Title: Tuesdays with Rosalie

Summary: Even since the change, Rosalie has the uncanny ability to know people — their desires, their intentions, the darkness of their souls. She would look at you and know, instinctively, the size and stench of the most rotten part of you; and if that part of you was large enough, she would look into your eyes and smile as she tore your head from your shoulders. (Rosalie has been at the mercy of men with dark intentions before: never again.)

Disclaimer: Disclaimed

Rating: M

Notes: I played around with the date Rosalie was turned in because I am a writer and that is a thing I can do. AU. One-shot lol bc I can't finish anything!

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"Maybe that's worse, not letting ourselves be loved. Because we're too afraid of giving ourselves to someone we might lose."
—Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

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As anyone could tell you, Rosalie was a woman of few sensibilities.

Oh, she valued life as much as the next human-resembling species, and senseless violence had never been her cup of tea – for reasons that were actually fairly evident when you considered her past – but that didn't mean she wouldn't buckle down and get her hands dirty if the situation demanded it. In her opinion, there were some things that you could not let slide, ethics be damned.

And anyway, she more than made up for her… less than moral response to inconvenient situations. She used energy-saving light-bulbs and didn't contribute to the earth's dwindling resource problem. What was a few murders here and there compared to the earth literally melting because of human overpopulation?

Besides, Rosalie didn't kill innocents. She didn't go charging at humans to sate any sort of primal blood lust. She went after the ones the world was better off without: rapists, abusers, anyone who so much as looked at a child the wrong way. Who could call her an immoral spawn from hell when all she was doing was bleaching a few stains of humanity here and there? It wasn't exactly a culling (though, in her humble opinion, the human race could very well use one).

The point was, Rosalie had always been better than most people at seeing the bigger picture. Alice may be the one with precog, but that didn't mean Rosalie slacked when it came to looking forward. It was survival instinct. When she met someone, she poked and prodded until all those nasty secrets of theirs were dragged screeching into the light – and as a vampire, she emphasized the 'screeching into the light' part.

(That was important.) ((Very. important.))

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Rosalie owed Carlisle more than she felt entirely comfortable with.

He saved her life – damned it, too, but it wasn't like birthing a child made from love was an option when she was human either – when he had no obligation to. He bought her a wedding dress from his own funds and allowed her to hunt down those men who violated her, let her tear into them, let her play with her food and reclaim a fundamental part of herself, even if it disagreed with his own delicate sensibilities. She would always owe him for that. For that sunburst of compassion in a dark place where she had been sure there was none.

Carlisle's kindness was the most attractive part of him.

But sometimes….

Sometimes…

Carlisle had too much heart for a dead guy. He changed any old suffering human that he came across. She had a theory that it had something to do with his healers oath – he had sworn that he would never leave a person suffering if he had the means to help. It was a matter of unforeseen circumstances that the means to help tended to be in the painful form of a venomous bite that turned one immortal. And gave one a dangerous allergy to the sun.

(Dangerously embarrassing, that was.)

Honestly, Rosalie couldn't even blame Carlisle for the humongously bad choices he made on the daily. He was kind. It was his thing. He always rooted for the underdog. He trusted and loved with every fiber of his being; hacked off pieces of his soul to give away to any kid with a bloody nose and sad eyes. He gave a lot of himself away, often times naively. It was okay, for the most part. Carlisle wasn't as bad as he used to be with the whole 'turning' thing and Rosalie wouldn't have him any other way. Trusting was good. Caring was good. Compassion was good.

Idiocy, too, was good.

So what if Carlisle made bad decisions? So what if his bleeding heart compelled him to turn every unfed adult hiding in the alleys? So what if some of them were bad people? So what if he'd accidentally bestowed the physical strength of a demon to a mind already mad? So what?

That was what Rosalie was there for.

The first line of defense. And the last.

You see, no one ever got past Rosalie. No one.

