I'm finally branching out and writing Rosalie and Emmett! While not really a two-shot, these next two outtakes will go nicely together, the first one being Rosalie in 1933 and the second, Emmett in 1936. This one here is just sort of a typical day in Rosalie's first couple months, set between chapters 8 and 9. So she's just been to the symphony, but hasn't heard much of Esme's story yet, and hasn't yet conceived of taking her revenge on Royce so most of her anger is still directed at Carlisle. It's not a happy outtake, really, but hopefully you'll be able to see the beginnings of her love for her family here.

Both these outtakes are dedicated to staringatthesky. Her beautiful and versatile writing has really made me fall in love with the complicated Rosalie, her place in her family, and her very human love story with Emmett. If you've never checked out her stories please do! She's got lots of canon stories from various Cullen POVs, a Medieval Twilight (currently in progress), a canon-friendly AU, a wonderful AH Rosalie/Emmett, and even a story about Jane! Thank you, Rebecca, for your wonderful stories, for all your help, and most of all for your friendship :)

Early May, 1933

Rosalie POV

She was beyond beautiful; there was no denying it. Her lips were perfect and full, her cheekbones were a work of art… the eyebrows just right, subtle enough and yet bold, ready for rapture or disdain on a moment's notice. The eyes… well, Carlisle had promised they would get better. But some frightening new part of me liked the red. Ferocity had never been a word I would have never been comfortable with before, but then so many things had changed. Danger, the eyes screamed. Stay away. Run for your life, or perhaps even stand still while I decide what to do with you… whatever I chose.

I came to see her often, this girl in the mirror. Sometimes it was just to check, to make sure Carlisle's promise was slowly coming true- that each day the eyes brightened toward golden a little more. Sometimes she caught my eye as I passed, demanding that I turn and stare in wonder yet again- wonder that she was who I had become, that my beauty had really been sharpened to that point. Sometimes I was strong enough to ignore that summons- to march right past the mirror and refuse to face what he had turned me into. Sometimes I was the one who stalked her. Sometimes I marched right up to the mirror and stared in frozen accusation, waiting for the tears that would never come.

One day I grew tired of waiting and made them myself. My fingers collected a trickle of water from the sink under the mirror in the powder room downstairs. I painted the false tears on my eyes and watched as they tumbled down, breaking over the sculpted cheekbones and making their little rivulets down to my chin. I painted them again and again, until the golden curls- perfect curls, mind you, not too tight and not too loose- grew heavy and limp on my collarbone.

The mirror lost that day.

But regardless of when and why we met, that girl in the mirror and I, it usually ended the same way. I would stare, mesmerized. Turning this way and that to examine the perfection of her curves, practicing smiles that even Edward couldn't see through, trying on the same dresses and suits and ensembles a dozen times to decide how best to stand and walk in each one. It wasn't just the shock of the new perfection; I was scarcely a stranger to it, after all. Carlisle's poison had only refined what was already there. It was familiar, and I needed that. Edward had once, in his own bungling version of chivalry, offered to take down all the mirrors in the house, at least those which I chanced upon most often. He had seen the shards of the powder room mirror and gallantly offered to banish them all on my behalf. He had seen things in my mind, and that made him omniscient, naturally. He thought he understood me so well.

He didn't understand a thing about me! I needed this, just like he needed that ridiculous piano twenty-four hours a day. Even when he wasn't fiddling with it, he could count on it being there. Even when his muse "hit a wall", as he angrily called it, and he slammed the lid and stalked away, he needed it. Why should a mirror be any different? If his music was an outlet, the girl in the mirror was an inlet. Even when she smirked back at me in her perfection, taunting me with the excess of beauty which had led to all this nightmare, I needed her. She was my anchor, reminding me that I was still myself, or at least that I had been myself, once. That Rosalie Lillian Hale had existed. That she was flesh and bone and beauty… not just a vapor who was slipping away a little bit more each day. It was strange- I had so wanted my life to be a fairy tale, and now that I found myself in one, I wanted no part of it. The girl in the mirror, cast in her prison of glass, was freer than I would ever be again. She was true immortality, true perfection- just a picture. She could tuck her fears behind her back and they would disappear. She felt no fire in her throat. She had no memories, no broken destiny… no past. Her skin, so hard and artificial in her reflection-me- looked like it could possibly be soft. In the right light, she looked almost human.

And so I needed her. If I let them take her away… I would be left with only myself. I carried all those things, and I could not lay them down. I very much preferred that Rosalie Lillian Hale's fate should have gone her way- a tragedy, admittedly, but a closed one, leaving behind only a gilded portrait that her loved ones could hold in their hands and touch as they remembered her. It would have been the portrait Mother always kept on that little table beside the piano. It had been taken the summer before, out on the veranda next to the blue hydrangeas, and I was wearing… I think it was the…

The girl in the mirror scowled and I stomped the heel of my shoe down so hard I felt it punch through the floor. Oh, why couldn't I remember!

