her, but she didn't judge me for wanting the opposite. She loved me for who I was, flaws and all."

The hurt had disappeared and the fondness had returned in addition to an admiration for her friend's virtues. Considering her description of herself at the time, I wondered if she'd admired Vera then or had only come to later on.

"I didn't fully appreciate that until it was too late too," she said with a sigh. "Vera was the only person I was ever jealous of as a human, though I never admitted it to her. I think she knew anyway. She married closer to the age that most girls did back then, two years before at 16, and her baby boy, Henry, made his arrival a year later. He was beautiful, the most adorable thing I had ever seen with his curly black hair, the bluest of blue eyes, all dimples and innocence. He melted my heart every time I saw him. It wasn't until he came along that I began to long for something more meaningful." A smile graced her lips then. It was a smile I'd never seen on her before, one full of wistfulness and longing, of desperation. "I wanted a baby of my own, a house full of them, and a husband who would kiss me when he got home from work, just like Vera. For the first time, being Rosalie Hale didn't make me happy, being me wasn't enough.

"As always, my vanity prevailed, and I got over it. Throughout my relationship with Royce, I had called on Vera often. I got to see the way she and her husband were together, how sweet he was to her, how tender. I didn't care that Royce and I didn't have that at first because I was getting everything I'd always wanted, especially a baby of my own soon, and I wasn't jealous of her anymore because I was happy again," Rosalie said, and there was disgust there. I'd never heard her direct disgust towards herself, only others. "It didn't stay that way though. A week before the wedding, I went to visit Vera, and it wasn't until then that I figured out what it was that she and her husband had that Royce and I didn't. Love." There was that longing again, and I understood. There were times when I longed for the possibility of that for myself despite that I knew how unrealistic and impossible it was. "They loved each other. That realization didn't make me jealous again though. It made me achingly sad and more than a little empty.

"All the memories of the times my parents had been so cold and false came flooding out of the place I'd locked them away, not to be ignored anymore. It brought me to another realization. Royce was no different than they were," she spat, her disgust amplified, and I knew the ugly part of her story was approaching. "For the first time, I couldn't push the hurt away. I didn't want that to be my fate. I didn't want a loveless relationship where I would be miserable with only material things as comfort. Suddenly the big house didn't seem like such a nice idea and all the pretty dresses didn't seem so pretty anymore. I didn't want the babies that didn't yet exist but that I already loved so much to grow up with a father who would treat them as mine did because now I couldn't forget how much my little brothers had been neglected, and it finally bothered me as much as it should have all along."

Her disgust had magnified even more. She sounded as though she hated herself.

"I may have been selfish and self-centered, but I truly loved my brothers, and I hated myself for not caring about their welfare for so long. I decided in that moment that I didn't want any of it, that the future I had wanted my whole life wasn't the future I should have wanted. I should have wanted more for myself, and I finally did. I was going to call off the wedding, even if it meant my family would no longer support me. I would take my little brothers away, make sure they had the love they'd deserved but had never gotten, and I would find the same strength that Vera had. Somehow, some way, I would learn to take care of myself and them. I would find the kind of love she had, even if the life I would live as a result ended up being modest," she declared with the resolute determination in her voice that was always there when she spoke of protecting her vampire family.

"But that wasn't to be. The decision I made was for nothing. It was later than I realized when I left Vera's, dark enough for the lamps to have been lit, and it was cold too." She was still lost in her memories, in a world decades before, a world I couldn't fathom. "If I hadn't been so distracted by everything, I would have called my father to walk me home, but I wasn't ready to face him. I was still trying to figure out how I would break the news that I was no longer getting married, and I was sure he would ask me what had me in such a daze. I had never been a good liar, and I wasn't ready for him to ask. I needed more time. The time I thought I needed didn't matter either."

Her snort was loud, and the muscles in her arms went rigid. If I could have seen her fists, I knew they would have been clenched. The low keen of her fingernails digging into her stone skin confirmed it.

"I wasn't far from my house when I came across a cluster of drunk men. They were loud and boisterous and made no attempt to conceal their state, which was odd. It wasn't until a lamp illuminated one of their faces that I understood why. One of the men was my soon-to-be former fiancé, and Royce King II could get away with anything. He was untouchable, no matter how badly he might behave or who was around to witness it. The others were the sons of other rich men and nearly as untouchable as he was.

