Bella's body, now dripping with the blood she had vomited, twitched wildly in Rosalie's arms. Since her face was blank—presumably because she'd fallen unconscious—it could only be the baby inside her moving her body that way, causing it to thrash and spasm. Almost in time with each convulsion, sharp snaps and cracks could be heard, as more bones shattered and broke.
The thoughts and feelings coming from the baby were crazed, incoherent, and overwhelming.
He was fighting for his life.
Both Rosalie and I had frozen to the spot at the scene before us, even our vampire minds having trouble catching up with how quickly a routine trip to the bathroom had turned into the horror show unfolding now.
But catch up we did.
We both switched on to autopilot at the same moment. I roughly pushed away any visceral emotional reaction to what was happening to my wife and child and became a machine, a rational automaton focused solely on the goal: saving them both.
Rosalie had Bella in her arms in an instant and was sprinting for the stairs at the same time I was, shouting at her to get Bella to Carlisle's office and onto the examining table. I barked at her to get the morphine and she dashed for Carlisle's medicine chest as she yelled at Alice to get Carlisle on the phone. Whipping around the room in a frenzy, I turned on all of the examination lights, instantly transforming Carlisle's peaceful study into an operating theatre bathed in brilliant white light.
Rosalie tossed me a syringe and threw herself across Bella's body, pinning her and trying to still the thrashing enough that I could get the needle into Bella's arm. As Rosalie pressed her weight onto Bella's, somehow still mindful of not crushing her with her stone body, she tore at Bella's clothes, shredding the sweatshirt with one hand and tossing it to the floor.
"What's happening, Edward?" she screeched.
"He's suffocating!"
"The placenta must have detached!"
As Rosalie said it, Bella somehow awoke, eyes snapping open, already shrieking with the same knowledge. "Get him OUT!" she screamed. "He can't BREATHE! Do it NOW!"
"The morphine—" I tried to tell her, but she shook her head back and forth frantically.
"NO! NOW--!" Another gush of blood from her mouth choked off her words. She struggled to keep her head up so that she could clear her mouth and breathe. Her exposed skin was black and purple with bruises, new ones appearing every second as the baby continued to thrash inside her. The contrast with the whiteness of the rest of her skin under the operating lights was horrific, but there was no time to focus on it. I was vaguely aware that Alice had dashed into the room and clipped the telephone headset to Rosalie's ear before dashing away again.
Somehow Rosalie had got hold of a scalpel, and lifted it over the huge, moving bulge of Bella's abdomen, now becoming a deep red with the blood pooling under the surface of the skin.
"Let the morphine spread!" I shouted.
"There's no time!" she hissed back. "He's dying!" Her hand came down on Bella's stomach, and fresh blood pooled where the scalpel pierced the fragile skin, spilling quickly across and down her distended flesh to the floor. Bella twitched but didn't scream, her mouth still full of the blood from her stomach. I reached for her shoulders and pulled her upright, trying to help her clear her airways enough to breathe.
Fortunately, I tore my eyes from the sight of my wife's blood flowing freely from her body in time to see Rosalie's expression change. Until now unbothered by the scent of the blood Bella drunk from her cup, able to assist me this far in getting Bella up to Carlisle's office and a syringe full of morphine into her arm despite the blood pouring from Bella's mouth, the long weeks without hunting hit Rosalie like a sledgehammer. Beyond her ability to control it, her lips started to pull back from her teeth and her black eyes glinted with her thirst.
"No, Rose!" I shouted, but couldn't get my hands away from under Bella's shoulders quickly enough to stop her from leaning forward, starting to assume a hunting pose.
A flash before my eyes knocked Rosalie to the floor. Jacob. I hadn't even noticed that he had followed us upstairs.
They wrestled next to the examination table for what was only a few seconds, but felt like much, much longer. Rosalie stabbed Jacob's left arm with the scalpel as his right palm struck her face, using his grip on her chin to swing her body out so that he could kick her as hard as he could in the gut. She flew back against the door frame, buckling the wood. The side of her head struck the other side of the frame and shattered the telephone earpiece into tiny fragments.
