Disclaimer: Don't own it, just get a kick out of writing about it. Thanks Stephenie!
Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Emilie Fauve!
Carlisle never left Rosalie's side through the remainder of her transformation. He held her hand gently, talking to her through her muffled cries of pain and offering any condolences he could. Occasionally, Esme would go in to join him in an act of solidarity.
I sat waiting in the front room a few hours before her transformation was complete, when Carlisle called to me. Silently, I left my post on the sofa and entered the room.
"She's almost there. Can you sense it?"
"Yes."
Carlisle hadn't had the chance to teach me the process with Esme. For some reason he felt it his duty that I know how to change someone, even though I had vowed on the day I awoke into immortality that I would never curse another with such a sinister gift. Still, he insisted on instructing me on what to look for, how much venom was needed, and the signs of the transformation nearing completion.
What is going through her mind? She doesn't speak much anymore, just mumbling nonsense.
I scanned her thoughts and found very little. It was like she had surrendered to the pain, allowing herself to slip into the darkness between this world and the next. I saw a dim image of Royce, followed by another of her younger brothers. That was all.
"Carlisle, she's given up hope. She's thinking of nothing but her family and fiancée," I said bitterly. The fears of her hating this unnatural life resurfaced immediately. I had a gnawing feeling deep in my gut that Rosalie was not going to handle this well when she woke up.
Are you positive?
He slid forward in his chair towards her distressed face before speaking.
"Rosalie, its Carlisle. Can you hear me? It's almost over."
Nothing. Her mind remained blank.
"Are you sure she'll awaken? Her mind is still gone." I tried to make my tone even, but the feeling of foreboding threatened to break through the mask that was desperately trying to hide my true emotions.
Edward, be patient. She'll come around…
I'm still not dead? Maybe I'm in hell. That would explain why Edward still hates me.
I jerked back in surprise. Rosalie? It was as if a veil had been lifted from her mind. My head was suddenly flooded with her thoughts.
The pain...when will the pain stop? Why didn't Dr. Cullen kill me - or did he? Why is Edward here - does it matter? He still has that haughtiness in his voice; he must still despise me. How could he hate me so much…I barely knew him…I barely talked to him!
Her thoughts quickly shifted away from her supposed death and were now fully focused on me. Me. I swallowed a mouthful of bitter venom as she continued her mental assault.
If I opened my eyes right now, would I see him glaring at me with those hateful golden eyes? How can he not find me beautiful? How is it that he's the only man in the state that hasn't tripped over his own feet to get my attention? He thinks he's better than me – that has to be it. He thinks I'm not good enough for him, that I'm not pretty enough.
I closed my eyes, trying to turn off the steady stream of torture.
"What is it Edward? You can hear her, can't you? What is she thinking?" Carlisle had turned towards me, begging for answers.
I shook my head, refusing to reply, now pinching the bridge of my nose and gritting my teeth.
Arrogant man! I'll tell him what I think of his attitude, his lack of manners. My father will speak to Carlisle as well!
I couldn't take it anymore. I turned to flee the room for the second time since Rosalie Hale had entered our home and destroyed what little happiness we had carved out of our immortal existence. And she hadn't even opened her eyes yet!
"Edward, what's wrong?" Esme followed me out, trying to stop me.
"She won't be happy. She will never accept this life - she's refusing to accept Carlisle's words." I purposefully withheld her horrid opinions of me before rushing out of the house. Now where would I go? I promised myself I wouldn't leave, but how else was I going to deal with this? I sunk to the cold, damp ground, burying my head in my arms, trying to ignore her thoughts as best as I could.
I roamed the forest around the house for the next few hours, listening from a distance to Rosalie's awakening into darkness. Although I couldn't escape her thoughts, at least I could remove myself from her awareness. Carlisle told her everything about us, especially about our patchwork-quilt family as her heart pumped the last of the venom through her body. Her thoughts eventually drifted away from her hatred of me and began to focus on his confessions with growing anxiety. She had finally come to realize that she was not dead in the traditional sense. For the most part, her thoughts were a jumbled mass of confusion, anger, and spite.
I remained in the woods even after she had taken her last purposeful breath and risen as an immortal creature. She began to converse with Carlisle and Esme. Well, converse wasn't exactly the right adjective – more like argue. Loudly. She rejected Carlisle's words just as I knew she would, refusing to accept this new life he had intentionally given her. When she eventually quit arguing, her words rang with unabashed grief, as the memory of the events that led her down this new path flashed in her mind. At first she cried out for Royce in anguish, distraught that she had lost her fiancée and her supposed future with him. Then she remembered his brutal attack, and the sadness was swiftly replaced with resounding fury. Carlisle and Esme tried to convince her she needed to feed, urging her to let go of her anger towards him and start anew. Ignoring their suggestions, she wore her true feelings on her sleeve, insisting viciously that she would repay him for destroying her life by taking his. Carlisle and Esme were forced to restrain her, trying desperately to calm the angry newborn and convince her to hunt something other than Royce.
