Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns everything in the Twiverse.

She waketh! Let's see what happens…

Chapter 5: Awakening

Edward's POV

I make it as far as the staircase when curiosity or one of its nosy cousins pauses me mid-step. Against my better judgment, I lean against the banister.

I have stayed this long. What would a few more minutes matter?

"Where am I?" Rosalie repeats with greater force.

"You are in our home," Dr. Cullen says.

His response does not comfort.

"What am I..." She covers her mouth as she hears herself. "What happened to my voice?"

"There is much to explain," the doctor says. "Why don't we take it one step at a time?"

Carlisle falls silent as Rosalie looks down at her clothes, frowning as she fingers the unfamiliar peach fabric.

I should have dressed her in something she recognizes, Esme laments.

It occurs to me that jade would be a better choice.

As I shake off the thought, Rosalie notices her hands.

Their perfect, clear fingernails.

Their smooth, white skin.

Their obvious inhumanity.

And all hell breaks loose.

An ear-piercing growl fills the room as she flips backwards off the bed, landing in a crouch on top of the sideboard. Shocked by the strangeness of her reaction, her crimson eyes fixate on the blond man with the cautious eyes.

"Explain yourself," she demands.

"Rosalie, I..."

"How do you know my name?"

"The Hales are a distinguished family," he explains. "Those in my profession are familiar with the name."

She notes his white coat. "You're a doctor?"

"Yes."

Her eyes scan the room, noting the lack of medical equipment. "What is your name?"

"Carlisle Cullen."

She believes him, but it means nothing. "Have we met?"

"No."

"Then what am I doing here?"

He softens his voice. "We wanted to help you."

The pronoun draws her eyes to the other person in the room.

The doctor walks toward his bride, but Rosalie's glare halts him. "This is my wife, Esme."

"Hello, Rosalie," she smiles. "I am so..."

"Leave," Rosalie hisses.

If Esme were human, her heart would shatter. "Me?"

"Him." Rosalie straightens her stance as she glares at the doctor. "I want you gone. Now."

"As you wish." He shares a glance with his wife before quitting the room.

Joining me at the banister, he drags a palm down his face. This is not going well.

I shrug and say nothing.

He is a fool for expecting her gratitude.

His wife watches Rosalie leap to the floor, keeping her back to the table. "What happened to me?"

Esme hesitates. "What do you remember?"

"I..." Rosalie closes her eyes, struggling to see through the haze of her change.

Assorted images flit through her mind:

The doting smile of her father.

A tiny blonde doll in a pink and white dress.

Girlish giggles when the newspaper boy winks at her.

The ripping of her dress as she is shoved to the ground.

She bites her bottom lip at the memory, and I wince as the pain crests in her mind.

She swallows hard, wondering at the flames in her throat. "Is he..."

"Here?" Esme replies. "No, dear. We would never let that animal anywhere near you."

Her thoughts warm toward the caramel-haired woman. "Thank you."

"Of course."

I think you should go in there.

My attention snaps back to my maker, my eyes shooting daggers in response to his absurdity.

You were there during her change, he reasons. She is bound to remember you.

I shake my head once, ending the silent discussion.

"Where are my parents?" Rosalie asks.

Mrs. Cullen's confidence falters, and she averts her eyes. "They are at home, worried about you."

In a panic, Rosalie flies past Esme to the door. When she yanks the knob, the metal partition flies across the room and makes a spectacular hole in the opposing wall. Screaming in alarm, she flings herself backwards, and the concrete wall yields beneath the force of her weight.

She clutches her body and finds it unharmed.

She palms her forehead and feels no sweat.

She has had enough.

"Where is the doctor?" she demands.

Carlisle waits a few moments then appears in the doorway.

"I am here." He folds his hands in front of him. "I am sure you have questions."

His calm demeanor aggravates her, and her body tightens in response.

And as her nostrils flare, she inhales.

And pauses.

"Someone else is here."

"Yes," Esme says.

The air betrays me as she sniffs again.

"Who?"

"Edward," Esme replies. "Our son."

Rosalie's instincts ignite, and her hands clench at her sides.

"Did he bring me here?"

