CHAPTER TEN:

Bella's POV:

I sat on the bed, my knees curled up to my chest. My heart was thudding unsteadily in my chest, and I was gripping the phone tightly in my sweating hand. I stared sightlessly out at the ocean, my breath was coming short and sharp, and my thoughts were swirling haphazardly in my head. Confusion, fear, wonder...

Edward had briefly vanished, going off to deal with the cleaners, and I'd used that time to ring Rosalie. I wasn't going to 'get rid' of my baby! A thing! Edward had called my little nudger a thing! He wanted to hurt him. My beautiful baby! Rosalie was the first person who sprang to mind, when I tried to think what to do. Rosalie would never let anyone harm my little baby boy. Never.

The shrill sound of the phone ringing caused me to jump and my heartbeat to accelerate. Edward was by my side in an instant, face still blank. He gently tugged the phone out of my hand and pressed the answer, and put it on loudspeaker.

"Bella?" It was Hermione, and in an instant I knew that she knew, that Rosalie must have told her. Her voice sounded curious, with a hint of worry, but I could hear the undertones- she was panicking, something I wouldn't have picked up on if I didn't know her so well. "Something really weird just happened- you went all fuzzy in Alice's visions. Did you run into some shifters up there, or something?"

Relieved that she hadn't revealed my plans to keep my baby with Edward who, if he knew what I was planning, would probably perform the abortion himself before I had the chance to reach someone- meaning Hermione or Rosalie- who was strong or powerful enough to prevent him from doing so.

"Something... something happened," I tell her, my voice shaking slightly, "do you think you could come get Edward and I?"

"I'll apparate straight over." Hermione promised, then the line disconnected. "Bella... sweetheart..." Edward's face was drawn, anxious, "are you alright?"

"No," I admit, and a tear slides down my cheek. Instantly, he's pulled me into his arms, hugging me close.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, before he attempts to smile, the effort strained by his worry, "maybe we can even go on a second honeymoon afterwards."

"Sounds fun." My voice was dull, unenthusiastic. A loud crack made me flinch slightly, and then Hermione was here, right in front of me, and I stumbled out of Edward's grip, into her arms. "I'm sorry Edward," I told him, feeling more tears well up in my eyes and start falling, "I'm so sorry!" He looks confused for about a second before comprehension dawns on his face.

"Bella no!" he shouts, moving a second too late as Hermione twists on the spot. The horribly familiar sensation of apparation washes over me, but as I land, unsteadily, in the large, open living room of the Cullen mansion, I don't have the overwhelming need to vomit- continuous exposure to the monstrosity that is apparating has numbed my stomach- to an extent, at least.

Rosalie appears next to me, and helps guide me over to the closest couch, while Hermione stands there, white as a ghost, staring at me. "H-Hermione... please say something!" I beg her, a sob catching in my throat. She promptly proceeds to explode.

"Bella... bloody hell, you are the- the biggest danger magnet I've ever come across!" she shouts. Her hair is crackling; the bushy curls even wilder then usual. "How in Godric's name do you manage to end up in these situations? You're as bad as Harry, except you somehow manage it without a sodding prophecy! How the- oh bloody hell, Bella, don't cry!" Her tone shifts suddenly, her face twisting from anger to concern as she rushes to my side, when I start bawling- loudly.

"Stupid hormones!" I manage to blurt out, mid-sobs, and Hermione hugs me tightly.

"Please... please Bella... tell me you know what you're doing," she begs me, tears welling up in her eyes, perfect copies of my own. I grasp her wrists with my hands, pulling them to my stomach, pushing up my loose white shirt as I did so. She sucked in a breath as I placed her palms over the already evident bulge.

"I know what I'm doing, Hermione. And I need you to make sure that nobody stops me from doing this." I tell her. Hermione shakes her head.

"Bella... you're asking me to kill you." Her face is even paler then before, verging on ashen. I shake my head at her, fiercely.

"I'm not asking you to kill me- I'm asking you to save his life!" She tilts her head slightly, a small smile curling her lips, despite the misery on her face.

"'His' life? What makes you think it's a boy?" she asks. I blush, even as my mind instantly flashes to the image of the green eyed little boy.

"I just... I just know. A mother knows!" I defend myself, before sucking in a surprised breath. Hermione stiffens, and I know she caught onto the same thing I did.

"A mother knows." Hermione repeats, softly.