Alice was suddenly there as well, dragging Rosalie by the throat into the hall. "Alice, get her out of here!" I yelled, although Alice was already doing just that. "Take her to Jasper and keep her there!" There was no doubt that after seeing the blood fountain on the main floor, Jasper knew himself well enough to come nowhere near the stairs right now. "Jacob, I need you!" I continued, once I could see that Alice had Rosalie out of the room. Jacob was on his feet, yanking the scalpel out of his arm. "CPR?"
"Yes!" he nodded.
"Get her breathing! I've got to get him out before—" My words were cut off by the loudest crack yet, so loud and violent that both Jacob and I froze in shock, waiting for the inevitable shriek of agony to follow.
There was no shriek. Bella's legs had instead gone limp, sprawling out beneath her like she no longer had control of them.
Because she didn't. "Her spine," I managed to choke, a new sense of horror kicking the existing horror out of the way, paling it by comparison. My limbs seized at the realization of what had just happened to my sweet Bella, my reason for existence. This was it. She was going to die after all. I was numb, unable to move.
I wanted to turn to stone on the spot, hoping for a numbness so thorough I would never think for another moment.
I wanted James. I wanted the Volturi.
I wanted someone to kill me. Immediately.
"Get it out of her!" Jacob shouted, flinging the scalpel at me. "She won't feel anything now!" He bent over her face and started the CPR.
CPR. She's still alive, some last remaining rational bit of myself screamed. Still alive! She needs you. Move!
The automaton was back, the numbness gone as quickly as it had come.
Scalpel in hand, I cleared my mind. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. She would not die. It wasn't an option.
Almost as if I were outside myself, I watched as my hand made a long incision through Bella's skin with the scalpel, from under her breasts to below her belly button, slicing deeply through the flesh until I could feel the blade scrape the impossible hardness of the amniotic sac. I didn't allow myself to think about the act itself, what I was doing, marring, damaging her beautiful, soft porcelain skin.
I didn't allow myself to think about what I was doing when I pushed the skin aside, either. Or when I made enough room in the opening to press my face there, to give my teeth enough access to pierce that amniotic sac, unnaturally sharp over unnaturally hard, shredding through with a sound akin to metal machinery tearing through plates of steel.
Bite after bite after bite. Piercing, shredding. Not thinking, just doing. Only vaguely aware of Jacob's presence in the room, still working at the CPR, shouting things at Bella, not listening to what was being said.
I didn't think about it, either, when my hands reached down to widen the opening I had made in her body with my scalpel and my teeth, actual effort required when it came to the amniotic sac itself, so hard it resisted being pushed apart.
I still didn't think about it when my hands dipped inside her abdomen, reaching for the little being there, pulling the small body out, careful not to crush, sensing with my fingertips that the flesh was not quite human soft, but also not quite vampire hard.
I didn't think when I had to bend again to bite through the umbilical cord, finally separating baby from mother.
I didn't think again until the small body was in my arms, wet with blood and amniotic fluid, skin warm to the touch but cool from the air, so different from the warmth of the womb.
There were no cries, but the baby was definitely alive. Two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes. All wiggled in the coolness of the air, stretching, feeling the new environment. Wide, chocolate brown eyes blinked at me against the light. A shock of unruly bronze hair was plastered against her perfect head.
Her head.
A girl.
Our daughter.
"Renesmee," I heard myself whisper, lifting a hand to carefully smooth the wet hair away from her tiny forehead. A moment passed as we gazed at each other. I didn't know how long a moment, or how short.
But it was long enough for me to feel my heart swell with love again, cementing my infant daughter's place in my world the way Bella's had been cemented into my world the moment I realized I loved her, that night in her bedroom what now seemed like so very many months ago.
My reasons for existence had doubled.
"Let me..." I heard Bella's voice, crackling in a choked whisper. "Give her to me." Her arms were extended weakly towards us, past Jacob, who kept his back turned, his gaze fixed on Bella's face.
It didn't occur to me to refuse. After all she had been through to bring this child into the world, I wasn't about to tell her she needed to wait.