"Rosalie, dear," Esme called from down the hall, sounding slightly alarmed. "If you're not busy just now, I could really use some help…?"

I yanked my heel out of the floor, frowning down at the torn wood. It was only another imperfection, after all, in a houseful of holes and cracks and uneven lines and badly papered walls. My new senses could see every little line in the paint, hear every insect that found its way into the attic. I could feel the jarring tilt of the floor in the hall as I walked to Esme's bedroom. But this house was her pride and joy, because her darling Carlisle had built it for her. He had owned this property for at least a century, having once lived in the original house as a bachelor. When he had brought Esme and Edward here two years ago, he had torn down the old place and let Esme design this one. At least they had hired builders to do most of the work- it was embarrassing enough that they had done the finishing work themselves, and done a terrible job at that. Esme fancied herself a cheerful middle-class human housewife, happily ruling over her little kingdom and happily sending Carlisle and Edward off to work and school so she could happily putter around and happily wait for them to come home.

Marvelous. What was I supposed to do?

"Laundry day," Esme said, as if she had heard my thought. She had taken off her shoes and was perched on the king-sized bed, surrounded by a wadded load of wash just in from the clothesline out back.

Oh no you don't, I grumbled silently. Edward's school days are the only time I have my mind to myself! But I smiled stiffly instead, sitting opposite her and distastefully picking up one of Edward's socks. This was what Esme expected me to do with my days, at least until I was "old" enough to go out alone. Play house with her. As if they didn't have gobs of money to hire out their laundry, to say nothing of the landscaping and the painting… the burn in my throat was evidence enough as to why they didn't have any help in the house, but my goodness, you would think Carlisle would have the decency to spare his wife this level of drudgery! But I was learning that Esme adored keeping house, so why shouldn't their new daughter adore it? I supposed, in all fairness, that Esme's simple upbringing had groomed her for this sort of work, but we hadn't all been raised on farms.

Not that she ever really ordered me to do anything, but her gentleness was that kind that you couldn't ignore for long. And you couldn't really talk back or give her any real sass, because it was like kicking a dog. She was just so soft and sweet and eager to love. I watched her now, out of the corner of my eye, humming and looking so perfectly content, like folding Carlisle's handkerchiefs was just the highlight of her day. It probably was.

I loved her back, in my own way. She was certainly the closest thing to a mother I would ever have now. And yet she reminded me so much more of Vera than of my own mother… she even looked like Vera. She had that same caramel hair, its arrangement neat and simple, and that same contented look as she moved throughout her day at home. She even had that sun-bright smile that broke out suddenly when she heard a familiar set of tires pull off the main road. But it was more than that, it was the way she looked at me… like I was worth paying attention to. Like she genuinely cared how I was feeling today, even when I was too moody to put up with that care. I might have simply forgotten, but I couldn't remember very many other ladies looking at me that way before… certainly not Mother. We folded the laundry in the quiet for a while- at human speed, because that was the way she liked it- with only the slightly off-key music of her humming for conversation.

Esme's humming was the first sound I had heard in this new world. At first there had only been the fire, licking and tearing and consuming. Its roar had made everything else fade away. I thought, sometimes, that I could hear someone screaming, but then I thought I had imagined it. I was sure that time had ceased, that the fire was forever… and then I heard it. Music, of all things, floating so far above me that I could just barely catch it. But it was all I had, and so I clambered up the walls of Hell and grabbed onto it like a lifeline. If the notes of the melody rose and fell, that must mean that time was passing after all… that there might be an end. I counted those notes, finding comfort in the rhythm and rise and fall of the warm, sweet voice. Trying desperately to figure out how long it would be until the song would end… until the pain would end. Because after a while I had begun to hear whispered promises that it would end. Then, as now, I let her humming soothe me, soothe the throbbing fire that stubbornly clung to my throat, that made every muscle clench as if I was about to jump out the window and go running barefoot in the forest.

I closed my eyes, still mechanically folding clothes as I drifted along with her humming. I felt the stone tension in my shoulders begin to unwind and my fingers stopped strangling the socks in my hand. Things weren't so bad. I wasn't completely cooped up in the house these days. I had triumphed and gone to the symphony in Oneida. I had worn the red organza that night. Now that I had proved myself, Carlisle had agreed- rather nervously- that we could go out more often. Still only outside, and still only at night, but I was determined. If I could prove myself tonight, then perhaps next time they wouldn't all three have to come. Or maybe they'd take me out in the daytime, if it was cloudy enough, or maybe something indoors…

"Thank you," Esme said, breaking my concentration. When I opened my eyes, I still had the same pair of Edward's socks in my hand, crumpled and folded into a tight wad, while she had gotten half the load done already. "I wanted to get started on those cookies soon, and I'd like to get a second coat on the wall in your room before we leave… that way the worst of the smell will be past when we get back home."

