Pens.
Notebook.
Laptop, and the charger.
And her phone, which Rosalie slipped into one of the small side pockets of her Coach satchel. Even with Esme and Alice suffering silently in their beds, class still went on, and Rosalie had used up nearly all of her lab absences during divorce proceedings. She buckled her bag shut and made her way down the hall, stopping the doorway of Alice and Jasper's room.
Alice, as always, was lying in bed, the blankets pulled up to her chest as if to shield her from unnecessary cold. Also on the bed was Emmett, sitting up at Alice's side and holding a fashion magazine in his hands. He was mumbling softly, reading from the magazine as one would read to a small child before bed. It was a rather sweet sight, and, as she watched, Rosalie felt a small pang of…love? No, certainly not. She didn't love Emmett, not anymore. He was only being a good brother. She was only admiring him for that. Only that.
Emmett turned a page and, in his movement, caused sight of her in the doorway. The corner of his mouth picked up in a little sheepish smile.
"I thought she'd be bored, maybe want to hear something new," he explained, shrugging his shoulders.
She nodded. "I understand."
He closed the magazine and put it on the bedside table. "Are you going out?"
"To class," she replied. "I have a lab tonight."
"Tonight?" Emmett repeated, a small hint of surprise in his voice that she couldn't quite figure out. He knew she had bio tonight. It was always on Tuesdays.
"I only have two more before finals," she said. But he pursed his lips as if he were displeased with the idea, yet said nothing. "Really, Emmett," she went on, "it isn't like they're going to wake up anytime soon. And you're here to take care of them, they won't miss me."
He nodded and let out a little grunt. "I guess."
"I'll see you later," she offered before stepping from the room. She waited for a moment in the hallway, hoping whatever had bothered him would go away and he would begin reading again – but the bedroom stayed silent. She sighed and reassured herself that whatever was going on with him was not her problem. She was his wife no longer.
It was a shock that the thought hurt.
She stopped to duck in Esme's dressing room, checking on the woman in the bed and looking over her hair in the mirror before she had to go downstairs. It had been a bad habit of hers, one Esme teasingly chastised her for, this stopping in her motther's room to attend to her toilet. And though Esme lay frozen on the bed, her bottles of perfume and gold-handled hairbrush were still there. Her string of perasl was still discarded on the table. Her calendar book lay open, and Rosalie looked closer to see today's date circled in red with two small letters scribbled in the corner.
E & R
"Oh, no…" she murmured to herself. Today. It was the first. She had completely forgotten their anniversary. Their 'first' wedding anniversary, the one she and Emmett had so long ago celebrated. How many years was it? Seventy something? Yes, that was it. Seventy five. Oh, she couldn't go to class on this night. Even after their divorce, something was calling to her to stay with him. So that was what Emmett had been so upset about. He probably didn't even want to see her now, but…even so, she left Esme's room and walked back down the hall, pausing in Alice's door. Emmett had picked up the magazine again, but wasn't reading just yet. She cleared her throat, and he looked up.
"I, ah…I decided not to go. I…I'll be downstairs."
He smiled a tiny bit, and as she turned away, she heard him call out.
"Happy anniversary, Rosie."
She bit her lip then smiled, privately, to herself, so he might not see.
"Happy anniversary, Em."
"You can't really be thinking about giving in to their requests," Edward growled, clenching his fists tightly.
"If it is for the safe return of my wife and daughter…" Carlisle trailed off, his mind finishing the rest. It is the only option we have. What else can I do?
"You can fight it!" Edward insisted.
"I agree with Edward." Jasper's voice was hoarse, as if he barely wanted to speak even as the words were coming out of his mouth. "Giving Alice to the Volturi…there has to be some other way."
"What other way?" Carlisle asked, the hysteria in his tone just barely held back. "Fighting back? What if they decide to take them anyway? What if they ignore them and we never get them back? There is nothing to do! This is our only chance!"
Bella stepped forward, glaring at the two other men as she wrapped her arm around her father's shoulders. "Calm down, all of you. It'll be fine, Carlisle. Somehow we'll figure it out."