And, selfishly, I wanted to share this with her. The first moments of our daughter's life.
Gently, I placed the baby onto Bella's chest, waiting until she lifted her arms to cradle the small form against her before moving my hands out of the way. "Renes...mee. So...beautiful," she croaked, gazing at the child pressed against her. Renesmee looked back at her, still silent, still blinking...then pressed her tiny face against Bella's left breast. Bella gasped in pain and I snatched the baby back into my arms. Fresh blood was pooling from a double-crescent shaped wound, and Renesmee had fresh blood on her lips.
The baby had bitten her. Surely that was a first reaction for the neo-natal medical textbooks.
"No, Renesmee," I murmured, quite astonished. This newborn had teeth? Teeth strong enough to pierce skin?
Of course she did. This was a half-vampire child. My child. I stared down at her, bewildered at the similarities between us, that apparently went beyond the unusually-coloured hair.
Jacob had snapped back into action again, beginning compressions against Bella's chest. Her heart had stopped beating? I thought stupidly, still caught up in the moment with the newborn baby in my arms.
"What are you waiting for?" Jacob growled at me, and I quickly snapped out of my reverie. God! What had gotten into me!?
"Take the baby," I said to him, needing my hands free to do what I needed to do next.
"Throw it out the window," he snapped, not moving from his chest compressions.
A musical voice chimed from the doorway. "Give her to me."
I snarled at the same time Jacob did, both of us thinking we were going to have to waste precious time fighting Rosalie away from the blood again.
"I've got it under control," she promised, gazing at me evenly. Edward, I swear. You know I wouldn't jeopardize that child's life. "Give me the baby, Edward. I'll take care of her until Bella..."
I was satisfied. I had to be. There was no time to lose.
Once again, the automaton was back.
Within the blink of a human eye, I passed Renesmee into Rosalie's arms, quickly pulled something from Carlisle's medicine cabinet, and returned to the examination table. "Move your hands, Jacob."
Jacob glanced up at me suspiciously, eyeing the heavy-duty syringe I now held in my hand. "What's that?"
I knocked his hand away from Bella's chest impatiently and stabbed the needle through the spot he had just been compressing, pushing the plunger and sending the syringe's contents directly into her heart. "My venom."
We both heard her heart sputter, like she'd been shocked with a bolt of electricity.
"Keep it moving," I ordered, and Jacob immediately resumed his chest compressions. I could see from the strain in his muscles that it was already becoming more difficult for him to do so. The venom was already coursing through her veins, already changing her.
I was back to acting without thinking as I moved to do what I had resisted doing for so long: I bit my beautiful Bella.
Again and again, I bit her. I bit her throat, her wrists, the inside of her elbows, the soft spots under each side of her collarbone, the back of her neck behind each ear. Each new wound released more of my venom into her body. I caressed each wound with my tongue, sealing the venom inside. I'm sorry, I thought with each pass of my tongue against her heated, wrecked flesh. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...
Each bite was a little more difficult than the last, my teeth not quite able to slice through her fragile skin as easily as the bite before. It was working. As I had known when I saw that it was becoming more difficult for Jacob to perform the chest compressions, I knew that that meant it was working.
She was changing.
She would survive.
For a while, Jacob worked as I worked, continuing the chest compressions, continuing to blow air into Bella's mouth. Somewhere at the back of my brain it occurred to me that I could tell him he didn't have to try and get air into her lungs anymore—she no longer needed it. Already, she no longer needed it.
I had seen a number of transformations during my time on this earth—Esme's, Rosalie's, Emmett's—I knew it to be true.
She would survive.
Unfortunately, there was no time to explain it to Jacob.
And he had already given up.
Dead...she's dead. This is useless. We were too late. Can't save her.
She must be dead. I don't feel drawn to her any more.
Away. Just want to get away. Forever.
My lips curled back in a snarl at his thoughts, annoyed at how easily he was giving up on her, after all we had been through.
Annoyed that yet once again, he thought he knew my wife better than I did.