I tossed the socks into their pile and grabbed another, fishing through the pile for its mate. "You could do it much faster than this," I reminded her for the tenth time. "And I still don't see why you do the cooking yourself. If you feel you must contribute, we could just stop at a bakery on the way." The memory of wonderful smells awoke at the thought, but then I supposed I wouldn't find them so wonderful anymore. It wasn't like they would let me get out of the car in the first place.

"You know I like doing it this way," Esme said, with that smile that always looked like it was going to turn into a laugh any second. "It's very… satisfying, feeling that you've accomplished a task, when you put a little more work into it. And holding back on the speed is most certainly work! But," she added, leaning forward slightly in conspiracy, "that's nothing compared to dealing with the smell of baking." The smile turned the corner and a wisp of laughter slipped out. I couldn't help but smile back, even if it was just because she was so ridiculous sometimes. She really was happy, in her own little way. Nothing delighted her like pretending we were a happy, human family.

Family. She was the only person in this house I could stand more than half the time. I really wasn't looking forward to Edward's summer recess from the University… though they'd be moving then, and I'd be moving with them. Where else would I go?

I reached for a wad of pink satin, folding it quickly and tucking it into my pile of unmentionables. But then my hand froze, images of calendar pages rushing through my head.

"Esme."

"Hmm?"

"How long has it been? Since Carlisle… I mean, since I woke up?"

"About five weeks, why?"

It's not possible! Is it? "I haven't… I mean… do we still have our…" I waved a hand toward my pile of underwear, surprised not to feel the heat of a blush. "Every month…"

"Our monthly flow?" Esme smiled gently. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think to explain that… no, our bodies don't do that anymore. We don't make our own blood, and we aren't capable of-"

"Any change, I know," I interrupted anxiously. "All right. I just wondered… about that." Esme went back to humming and folding, but the knots in my stomach only tightened further as the memories of that last night assaulted me yet again. Most of my human memories were blurry or full of holes, but not those. They were crystal clear. The bed and the pile of clothes blurred and threatened to disappear, replaced by darkness, a light snowfall, cement…

I would not lose it in front of Esme again. It hadn't happened in over a week now. So as the memories closed in and I knew I was about to crumble, I slid off the bed and rushed back to my room. "Have to look for something," I mumbled before my throat closed completely. I nearly broke the knob off my door, but managed to close it behind me just before my knees gave out and I collapsed, sliding down the wall into a stone heap on the floor. I hugged my knees and clenched my teeth shut, willing myself to stay quiet while I fought my way back up to the surface, up through the pain and the laughter and their leering grins looming over me. I finally gasped out a breath, as quietly as I could, and forced myself back to my feet.

I crossed the room and stood before the mirror. She didn't look so perfect now; her eyes were wide and her chest was silently heaving, her arms clenched around her stomach. Enough. I waited as she slowly returned to normal, the tension uncurling until she was smooth and calm and perfect again. One of the best things about this false body was how easy it was to erase all those marks of terror… to go back to being the girl in the mirror, when I was strong enough to try it.

I tore my eyes away from her perfection and looked down, my gaze catching instantly on the ring finger of my left hand. It was empty now, because Carlisle had taken the engagement ring and used it to stage my death. Not that I would have wanted to keep it, but I hated him for taking that liberty, with my ring and my life. He had no right to make those decisions for me!

But it was the nail on that finger which caught my eye now. It had been torn that night, either on the rough cement of the sidewalk or on one of their faces- I really didn't care to know which one- and apparently the venom couldn't fix that sort of thing. I had woken up to find that one imperfection, half the nail torn away and the other half jagged and sharp. Esme didn't have any nail scissors because they didn't work on us, and we didn't need them anyway. I had spent hours and hours carefully gnawing my way around the torn nail, reducing and shaping it until it was smooth and curved just above the quick. And I couldn't bear to ruin the nine others to match that one, so for the rest of eternity I would have this glaring reminder… this one mark he had left on me that could never be erased.

The girl in the mirror didn't have that reminder. She always stood tall and sure, a hint of a proud smile on her face and the fingers of her left hand tucked behind the folds of her skirt. I gazed back into her eyes now, lifting my chin and letting her strength fill me so I could get my thoughts back on track.

Of course… it made sense. We couldn't have periods any more than we could have the measles or a new gray hair. But I glanced down again, spreading my fingers over the rock-hard smoothness of my abdomen. It was possible, wasn't it? That with all the seed sown so violently, that the beginnings of a child had been planted that night? That I hadn't been the only one turned to stone when Carlisle had saved me with his poison?

I wouldn't even know who the father was. Was this something I would have wanted, if I had survived? Knowing where it came from? Where she came from, I thought curiously. Where he came from. My fingers clenched into a fist, still against my waist, as the angelic face of Vera's baby came into focus. He had been the most precious thing… what was his name? Henry, I remembered suddenly. Baby Henry. He had had black curls, a dimpled smile, and when he had waved his pudgy fists in the air to balance himself, the whole world had seemed to soften. I could remember holding him in my arms, his warm weight shifting my center of gravity.