A very good lie, Edward heard Jasper think bitterly.
Carlisle sighed, took a deep breath, and sighed again. "Give me some time. An afternoon. I…I'll think it over."
Like a shot, Jasper was gone, slamming the heavy oaken door behind him before Edward had a chance to catch his thoughts. Bella glanced at him worriedly as she urged Carlisle to the couch, sitting beside him and rubbing his back.
"Is that what you really think is best?" she asked gently.
Carlisle was silent for a moment, even his breath stilled in his lungs. "I don't know," he said slowly, heavily. "How can we possibly know?"
If Alice… his mind echoed silently, his eyes fathoms of sadness. Edward sighed and came towards his wife and father.
"We need to weigh the options," he said reasonably. "You're a man of science, Carlisle. A man of facts. Let's lay out the facts."
The words seemed to shake some sense into the doctor, and he sat up, nodding. "Yes. You're right."
"Good idea," Bella chimed in. "So, if we…if we give Esme and Alice to the Volturi, the pros are…" She trailed off, unsure.
"They'll be cured," Carlisle supplied. "If we allow Aro and the others to have their way, Alice and Esme will be cured. Whatever it is that they took will be counteracted, and any others of our kind that consume it can be cured too."
"And the cons?" Edward asked.
Carlisle stayed quiet, almost as if he refused to see that there could be any bad outcomes when it came to his wife and daughter.
"What if they're not cured?" Bella replied quietly, barely whispering the suggestion, as if even allowing it to become vocal would have extreme consequences. "What if, even though Aro and Marcus and Caius take them in, they can't fix them?"
"And what if they can," Edward added, "but it's just the beginning of a long, drawn-out process of tests and experiments? Ones that continue for months, years, and we can't get to them until they claim they're done?"
Carlisle stood and began pacing. "And what if we take them home? What then?"
Bella pursed her lips. "Maybe we could research ourselves. Find out what it is that's harmed them, try to find the antidote. You're a scientist, Carlisle, you could do it. And Edward and Rosalie both have their pre-med degrees, and Emmett has his chemistry. We could figure it out on our own."
"And we'd have them home," said Edward. "Even if they weren't whole, wouldn't you rather them be home with us than being poked and prodded and God knows what else by the Volturi?"
"But we don't know," Carlisle insisted. "They could wither away without the cure, we may never find it. And if we do, what if it's the wrong thing?" His eyes went wide and fearful. "What if I cause more harm to them than ever before?"
Edward stood before his father, stopping his pacing and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You would never do that. You know it."
Carlisle hung his head, weary, and looking every inch his age.
"That's all there is to it," Bella said. "Pros and Cons. It's all laid out. So…what now?"
What now, what now… Carlisle buried his face in his hands. What now, Edward? What can I say?
"Bella." Edward held a hand out to his wife still on the couch, a hand she took and let lead her from the room. They left Carlisle standing alone in the stone room, his sadness filling the empty room as they closed the door behind them.
Edward started to walk down the hall, pulling Bella with him, but her feet stayed planted on the ground, just outside the door. He looked at her, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong as she shook her head.
"No," she murmured softly. "No words. Just…just hold me?" It was a small request, and he was happy to oblige, wrapping his arms around his wife's middle and tugging her against his body. Their flesh met and gave against each other, pressing tight, almost as if the two combined to become one being. They didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, hold each other, the last whole couple of the family. Last to meet. Last to marry. Last to survive.
Even though they hadn't been in the same room, being near Emmett on their anniversary made Rosalie feel a bit better. Almost as if they were a family again, patching up the rough spots and trying to fix things between them. Maybe this could all work out. She had been feeling better towards him lately. He had too, she could tell. They could be something again. Nothing like they had been, no, but something. Brother and sister? She shuddered a bit at that. No, brothers didn't do things to their sisters like Emmett had. Brothers didn't have six-pack abdominals or sinfully large hands or a tongue that could –
No. The brother and sister thing would definitely not work out.