She remembered the first time she met a Childe of Carlisle after the whole revenge business. They'd been in Boston, 1833, and the boy's name was Robert Darling. He had a gaunt face that, while attractive on a vampire, would have been horrifying to see in a dark alley if it belonged to a human. He had an attractive sweep of curls on his head, thick and brown, and workers hands. He wore ragged clothes that stunk of the sewer. Still, there was an ethereal, irresistible aura that permeated the air around him, as one did with all vampires – their species had a habit of polluting the air with the sheer force of their attractiveness.

"I found him in the market," Said Carlisle after the introductions were finished. "He was starving on the streets. His family died of a terrible illness and he mourns them every day. Please do your best to make him feel welcome."

Rosalie had taken one look at the man, turned to Carlisle, and said, "Get him out of this house."

Carlisle had been surprised. "Rosalie, what's wrong? Is – do you know this man?"

"No." Rosalie answered, staring flatly at poor beggar Robert Darling, who stood in her home with his filthy hands and dirty mind. She laid her eyes on him and saw his face for what it truly was: deformed, rotted, chapped lips twisted into a blood thirsty grin. It was like double-vision, except she knew the ugly one was his real face. She saw him. She saw him. "That does not mean anything, however. I may never have met him before you introduced us, but I would recognize a rapist child-murderer anywhere."

The air had turned silent, thickening. Robert Darling stared at Rosalie in blatant surprise. If he had been human, his heart would be racing. As it were, you didn't need to be alive to have a 'flight or fight' instinct. Robert Darling's hands clenched. His marble muscles curled, prepared to pounce.

Oh, Rosalie dared him to. Let him attack her. Let him learn why he should have listened to the voice in the back of his head that whispered, Careful, she could be dangerous.

Give me a reason, Rosalie had thought. Provoke me. Give me an excuse.

"… How do you know?" Carlisle had asked, though he was eyeing Robert Darling suspiciously as well. Rosalie didn't think so at the time, but later, she would imagine flushing warm at the thought – the realization – that Carlisle trusted her enough to take her unproven word for gospel without a second thought.

"I can see it." Rosalie replied. "Do you hear me, Robert Darling? I see your true face, the decomposed, rotten thing that is it."

"You're insane." Robert Darling had said, eyes flicking around the room too fast for a human to see. "You're insane. Carlisle, you don't really believe this wench, do you? You ought to be reminding her of her place! She thinks too much of herself, to talk to me like this. Show her! Show her where she belongs!"

If Rosalie's claims had not been enough to sway Carlisle – and make no mistake, they had been – Robert Darling's desperate ramblings would have pushed him over the edge.

("Sir… I can give you nothing in return for your kindness. I could not offer you my love, my services, my body, I fear, for I respect myself too much for a woman of my station… I can give you nothing, when you have selflessly given me everything. I cannot repay you."

"You can give me your companionship."

"Companionship? You… you wish me to marry you, sir?"

"Oh, no. Certainly not. I would simply ask of you that you stand at my side as a loyal friend. Nothing more. I dare not take anything from you that you are not willing to give."

"You… are very kind indeed, mister. To treat a woman like me with such compassion."

"In my long years of life, my dear, there have been two mantras that follow me throughout it. One—manners and kindness are never outdated or out of place, no matter the situation. Two—any man who disrespects women is sure to regret it, undoubtedly in the most painful way possible. You females have a history of rising above all opposition with a vengeance.")

"Rosalie knows her place very well." Said Carlisle, tone frosty. "It is equal to mine. You, however, Mr. Darling… I would advise that you do not lie to me right now. Does Rosalie speak the truth of your face?"

"No! No, of course not! My wife and children died of a – a sickness, a terrible illness! I swear it to you!"

"Yes," Rosalie drawled. "I believe that terrible illness is called melancholia, which they no doubt experienced because of your relentless abuse. Tell me, Mr. Darling, how many times did you have to smash that rock against your wife's skull before it finally caved in? Ten? Eleven?"

"You're a witch." Robert Darling had whispered in horror, before that hideous-beautiful face of his twisted into something poisonous. "You're a witch! A madwoman! How dare you accuse me of such – such crimes – where is your proof?"

"You are the proof, Your face is my proof. I know what you truly look like. Why waste time with evidence when I have the truth staring me straight in the face with your own beady eyes!" Rosalie had turned to Carlisle then. She said nothing of her own intentions, merely allowed her rage and disgust to show on her face, and then whispered, "Please." The word had a bruise.