"I didn't want to see him either. It would be even more difficult to tell him the wedding was off than it would to break the news to my parents. He wouldn't take it well—no one rejected a King. He would ruin me, but I no longer cared, and it truly shocked me how drastically I'd changed in such a short time. I ducked my head and hoped he wouldn't notice me as I walked past, but luck wasn't with me that night. He saw me and called me over, and as much as I didn't want to go to him, I went anyway. If I hadn't gone to him, he and his friends would have come to me."

Her haunted eyes flashed but went empty at the same time. It was a curious combination, but emotions were complex and unpredictable, especially if her story was headed in the direction I suspected it was.

"I'd never seen Royce drunk before. Even though his status left him nearly invincible, he rarely ever drank in public for the sake of appearances, and he'd given me the impression that he didn't like champagne. It never occurred to me that he liked something much stronger," Rosalie mused, he lips turning down the tiniest bit.

"He talked about how I was late and how displeased he was that I'd kept him and his friends waiting, though we'd made no plans to see each other that night. He acted like it was a joke as he said it, but there was an underlying sinister quality to his voice that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and my blood ran cold." The slightest shiver wracked through her body at the words and she went silent for a minute before she took a deep breath and met my eyes, staring at me for several long moments before she again moved her gaze to my left.

"Then he went on to brag about how beautiful I was to a new friend of his come up from Georgia, but his friend didn't agree with him. He said he couldn't really tell since I was all covered up. They laughed. All of them laughed, and then Royce tore my jacket off with such force that the brass buttons popped off and scattered into the street. *'Show them what you look like, Rose!'* he said, laughing again, but there was still that menacing quality to it that scared me more than anything ever had before. Then he ripped the bonnet from my head, taking some of the pins and the hair attached to them with it. It hurt, and I cried out. I couldn't help it, but they … they liked it, hearing my pain."

Her face darkened with wrath and grief at that revelation, but it cleared quickly and she continued on, her voice on the cusp of desperate, "I wanted them to stop. That's all I wanted. I should have screamed for help, I should have fought, but I froze instead. I didn't fight. It kills me that I didn't, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. There were five of them, and I was no match. You're smart enough to know what happened next, so I won't make you listen to it, and I won't put myself through the chore of retelling it."

By the time she had finished, her voice had cycled through the desperation and gone on to defeat and finally apathy. Sadness for her overwhelmed me but I didn't let it show on my face in case Rosalie looked for a reaction. She wouldn't appreciate it.

"They left me in the street after. I wasn't very coherent when they were done with me, but I was aware enough to register that they were laughing as they stumbled away. They thought I was dead, and his friends teased Royce about having to find a new fiancée. He made some crack about needing to learn some patience first.

"I wanted to die, and I waited in the road for death to find me. My pain was unbearable, or so I thought, but I still felt how cold it was. That didn't make sense to me, but I was happy. I figured that if I stayed in it long enough, it might numb my agony. It was even better when it started to snow, but I wasn't dead yet and that didn't make sense either. Then Carlisle came …

"He'd smelled the blood and followed the scent, and being the man that he is, he couldn't leave well enough alone. He had to save me—"

Again there was the reinforcement of the knowledge Edward had shared with me the day before, the knowledge that Carlisle would never change someone who had a choice, who wasn't on the brink of death. It brought back my thoughts on why he hadn't tried to change me, if he somehow could sense there was something in me that shouldn't be allowed to live forever.

"—so he worked to patch up as many of my injuries as he could before he scooped me up and ran me back to the house he shared with Esme and Edward. Even though I thought I'd died because his speed was so improbable that I had to be dead, I remembered being annoyed. If I was dead, it hardly seemed fair that he would be a part of my afterlife. I had always been bothered that the Cullens were more attractive than I was, and the idea that I'd spend eternity reminded of that was more like hell than heaven. Yes, I was still vain, even as I was dying. What bothered me more though was that the pain hadn't stopped, and I was sure I had gone to hell.

"It only got worse after that. Carlisle bit me—my throat, my wrists, my ankles—though I couldn't have known that at the time. I'd thought the pain of what Royce and his friends had done was the worst possible, but then came the burn of the venom. That was infinitely more excruciating."

I wondered just how painful the venom actually was. I wondered if my own experiences with fire, acid and burns could compare. I did have a lot of it. My creators had needed to test the healing properties they'd endowed me with, so they'd subjected me to every injury imaginable—mostly those that would have been fatal to a normal person—to see how successful they'd been, and they were more successful than they ever dreamed they would be. I couldn't believe that the burn of the venom could be worse than practically being burned alive or doused in acid that ate away at skin and muscle.