The girl in the mirror was smiling now. Not that proud, confident readiness, but a smile like Vera's. A beautiful smile, unaffected and warm. I'm going to have this, too, I remembered thinking, and the smile began to crumble. I would never have that now.

I glanced toward the hall, toward the comfortable humming coming from Esme's room. I wanted so desperately to run in there and fling myself in her arms and cry ask if it could be true… that I might have a baby frozen inside me. But I knew what she would say: "Oh, I'm not sure… let's ask Carlisle." That was her answer to everything. And besides, what did she know about babies? She had only been married for a short time, and when her husband had died in the war she had flung herself off a cliff only to find herself in Carlisle's arms… or something like that. She had tried to tell me more of her story once or twice, but she was well aware I didn't want to hear it. Every story of hers ended up with Carlisle, one way or the other. Carlisle knew everything. Carlisle made everything better. Carlisle was her happy ending. Her fairy tale had come true.

There were times when I ached to pour everything out to her, to claim the only mother left to me, but then I remembered that she and Carlisle were a package deal. But that was for the best, I supposed; I needed to become the girl in the mirror as thoroughly as possible, and blubbing on the shoulder of the nearest female wasn't going to help that along. Besides, with my moods these days, I would only end up shouting hysterically and then they would say that I wasn't ready to keep going out.

I was ready. I had to be. Tonight's outing was a silly little thing, a play being put on some local group of homegrown actors… nothing I would have bothered with before. But it met Carlisle's requirements for an approved outing: far enough away, outdoors at night, all the humans would be sitting still and not mingling, plenty of seating so we could stay on the fringes… in other words, as dull as possible so that the newborn wouldn't mess up. But it was something, I supposed, a chance to get out and feel like a part of the world again. To be seen again, to take the girl out of the mirror and make her real.

The clock chimed three, bringing my thoughts to a halt; Edward would be home soon. I stole one last glance in the mirror and turned away, glancing around my room until I found a magazine to occupy my mind with. Before long I heard the motor that signaled the end of my freedom to think in peace, followed by the clatter of Edward's footsteps on the porch. And, like always, his friendly chatter with Esme soon gave way to the music of his piano downstairs. Not even a hello for his supposed sister. Well, two could play that game.

"Hello, Rosalie," he called cheerfully, not missing a beat in his song. He sounded like he was about to laugh. What a beastly child! A pain flashed through my chest at the thought of the little brothers I had left behind, but I quickly laid it to rest, replacing it with a thorough critique of the dress I was to wear tonight.

For once, I was going to wear something made by a real designer. Not that Esme hadn't done a lovely job with the few dresses and skirts and things she had already made for me- the red organza had been particularly gorgeous- but even when she used the latest patterns she always had a bit of an old-fashioned touch. I tossed the magazine aside and flung open my wardrobe door just to take another peek. The dress seemed to jump right off its hanger and into my waiting hands… oh, why not? The play was only in four hours. I opened the wardrobe door even further so that the mirror couldn't see me, and kept my eyes averted as I dressed. No matter how cool Edward played it, he was a boy and I still couldn't get used to the idea of being undressed with a telepath in the house. But I refused to let his presence dictate when I could and couldn't get dressed. Mind your own business, I thought sharply. I could almost hear him rolling his eyes from up here.

The silk slid over my skin like a whisper. In less than two seconds I had done up all the buttons I could reach and was twirling back around to see myself in the mirror. At first I hadn't liked the color- green had never been my favorite- but it was one of the new designs out of Paris this year, and Esme had been so excited when she brought it home. So I had put on a smile for her and tried it on and fell in love with it instantly. The green looked darker than I had first thought, even a little bluish when the right light was on it. It had short puff sleeves that sort of morphed into a capelet on their way up, with wide buttoned cuffs and a neckline that was reserved in the front but a little daring in the back. The waist went on forever with a neat line of buttons and it had just the slightest hint of flare in the skirt. I turned to one side, letting the silk swirl around my knees again. I supposed it was meant to be an afternoon dress, but then our outing wasn't exactly begging for eveningwear, was it?

I was torn for a little while between the black evening slippers and the black suedes, but I chose the slippers. I would have preferred cream, or perhaps something dyed to match the dress, but Esme hadn't been so focused on shoes yet. And I had no jewelry to speak of, though Esme had given me permission to borrow whatever I liked of hers. Surely nothing bright with this one… there was a pearl necklace that should follow the neckline nicely…

"Lovely!" she announced as she entered my room, paint can and brush in hand. "And those shoes will do just fine. Maybe the pearls with that one?"

"I was thinking just that," I admitted as I slipped past her. "What are you wearing tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know! Why don't you pick something out for me when you get the jewelry?"