"I'm a mother." I let out a shaky laugh. "I'm a mother." Hermione finally moves her hands from my stomach, reaching up and stroking my hair, her expression conflicted, before standing up and pulling out her wand. I flinch backwards, my eyes widening in horror as she points it at me. She scowls, a flash of hurt in her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella! I'm making sure no one but Rosalie can touch you while I'm gone." "Where are you going?" I ask, my voice rising in my panic.

"To get your husband." She says, before muttering a long string of Latin under her breath, moving her wand in a complicated pattern. I feel something warm rustle my hair, and then Hermione's twisting on the spot, vanishing with a loud pop.

Rosalie flits to my side, blankets and pillows in hand. "Where's Teddy?" I ask, feeling somewhat awkward, as she props me up and tucks me in. "And the others?"

"Teddy's with Emmett at the Weasleys," Rosalie says, fussing over one of the pillows, "Alice is there

too. Carlisle, Esme, Jasper and Maggie are giving us some space. After Hermione arrived, she told them on no uncertain terms that if any of them even touched you without your permission, she'd curse off their teeth. As none of them quite felt like feeding through straws, they decided to heed her warning and back off."

Despite myself, I start to laugh. "Oh god!" I gasp, through wild giggles, "the pregnancy hormones... they're insane!" Sadness flickers over Rosalie's face.

"Yes, Vera was much the same throughout her pregnancy." She says, quietly. My face falls. "Vera?" I asked, confused. "Who's Vera?"

"Ah," Rosalie said, softly. "I've never told you the story of how I was Turned, have I?" she asks, quietly.

"No," I say, warily, sensing that this, Rosalie's history, is not going to have a happy ending. "No, you haven't."

Rosalie gives a soft sigh. "It's not a very nice story. Then again, none of our stories are. Carlisle always made a point of Turning us when there were no other options. I lived in a different world than you do, Bella." She says, "My human world was a much simpler place. It was nineteen thirty- three. I was eighteen, and I was beautiful. My life was perfect."

She stared at her lap, her expression far away. "My parents were thoroughly middle class. My father had a stable job in a bank, something I realize now that he was smug about— he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard work, rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people, the ones who weren't as lucky. My father left me with the impression that they'd brought their troubles on themselves.

"It was my mother's job to keep our house— and myself and my two younger brothers— in spotless order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and her favorite. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my parents weren't satisfied with what they had, even if it was so much more than most. They wanted more. They had social aspirations— social climbers, I suppose you could call them. My beauty was like a gift to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did.

"They weren't satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Rosalie Hale. Pleased that men's eyes watched me everywhere I went, from the year I turned twelve. Delighted that my girlfriends sighed with envy when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of me and that my father liked to buy me pretty dresses.

"I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didn't seem to be any way that I wouldn't get exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery wedding, where everyone in town would watch me walk down the aisle on my father's arm and think I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, Bella. I was silly and shallow, but I was content." She smiled, amused at her own evaluation.

"My parents' influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that someone else would cook in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't get these things.

"There were a few things I wanted that were more meaningful. One thing in particular. My very closest friend was a girl named Vera. She married young, just seventeen. She married a man my parents would never have considered for me— a carpenter. A year later she had a son, a beautiful little boy with dimples and curly black hair. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly jealous of anyone else in my entire life."

She looked at me with unfathomable eyes. "It was a different time. I was only eighteen, but I was ready for it all. I yearned for my own little baby. I wanted my own house and a husband who would kiss me when he got home from work— just like Vera. Only I had a very different kind of house in mind..."

It was hard for me to imagine the world that Rosalie had known. Her story sounded more like a fairy tale than history to me. I wondered— while Rosalie sat silent for a moment— if my world seemed as baffling to him as Rosalie's did to me?

Rosalie sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was different, the wistfulness gone.

"In Rochester, there was one royal family— the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. That's how his son, Royce King the Second," her mouth twisted around the name, it came out through her teeth, "saw me the first time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my father's lunch to work with him. I remember being confused when she insisted that I wear my white organza and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank." Rosalie laughed without humor.

"I didn't notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. My room was always overflowing with them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses when I left the house. Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my eyes were like violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses.

"My parents approved— that's putting it mildly. This was everything they'd dreamed of. And Royce seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a princess. Everything I wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before I'd known him for two months.

"We didn't spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too. There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you.

"It wasn't a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything I'd ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera's, I no longer felt jealous.

I pictured my fair-haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings' estate, and I pitied her."

