WIP: The Twilight fic I never finished
Someday, somewhere, I'll find the strength to get off my lazy ass and finish this fic.
...But for now, enjoy the WIP.
Curtain Call
Emmett/Rosalie
Because, really, it all boiled down to this: life was just an act, and they were method actors.
*
"Oh god," Rosalie whispered, towering over the man's bloodied body. There was a deep gash running from his collarbone to his stomach, long and sharp, as if someone had tried to rip his heart out. He was breathing shallowly, losing a desperate battle to stay awake, and Rosalie knew he'd be dead within minutes.
She slipped a hand under his neck, tentatively lifting him upright, and tried to keep her eyes away from his veins, tried to ignore the scorching thirst in her throat. That would have to wait.
Rosalie hoisted him up so the man - boy? His face looked so innocent he'd barely pass for fifteen - could lean against her shoulder, and thanked the gods she had vampirism-enhanced strength. Because Sweet Jesus, judging by the muscles that rippled under his torn shirt, he probably weighed twice as much as she did.
"Hold still," She hissed when he tried to stand on his own - what was it about men that made them pig-headed as soon as you offered help? - and hooked a lean arm around his neck, practically dragging him along the forest trail. She knew there was a ditch somewhere ahead, and - it wouldn't be long now - once he stopped breathing, she could bury him and mourn a stranger's passing.
"Mnf," He grunted, cracking a swollen eye open.
Rosalie stared at him, noting somewhere in the back of her head that the stranger had intensely brown eyes, and smiled weakly. "Don't worry, I'll take you to safety," She lied in a reassuring tone. It seemed to work, since the man's face visibly softened, but he was still gazing at her with one eye as if there was a halo of sunshine behind her head.
And Rosalie suddenly realized there was. Daylight spilled through the forest canopies, brightening the trail that seemed so ominous just moments ago; a signal that the sun would be up in no time.
The stranger parted his bloodied lips, eyes rapidly losing focus, and Rosalie was suddenly overcome with how familiar he looked under the light. She'd seen Vera's baby boy a few times in her past life, all innocent brown eyes and thick curly hair - and this dying man in her arms who looked so much like Vera's boy, whose breath became shallower by the second, pupils diluting - and god, she couldn't let him die. Not like this.
With a soft grunt, Rosalie heaved the stranger onto her back, picked up speed and ran home.
*
"Would you like to visit him?" Carlisle asked as a courtesy, because he knew she'd refuse.
"I'll pass," Rosalie said airily and returned to scanning the newspapers in what she considered a particularly debonair manner.
"Can't stand the sight of blood, can she," Edward remarked sotto voce, and Rosalie shot a hard glare to the back of his head.
Ultimately, she was grateful he even bothered at all - no, really, she was - but for all his wisdom and compassion, Carlisle made a rather terrible matchmaker. Imagine! Her, a vision of ultimate beauty (and elegance, and sunshine, and whatnot) paired with Edward? The scrawny kid with - she grudging conceded - the most gorgeous pair of supernaturally-enhanced eyes she'd ever seen?
It was a travesty! A mockery! An insult!
"What is?" Edward furrowed his brows, and Rosalie carefully blanked out her mind. She still hadn't adapted to the boy's freaky psychic abilities yet.
"Tell me," She turned to Carlisle. "Is the boy in pain?"
"Emmett is hardly a boy," Carlisle dodged the question tactfully, sighing when Rosalie shot him an irate look. "Remember your three-day transformation?" His voice was light.
Rosalie suddenly lowered her eyes, willing the memories away, and Edward looked slightly rebuked.
After a moment of pause, she rose to her feet determinedly and headed for the stairwell, eyes fixed on the door of the boy's soundproofed bedroom.
*
Sometimes in the dead of night, when Carlisle lost sleep over Edward and Edward was out prowling the alleys for human blood, trying to be all rebel without a cause, Rosalie would lie in bed and pretend she was an actress in the silver screen.
She'd play the role of Rosalina Hale, daughter of two kind, loving parents who wanted her to live a good life. She would go through countless fiancés, each one wealthier - and more unsuitable for her - than the last, until she finally found a devoted man to settle down with. He wouldn't be particularly rich or good-looking, but he'd be capable of loving her wholly and unconditionally. They would have lovely children together.