I smiled at her over my shoulder. "All right." I passed her dresser and went straight to her closet, easily selecting a darling pink tea dress that was light enough to bring out the highlights in her hair without clashing with them. I lingered over her things, running my fingers along the various fabrics and marveling again at how different they felt to me now. And she had so few formal dresses and suits- didn't Carlisle ever take her anywhere? Not that it mattered to me- most of her clothes didn't even fit me, what with my height and bust. Still, I wondered what the story of each piece was as I flipped through the colors.

I laid her dress on the bed and carefully opened her jewelry box. Feather touch, I recited as I delicately sifted through its contents. I found the pearls, but a green glint at the bottom made me dig a little deeper. It was a lovely pair of earrings, little flowers with jade petals around a tiny pearl. But why would Esme have these? She didn't have pierced ears.

"Esme, when did you get these?" I called out. "The earrings with the little pearl-and-green flowers?"

Esme's laugh rang out against the swish of her paintbrush. "They were given to me by one of Carlisle's patients. A lovely older lady who unfortunately needed his attention quite often. It was funny, really, she was so terribly sweet to him but it…"

I rolled my eyes as she went on and on about how Carlisle had charmed every female on the planet even when he desperately tried not to, how the younger ones were always blushing and the older ones were always trying to mother him… the usual. I put on the necklace and held the earrings up, sighing into the mirror. They were perfect for this dress! Just the kind of understated elegance that would pass for normal at the play tonight. And of course I could have worn them when I was human, but the venom had "repaired" the piercings in my ears and now they were made of immutable granite. I fiddled with the clasps for a moment, wondering if something could be done to turn them into clip-ons. But I wasn't sure I wanted to be caught dead in those either- or undead, I thought with a scowl- so in the end I returned them to the box.

Edward's music stopped and he appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "Do we need to go hunting before tonight?"

I swallowed and refused to wince at the burn there. Of course I was thirsty when he brought it up! "I'm already dressed."

He blinked. "We're not leaving for another two hours, at least."

"I know… I haven't even decided how to do my hair yet!"

He chuckled and disappeared again. I shook my head and turned back to the mirror, beginning to fiddle with my hair. Boys really were a mystery sometimes.

.

.

.

It was hard to decide which was worse, the smell of the baking cookies or the paint fumes coming from my bedroom. I finally went outside, lounging on one of the patio chairs and watching the clouds and ignoring the book in my hands. I had tried and given up on three hairstyles already, and my frustration wasn't good for my thirst.

Carlisle came come earlier from the hospital than he had planned. He didn't usually work the day shift, but he had arranged to have tonight off because of the play.

"Hello, Rosalie," he said as he drew back down the garage door. "You look lovely today… a new dress?"

"Yes, Esme found it earlier this week."

He nodded absently and headed for the back door, but paused halfway up the walk, his nose wrinkling. "Good heavens," he murmured. "What is going on in that house?"

"Cookies and paint," I explained, giving him a faint smile.

"I think I'll join you out here, then… as long as possible!" He sat in the other chair, his eyes drifting briefly to the book in my lap. He looked awkward for a moment and then appeared to gratefully discover the pile of mail in his hands. I sighed and stared back up at the clouds. How come we could move faster than the human eye could see, but we couldn't speed up time? Each day seemed to grow longer, and it was so dull sitting here in the middle of nowhere with nothing but birds and clouds for company. And I certainly didn't want to sit out here in awkward silence with Carlisle.

"Can't take the smell anymore," Edward grumbled as the back door banged behind him. He nodded to Carlisle in greeting as he passed between us. "I'm going down to the river for a while."

"You're all cowards!" Esme shouted from inside the house. At first I thought she was angry, but Carlisle was doing that laughing-silently-while-reading thing.

"Rosalie wants her ears pierced," Edward announced over his shoulder just before he ducked into the woods.

When are you going to learn to mind your own business?! I thought angrily. "Never mind," I growled to Carlisle, who was looking at me quite studiously now.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I don't have anything that would be able to pierce the skin, aside from…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable as he gestured toward his mouth. I clenched my teeth and looked back up at the clouds, refusing to dignify that with a response.

"Yes you do!" Edward called from the woods.

"No I… oh, yes I do," Carlisle murmured to himself. He was silent so long that I thought perhaps he had left, so I finally looked at him again. "I could try," he said gently. "I admit I've never done that particular procedure before, but… I actually do have something that might work."

I frowned. "What?"

"Something a friend once gave me, long ago…" he trailed off, his eyes glazing over again that way they did when he got lost in his memories. He stood, turning towards the house and gesturing toward the door. "Join me?"

