A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I moved this chapter to chapter 2 and the new chapter I put in as chapter 1 as the new material is about what happened just before "What Happened Last Night." Kisses to ScOut4It for reminding me to put this note here. Sorry for the dust! :)

I knocked on Vera's door at 5 pm sharp. She would be having an early dinner tonight, because, I reasoned, indigestion would be uncomfortable for her in the activities we would be engaging this night following supper.

Her place was so easy to find. I had introduced myself to her with that forceful kiss oustide Starbucks, and she'd shakily driven off in her van, taking her scent with her, but Port Angeles is only so big. I only had to do a little bit of tracking, and I'm not hopeless in these things like my clueless brother, Edward. She lived at Fairchild Heights apartments, right next to the William R. Fairchild "International" Airport. It was called an international airport because one could throw a rock and hit the Canadian border. Well, one could do that if one were one of my kind. That's 'international,' all right. I remember the good old days of "54'40" or fight!" Whatever happened to Manifest Destiny?

Thank goodness today had been a cloudy day, so I could do the tracking without having the constant worry of dodging the sunlight. It also made selecting supper, and the bit of grocery shopping I did, much less bothersome.

But before the grocery shopping for Vera, a hunt was a necessity for me.

That bit of unpleasantness accomplished (do not ask me how I liked my meal, for I didn't, okay? What we have to put up with to live this 'vegan' lifestyle among humans), I knocked on her door. Until she heard that knock, she would tell herself that I wouldn't actually be coming, despite my very convincing assurances that I would be. She was probably hoping that I wouldn't. But I bet she was also hoping that I would, even if she couldn't admit it to herself. I heard Vera's attempt to sneak up to the door to see who it was, but she couldn't hide her heart pounding so hard in her chest, nor the quieter but naturally more rapid heartbeat of the baby girl she was holding.

As if it would be anybody else at her door? I looked at the dingy cinderblock walls. It was the weekend, so I wouldn't be a creditor a-calling.

Or maybe I was? That's me and my new profession: Rosalie Lillian Hale, Repo Man.

Her heart rate increased when she saw that it was me when she looked through the spyglass, which pleased me greatly, but I modulated my voice to a pleasant tone. No sense scaring off the prey so close to the kill ... well, figurative kill. I'll be a good girl, I promised myself, and then thought a bit naughtily, unless she begs me otherwise.

They always eventually did beg otherwise. I repressed my evil anticipatory grin and put on an innocent air.

"Vera, are you home?" I pretended ignorance as to her standing right behind the door. "I brought supper, as promised."

After a second, Vera cautiously opened the door.

"Hello, Rosalie," she said quietly. She looked a little shy. She looked a little embarrassed.

She looked delicious.

She had changed. Different jeans, different tee shirt, different sweater. They were all different, but more of the same northern Washington wear: browns, blues, denim and cotton ... earth tones. But she had showered, and I could smell that she had been housecleaning, frantically so. I smelled the antiseptic smell coming from the bathroom in back of the small apartment, and I saw over her shoulder the cues of tidying up around her apartment.

She couldn't possibly pass Esme's or Alice's inspection, but she put a lot of effort in turning what was probably the shambles of a young mother's place who was fending for herself into something presentable.

"May I come in?" I asked politely, and indicated with my eyes the bags I was carrying. They looked heavy. They probably were for a human. It was a good excuse for me.

"Oh, sorry!" Vera gasped and stepped back, opening the door wider. "Can I help with those?"

I stepped in, taking in the smell of the place that was imbued with her black raspberry scent and a had a hint of the new comer, the baby's smell: diapers, and what goes in diapers, of course. But babies smell really, really good to me. Maybe it's just me, but there's something so new and fresh to the scent on babies' skin.

I really liked to hold babies, and just look in their eyes, and breathe them in.

Of course, they had to be bundled really well for me to hold them for any length of time ... after a while, the coldness that is me tends to drop their body temperatures below healthy levels.

"That's okay," I answered Vera's question easily. "I'll just set these down in the kitchen?" I was still being polite, but I was also taking things in hand.

It wasn't really a kitchen as it was more a kitchenette. I stepped in, Vera followed me, set the bags on the countertop and steeled myself.

I opened the refrigerator door.

Yes. It was bad.

The milk was fresh, as was to be expected, given her probably increased calcium intake, and I was pleased to see she had vitamin D enhanced orange juice, but the rest ...

I took out a full carton of eggs and threw them in the trash. They hadn't been touched, and from the smell, they had been in the refrigerator for a while. I replaced them with a carton of organic eggs I bought at the Safeway. I started clearing out the rest of the refrigerator, ditching some leftovers that had been left over for far too long.

"Um," said Vera helpfully.

"I'm just making some space in here for the food I bought, is all, Vera," I overrode her concern with my explanation. "Why don't you set the table and sit down while I take care of this?" I added the helpful direction, with a jerk of my chin toward the small table in the "dining" room at the front of the apartment.