Rosalie broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I realized that the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending. I wondered if this was why she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them— because she'd been within reach of everything she'd wanted when her human life was cut short.

"I was at Vera's that night," Rosalie whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. "Her little Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples— he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked me to the door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasn't looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn't quite the same— not so sweet somehow... I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I would be queen."

It was hard to tell, but it looked like her bone white face got paler.

"It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. I hadn't realized how late it was." She continued to whisper almost inaudibly. "It was cold, too. Very cold for late April. The wedding was only a week away, and I was worrying about the weather as I hurried home— I can remember that clearly. I remember every detail about that night. I clung to it so hard... in the beginning. I thought of nothing else. And so I remember this, when so many pleasant memories have faded away completely..."

She sighed, and began whispering again. "Yes, I was worrying about the weather... I didn't want to have to move the wedding indoors... I was a few streets from my house when I heard them. A cluster of men under a broken streetlamp, laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished I'd called my father to escort me home, but the way was so short, it seemed silly. And then he called my name. 'Rose!' he yelled, and the others laughed stupidly.

"I hadn't realized the drunks were so well dressed. It was Royce and some of his friends, sons of other rich men. 'Here's my Rose!' Royce shouted, laughing with them, sounding just as stupid. 'You're late. We're cold, you've kept us waiting so long.' I'd never seen him drink before. A toast, now and then, at a party. He'd told me he didn't like champagne. I hadn't realized that he preferred something much stronger.

"He had a new friend— the friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta. 'What did I tell you, John,' Royce crowed, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer. 'Isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?' The man named John was dark-haired and suntanned. He looked me over like I was a horse he was buying. 'It's hard to tell,' he drawled slowly. 'She's all covered up.' They laughed, Royce like the rest.

"Suddenly, Royce ripped my jacket from my shoulders— it was a gift from him— popping the brass buttons off. They scattered all over the street. 'Show him what you look like, Rose!' He laughed again and then he tore my hat out of my hair. The pins wrenched my hair from the roots, and I cried out in pain. They seemed to enjoy that— the sound of my pain."

Rosalie looked at me suddenly, as if she'd forgotten I was there. I was sure my face was as white as hers. Unless it was green. "They left me in the street," she said quietly. "They left me in the street, still laughing as they stumbled away. They thought I was dead. They were teasing Royce that he would have to find a new bride. He laughed and said he'd have to learn some patience first. I waited in the road to die. It was cold, though there was so much pain that I was surprised it bothered me. It started to snow, and I wondered why I wasn't dying. I was impatient for death to come, to end the pain. It was taking so long...

"Carlisle found me then. He'd smelled the blood, and come to investigate. I remember being vaguely

irritated as he worked over me, trying to save my life. I'd never liked Dr. Cullen or his wife and her brother— as Edward pretended to be then. It had upset me that they were all more beautiful than I was, especially that the men were. But they didn't mingle in society, so I'd only seen them once or twice." Rosalie shook her head, and blinked back venom tears that she couldn't shed.

"Shallow as I was, I felt better when I saw my reflection in the mirror the first time. Despite the eyes, I was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." Rosalie said softly, and she laughed at herself for a moment. "It took some time before I began to blame the beauty for what had happened to me— for me to see the curse of it. To wish that I had been... well, not ugly, but normal. Like Vera. So I could have been allowed to marry someone who loved me, and have pretty babies. That's what I'd really wanted, all along. It still doesn't seem like too much to have asked for."

I was crying again. "I'm so sorry that happened to you." I told her, through the tears. "I wish- I wish you could have had that life you wanted." Rosalie shakes her head, somewhat fiercely.

"No, don't be sorry for me, Bella. I may not have had the life I originally dreamed of, but I have a son, now, a beautiful, healthy, loving son. I may not have given birth to him, but he's still my baby. My handsome little boy." A smile crosses her face as she talks about Teddy, and I can't help smiling in return. "I didn't teach him to call me mama," Rosalie says, suddenly. Her face is bright, shining. "I didn't teach him, he just started saying it." She looks down at me, her eyes softer then they usually are when looking at me. "That's why I'm going to help you protect your baby. No woman should ever be denied the chance to have a child."

"Thank you." I say, quietly, all traces of laughter now gone.

What feels like a blanket of sadness settles over me, and I wait for Edward to arrive, preparing myself for his anger.

He was not going to be happy, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to help it. I was going to keep my baby.