My curiosity was even stronger than my sense of smell, so I went with him back into the house and upstairs into his study. I had never been in here before. The walls were packed with bookcases, and books were also overflowing off of some smaller shelves that had been hung on the walls. Besides the hundreds of books-some old, some new, some in other languages- there were stacks of brittle, yellowed paper, all sorts of paintings covering every inch of the walls above the bookcases, and little odds and ends dotted around the room. A huge ornate desk filled a good quarter of the room, strewn with even more books and crisp-looking medical journals, as well as a picture of himself, Esme, and Edward with the Statue of Liberty in the background. The air was heavy with dust and mold, as well as some sharper smells coming from a little row of vials up on one high shelf. I never would have guessed Carlisle could be so sloppy.

"I think it's in this one," he said absently, kneeling down by a trunk and flipping open its latches. It opened with a creak and after setting aside a stash of papers, he drew out what looked like a jewelry box. It was beautiful, delicately carved out of some dark wood with twining leaves and animals and stars. Tiny rubies were set as the eyes in each of the animals, and some of the stars were inlaid with diamonds. I couldn't even begin to guess how much the box was worth. Carlisle carried it to the desk and opened it, revealing a bed of red velvet on which rested a neat row of white instruments. I supposed they were medical instruments: there were three blades, all different sizes, and two needles, one with an eye and a smaller one without, and a long hook-shaped thing, and two other sinister-looking objects that I hadn't the faintest guess about. Carlisle selected the smaller of the two needles.

"I don't know," I said, drawing away slightly. "What is that even made of?"

"Bone," he said absently, examining the needle with interest. "Vampire bone, I mean. I think it would work," he added to himself, testing the sharp point with his fingertip.

"Ugh! What kind of friend gave you that?"

"Do you remember what I told you about the Volturi? The coven in Italy?" I nodded. "Aro is one of the three who rule jointly. He was the one I spent the most time with during my time there. I found a sort of kindred spirit in his company… we differed on a great many issues, but we shared a deep curiosity about the nature of things, the sciences in particular. He has also made an extensive study on the supernatural world as a whole, both the mythical and…" he smiled. "Things that should be mythical. He has performed and compiled a great deal of research regarding our species. Anyway, he was quite amused with my desire to learn and practice medicine. Sadly, like so many of our kind, he does not share our respect for the sanctity of human life… he could not understand why I would trouble to devote myself to their care. He also had an interesting sense of humor, to say the least. When I took my leave of his coven, he presented me with this. I can't imagine how many hours it took him to fashion it." He looked back at the other instruments. "I suppose he copied the design from some of my regular instruments. He said I would need a proper set of instruments, in case I ever got tired of patching up humans and decided to care for my own species."

"But why would you need these?" I asked. "You told me that we hardly ever get hurt, and that our bodies just repair themselves if it does happen."

He laughed again. "I think it was meant as rather a joke. I couldn't fathom a scenario where a vampire would require any medical procedure involving tools such as these… until today, that is!"

I twisted the silk of my skirt between my fingers. "And you think it will work on my skin? Would it hurt?"

"I don't think it would hurt any more than when you had your ears pierced before… at least not the bit with the needle. In order for the hole to remain open, I'll need to apply just a bit of venom. I think that might sting just a bit, though it'll only be on there for a moment."

I squeezed the fabric tighter between my fingers, shaking my head. "I don't want your mouth on me again."

"No, of course not," he protested, quickly crossing the room to retrieve the black bag he took to work every day. He set it on the desk beside the carved box and drew out a small silver case. I frowned, expecting some other bizarre collection of implements, but it only contained a few cotton swabs, a small bottle of clear liquid, some gauze, and various other tools that a normal doctor would actually carry around.

"What are you two working on?" Esme asked, tapping on the door as she came in.

"Making strides in vampire medicine," Carlisle announced cheerfully. "Although in this case I might be more of a jeweler than a surgeon… Rosalie is thinking about having her ears pierced."

Esme looked surprised. "We can do that?"

Carlisle went over the explanation again, enthusiastically showing her the bone instruments. She wrinkled her nose. "And whose bone is that, exactly?" she asked.

"I don't know," Carlisle admitted. "Aro always had various odds and ends lying around. Anyway, I was explaining to Rosalie that in order for the holes not to close again, I'll need to apply a bit of my venom." He flourished one of the cotton swabs, and then dug inside his black bag again, retrieving an empty syringe. "I could fill this with water and irrigate the wound to clean out the venom. If it goes according to plan, the venom will scar the damaged tissue just enough for the hole to remain open. Well, Rosalie, shall we try it?"

"I don't know," I muttered, staring at the needle in his hand and trying to imagine a dead person's bone being stabbed through my ear.

"I'll do it," Esme volunteered.

"Have you ever done it before?" I asked doubtfully.

"No!" she laughed. "I meant, I'll have mine done first. You can watch, and then decide if you want to go ahead with it."

"Oh. All right."

"You're sure, love?" Carlisle asked her. "It would be quite permanent."

"I would have done it years ago, had I known it was possible! Well, where do you want me, doctor?"

He decided that she should sit in the chair behind his desk, so that she could lay her head down on her arms with her ear up to the ceiling. He retrieved an old towel and draped it over her neck and shoulder, clearing away her hair.