Sometimes, that picture was enough for Rosalie to fall asleep to. Other times, she grimly accepted the life she had been given - immortality, everlasting beauty, the works - and understood that, for all the splendor and grace in the world, a vampire like her did not deserve to have a family of her own.
*
"I suppose introductions are in order," The boy-who-was-no-longer-a-stranger - or a boy for that matter - grinned. He had a wide, toothy grin, instantly appealing to anyone who saw him. Rosalie liked it. "I'm Emmett McCarty."
"Rosalie Hale," She reached out and touched his face, a distinctly motherly gesture, then held out her hand. "A pleasure."
"That is such a beautiful name," He murmured and shook her hand firmly. In any other circumstance, Rosalie would've raised a haughty eyebrow and asked him to quit being so cheesy, but Emmett's face looked completely sincere; she really didn't have the heart to tell him off.
"So, uh," He fidgeted a bit. "I know this isn't very polite or whatever, but -"
"You're dying for a drink?" She smirked and pulled a tray with a bottle of red wine from behind her, presenting it dramatically like this was some sort of magic trick.
"Didn't see that coming," He grinned again, obviously pleased with her theatrics, and Rosalie was in turn pleased that she'd pulled it off.
She poured the dark, crimson liquid into the glasses with a slosh, then looked up to find Emmett's face contorted with restraint. "What - what the bloody hell," He gripped the bed sheets and ground his teeth together. "I'm - shit, I feel like -"
"Drink up," She cut him off and quickly lifted the wineglass to his mouth, watching with interest as he tossed back the warm blood in one swift motion. When Emmett was finished, he set the cup on the table dazedly, staring at her as if he'd just been dosed with cold water.
Rosalie bent to retrieve the cup, meeting his gaze at eye-level. "Welcome to vampirehood, Emmett McCarty," She said, smiling to show off a row of razor-sharp fangs.
*
Rosalie wasn't exactly sure when her perception of Emmett had changed, but changed it had.
At first, he was just a stranger who bore an uncanny resemblance to Vera's son, and Rosalie didn't have the heart - or, rather, had too much heart - to let him die. Then she took him under her wing and tried to ease his way into a vampire's lifestyle, hoping he'd look up to her as a mother.
When they moved to Hoquiam, everything was suddenly clearer - it felt as if she'd been seeing through the wrong lenses all her life, believing the world was blurry until she'd finally found the right pair. She caught glimpses of Emmett that didn't quite fit the 'loving son' mold, and sparks lit inside her that didn't quite feel 'maternal'.
The first time Rosalie saw Emmett, she dismissed him as a dying stranger.
The first time she really met him, she knew there wouldn't be a moment when she'd be able to live without him.
*
"Emmett?" She poked her head through the garage door and found a pair of legs under the jeep. "What exactly are you doing?"
"Oh, hey Rose, I-" There was a sharp bang, and a scrap of metal flew out from beneath. "Ow! Fuck, I haven't gotten used to this stupid vampiric sixth sense yet. 'Gimme a hand?"
Rosalie smiled and shook her head, fully aware that he couldn't see her expression, and kneeled in front of his feet. She carefully tugged at his legs, watching as Emmett slid out from under the jeep, grinning like an idiot with oil smears all over his face.
"'ank you," He grunted, and pulled himself to his feet.
"Nice jeep," Rosalie nodded to the trashed hunk of metal behind him, schooling her face to look completely serious.
Emmett blinked and burst into laughter, shaking his head indulgently. "Went hunting, saw a bear, got distracted, flew off the trail - and I would've died if it weren't for, you know," He gestured at her like she was the lady savior of the universe or something.
Rosalie wrung her wrists a little, a timid gesture that didn't escape Emmett's notice. "You know, I've some experience with cars," She grinned at the shocked expression on his face and lightly batted his arm. "Right, of course, 'how could someone so beautiful be interested in cars?'"
"Well, I'm into cars, so obviously it's possible," He teased back, picked up a toolbox from atop the trunk and handed it to her. "Um, d'you suppose you could - give me a hand?"
