Think of a very good, completely valid excuse for why someone would take two months to update their story. Got it? Well, that's exactly what happened.

I'm sorry guys, I never meant to take so long, you can call off the search parties now, you gotta remember something, I'm like the annoying family friend, I disappear for a while, but I always come back, :P

Las chapter's reviews: Defunkitated M-Geeks Robots, emroseliz, LimitedBannerMaker, what-about-jacob and wish upon a cullen.

For alerting: Icycreamluff.

For favoriting: emroseliz.

Hilda, gracias por tu mensaje, fue la razon por la que empece a escribir este capitulo!!! :)

This chapter is dedicated to Defunkitated M-Geeks Robots, who used to be Defunkitated Vampires just two months ago. She's been incredibly supportive of this story from the beginning and it means a lot! Plus she's a fan of musicals, who doesn't love musicals? 525, 600 minutes...

Lastly thanks to Channy, who's zuperduper cool!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Seven letters

"…genetic condition… person has 47 chromosomes… normally 46…could've been detected in pregnancy… amniocentesis…risk of miscarriage..."

The doctor's words swam around my mind; I was unable to register all of them. My grip on Emmett's hand slackened whilst his on mine tightened.

"…can range from mild to severe…physical development is slower than normal… delayed mental and social development…" The doctor kept going, unaware that each statement tore and broke my heart further.

His speech went on, his professional assessment on our situation, the good and the bad, what was to be expected and what would most likely never be. My son's prognosis, according to him was less grim than it would've been years ago thanks to more information about his condition, still, it was a prognosis I never imagined I would be faced with.

I sat there, unable to completely block him out but trying my best to ignore the ongoing medical spew. I wanted to get out of there, to run as far away from this reality as possible, I wanted to go back in time and remain blissfully ignorant of what was happening.

But I couldn't even move.

He continued talking, telling us everything he thought we should know, preparing us mentally for the challenges we would face, asking us if we had any questions or concerns.

Why did this happen? How did this happen? What happens now?

I remained quiet.

What seemed like hours later we were on our way back home, hands still clasped only because my husband wouldn't let go, I was on autopilot.

We were both immersed in our own mind, neither one of us talking, it was the longest we'd ever gone without communication and it seemed like it wouldn't meet an end anytime soon, at least not because of me, the last thing I wanted was to talk.

Right before he opened the door to our house I felt him stop, his finger went under my chin and gently lifted my gaze to him, he looked concerned.

"Rosalie," he asked quietly "are you okay?" And he looked so sincere in his worry. "You haven't said anything since we got to the hospital, I…what can I do? What do you need? I know this is crushing and that we weren't expecting it but it doesn't change anything. He's still our baby boy Rosie, I still love him more than myself, it doesn't matter, right? He's amazing, I wouldn't change a thing about him, not one thing Rosie and I hope you feel the same way. I…you don't…you're okay with this, right? It doesn't change anything, he can still lead a normal life, we'll just need some precautions, but- but it's gonna be fine, you'll see, it'll be fine." His voice was breaking by the end and my lip was quivering.

Without answering him, because I simply didn't know what to say, I let myself fall in his arms, I gave into the hug, into the security he'd been offering for so long. Strong, warm arms held me close and kept me safe, unafraid, complete.

My tears fell slowly at first, all the emotions I had managed to tamp down broke free until I was sobbing, my anguished tears were left to run its course and for that I was grateful. He simply held me and let me cry against his chest, soon after I felt him join me, his agonized cries made him struggle for breath. His grip tightened on me and I felt him look in my arms for the security; the same security that he represented for me.

We simply cried, for our fate, for the rough life our son had been given, for the injustice and unfairness of that. And I cried for myself, because there was a part of me that didn't know how to react, Emmett did what any normal parent would, he accepted our situation so readily, so easily but why couldn't I do the same? Did his physicality really matter that much to me?

Aaron would never look like his Father, or like me, or anyone else in our family. His features would be foreign and yet so completely distinguishable, he would stand out, people would stare and point and maybe even laugh. And that was not something I knew how to handle.

What did that say about me?

I couldn't find a suitable answer.

"What are going to do Emmett?" I asked once my sobs had subsided some.

"What do you mean?"

I hated having to spell this out for him. I couldn't find a way to voice my concerns without sounding like the worst Mother in the world, but I had concerns, about how we would handle what was given to us, how we would move forward from this, how I could be like him and accept everything wholeheartedly.

"How do we deal with what people think? What they say?" I sniffed.

"They don't matter Rosalie, it's only us, just the three of us, no one else." He promised.

"But people… they, do you know what they call kids like him?" I hated to be the one mentioning it but my pain left me without a filter, my pain was too big to contain and now that I'd started talking, I couldn't stop.

I risked a glance at him, his eyes were sad but there was still a fire in him, there was still love for me, he wanted to protect me and I was just hurting him, but I needed him to understand my grief, I needed him to know how this affected me, I needed him to tell me we would be okay and he would help me through the uncertainty I felt.