Rosalie leaned onto the sofa, shuffling the biology notes she had been looking over. If they couldn't be brother and sister, they'd just have to live somewhat awkwardly in the same house and hope for the best. It would get better over time. It already was. She and Emmett could smile at each other now; that was quite a start.
She reached for the remote, flicking the plasma-screen on in a blaze of color and sound. Emmett had left ESPN blaring, it seemed, and she turned down the volume and turned on Project Runway. Tim Gunn was consulting a hideous concoction of lime green taffeta and deconstructed black lace, and she settled back against the cushions, waiting to see if the designer could really 'make it work.'
"What's on?"
Emmett slumped onto the sofa next to her, his shoulder bumping into hers. She glanced over at him.
"Project Runway."
He groaned. "Come on, Ninja Warrior is about to start."
Well, he did whine like a brother.
"No way," she insisted. "After all, it's our anniversary. You should let me watch what I want."
He snorted. "No way, babe. An anniversary is about two people. You and me. And it's me that gets to pick." He lunged for the remote but she jerked it away, holding it just out of his grasp.
"Ladies first," she said with a snicker.
He reached towards her again, his hand clipping hers, nearly snatching the remote from her fingers. She squealed and slid the remote underneath her body, hiding it from his searching fingers.
"Unfair!" he cried, glaring at her from his end of the couch.
She grinned. "Completely fair. Just too bad for you."
He growled low, a sound she knew so very well – the one he made just before springing into action. She watched, her face frozen in a half-scream half-laugh as the familiar play began.
He was on her in a millisecond, pinning her down and gripping her wrists in his hands. She writhed beneath him, nearly shrieking as he moved to hold both her arms in one of his palms, giving him a free hand.
The look in his eyes said it all. "Don't you dare," she threatened him, trying to bring her leg up to knee him in the gut.
"Try me," he said with a toothy grin…just before his hand lowered and he began tickling her mercilessly.
"Emmett!" she managed to gasp between giggles. "Emmett, stop!!"
But he only laughed and laid into her harder, moving hands over her arms and belly so she laughed too. He put his knee against her leg, holding her pelvis down with his as he wriggled his fingers over her torso, making her writhe more and more. She arched her back, giggling and pressing up against him…until the friction, that lovely pressure between them, started. Her giggles died away, leaving her short of breath and staring up at him, watching his face as it grew darker, more serious…more sensual. His thighs slid open slowly, accommodating her body between them.
Rosalie seemed to move without thinking. Her hands slipped from Emmett's grasp and went to his shoulders, holding tightly there. At the same time, one of her thighs slid up his, pressing between his legs to find that thick, hard, heavenly weight between. Then, with a movement so slow and gentle, Emmett leaned down…further…further…until finally, his lips met hers. His touch was gentle, a caress like silk against her mouth, his breath warm but sending cold shivers down her spine. Yet it was as if she had no spine, she had given in so easily, pressing herslf against him, sliding her tongue through his lips, giving in, giving herself, and –
"No."
"No?" Emmett repeated. Rosalie shook her head and shrank back into the cushions. She couldn't do this. Again. Slowly, she slipped her hand underneath her back, fishing under the cushions for a moment and holding the remote out like a peace offering. Emmett took it, never letting his eyes meet hers, then moved, leaning back against the far side of the sofa once again. The air his absence left behind was bitterly cold, as was the silence as she crept upstairs to be alone.
Jasper walked like a man possessed, his eyes focused straight ahead, his feet nearly flying off the ground, not caring a whit who he ran into, even as he nearly plowed Marcus into a wall. He could only sense where he needed to go, yet he knew exactly what he had to do. This would be their only solution, he was sure, and it was up to him to procure it.
He had found the door, and he knocked in a sharp rapid staccato. Maria smiled languidly, leaning on the jamb as she opened it.
"My, my. What respects have you come to pay, Major?" she asked, her eyes raking over his body as though she owned it.
He swallowed hard, gathering all his courage, uttering words it nearly killed him to say.
"I need a favor."