"Go, then," I snapped, knocking his hands away from her body. I took his place with the chest compressions, thinking it might help accelerate the movement of the venom through her body, even though I knew it wasn't strictly necessary.
But I also knew how excruciatingly painful this next part would be for her. Anything, anything at all I could do to try and hurry that through for her was worth trying.
Pushing her dead heart faster than I had, Jacob thought randomly as he stared at me, still working over Bella.
"She's not dead," I growled. "She's going to be fine."
He turned on his heel then and left the room, awash with pain. I tuned him out completely.
He was wrong.
*~*~*~*
"Edward?" a soft, musical voice said from somewhere behind me. It was the first time I had noticed a sound other than the sound of Bella's heart beating for...minutes? hours? days?
I looked up when a small hand fell over mine, still clutching Bella's as I stood next to the examination table on which she lay, now motionless. Alice squeezed my fingers. "How's it going?" she asked quietly.
"It's hard to tell. She's not moving, but I don't know if that's because the morphine has worked well enough to mask the pain, or if..." I let my voice trail off, unwilling to voice the thought, the possibility that something was wrong.
"I'm sure she's fine, Edward. I can hear her heart beating. You know that that's all that matters." You have to try not to be so negative all the time, Edward. Stop assuming that everything is sure to be a disaster.
I smiled humourlessly. I supposed she was right that I did have a tendency to be...morose.
"The waiting now is going to be the hardest part—for me, anyway. I know that what she's going through is much worse." I sighed. "I just hope that the morphine is helping..."
Alice gave my hand another squeeze and smiled. "The baby is beautiful, Edward. Just so beautiful."
I glanced down at her with a frown, immediately feeling guilty that I hadn't given Renesmee a thought since handing her over to Rosalie. I had been so preoccupied with what I was doing, continuing the chest compressions, then sitting down to begin the long, long wait. "Where is she?"
"Downstairs with Rose. Rose won't let any of the rest of us hold her. We're lucky she's even letting us close enough to look. With Jacob, she just about..." she let her voice trail off and suddenly started thinking about the Cyrillic alphabet.
My eyes narrowed. More problems? What in the world was going on now? It was so obvious when she was hiding something. I chose my next question carefully. "Jacob Black is still here?" Given the last of his thoughts I had heard before I sent him from the room, I had assumed he'd be long gone by now.
"Yes, he's here..." she replied slowly.
"Has he tried to hurt Renesmee?" I was suddenly anxious. If he thought Bella had died, he would automatically blame it on both the baby and me. I wouldn't put it past him to try and exact some kind of revenge. I had asked him to kill me in that situation, so anything he might plot against me didn't bother me. But if he hurt the baby...truce or no truce, I'd rip him limb from limb. As slowly and as painfully as possible.
"No, no, not at all." Alice shook her head. "Quite the opposite, in fact. Rosalie won't let him near her, so he's just been sitting in a chair across from them, staring at her with a weird expression on his face. I'm not really sure what's going on with that."
More of the Cyrillic alphabet. She suspected something, but wasn't about to share it with me.
I'd deal with it later. I couldn't handle anything more at this point.
"I suppose I should call Carlisle," I said, changing the subject. "Not that there's anything more he can do at this point, but I should let him know where things stand."
"Jasper spoke to him already, after the headset got smashed and Rosalie's call was disconnected. Jazz didn't want them to worry there was a war going on here."
"What did he say?"
"They were too far away to make in back in time to help, but they're coming. He managed to get hold of the rest of the supplies he wanted. He's hoping they'll be earlier than noon." Again she squeezed my hand. "He told Jasper that it sounded like you'd done everything that could be done."
I wasn't so sure.
I looked down at Bella, laying relatively still and quiet apart from her heartbeat and the occasional rasp of air. She wasn't dead, but her body could only be described as...mutilated. The blood had stopped flowing, but the bruises and gashes were still horrifically obvious—especially the gaping wound in her abdomen.
Suddenly, I felt as though I had been punched in the solar plexus. I had been so absorbed in getting the venom into her, I hadn't really looked at the state of her broken body. Her clothes were shredded, leaving her bare and exposed. Her blood and the blood she had been drinking was spilled everywhere.