"Saline or regular water for the irrigation?" he asked nobody in particular. "Saline, surely… less impurities that might interfere with tissue fusion…" He filled the syringe with the clear liquid that had been in the little bottle. He squirted some of it onto the needle and carefully wiped it dry with the gauze. But as soon as he brought the needle close to Esme's ear, it snapped in half in his fingers. He stood back up, staring at the rubble in his hands as though he had just witnessed a miracle.

"Fascinating," he mumbled, studying the jagged, broken ends of the needle. "I didn't expect…" He stopped breathing completely, lost in thought, and then began murmuring more long words to himself.

"Can we still use one of the pieces?" Esme asked. "Carlisle?"

He blinked and seemed to remember that we were in the room. "I have another… just the one, though. I'll be more careful this time." He cleaned the larger needle with the saline, this time handling it as if it were made of glass. "Ready?" he asked Esme.

She hummed her consent and he went to work, ever so carefully pushing the needle through the stone flesh of her earlobe. There was an odd little screeching sound, like an animal was screaming far out in the woods somewhere. Esme flinched slightly and he froze in place. "No, I'm fine, it doesn't hurt much," she reported, her voice muffled by her folded arms and sleeves. "The noise just startled me."

He withdrew the needle and immediately picked up a cotton swab, whisking it inside his mouth for a moment to coat it with his silvery venom. Esme's brow furrowed as he dabbed the venom into the puncture wound, and despite myself I leaned closer in curiosity, trying to catch a glimpse inside the torn flesh. I couldn't see much; the flesh was white inside, but the venom was already doing whatever it did. Next he gathered a handful of the towel directly under her ear and used the syringe to wash the venom out.

"Does it sting?" he asked her worriedly.

"It did, a bit," she answered. "When you put the venom in it. But it's gone now- oh!" She sat up suddenly, raising her hand to her ear. "It's feeling sort of tickly now."

"I think that's the tissue healing," Carlisle said. "We'll have to see if the venom worked like I thought it would. I don't know if I left it on long enough." We all waited, Carlisle and I watching in fascination as the miniature wound shrank somewhat. But his plan worked; the healing soon slowed to a stop, leaving a hole that looked almost normal, if too large by a hair's width.

"Feels right," Esme said, tugging curiously on her ear. "Rosalie, would you get the earrings so we can try it?"

I dashed out and back in, handing her the earrings. She carefully slid one into the new hole and pronounced the procedure a success. Carlisle went to work again and soon she was smiling into her hand mirror, wearing both earrings. The second time had looked easier, and it looked like he had been perfectly symmetrical. "All right, I'll do it," I announced.

"You could wear these tonight," Esme said, taking the earrings back off. "They're perfect with that dress."

"But then you won't have anything to wear tonight," I pointed out, though I held out my hand to accept them.

"Oh, that will be soon remedied," she promised. "You could help me pick some out- Carlisle, when do you think she could go out shopping?"

"Shopping?" Carlisle said, his eyes darting to mine. "That's quite a jump from an outdoor concert at night."

"I'm doing well," I interrupted. "Aren't I? You've said it before. And the only way to get used to moving around people is to move around them."

Carlisle focused on the needle for a moment, carefully scrubbing it again with the saline. "I suppose you're right," he said uncomfortably. "It's just that you're doing so well that everything is quite ahead of schedule, and your eyes are still red. And all it would take is for someone to accidentally cut themselves…"

"Please, Carlisle," I moaned. "I'll be careful, and I'll keep my eyes down. And Edward could come with us, or you, just in case. I just want to get out and do things again!"

"Perhaps after we've moved…" He was weakening. I was proud of my self-control, because I wanted to shout at him that it was his fault I couldn't be around people, but I didn't. He would only get that miserable look and use it as proof that I wasn't ready, and I was ready. I had to be.

"So this can be a test tonight," I offered, pleased with how calm I sounded. "If I do well again- and you know I will- then I can go out with Esme. We could wait until next week."

Carlisle frowned. "We'll see how tonight goes," he agreed. "Then we'll take it from there. If you do well, perhaps our next step could be an event indoors, but in a large space- another concert or play, where everyone is seated and we can stay out of sight."

Fury welled up inside me, all the more potent because I couldn't let it show. I smiled instead, almost feeling my stone flesh cracking from the tension as I forced it out. "Whatever you say. But I know I can do it."

"And confidence is important," Carlisle replied. "But so is prudence."

"Carlisle's right, dear," Esme soothed. "One day at a time… we have all the time in the world, after all. No rush."