"No," Carlisle says. "I did."

She wants to know more, but my presence is distracting her.

"I can smell him."

Dr. Cullen nods.

She samples the air once more. "I can smell...everything."

He nods again.

"Where is he?" she asks.

"In the hall."

"Why?" Fear pollutes her voice. "Is he a bad one? Does he want to hurt me?"

"I would never hurt you."

Once again, I have spoken unaware.

And her startled gasp cuts through me.

'That voice...'

She is struggling to understand, and I wait.

The minute is endless.

"Edward?"

My insides twist as she speaks my name. "Yes?"

Another gasp.

Her hand flies to her chest.

I have the strangest urge to kiss her fingers.

"Was that you...before?"

I swallow my foolishness. "Yes."

Her thoughts muddle, the anxious glances between the doctor and his wife confounding her further.

She is shocked to realize that my voice makes her feel safe.

"You promise not to hurt me?"

I swear on what little of my honor remains. "Yes."

She takes a deep breath, noting that her lungs have not missed the oxygen. "Then come."

It is then I realize I am already outside the room, having anticipated the summons.

Her power over me is maddening.

I step into her line of sight, just beyond the cavern where the door used to be, and I am struck dumb.

She is defensive, intense.

A wild thing to be tamed.

But most distressingly...

She is Aphrodite in the flesh.

A creature of unbearable beauty.

How I missed this undeniable fact before I cannot say.

But I see it now in a fraction of a second, and the realization levels me.

Her red eyes hold me, scorching me like six thousand suns.

I am stunned to find I do not mind.

"You were here," she says.

A fourth time. "Yes."

She is wary but relaxing by degrees. "Why?"

I stifle the urge to look away. "I do not know."

Her eyes harden. "You lie."

Do not toy with her, Carlisle warns.

For once, I heed his advice.

"Your suffering was too severe to ignore."

She flinches. "Did you touch me?"

"Your hand." I glance at the place where it unconsciously grips her throat. "You reached up when I approached the bed, and I held your hand."

"For how long?"

"Until a few moments ago."

She searches my eyes, tearing my soul asunder. Whatever she finds convinces her to continue. "What has happened to me, Edward?"

Again she disarms me with the sound of my name.

I begin to wonder if it is intentional, some sort of defensive measure.

Whatever its purpose, I must diffuse it.

Ignoring the flutter in my chest, I hold her gaze, knowing to skip the unspeakable. "Dr. Cullen discovered you on the street."

She looks away first. "Did anyone else see me?"

I expect the question and respond to its double meaning. "You were alone when he found you and wrapped in a blanket the first time I saw you."

"When was that?"

"Three days ago."

"Three days?" The walls rattle as she roars. "I have been held hostage for three days?"

Her assessment is flawed, so I do not answer.

"Speak, boy!"

My temper flares at her diction and tone, but I will not antagonize her.

"You are not a hostage," I reply. "You have been immovable and unresponsive since Carlisle found you."

"What about my family?" Her mind flashes to her mother's face. "Do they know where I am?"

I glance at Esme, and she tells me to answer. "Your fiancé has..."

"He is not my fiancé!"

"Okay." I raise my hands in deference, willing her to stay calm. "That man, then, is saying that you abandoned him to pursue your starlit dreams in Hollywood."

Her body stiffens with fury, but she holds her temper.

I admire her grit.

She raises her chin. "I need to go home."

Carlisle groans internally, and I hate him for what I have to say. "I am afraid that is impossible."

Her eyes wish me dead. "What?"

"You cannot go home."

Esme reaches for Carlisle's hand as the young girl snarls. "Why not?"

"Because you are a danger to your family now," I reply.

She is instantly alarmed. "Why?"

I sigh.

There is no way around it.

"Because you are a vampire."

Rosalie's mind goes blank, and Carlisle gapes at me. That is how you choose to tell her?

Esme tsks her disbelief, and I am annoyed with them both.

What do they expect of me?

I am not one to cloak the truth in roses.

Before I can return my focus to the anxious newborn, she does something I do not foresee.

Rosalie leaps across the room and lunges for my throat.

Guess that could have gone better, LOL!

Thanks for reading! xo