It looked like a murder scene.
It was a murder scene.
I must have gasped or moved in some way, because Alice's tiny, strong hands were suddenly around my waist, holding me up. She knew what I was thinking.
"Edward...will you let me help you clean Bella up?" she asked gently. "We need to cover her, and there's no reason to leave the room this way."
I nodded and she glided out of the room to get the supplies we would need. Gently, I stroked Bella's hair with the fingertips of my free hand, the one that wasn't still clutching hers. The chestnut tresses were caked with blood and sweat. Her skin was already starting to cool—not quite as cool as my own, but cooler than was normal for her.
Had been normal for her. Soon there would be a new normal...as long as she came out of this okay.
Everything had happened so fast, so frenetically that I hadn't yet taken a moment to mourn the loss of my human wife, my soft, warm, fragile Bella. I felt the loss now as a sharp pain in my dead heart, an uncomfortable prickling in my eyes. I had done this to her. I had killed her. Even if she survived as a vampire...I had killed her.
I had always known it would be hard to be the one responsible for that, but now I wondered how I would continue to exist with such a burden, a burden that would always be mine. Every single thing that she was – I had taken away.
Alice returned with soaps, shampoo, a tub of warm water and an armful of clothes. She set them down next to me quietly and left the room again, presumably to get the rest of whatever she thought we would need.
I let go of Bella's hand and reached for a washcloth, soaking it in the warm water and then wringing it out before lifting her hand again to gently scrub the blood from her skin.
I mourned as I washed her changing body, saying goodbye to each human part of it with each pass of the washcloth.
Her fingertips, always so warm against my cold marble ones. Goodbye.
Her arms, fragile and weak but so strongly comforting when she wrapped them around me. Goodbye.
Her lips, soft and yielding against mine. Goodbye.
Her cheeks, so often flushed with crimson when she was embarrassed, or angry, or aroused. Goodbye.
Her forehead, prone to crinkle slightly when she frowned or concentrated. Goodbye.
Her neck, with its busy arteries just under the surface, pumping her sweet ambrosial blood under my lips when I pressed them there to kiss her. Goodbye.
Alice said nothing when she returned to the room for the second time with another pail of water and set about washing the blood from the floor and the furniture, leaving me to the task of cleaning Bella's body, washing away the last of her humanity and preparing her for her new life as one of us.
She knew as only she could that I needed to do this part myself.
*~*~*~*
It was still dark, the middle of the night, when there was another set of footfalls on the stairs to the second floor. Alice had left me alone some time ago once the task of cleaning was finished, taking the throw rug from the floor with her to burn it, the deep blood stains obviously impossible to remove. Jasper had popped in to check on me once, but had said little. He had tried to impart a sense of comfort over me but the task had proven too difficult, even for him.
I was beyond comfort. I would remain beyond comfort until Bella opened her eyes again and told me she forgave me for doing this to her.
"Edward?" It was Rosalie.
"Rose," I replied, without looking up from Bella's face. Her features were neutral but didn't exactly seem peaceful. Washing her had made a considerable improvement, however. Whereas before she had looked...dead, the victim of some horrific, violent homicide, now she looked as though she were merely sleeping.
"I thought you might like to visit with your daughter," she said, stepping to my side. From my peripheral vision, I could see that she held a white blanketed bundle in her arms. "I would have brought her sooner, but I didn't want her to see...the way it looked in here before...and then she was sleeping. But now she's awake again, and she's asking for you."
Asking for me? I turned my head to look up at Rosalie, opening my mouth to ask what in the world she meant.
See for yourself, she replied silently, and carefully placed the white bundle in my arms.
Renesmee, too, had been washed, her fair and perfect skin now clear of the blood and fluid that had previously stained her chubby cheeks. They were faintly rosy, a shade or two lighter than the red of her cupid's bow lips. Her bronze hair, now clean, was no longer matted against her skull, but instead curled softly around her face. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide and curious as she stared back at me.