Carlisle hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he bowed his head to his chest and said, "I know he does not deserve it, but if you could, Rosalie… I ask a merciful death of him."

"You're right." Said Rosalie, "He doesn't deserve it." And then she tackled the newborn vamp, shoved her hands in his mouth, and ripped him apart from his jaw. Carlisle watched her sadly from the gaping hole that used to be their door, and said nothing the entire night. She knew that he did not disapprove, however saddened he was because of one simple fact:

He was the one to light the pyre.

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"How did you know?" He would ask, three days later as they share a meal in the form of unseasoned deer. "I have lived many years and all I could read from him were the very best intentions. I would never had guessed…"

"Do you doubt me now?" Rosalie asked, eyes narrowed. She prepared herself for a fight. "Do you think he was innocent? Because he wasn't, Carlisle. He wasn't."

"I do not. Doubt you, that is. Why would I? I trust your word." Carlisle shook his head and ignored her surely befuddled expression. "Nay, I only wish to know how you read his past. His face, did you say? You saw his true face?"

Rosalie paused. She sucked on her bloody fingers and scrutinized him carefully. He did not appear to be lying. She felt a burst of warmth in her belly. Carlisle trusted her. What a nice feeling it was, to be trusted for the first time. "I did say that. At first, he appeared to me as I believe you saw him – beautiful, kind, perhaps taken by a bit of melancholy. Until I truly looked at him. Then his face shifted, split right down the middle, and peeled back to reveal to me the truth."

Carlisle blinked. "That must have been quite horrifying." He said. "Are you alright?"

Rosalie smiled on reflex, touched by his concern. "I am fine. There was no discomfort in the truth, only a relief that I would not be fooled by his honeyed words. I saw his soul, I think. I saw the empty husk that he was." If only, she had thought, I had this ability when I was human. Perhaps then she would never have been doomed to this half-life in the first place, if she'd known who to avoid.

"A soul-seer." Mused Carlisle. "A rare and unusual Gift, and yet, I can imagine none other that would suit you such as this one."

"Well, that may be true," Rosalie huffed, a delicate frown on her features. "But it would have been nicer to have such an ability when I was still alive, so that I perhaps could still be considered alive, instead of… whatever it is I am now."

Carlisle's musing expression fell off his face. He looked at Rosalie with a peculiar expression on his face. "You would have rather died than have me turn you?" He asked.

Rosalie looked at Carlisle. Carlisle's marble-cut features were not so stony anymore. There were very human bags under his eyes, wrinkles all over his face. She knew which wrinkles meant laughter, which ones were born from frowning, and which ones were attributed to her. Carlisle looked both infinitely shining and young, and terribly, depressingly old. He also looked very, very lonely.

Rosalie huffed, dug into her deer, and ducked so that her face was hidden by her hair. "… No." She admitted, refusing to look up. "No, I would not have preferred death. I quite like the company that I keep now. It is much better than any I kept when I was alive."

Carlisle was silent for a glancing moment. Then he made a pleased almost-chuckling sound. "I enjoy your company as well, Rosalie." He told her. "I am honored to have you as my friend."

"More than your friend." Rosalie said, and ignored the panicked tensing of his body. She looked up and quirked an eyebrow at the sick look on his face. "Siblings. You are my brother now, Carlisle. We are family. That is more than flimsy friendship."

All at once, Carlisle's muscles unlocked. He looked far too relieved. If he were human, he would have cleared his throat and awkwardly bumbled for some of his confidence back. As it was, he simply brushed off the dirty fur of the deer and shaved a piece for him to sink his teeth into. "Well, that's… good. I like that thought."

"Good." Said Rosalie.

"Good." Carlisle echoed.

Rosalie watched him drink from the deer passively, absent-mindedly cleaning her mouth of the blood she had consumed. She was still quite hungry, but it was easier for them to hunt together and share the same deer than wander away and suffer separation anxiety. Vampire or not, Rosalie wasn't quite sure she was comfortable alone in the woods where any man could stumble across her.