I needed him to love me no matter what.

"No, I don't." He stated. "What do they call children like him?" He was daring me to say it, but I couldn't because even I could not face to call my son such a horrid name, so I implied it.

"It's a seven letter word, Emmett."

"Special?"

I just shook my head, the tears returned along with the crushing grief, no, 'special' was not the word I meant, it wasn't as hurtful and as shameful as the one I had in mind, the one that hadn't even occurred to my husband.

"It starts with an 'r'," I whispered, "and ends with an's'."

He understood, and those seven letters hurt him more than I ever knew they could, the fact that I could think of that made any lingering concern he had for me leave, he released his hold from me, leaving me alone, ashamed and broken.

"Is that what you think they are? Is that what you think he'll be?" He chocked out. And his massive size seem incapable of holding the disappointment he felt in me, his excessively muscular body seemed weak and impotent. He was broken and defeated, because I'd voiced how insecure I truly was, how affected I was by our son's condition. "He's not, Rosalie, yes he'll be challenged and a lot of things are going to be hard for him but that doesn't mean he's any less worthy of our love. How can you think that? How can you look at him and not love him? He's your son, Rosalie, you carried him for nine months, you felt him grow and develop, you felt him kick you, how can you look at the negative? Rosalie this- this… I won't let you think that, he won't be made to feel less by anyone, least of all you; he's perfect, just the way he is, he'll always be perfect, how can you not see it? How can you think otherwise?" His whispered words hurt more than shouts; the pain etched in them broke my heart, tore at my soul and made me feel worthless. It wasn't just me I was hurting with my thoughts.

"I'm so sorry, Emmett." I managed to get out over the lump in my throat. "Please," I begged "please, help me; don't leave me alone, I'm sorry." And my tears restarted, sobs wracked my body so strongly I fell to the ground, on my knees, at his feet.

I was afraid he would leave me there, that I'd hurt him so much he wouldn't care if I was okay or not, but I should've known he was far too kind for that, he got to his knees too, and reached out to me, holding me, piecing me back together. Not judging or cursing my vanity. Though he should have.

"Listen to me Rosalie, we're going to be okay, it's all going to be okay. No one else matters, just him, he's a blessing Rosalie, never look at it any differently; just love him as he is, love him unconditionally. Please."

I could only nod.

~o~

When we finally went inside, we went to straight to our son, together we watched over his sleep, we saw his little body rest, his little chest rise and fall, we heard the tiny whimpers he would at times let out and worried over their meaning, and finally before leaving his room, we each dipped our bodies until out lips met his soft cheeks.

Then we left the room, our hands once again clasped.

~o~

It was late at night when I woke from an uneasy sleep; my vain thoughts once again plagued me, hunted me until I rose from my bed and left the room.

I opened the door quietly so as not to wake either one of the men in my life, and turned on the light, immediately I was met with the face, a face I could no longer recognize.

It should've been beautiful.

It should've been perfect.

But no matter how hard I tried I could not find the beauty that everyone else seemed to find, my eyes studied slowly the planes of the face in front me, the outline that, to me, emitted nothing more than repulsion. Disgust.

Long and hard I looked, trying desperately to find the beauty I once imagined the face having and came up empty.

A tear fell.

Another joined. And I made no move to soothe the broken being, because it didn't deserved to be soothed, it didn't deserve to be gently touched, to be showed love.

It should have been beautiful.

But it wasn't and it probably would never be.

I heaved a sigh and turned off the light, turning around I went for the door, leaving my reflection in the bathroom mirror behind.

I started thinking about us again.

About my son; the innocent being who had answered my prayers and had come to join us. The tiny person who would bring us joy, who meant more than anything to both Emmett and I.

I thought about Emmett, who loved his son unconditionally, fiercely and without regrets. And who even loved me despite my atrocious behavior this afternoon; he was my rock, my strength.

And then I thought about me, how I always knew I wanted a baby more than anything else and almost let the smallest imperfection take me away from my dream come true. I'd almost rejected my son, for something that wasn't his fault, for something he couldn't control, for something that to a less conceited person would have never mattered.

Seven letters defined each of us, truly and completely.

Seven letters to define my son: desired.

Seven letters to define my husband: hopeful.

Seven letters to define myself: monster.

Hope it was worth the wait. If you couldn't guess the seven letter word, let me know, I'll tell you.

So I had an idea, how about you guys give me a deadline for each chapter to be out? That way this dreadful wait won't happen again, if I make it you'll review, if I don't you won't. Cool? I was thinking a week is pretty decent, but of course majority rules. And yes this is a shameless attempt to get reviews, I'm incorrigible. O.o

I've been meaning to tell you a pointless story for a while, so here goes: I was walking down the street the other day and came across a black Mercedes, parked right behind it was a silver Volvo.

Have a great day.