"Why not?" Rosalie accepted the toolbox and picked off the elastic band on the handle, pulling her wavy hair back into a ponytail. "There's nothing else to do around here anyway."
*
She held up two equally showy dresses and aligned them side-by-side. "Emerald or sapphire?"
"You mean green or blue?" Emmett smirked and cocked his head to one side.
Rosalie rolled her eyes and held the dresses closer, squinting as she compared the fabrics. "Yes, you dolt, I mean green or blue for those with no sense of decorum."
He looked from one dress to another, shifting his eyes critically. When Emmett looked up, he found Rosalie staring at him with one raised eyebrow. "Well?" She glanced down. "Emeral- Green or blue?"
Emmett shrugged, stood up and started rifling through her closet. "They're both nice, really," He said, pulling a sparkling silver cocktail dress from out behind him. "But this one's the flashiest of them all."
"I forgot I even had that," Rosalie went over by his side and studied it. It was the type of glitzy dress very few people could pull off, with feathers sticking out from the back and whatnot. Suddenly, she had an idea.
Rosalie looked up at Emmett, a slow smile spanning on her face, and they shared a moment of silent communication.
"Carlisle has a spare, ah, disco tux," Rosalie said casually, her voice light.
Emmett immediately caught on. "Huh. I'm sure he won't mind if I, sadly tux-less Emmett, were to borrow it."
Rosalie's lips quirked oddly, like she wanted to smile but was trying to look composed. "Well, what say we steal the show, Emmett?"
He bowed in a gentlemanly manner and held out his hand. "Anything for you, m'lady."
A few hours later, heads turned and mouths gaped as the couple made their entrance.
*
Rosalie had always known she was attracted to Emmett on some intuitive level, but the first time she consciously registered the feeling was at a charity dinner hosted in Carlisle's honor.
"Are you honest-to-god serious?" Edward asked, his lip curling as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
"Jealous you didn't think of it earlier?" Rosalie smiled sweetly and nuzzled against Emmett's side.
Edward suddenly grimaced. "Oh, ew, Jesus Christ. Keep your thoughts to yourself," He bit at Emmett and stomped towards the bar.
"Wonder what's gotten into him," Emmett said airily and tried not to blush.
"Actually, I wonder what kind of thoughts you're having," Rosalie spun around and grinned, tapping the side of his head - at which point Emmett's attempt to keep himself from blushing twenty shades of red utterly failed.
"-and this is my lovely daughter, Rosalie, with her fiancé," Carlisle came around the corner with two distinguished men in tuxes behind him. One of them had a hard set to his jaw and nodded approvingly, while the other one leered - equally approvingly.
"Pleased to meet you," Rosalie held out her hand, and the white feathers on her dress spiked up. The men looked agape.
"Your daughter is beautiful," Hard-jawed man shook her hand professionally. She held her hand to slimy-leering man, who shook it fervently and with much, much less professionalism. Rosalie felt Emmett tense beside her.
"That bar looks rather inviting," She smiled, tugging on his arm lightly. "We'll be off now."
"Have fun, you two," Carlisle said with a - well, he never smirked, it wasn't his style, but the similarities were heavily questionable.
"Don't forget to live a little," Rosalie smirked back. As they walked towards the bar, she tried to make her hips sway a little less - uninhibited as she was, she really didn't want to give the leering man a show.
"I don't like that man," Emmett shook his head grimly and slid onto a barstool. "I don't like him at all."
"Jealous?" Edward smirked, popping out of nowhere, and Emmett jumped.
"I wish I'd forgotten you were here," Rosalie said haughtily, and shot Emmett a disparaging look.
"That sparkly fountain over there looks quite inviting." Emmett slid off the stool and held out his hand, nodding towards the fountain. "Shall we?"
Rosalie's mouth made that odd quirk again. "We shall," She said grandly, and together they strolled across the marble floors in matching shiny outfits, catching many an eye.
*
The charity dinner turned out to be extremely boring, which didn't come as much of a surprise to Rosalie - at least the food was decent. Emmett sat beside her, chatting animatedly to some university professor who was interested in giving him an internship. She just sat there throughout the meal, looking pretty and occasionally making small talk with lonely suitors who thought they actually had a chance.
All in all, it was quite anti-climatic.