Then, I sensed the change. The waves of furious thoughts rolling out of her head ceased momentarily as she realized both Carlisle and Esme would never let her carry out her murderous wishes. A plan began to form in her mind. A plan to deceive, to play along with her supposed new family until they trusted her alone. Then she would strike down the men who had assaulted her.
My first reaction was to out her immediately in front of Carlisle and Esme, to reveal her true nature to their unsuspecting eyes. I knew they'd believe me. A smirk danced across my face at the thought of turning them against her. Maybe this was the answer to getting my dreary, habitual existence back to the way it was before she was callously dumped into my life.
Yet a small piece of me quietly protested this initial plan. Do you honestly blame her for wanting retribution? How would you feel? I had already tried playing the part of God, killing despicable men such as Royce for years, searching first for some sort of atonement, then seeking out a form of release from the everyday torture of craving human blood. If I had the choice to continue to deplete the world of murderers and rapists while remaining with Carlisle and Esme in good standing, I would take it without question. But that was never a choice that existed for me.
However, it could exist for Rosalie. Carlisle and Esme would undoubtedly forgive her actions. He would blame it on her insatiable newborn thirst; she on Royce's brutal attack. Could I allow it to happen? Should I?
I refocused on her thoughts as I slowly made my way back towards the house for the second time since her arrival. She was continuing to plot and scheme, hearing Carlisle's arguments for sparing human life, but not truly listening to him. She was fixated on Royce and his friends' murders, as only a newborn would be. It would be virtually impossible to tear her away from that line of thinking until she had followed through with it.
But somehow, Esme found a way to distract her. As I crossed the front lawn and crept up the steps, I heard her thoughts clearly.
The mirror. We must show her how beautiful she is.
I rolled my eyes before re-entering the house. If anything could distract someone like Rosalie, a mirror would be the perfect tool.
I watched silently from the doorway as Esme gave Carlisle a knowing look, then steered a devious Rosalie towards the mirror on the far wall. Carlisle understood her actions immediately, and held tight to her other arm as Esme walked her forward.
It was times like these that I was utterly amazed at the non-verbal communication between them. It was as if they could read one another's minds as clearly as I could. How would it feel to be so in tune with another like they were? To know that someone understood you so well that words were no longer necessary? I couldn't fathom such a relationship. I would never have a need to with my gift, I thought dejectedly.
Esme stopped Rosalie in front of the mirror. I watched her expression closely; fascinated to see how it married up to the thoughts flitting through her shallow mind.
That's me? I'm so beautiful – even more beautiful than before!
She cocked her head to the side, oblivious to my scorching stare and Carlisle and Esme's guarded expressions.
But what happened to my eyes?
Her face remained completely expressionless. It was eerie to see a creature with such contemptible thoughts be so incredibly talented at masking her emotions. No hint of her insatiable vanity leaked onto her flawless features.
I've never seen any human as stunning as myself. Well, maybe Edward, but…
I froze. Carlisle hadn't told her yet of my gift. He couldn't have, or she would have never let that thought cross her mind, regardless of whether it was actually true or not. Unless she was still so enraptured with her own magnificence that she carelessly forgot to hide such opinions. Should I announce my presence? I was actually a bit surprised she hadn't sensed me standing in the doorway. Carlisle and Esme both knew I was there, yet maintained their focus on Rosalie.
"Rosalie, you're breathtaking." Esme broke the heavy tension in the air. She reached up and stroked back a stray piece of blonde hair from Rosalie's face. The gesture was extremely loving and maternal. Clearly, she felt that she had a daughter at last, but it was Esme's other thoughts that thoroughly upset me.
The poor girl doesn't know what to think of herself. Doesn't she see how much more striking she has become?
This hastily reinforced what I had surmised just moments ago while regarding Rosalie's expressionless face. She had them completely fooled for the time being. Without my abilities, she could easily deceive them until something, or someone revealed her true nature. I swallowed stiffly as I realized that power fell solely on my already over-burdened shoulders. How would I handle this growing dilemma – handle her?
It was time for me to play the role of big brother; formally introducing myself and welcoming her to our masochistic little family.