I kept my mouth shut after that, afraid I would lose my shaky grip on my temper. It had been her idea to go shopping in the first place, but of course she would side with Carlisle as soon as he opened his mouth! I sat and laid my head in my arms, refusing to wince as the needle stabbed through my earlobe with its little shrieking sound. Carlisle left the needle in place this time while he prepared the venom, and then he slipped out the needle. He quickly applied the cotton swab, coating the edges of the wound with his poison as he spun it around. My fingers crushed my hair as the familiar flame began to burn its way into the torn flesh. Only for a second, I told myself firmly. It won't be like before. But I could already feel the phantom flames creeping down my neck and out my arm; it seemed like only a moment ago I had been drowning in the lake of fire. My insides twisted and my breath quickened.

"Get it out," I demanded, my nails digging into the polished wood of his desk. "Get it out now!"

Carlisle hastily switched the swab for the syringe, flooding the wound with the saline. Almost immediately the flame was quenched. "I'm sorry," he said, filling the syringe again and soaking the shoulder of my dress as he pumped more saline into my ear. "Did it hurt very much?"

"Of course it hurt," I hissed, sitting up and kneading my ear. "I'm fine. Let's get the other one done."

"You're sure?"

"I can't very well go around with one pierced ear, can I?" I snapped. But I drew a deep breath, forcing myself to look up into his wounded eyes. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry. I know you're doing the best you can. Let's just get it over with, please."

He worked quickly. The flames were smaller this time, and he worked in a blur so that the whole thing was over in less than ten seconds. He cleaned up while I tried on the earrings.

"Perfect," Esme proclaimed, giving me her warmest smile.

.

.

.

"Are we going to be late to every engagement for the rest of eternity?" Edward grumbled downstairs.

"Ladies!" Carlisle called, with just a hint of exasperation.

"Just coming," Esme called back, releasing the curling iron. The last golden curl tumbled down to join the others, and I moved it slightly to the right so it didn't hide the earring on that side. "Ready!" Esme called, scampering out of the room.

I took one last look in the mirror, turning slightly to make sure the curls were laying right on the sides. I put on a carefree smile, pleased when the girl in the mirror smiled back without reservation. The earrings really did make a difference, balancing out the curve of her neck and anchoring her features. It was one more little piece reclaimed of what I had lost. The girl in the mirror had no memory, so she didn't know the difference. She was as carefree as she looked, not even noticing that she kept her left hand tucked out of sight. I broadened the smile a bit, satisfied, and carefully made my way down the stairs.

"Your hair isn't going to fall out between here and the car, I promise," Edward muttered, holding the door open for me. I brushed past him, refusing to dwell on how handsome he looked in his tweed suit and necktie, with his hair all slicked back and shining. Even the piggiest little boy looked nice when he dressed up like Father.

I really hoped that after we moved, something could be done about the car. It was so cramped in the backseat, and I could hear every clunk and rattle from the engine. I didn't know a thing about cars, but surely it wasn't supposed to sound like that? At least Esme had shut up the cookies in a lidded glass dish so that they didn't stink up the car that much.

We were fashionably late. The play had already started, but we weren't the only ones sneaking in at the last moment. Two other families were just getting out of their cars down the row. One was a younger couple with children, and the other was a handsome middle-aged couple who were dressed well and accompanied by their two young sons, about my age, or perhaps Edward's, who pulled at their ties and looked as though they would rather be anywhere else in the world but here. The younger one turned and saw me, and immediately nudged his brother.

"Get a load of that," he whispered loudly. The older boy turned and blushed when he saw me, and I felt a little taller. The mother of the other family saw me as well, and self-consciously smoothed her own skirt, which was really too long for this year and the color didn't complement her hair at all. But she couldn't be blamed for doing the best with what she had, I supposed. There was one good thing about having a "father" who was probably the richest doctor on the face of the earth.

"Shall we?" Edward sighed, offering his arm. Carlisle was already escorting Esme down the aisle, naturally choosing a row of seats so far back that only our vampire eyesight would make it possible to see and hear.

It was a childish thing to do, but I did it anyway. As we walked to our seats, I brushed a little too hard against the row of seats behind ours. The granite statue of my leg crashed against the metal chair nicely, and a good portion of the audience glanced over their shoulders to see what had made the sound. I was instantly rewarded with several blushes that matched the one the boy had just given me in the parking lot, and a mixture of approving and envious expressions from some of the girls. Of course a good half of them looked right through me to Edward, but I didn't begrudge him a little attention.

"You're right, that was childish," he said under his breath. He all but shoved me into my seat, studiously ignoring all the feminine attention until it was distracted back to the stage. But we had arrived, and for once I felt as beautiful as I looked. I tucked my left hand into a fold of my skirt, smiling back at a young man who had discreetly looked over his shoulder a second time.

He didn't matter, himself; none of them did. Being close to a young man ever again was the furthest thing from my mind. But the more people saw and believed in the girl in the mirror, the more real she would become...the less it mattered that I wasn't soft and warm anymore, that I wanted to stand up and drink the blood of everyone who blushed for me. That I carried these horrible memories and hurts that were frozen into place… that I might be carrying even more than that. My free hand grazed the fabric over my waist, but I would not think about that right now. Right now, I was Rosalie Hale again.