"You're not moving in with me, are you?" Vera's voice sounded a little fearful.

I rolled my eyes as I continued replacing her inventory with mine. Bottled water next, check.

"Vera," I said patiently, "I live with my family, okay? Now ..." I waved again toward the front of the house, my back to her, ignoring her as I continued to unpack the bags.

I could feel that Vera watched me for a second, but then she pulled down a couple of those Corelle plates from the cabinet beside me and started out of the kitchenette.

"Oh, Vera," I called, looking to her. She turned — both hands full — one full of baby, the other holding the plates.

"Oh," I said, "never mind. Take care of that first."

She did, and when she came back, I gave her the dozen white roses I had removed from the bags when she was out front.

She blushed, turning the Washington sickly paleness of her skin a lovely shade of pink. Very tempting.

"For me?" she asked in confusion and embarrassment.

I smiled a small smile.

"Why?" she asked, still confused.

"A girl needs to feel special sometimes," I said quietly, looking away.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "That was nice of you."

Suddenly, I was the one who felt embarrassed.

"Well," I said, still looking away.

I heard her smell the roses, taking in their scent. My scent.

"Look, Maria," Vera said, pleased. "Aren't they pretty?"

I looked back. Vera was showing the baby the roses. The baby had a look of intense concentration on her face as she reached out toward the blossoms.

"You're baby's name is Maria?" I asked in a strained voice, watching just as intensely the baby's hand touch the flowers.

A baby bleeding because she punctured herself on a thorn? Not good. I held my breath.

"Yes," Vera said to me absently, looking at her baby who was now touching the flowers. "Aren't they soft, sweetie?" she cooed to the baby.

"That's a beautiful name," I gasped out through clenched teeth, not daring to breathe in as I spoke.

"Mmmhmm," Vera said, looking at her baby lovingly. "Don't they feel soft?" she asked her as the baby felt the petals.

"Here, let me take those," I said. I couldn't stand it anymore. I extricated the flowers from Vera, being very careful the whole time for her and the baby that nothing would tear against their soft flesh.

The bouquet was wrapped in plastic, of course, so there was really very little chance of anything happening, but in these situations, a girl can't be too careful.

Especially if the girl is a vampire. Like me.

Vera watched me as I cut the stems under running water. Of course she didn't have a vase, so I put the flowers, one by one, into a big plastic mug labelled with a garish big blue "Seattle Seahawks."

Classy, I though ruefully, and sighed.

"But why white roses?" Vera asked, as if continuing a conversation that she was holding in her mind.

I continued to cut the stems as I explained: "A couple of reasons. White roses stand for purity and innocence." I grimaced: those were two traits I lost a long, long time ago in the white, white and then red-stained snow in the backstreets of Rochester.

"You think I'm pure and innocent?" Vera's voice radiated disbelief.

"You seem like a very sweet girl," I looked at her and smirked.

"'Girl'?" Vera's disbelief only increased.

"Yes," I answered easily, "what are you? In your early twenties?"

Vera looked away. "But how old are you, Rosalie? You look younger than me."

"Hm," I answered. I may have looked younger, but I probably had sixty years on her. Announcing that fact wouldn't help the conversation any. "I think I'm a bit more experienced, however."

Vera's face colored. I chuckled. She looked good enough to eat, and I was going to enjoy this meal.

"What was the other reason?" Vera tried to change the topic.

"That's what my name means," I explained, finishing my work and throwing the ends of the stems into the trash. "It's from the Latin, Rosalie, it means 'white rose.'"

"So," Vera said hesitantly, "you're giving me yourself?"

I leaned back casually against the kitchenette counter and raised my eyebrow at her. People these days were so deep and serious. She looked away again.

No wonder why whiny Edward was so comfortable with a certain person of this generation.

"Why don't we have supper now?" I offered. "Would you like me to hold Maria while you finish setting the table?" I held out my arms for the baby.

Vera hesitated for a second, giving me that critical mother-checking-for-potential-danger-or-problems look that all mothers with babies are so expert at giving before gratefully handling over the bundle.

"She's really solid," Vera warned. "She weighs a lot more than she looks, and she's a handful, so hand her back at any time, okay?"

I took the baby in my arms. She weighed nothing, and as for her being a handful?

Let me tell you a secret about me and babies.

Babies love me.

I think it's my scent. I, like all vampires, give off a scent that attracts humans, my prey, to me. Of course I've sworn off that kind of life: never, ever, indulging nor making a mistake, but from distance across the kitchenette I would smell 'nice' to Vera. Up close?

A strong and compelling smell of honeysuckle blends with a subtle rose scent. To humans, it's like breathing in Heaven.