Once she was sure he was preoccupied with his meal, she sighed and said. "Am I really so unappealing that you panic at the idea of a romantic aspect to our relationship, Carlisle?"

Carlisle spat up all the blood in his mouth instantly. Rosalie covered her mouth with her hand and snorted. At his horrified face, however, she threw away all pretense of decorum and threw her head back, laughing from the very depths of her stomach. Carlisle was spluttering, "R-Rosalie!", and she found herself wishing, selfishly, that this moment would never end.

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It did, of course, as all things do. But it was nice while it lasted.

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Carlisle would never stop biting woeful humans who he thought were starved of empathy, but for now, he hesitated before he acted. It was the most Rosalie could ask of him.

If he had the time, he would drag Rosalie away from whatever hat shop she was indulging herself with and asked her to Look at someone for him. This worked out quite well for Rosalie. Usually by the time Carlisle found her, he'd been alone with his thoughts long enough that he realized what a horrible idea it was to turn any old orphan that he saw on the streets, and then she'd have someone around to give her a second opinion on her hat. If he reached her and still wanted to go through with it, Rosalie would have the entire journey back to convince him that he was being an idiot.

It was very rarely that Rosalie couldn't talk Carlisle out of his bad decisions – and he had many of them, though none of the bad decisions deformed his face, which probably meant that they weren't really bad decisions at all (not that Rosalie was telling him that). If there came a circumstance where Carlisle would not budge on someone and their face was not hideous, then Rosalie had a new family member, which she didn't… hate.

Really, she didn't. It was just… well, they never really wanted to stick around. Carlisle would grow attached; father them, mentor them, teach them how to retain their humanity when they were human-eating vampires, and then they'd pack up their things and go. As if this thing was a business transaction – "You tell me how to have morals and I'll give you fond memories to look back on!" – and not the culmination of Carlisle's ever-present yearning for a child.

Rosalie did not dislike any of the new members to their coven.

She just loved Carlisle more. And all the new members ever did was leave. She never missed them, but Carlisle always did, and it was easier for the both of them if he just stopped turning humans altogether.

In 1911, they stopped by Columbus to gather a few funds. Carlisle would establish himself as a well-learned doctor with an enticingly low cost, and Rosalie would be his twin sister, as she often was in such situations. While he earned money helping petty humans with their petty problems, Rosalie would do as she always did: smothering rumors, fanning ill-will, finding the scum of the town and arranging mysterious accidents for them.

(Carlisle never approved of what she got up to. After all, what was the point of feeding on animals if she was going to go around killing humans anyway?)

(The difference was, Rosalie always told him, was the way she killed them. If you heard that a vampire killed a human, you'd be sympathetic to the human no matter what type of person they were, because no one deserved to be sucked dry by a monster. But a human dying a human death at the machinations of a human? Well, they people start looking into it, and it's hard to feel sympathy for the death of a man who assaulted his wife, daughter, and sister, isn't it?)

It was as Rosalie fished around for closets and skeletons that she passed a farmhouse with a large, stunning apple tree. She stopped to listen to the little girls giggling. She adjusted her sunhat subconsciously, glancing down to make sure her skin wasn't reflecting any light, and watched. There were only three of them – but they were all sun-kissed and beautiful and happy. Rosalie felt her heart swell at the sight of them; their wide grins, their bounding hearts, their breathless laughter.

They reminded Rosalie of why she did what she did.

It was during her musings that one of the girls lost her footing on a branch. She and all her friends shrieked when she fell. There were collective cries: "Esme!" The blond girl lunged as far as she safely could hoping to catch her falling friend's hand, but she narrowly missed. Esme screamed as she fell. Rosalie dreaded to hear it a moment longer.

So she stopped it.

Shorter than the blink of an eye, Rosalie was under the tree. She caught Esme effortlessly, pretending to grunt and stumble at the weight. She was lucky to keep herself under the shade of the apple tree, which should have done to cover any suspiciously sparkling skin while she exposed herself to these silly girls.

Speaking of girls: they were all rather silent. Staring, undoubtedly, with their mouths agape and eyes bugged out. Looking as stupid as humans tended to do without meaning to.