Suddenly, three tall and extremely handsome men walked to their table, their hips rolling magnificently with every step. All the ladies turned to look, and Rosalie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Robert," One of them smiled dashingly and held out his card. "Daniel," The second one blinked his dashing blue eyes and held out his card. "And Jesse," The last one cocked a dashingly-trimmed eyebrow and, predictably, held out his card.
"How may we help you?" Esmé smiled politely, obviously unaffected by their practiced entrance.
"I'd like to court your daughter," Robert smiled and winked at Rosalie. Rosalie stared back, unimpressed with their (amateur) theatrics.
"I'd like to court you, mademoiselle," Daniel smiled and winked at Esmé, who slid her chair a little closer to Carlisle.
"And I'd like to court your son," Jesse smiled and winked at Edward, who returned his look with horror.
"And none of them are interested, so it'd really do you a world of good to leave our presence immediately," Emmett spoke up with icy politeness, and Rosalie was suddenly overcome with the urge to take Emmett's furious face into her hands and kiss that expression away.
The three men exchanged glances. "Actually, we're the professor's previous interns," Robert said hastily.
"We've come to take you under our wing," Daniel nodded to Emmett. Jesse pulled a brochure out of nowhere and handed it to him. "The details are in here, and the flight for Greenwich will be at twelve o' clock sharp tomorrow."
"Be there," They recited simultaneously. "Or be square."
Esmé quirked an eyebrow, Emmett stared at the trio's retreating backs in bewilderment, and Rosalie glared ominously at Edward who tried - and hey, the operative word here was try - to contain his fit of hysterical laughter.
*
And it wasn't until they got in the jeep when Rosalie finally realized.
At the dinner table, she thought - consciously, wide alert, actually thought - about kissing Emmett. About taking that sweet, rugged face into her hands and kissing him on the lips, in not exactly what one could call a platonic manner.
Jesus, she thought to herself as Emmett dosed off in the backseat, forehead rested against the window, I am so screwed.
*
She avoided speaking to him all night, mostly out of fear that something might slip. Edward quickly retreated to his room, probably having mind-read more than his bronze head could bear, and Carlisle and Esmé alternated between occasionally shooting her a Look and sighing worriedly.
But Emmett didn't notice anything, and that was what mattered.
She was alone in her room when someone knocked on her door. "It's me," Emmett called out, his voice a bit dry and throaty - and Rosalie looked away, resolutely telling the part of her mind who would've loved to hear that voice in the morning to just shut the hell up.
"I'm a bit busy." Her voice came out cooler than she'd intended it to be, but maybe that was for the best. She'd already crossed too many boundaries with Emmett, getting to the point where she thought in terms of them instead of her - maybe she should distance herself, just a little. For their sake. For her sake.
"I'm, I'm just here to return Carlisle's disco tux," He said with a chuckle, although it came out a bit puzzled and forced.
"Leave it by the door." Rosalie stared at her carpet. It was a vibrant shade of scarlet, and she'd thought it looked quite seductive at the time - a time when she enjoyed playing into the Dark Vampire Mistress stereotype. But now it just seemed faded and a bit sinister, like the dried blood of her ex-husband that tarnished the once-gleaming marble floors.
"Oh, come off it, Rose! What's happened to you?" There was a slightly panicky note in his smooth tenor voice now. Rosalie wondered when she'd become capable of reading Emmett perfectly, even with a door lodged between them. "You were perfectly - and you still are perfect, ahaha - fine at the dinner! I admit I dosed off in the jeep, the affair with the weird brothers trio was a bit disconcerting, but I wasn't aware I offended you in any way, or -"
There was a pause, a soft click, and Rosalie's eyes suddenly widened. She ran over to the door to block it, but Emmett was a second faster. In a flash, he was in the room, leaning against the big pine door that didn't seem so big compared to him, a broken doorknob in his hand.
He stared at the crease on the bed where Rosalie had sat. "Busy, huh," He murmured, in less of an accusing tone than an amused one.
"Come to return the tux, huh," She mimicked, smirking at Emmett's tux-less hands. Maybe if she pretended everything was alright, her thoughts would settle. After all, Rosalie had always prided herself on being an accomplished actress.
(incomplete) .