"I'd wanted to die before," Rosalie muttered, "but I really wanted to die after that, and I begged Carlisle to kill me. When Edward and Esme came home, I pleaded with them to, but they didn't.

"Carlisle sat with me through the transformation, all three days of it. He never left my side. He held my hand and explained what he was, what I was becoming. He told me he was so sorry and promised the pain would end. I didn't always listen to him, and when I did, I didn't believe the things he said. A vampire? He expected me to believe he was a vampire? That I would be one when the pain stopped? Right, like I ever would.

"Edward was furious with him. I was too well-known. Turning me was too risky for them. He wanted to know what the hell Carlisle was thinking.

*"'I couldn't just let her die,' Carlisle said quietly. 'It was too much—too horrible, too much waste.'*

"Edward said he knew, but he sounded so indifferent, so dismissive. It made me angry. I didn't understand that he could see everything in Carlisle's mind.

*"'It was too much waste,'* Carlisle repeated, and he sounded so broken. I didn't understand why this man who didn't know me would care so much. I didn't know what to make of it, and part of me was annoyed by it. *'I couldn't leave her.'*

"Edward went on to say he knew it was Royce who was responsible, which tempered the annoyance, but he also said, 'People die all the time,' like my life meant nothing, like I meant nothing. That made me so angry. At least Carlisle thought I was worth something.

"I woke up soon after that and remembered some of what Carlisle had told me during my change. I believed then. The thirst was overwhelming, it burned so much, my skin was hard, my eyes were blood red … I knew my life was over, but when I saw myself in the mirror, my new vampire beauty was a comfort. I truly was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I was no less vain or shallow in my afterlife, but that didn't make me happy about what Carlisle had turned me into.

"Edward and I were a lot alike then. We both hated what we are, we were both bitter and angry about it, and we both resented and loved Carlisle because he made it so difficult not to. Unlike Edward, however, my hatred had nothing to do with the belief that we don't have souls or that we're damned. It was because I was, am, frozen. Before I realized I wanted more than just a big house and pretty dresses, status and more envy than I'd already had, before I realized what I wanted more than anything else was a baby of my own, being a vampire would have thrilled me. To be young and beautiful forever? It played into my vanity, but the fact was, I did want babies, a whole house full of them to love. Vampires don't change. Our bodies can't accommodate the development of another life, so we can't have children. Secretly, or as secret as something can be when you live with a telepath, I believed that that one desire could have saved me from what happened just before I died. It didn't occur to me that I probably wouldn't have been able to have children after what Royce and his friends did until decades later, and the grief over that loss hit me all over again, only in a different way.

"I was a nightmare for a long time because of the rape, but it had a lot to do with how much of a mess I was because of it. As much as our bodies freeze in the moment we're changed, so do our minds. It isn't that we're not capable of growing and maturing emotionally, but depending on the age we're turned, if something monumental happens, we revert back to the developmental phase we were at, at the time. That can change too the longer we're 'alive,' but it happens much more slowly than it does with a human. Carlisle showed up minutes after I was brutally gang-raped, and I was frozen in the trauma of it. The memories could have dimmed with the fire of the venom, but they didn't. That experience was violent and intense and shattering, and I clung to it during those three days, partly on purpose and partly not. Something like that is almost impossible to let go of at first even if you want to, and I didn't for the simple reason that I wanted revenge. Despite that, it's almost like you don't have a choice about letting that awful, singular, life-altering event go because it won't let go of you. It grips you tight, strangles you, drags you under and holds you there until it's the only thing left. You have a choice then about how to be: angry or defeated. Of course there are other things you can be too, but that's how it was for me, and I chose angry because angry was better than being a victim and lashing out was better than shrinking in on myself. It made me feel less useless, less responsible. The 'if onlys' didn't plague me quite so much because there was a part of me that blamed myself, that thought if I had only fought that maybe I could have changed things, as irrational as that is," she said with a sigh. "I began to see the beauty I'd always so cherished as a curse. I got the notion in my head that if I had been normal, averagely pretty, like Vera, none of it would ever have happened, and I could have found a man who loved me for me so much sooner.

"You know it took me decades to figure out that being so angry was self-defeating in a way, but at least I finally did. Being angry all the time is really fucking exhausting," she confided.

I nodded. I knew that truth of that well.