Rosalie crouched next to the chair I had pulled to Bella's bedside so that she was on the same level as Renesmee. "Isn't she gorgeous?" she whispered, reverently reaching out a finger to stroke the infant's smooth forehead.
It was true. She was beautiful. Stunningly, perfectly beautiful. Her features reminded me of Bella's, but I could see my own there, too, in addition to the hair colour—an almost even blend of the best of both of us, taken and somehow improved even further.
Our baby. Bella's and mine. Here, after so much heartache, and so...perfect.
Not a demon at all. Not a killer. Not a monster.
Somehow, we had created this angelic-faced being.
A tiny hand pulled free of the blanket and swung around, reaching toward my face.
"She knows you," Rosalie said. "Bend down so she can touch your cheek. You'll see what I mean."
I was too overcome with the sight of the child in my arms to search Rosalie's mind for an explanation, or to do anything other than what she suggested. "Hello, baby, my little love," I murmured softly, and leaned my face toward Renesmee's. When I was close enough, her little hand pressed flat against my right cheek.
Images flooded my mind, of my face, anxious but reverent, looking down at her...of Bella, features streaked with blood and sweat but smiling...of Rosalie, carefully, gently washing her little body clean in a baby tub perched on the kitchen counter, then holding a bottle for her to drink her first meal...of Alice and Jasper bent over her, cooing at her in silly baby voices...of Jacob Black, watching her from a few feet away, his expression...worshipful?
"She's remembering these things?" I whispered in disbelief. "A newborn baby that's...six hours old?" Even I knew enough about babies to know that one so young shouldn't have that kind of awareness yet.
"About nine hours now, actually. And yes." Rosalie grinned. "Isn't that incredible? If she touches you, she can tell you what she's thinking. It's like the opposite of what you can do. Although I assume you probably don't even need for her to touch you for you to be able to read her thoughts."
I hadn't actually tried. It hadn't occurred to me to try. Would her mind be silent to me the way Bella's was? I pulled away from Renesmee's hand on my cheek and cast my mind out to hers. There she was—not silent. But rather than words, I picked up sensations and feelings, the way I had when she was still in the womb.
I couldn't help chuckling.
"What? What's she thinking?" Rosalie demanded.
"She's annoyed that I pulled away. She wasn't done telling me everything she'd seen the last few hours."
Rosalie laughed lightly. "It's been handy, let me tell you. I've known exactly when she was hungry, and full, and cold, and too warm, and tired...human parents would kill for that kind of insight, I'm sure." She touched the tip of Renesmee's nose lightly with the pad of her index finger. "The thing is, Renesmee, you'll find that Daddy knows what you're thinking without you having to touch him. He's special, like you are."
Daddy?
I gasped. A word this time. That word—as she pictured my face. She knew who I was!
I was someone's father. Her biological father.
My dead heart swelled again, so much this time that I almost felt as though it would start beating, after decades of stillness. I had never expected to be anyone's father. I had never even dared to dream of it. It was just one of the many things I had lost with the end of my mortal life.
But now, for the first time in the ninety years I had been a vampire, I suddenly felt—human.
I was acutely overwhelmed, but also saddened by the realization that I couldn't share this moment of profound revelation with Renesmee's mother.
Almost as if reading my thoughts this time, Renesmee pictured Bella's face, again blood and sweat-streaked, as it had been the last time Renesmee had seen her. Mommy?
"Yes, Mommy," I chuckled again, amazed. She had picked up that word in the womb.
Not wanting Renesmee's only image of her mother to be that bloody, pain-wracked mask of physical anguish, I carefully stood so that I could place Renesmee close to Bella's face. "This is Mommy, Renesmee."
Renesmee gazed at Bella, remembering Bella holding her briefly in her arms. She wanted Bella to hold her again. "She's...sleeping, baby. She'll be with you soon."
The tiny child caught sight of the double-crescent shaped wound above Bella's left breast—the silky gown Alice had decided to dress Bella in was cut low enough that it was clearly visible. Renesmee remembered biting Bella there, and that I had told her not to do that.
"That's right. No biting," I murmured.