Rosalie mentally rolled her eyes at them. She placed the shaken girl on the ground and kept her hand on her shoulder for good measure. Her knees still seemed a bit weak. "Are you alright?" She asked, layering on the natural glamour that came with being a vampire. Hopefully, it would distract the girls enough that they wouldn't ask questions.

Damn it. Rosalie cursed herself. Usually it was Carlisle who screwed up a cover, him and his bleeding heart. He never knew when to quit.

He was going to have a field day when he heard about this.

"Young lady, are you alright? You took quite a fall there, it's lucky I was passing by."

The girl spluttered a moment longer. She looked at herself, at Rosalie, and then at the dirt roads that passed by her house. It was quite a distance to cover in such a short amount of time. "H-How did you…"

"How did I what? Get here?" Rosalie raised her eyebrows. "I ran, of course."

"B-But… you can't be that fast. You – you can't be!"

Rosalie laughed, a sound she knew to be enchanting and twinkling. "Have you never heard stories of mothers who are gifted supernatural powers when children are in danger? I've known a woman myself who single-handedly lifted a carriage off a crying babe." The girls were all in awe. Rosalie winked and said, "If you ask me, I think it's a gift from God."

"N-No way… really?"

"Yes. It is He who gifted women with the ability to bear children in the first place. It is only fair that He gifts us the ability to protect them as well. Don't you agree?"

"I – I – well, of course I do, but – but you simply could not have been so quick…" Said the brunette girl. Her face was heating up rapidly. "You can't be! It's impossible! Not even a horse could have covered that much ground as such a speed!"

Rosalie sighed and petted the girls hair, indulging herself in this one little thing while she could. They would have to leave as soon as she returned, or as soon as Carlisle sorted his business. He wouldn't leave a patient waiting. She hoped he hadn't wanted anyone to come back to him for further treatment, as it would be most inconvenient.

("See?" She imagined telling him, fists on her hips and scowling at his sickly patient. He would be ignoring her with his body, but Carlisle had never been able to ignore her with his mind. He was listening. He always was. "This is why you should always anticipate for my needs.")

"Would you have rather I let you fall and break your leg?" Rosalie asked, huffing. "Really, my dear. Accept the truth or do not accept the truth. At the end of the day, do you know what truly matters?" The girl stared. Rosalie poked her forehead. "Your safety. Take that from me. My brother is a doctor."

"Your brother is a doctor?" A girl in the tree asked, speaking up for the first time. "Is he that new one then? The Dr. Cullen?"

"Aye, that is he. You have heard of him?"

"Aye, ma'am, we have." Said another girl. "The moms all think he's quite the fit guy, don't they! Especially your mom, Esme. Wants to marry him, she does!"

The girl in front of Rosalie spluttered, face heating up again. Her heart was beating frantically. Rosalie made a conscious effort to tune it out. "Put a sock in it, Ruth! Who asked you, anyway?!"

"Ruth's just jealous 'cause she doesn't have a mom, so she always has to go picking at yours." Said the last girl.

The other two gasped, one more tearful than another. "Peggy!" The girl who nearly broke her leg hissed. "Don't be mean! Apologize! It ain't Ruth's fault her momma went and jumped off a cliff!"

"Nah, it wasn't." A girl in tree, Ruth, hissed. "But it'll be my fault when I push you off one, Peggy!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

Rosalie watched them descend into hysterics with faint amusement. She sighed and asked no one in particular: "All this over my brother? He isn't anyone special." The teenagers shut up quickly, reminded of the presence of an adult. To the one she thought was Peggy, she softly said, "You ought to be nicer to your friends, Margaret, otherwise they won't stick around long."

The one she thought was Ruth snorted. Rosalie turned her disapproving frown to that one too. "And you, little miss, should be careful what tales you spin about other people's momma's, especially if you don't have one yourself."

Ruth scowled. "What would you know about it anyways?"

"I'm like both you and... Esme, was it? I'm without a parent myself."

"But Ruth doesn't have a mom," Said Esme. "And I don't have a dad. They're different parents. Which one of yours has up and gone?"

"That they are – and I'm missing both of them."