"I did get my revenge." Rosalie smiled darkly. "Each of Royce's friends died slowly and painfully. I enjoyed the sound of their screams and cries of pain just as they had mine, but I never spilled a drop of their blood. I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to resist tasting it. I had never slipped and strayed since my change. I was proud of that and refused to break that record, but it wasn't about that with them. I couldn't bear the idea of having any part of them in me. I saved Royce for last, and I made sure that with each of his friends' deaths that he knew who was coming for him. I hoped the fear, the panic of it, would make his end worse, and it worked. I know it did because I could see it in his eyes when I finally did come for him. He was in a windowless room behind a door as thick as a bank vault's, guarded outside by armed men. They bring the number of men I've murdered to seven. I probably shouldn't have killed them. They were only doing the job they were hired for, but I didn't care about that at the time. I still don't for the most part, and their deaths were quick ones. Royce's wasn't. His was more drawn out, more painful than all the rest. I laid all the blame on him. He was supposed to love me, cherish me, protect me, even if I had decided I didn't want those things from him anymore, but he didn't. Instead he took something that he never should have had, that had never been his to claim, though I didn't realize that until the very end. He took away my dreams of a house full of babies. I wore a wedding dress I'd stolen for the occasion. Very theatrical and dramatic, I know, but it was fitting, don't you think?" She didn't wait for any form of assent from me before she continued, but I nodded anyway. "He screamed a lot that night, which pleased me the most by far. That was a good night for me," she reminisced, nostalgic. "Am I frightening you?"

She looked back at me to study my face for signs that I was, but she found none because I wasn't. The justice system had a place in the world, but certain circumstances called for greater lengths. Rosalie had had a right to her revenge. I had to admit that those men experiencing what they'd done to Rosalie themselves in prison would have been satisfying to me though. I imagine that would have pleased her as well, but her form of revenge definitely seemed to have made her feel better. I shook my head.

"Emmett came along two years after I was changed—1935," she said, still distantly, still wistfully, but happy now instead of tortured. "I was hunting far from home, in a different state. Tennessee. I smelled blood, heard the roars of a wild animal and the screams of a man. It was a black bear mauling the man, Emmett. Can you guess why I saved him, Bella?"

I thought about that for a moment before it occurred to me why she might have. "Henry. He reminded you of Vera's little boy."

Rosalie smiled, pleased with my guess. "Yes. His dark curls and blue eyes, his dimples that even while he grimaced in pain showed a strange innocence so out of place on a man. That's one of the things I love about him, one of my most favorite things, that though he lived a hard life he was able to retain his innocence and to remain untouched to a degree by the cynicism of the world and the times he was born in. As hypocritical as it was considering how much I hated my life as a vampire, I was selfish enough to beg Carlisle to change him for me. Of course, my need for him to survive was much more than just his resemblance to Henry. I just didn't know it until after his transformation was complete and he woke up. It's not always immediately obvious to vampires when they find their mate, but it wasn't like that for me. I knew the second he opened his eyes. In all honesty, I probably knew it the moment I heard him screaming. I'm so lucky. Some vampires aren't. Some don't find their mates for decades or even centuries. I have a couple of friends who've gone a thousand years without finding their mates. You can fill the meantime with conventional lovers and relationships, but it's not supposed to be the same. It's lonely and maddening, and I can't imagine going so long without Emmett.

"My grief and anger over what Royce had done to me swallowed me up, consumed me, sucked me into a black hole of misery, pain and despair I never saw a way out of in spite of the façade I wore that suggested otherwise ... and then along came Emmett. He didn't take away the pain or the memories or minimize the trauma, but he lessened it, dulled the misery, eased the despair, showed me a way out of the black hole. It took awhile but he gave me the ability to heal. It may have been decades later, but he helped me come to terms with my inability to ever have his children or to grow old with him. If there is one thing I can't deny, it's that one lifetime with him isn't enough, and that we won't ever make a baby together doesn't diminish that or the happiness he brings me. He helped me to find and make my peace with Carlisle. I was able to forgive him for turning me, to truly appreciate the love he gives with no expectations or conditions and to accept him as my father; he's a better father to me than my human one was, and I've slowly but surely come to think of myself as a 'Daddy's Girl.' I've always been too embarrassed and shy to tell him though," she admitted, that shyness, embarrassment and even some self-consciousness evident in her voice.