Rosalie looked over at the mark on Bella's chest. "Did Renesmee do that? Bite Bella?"
"Yes. Has she tried to bite you?"
"She bit my finger. It hurt, too. I think I even squealed out loud at it, so she hasn't done it again." Rosalie grinned. "She learns fast."
"Apparently." I sat back down in the chair and felt Renesmee squirm to snuggle closer to my chest. It reminded me of Bella all the nights I stayed with her while she slept, always trying to worm her way closer to me, even in her slumber. I gave her a gentle squeeze in return.
"Um...hello?" a male voice said from the doorway. Jacob. Neither Rosalie nor I had been paying attention and hadn't noticed him approach. The corner of her lip curled up in a sneer.
"Did someone call you, dog?" she snarled. "I'm pretty sure I didn't hear a single person say, 'Fido'."
He ignored her and spoke to me. "Is everything okay, Edward?"
I fought the urge to say something sarcastic, to punish him for having given up on Bella earlier. He was genuinely concerned, wanting to hear from me how I thought she was doing. The assurances he'd received from Alice and Jasper weren't enough—he wanted to see it on my face.
Besides, he had helped me when no one could. Without him, there was little doubt the outcome would not have been as positive.
And there was something else. Even greater than his concern for Bella was his concern for...Renesmee. He had spoken to me, but his eyes were fixed on the bundle in my arms, desperate for a glimpse of her face. He was saturated with some kind of emotion, and it certainly wasn't the hatred he had felt before she was born. Even he was confused by it, but he was overwhelmed by the need to ensure her safety, her comfort, her happiness. He hadn't been able to bring himself to leave the house since her birth, and it wasn't because of his concern for Bella.
He was drawn to her—not to Bella now, but to Renesmee.
The comprehension washing over my face must have been crystal clear, because Jacob raised his hands, palms facing me in a gesture of surrender, before I even opened my mouth.
"Edward...you know I can't control it," he started to say, his eyes widening. "You know I didn't choose this. It just happens. It was...as soon as I looked at her, it was..." He let his voice trail off feebly.
I was speechless.
I was so astonished, so furious, I was speechless.
Rosalie's eyes narrowed as she looked between my face and his. "Edward? What the heck is going on?" She had already rotated her body so that she was between me and the baby and Jacob, ready to react instantly if there was a threat of any kind to Renesmee.
I opened my mouth to reply but still couldn't find any words.
Come on, Edward. Do you think I wanted this? Don't you know that I know how twisted this is? You know that—you're the mind reader, read mine! Jacob said silently, for once contrite, pleading instead of aggressive and hostile.
Fighting to suppress my rage enough that I could actually think, I searched his mind, at the same time clutching my infant daughter even more closely to my chest, reacting instinctively to protect her.
But she didn't need protecting—at least not from him.
He loved her. A pure, all-encompassing, instinctual love, as beyond his ability to control it as it was beyond his ability to simply choose to cease breathing. He hadn't planned it, and he didn't really want it. He knew it was...awkward, to say the least.
But all he wanted for this newborn child was her safety, her happiness...the best of everything the world could offer her. He would protect her with his life. Forever. Until he ceased to exist, she would be the center of his universe, no one else on earth as important.
I didn't like it—no, I loathed it—but it was hard to quarrel with. It was too powerful, and too pure. Banishing him from her life would be like banishing her guardian angel.
I ground my teeth together in frustration. I would never be rid of this particular werewolf, it seemed.
"Edward?" It was Rosalie again, still poised to spring at Jacob if I gave her the least little bit of a sign. She was glaring at him with her eyes narrowed, loathing pouring off her in waves.
He was still ignoring her, staring at me and at the precious bundle in my arms.
I swallowed heavily. "It's okay, Rose. He's not going to hurt her. In fact, he's the last person that would ever hurt her."
She glanced at me with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that we have nothing to worry about where Renesmee and Jacob Black are concerned. He's imprinted on her."