"You're an orphan? Sorry, ma'am." Peggy suddenly spoke up. "We didn't know." Ruth was bright red, looking quite uncomfortable.

Esme herself squirmed. "No parents, ma'am? Does that mean your husband provides for you?" She glanced around as if just noticing the lack of men around. "Where is he, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Oh, he's dead." Rosalie smoothly lied, raising her eyebrows. When the girls looked fit to apologize again, she laughed and shook her head. "There is nothing to apologize for, girls. He was an abusive man. I'm quite happy to be rid of him. My brother provides for me. He is paid well as a one who practices healing."

Peggy tilted her head. "Your husband was an abusive one? And he just up and died?" Rosalie nodded. She tilted her head and asked, "Do you reckon that'll happen to my dad?"

Rosalie blinked. She said, "I think there's a very high chance that it'll happen to your dad."

Peggy's grin was approving. "I'll pray extra hard for it tonight then. Maybe then mom'll get some proper rest."

Rosalie made a mental note of Peggy's scent. "It's good that you don't excuse your fathers actions. We women go through quite a lot of disrespect, don't we? We deserve better. It isn't fair that men are allowed to treat us like lesser beings when, without us, they would scarcely manage the house for a week before dying in their own filth." The girls giggled at that. Rosalie smiled kindly. "I trust that you'll remember that, won't you? Men need women. Women have never needed men."

"Sure, okay." Said Ruth, smiling widely. "I know for sure that I'd be better off without my daddy. Be nice if he up and died too, you know. Pegs, you don't suppose you could pray for me tonight too, yeah?"

"I'll pray for the both of us. And when my dad and your dad bite the dust, you can come and live with me. Mom loves you. She wouldn't let you starve to death on the streets."

Rosalie nodded in approval. She turned to Esme. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Esme blinked. Then she tilted her head at Rosalie, carefully examining her. Rosalie made sure she was breathing and blinking. Esme smiled then, a bit bashfully, and nodded. "Yes, miss. Thanks to you, there isn't a scratch on me. You're very kind and very brave."

"Brave?"

"Brave." Esme nodded. "To say such things about men out in the open like this."

Rosalie laughed. "There isn't anyone here that I don't want listening in on me, girl."

"Even if there were boys hiding behind the bushes?"

"Even then." Rosalie assured her. "No thanks are necessary, dear. I wasn't about to let a child get hurt on my watch." Nor was she going to continue letting the children get hurt. She mentally sneered. Men. They just couldn't get the hint that women could be so much happier without their toxic presence.

(Well, a voice in her mind allowed, except Carlisle. Carlisle was okay.)

"Thank you anyway." Esme grinned, then ducked her head and tackled Rosalie around the waste in a hug. Rosalie tensed up, hoping the child didn't draw attention to the unnatural chill of her skin, or notice that her stomach did not give in under pressure like a living person's skin would. Please, please, please don't notice it. "You said you lived with the doctor, right? Dr. Cullen?"

"That I did."

"Then… would you mind very much if I – we – came by a visited? You'd like that, right, Pegs? Ruth?"

"It'd be cool." Said Ruth. "To see where all the talk in town about your brother's coming from."

" I wouldn't mind it myself," Said Peggy. "Though I'd have to get permission from daddy to go into town by myself. He says you never know what type of bad people are waiting in the alleys, you know. I should be cautious."

Rosalie had actually cleaned the streets of that filth. Not that she was going to say that. She patted Esme gently on the back and pried the girl off her front. Knowing that she and Cullen were moving out of town as soon as vampire-ly possible, Rosalie smiled at the girls and said, "Yes, of course. I would love to see you all again. Hopefully without broken legs."

Esme flushed. "Right. We'll be careful."

"I hope so. Well, girls. I think it's time I left. I do have some business to do and I wouldn't want to get home after sundown. It's as you said, Margaret. Who knows what bad people are waiting in the alleys? Do take care."

She left before they could ask her name.

.

("We need to move, Carlisle.")

("Why? We haven't been here more than half a year.")

("… I… may have… exposed us to a group of three teenagers.")

("…")

("W-Wha – stop laughing, you swine!")