A Rosalie Hale who wasn't totally self-assured was ancient Twilight Zone material, that she was telling me, of all people, about being a daddy's girl even more so, but I wasn't about to comment on it.

"He also gave me the family I never knew I wanted or needed—a loving and devoted mother in Esme, an occasionally annoying but steadfast brother in Edward. Then there's Alice, whose exuberance can be grating every once in a while, but who never fails to make me smile or show me how much she loves me, and Jasper, who's closed off but loyal to a fault and kind even if he does try to hide it to protect himself. With him came Peter and Charlotte, and Carlisle didn't turn them away because they feed from humans. He accepted them into the family because they are a package deal with Jasper, and that's just what Carlisle does anyway. That's who he is. He says it's because he's lived for so long and learned from it, but I think he's been that way from day one. And then, of course, there's Emmett. Carlisle loved me enough that he changed him for me. My happiness mattered to him enough to give me that, though it did help that Emmett would have died. So really, aside from my inability to have children, I got the happy ending I came to want literally minutes before I died. I have Carlisle to thank for that.

"I'm a lot better now," she said. "I can't say I'm not still affected by what happened, but I've made so much progress. I'm not that ugly, bitter, angry person anymore, and I don't resent my beauty the way I came to after those events either, though I don't quite cherish it the way I used to. I can be ugly, bitter and angry still. You've witnessed that firsthand, but it's different than it used to be. I'm more balanced, and even though Emmett helped give me the strength to get there, he couldn't do that work for me. I did all of it myself, and I found the independence that Vera had. I'm incredibly proud of that."

"You should be," I told her wholeheartedly but without mushiness.

Rosalie smiled at me again but said nothing to that. "Do you want to know why I'm jealous of you?"

"I don't really care," I answered honestly. "But I'm guessing you're going to tell me anyway."

She neither confirmed nor denied that, but she didn't have to and she proved me right a moment later. "You're prettier than I was as a human. If you're turned, you'll be prettier then too. I don't like that."

Despite her seriousness on the subject, I rolled my eyes.

"Don't you roll your eyes," she snapped with mild irritation. "There was a time when all I thought I had going for me is how beautiful I am. That isn't the case now, but I am still vain."

I didn't respond. What was I supposed to say? I could have said plenty but all of it was flippant and mocking, and I didn't want to destroy what we'd accomplished during our heart-to-heart. I polished off the last of my banana split instead. It occurred to me she might appreciate this though— "I don't want to be a vampire."

"Oh," she responded, baffled. Her brows furrowed and lips turned down.

"Is that why you think I'm here?" I asked in annoyance. It seemed if she didn't think I was here to take advantage of the Cullen money that I was still out to use them in some way. Maybe her opinions had changed some but clearly not much. I wanted to slap her. "You do remember that I didn't know you were vampires at first, right?"

"Well, no, that isn't why I think you're here," she said. "And yes, I do remember that, but have you even truly thought about becoming a vampire? Maybe not seriously but even just a little?"

"No," I informed her without hesitation. "I don't need to think about it because I already know it isn't what I want."

"Not even if we want you to be one of us? To be one of the family forever?" There was that trace of shyness in her that had only been present when she spoke of how she felt about Carlisle and being a daddy's girl. I didn't know what to do with that.

"No," was my honest answer.

Not knowing what to say to that, Rosalie ordered me another banana split and we settled into silence. She kept her eyes focused on her cake as she determinedly picked at it. Her expression was troubled, almost sad, possibly hurt, and I wondered what she was thinking.

"You can call me Rose," she said all of a sudden, her eyes shooting up to my face, fork continuing to shuffle crumbs around her plate. "If you want."

"Okay."

oOo

A/N: Alright, so Bella and Rose have now truly buried the hatchet. Maybe they will even be friends.

As far as Rosalie goes, I wanted to keep to her story line as much as possible but also make changes I thought would give her more depth as well as make her a little more relatable. I did my absolute best not to directly quote from Eclipse, and for the most part, I succeeded. I did, however, use some of SM's prose word for word. Those lines are denoted with (*). These quotes can be found in chapter 7, "Unhappy Ending." I would give page and line numbers, but I only have access to the Kindle edition at the moment, which doesn't give either of those. If I missed marking any of these quotes, it was not intentional, and all credit goes to Stephanie Meyer.

Now that that necessity has been taken care of, the next chapter is all about the boys ... Jasper in particular. You get to see how he reacts to all this Gavin business.

Until next time, take care everyone ...