"WHAT?" she shrieked, launching herself at him at the same time. "On MY niece? Over my dismembered body, you filthy, disgusting canine! I'll kill you first!" She struck his chest with a crash, both of them falling to the floor in the hallway just outside the study. He held her arm to keep her from reaching his throat, otherwise seeming to do little to fight her off. He had been expecting a reaction like this, but had assumed it would be from me. He was prepared to take it.
I sighed, not inclined to interfere. Maybe I would get lucky and they'd actually kill each other.
Renesmee, however, had other ideas. She was craning her neck, trying to see around me and the blanket that covered her, trying to figure out what had happened, where Rosalie had gone so quickly, and what all the noise was from the hallway. Her little brow creased with concern. Images of Rosalie's face and of Jacob's passed through her mind. She didn't want them to kill each other.
I sighed again. I could tell where this was going. Pretty soon there would be two women who had me wrapped around their little fingers.
I was going to have to get a male cat or something for a pet in order to balance out the household.
Still holding Renesmee, I stood up and walked to the doorway. It had only been a few seconds, but already the wrestling match between Rosalie and Jacob had taken them down the hall, limbs flailing in a blur interspersed with flashes of long, blonde hair. Hearing the commotion, Alice and Jasper had just arrived at the top of the stairs, and were wondering whether or not to intervene.
Rosalie's right cross suddenly connected with Jacob's jaw, sending him off her body and into a small table on which Esme had a ceramic vase of fresh flowers. The table splintered easily and the vase crashed to the floor, shattering loudly into pieces and sending each flower flying a different direction. The noise scared Renesmee, and she started to cry.
Both Rosalie and Jacob froze, looking up from their respective positions on the floor. Jacob's back was against the wall, legs splayed out in front of him. A trickle of blood was flowing from his nose, another from the corner of his mouth. Rosalie was a few feet away on her stomach, in the process of pulling herself up onto her elbows so she could get at him again. Her carefully arranged hair was loose and messy around her shoulders. Her blouse had come untucked from her jeans, and she had somehow lost a shoe.
But they were both frozen in shock because it was the first time Renesmee had cried since she'd been born.
"You idiots, now look what you've done!" Alice scolded, flitting to my side to bend over Renesmee. "It's okay, sweetheart," she crooned, catching Renesmee's tiny fist. "They're okay. Don't you worry." She looked up at Rosalie and Jacob, scowling at each in turn. "What in the world has gotten into you two now?"
Rosalie pulled herself to her feet, hurriedly straightening her blouse and tucking it back into her waistband. "This dog..." she muttered, still furious but trying to keep her voice under control for Renesmee's sake, "...you aren't going to believe what he's done..." She strode over to my side and reached for Renesmee, elbowing Alice out of the way.
"Rosalie, you need to get yourself under control before you hold Renesmee again," I snapped, rocking the tiny baby against my chest. "As for you, Jacob Black," I continued, "I know you didn't intend this, but I don't know how I feel about it right now. I'll have to discuss it with Bella once she awakens."
Although he nodded quietly, I could see him cringe. He had a pretty good sense of what Bella's reaction to this situation was going to be.
Bella.
I needed to get back to her side. I wouldn't let her go through a moment of this without me.
Now that the fighting was over, Renesmee's cries were already subsiding. She sniffled and I reached up with my index finger to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She had tears, real tears!
She was nothing short of a miracle.
"Alice?" I moved to transfer the bundle in my arms to hers. "Do you mind? I want to get back to Bella."
Alice grinned and reached eagerly for Renesmee. "Of course, Edward. I'll take her back downstairs."
Rosalie scowled. "But Edward, I..."
"Just go clean yourself up, Rose," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. I was grateful that I wasn't prone to headaches, because I would certainly have a whopper of one by now. "And straighten out this hallway before Esme gets back."
Jacob had pulled himself to his feet, too, rubbing his jaw with one hand. It had almost certainly broken when Rosalie punched him, but it was no doubt setting on its own by now. I had nothing further to say to him at the moment, and he was thankful for it. I hadn't thrown him out of the house—yet.
With a soft kiss on Renesmee's forehead, I turned on my heel and went back into the study, closing the door behind me.