For little Maria, she just couldn't get enough of me. She lookup up into my eyes with her big, brown, beautiful eyes — her mother's eyes — and she reached up with her tiny, little hand, touching my cold, smooth, marble cheek.

Her warm and delicate hand branded my cheek with its heat. It was a very pleasant burn.

Vera regarded us. "You hold her like a natural," she commented.

"Mmmhmm," I answered, lost in Maria's eyes. I probably looked like Vera just did when she was looking at her baby.

I felt Vera looking at us for a second more before she got utensils from the drawers beneath the counters and headed out to the table.

Maria smiled at me in wonder, and I felt myself melt, just a little bit, in her gaze.

I closed my eyes, breathing in that sweet, soft baby scent, and gave her a very, very gentle kiss her soft forehead.

"I could just eat you right up!" I whispered to the little thing in her ear.

"I'd prefer that you wouldn't ..." Vera said. I looked up in surprise. She had returned to the kitchen and was smiling at us.

It wasn't often that a human could surprise me. I guess I was really lost in the moment.

"Did you want her back?" I asked, looking to her. "Or may I ..."

"Oh, please, hold onto as long as you like!" Vera responded with relief and enthusiasm. "I don't get breaks like this. As long as you, you know, don't eat her ..." She said the last bit with a smile, but there was a hint of knowledge in her eyes.

I simply responded, "Okay." I didn't add an 'I'll try not to' because the joke might plant the seeds of doubt a bit too well in her mind. We predators, no matter how hard we try to hide our claws, were always showing our nature one way or the other. Humans feared us for a good reason, even though they weren't consciously aware of why they feared us. Intentionally encouraging thoughts along those lines was just asking for trouble.

If hinting and joking were sure to stir up trouble, I wonder what pushing a van out of the way of a girl and then staring at her all night were cause for?

Lost his mind. My dear brother Edward has totally lost his mind, and with him, the whole family!

I thought these angry thoughts as I brought the to-go containers of food to the table. They were the plastic 'upscale' kind with black bases and clear covers. Bella Italia went all out. It was a first class restaurant ... for Port Angeles.

Vera helped me; she carried two of the containers of food to the table. "What's all this?" she asked.

"Well, let's see," I said, opening each container in turn, one-handed, cradling the baby carefully. "We have caprese antipasto, a cæsar's salad, and fettucini with grilled chicken in an alfredo sauce."

"Where'd you get all this?" Vera asked, not sitting down.

"At the Bella Italia," I answered. I looked at her quizzically. Did she not like Italian food at all? The selections were generic enough to be inoffensive to most palates.

Well, most palates, except mine, but I had my excuses prepared.

"Oh, Rosalie, you shouldn't have gone to the trouble," Vera exclaimed.

Now I was more confused.

"What trouble?" I asked. "It's just a couple of miles from here."

"But aren't they ..." Vera paused, working on how to say it. "Aren't they kind of expensive?"

I repressed laughter. The money concerns the Cullen family had was how to move enough of it quickly enough through our various grants to make sure our foundations didn't run into regulatory issues. This is actually a hard thing. We've discovered over the years that there are so many organizations in need of funding that just don't apply because they believe they don't even have a chance. We've actually had to solicit requests for funding these days.

But it looked like Vera had the opposite problem than what we had, so laughter would be unkind.

And then there was the whole question of measuring value. A four dollar cup of coffee isn't expensive? But that would also be the wrong question to ask.

"I heard the food was good there," I said, "and the prices were okay; don't worry about it, Vera, it wasn't any trouble at all." I sat down in my seat.

"Well, okay ..." Vera did look skeptical, but she did sit down. But then she had to get right up again to get serving utensils for the food. I sat holding the baby while she did this.

Vera came back in. "You don't know what a relief it is for me just to walk around the house not carrying the baby. I mean," she added quickly, "I love her to death and all, but this feels like a mini vacation." She also waved over the spread before her.

I smiled. "My pleasure."

"Did you want me to take Maria while you ..." she began.

"No, no," I interrupted, "you go ahead and eat first; I like holding her, if that's okay."

"Okay," Vera said, and dug into the caprese, examining it carefully first. She also served herself some salad and fettucini.

"What can I get you to drink?" she asked.

"Bottled water is fine," I said.

Vera got up again.

"In the bottle or in the glass?" she called from the kitchen.

"In the bottle is fine," I answered. It'd be easier to make it look I was drinking it in the bottle.

She came back with two bottles, opening one for me. Her scent lingered on the cap beside the bottle.

She started to ladle out some of the caprese for me, but I shook my head.

"No thanks, Vera, I ate already," I said casually.

Her eyebrows creased. "You're not going to have even a little bit?"

"No, but please go ahead, besides I can't," I answered.

Vera sat back down. "Why not?"

"I'm lactose intolerant. If I had any of that stuff now, it wouldn't be pretty later." Which was an entirely true statement. I am lactose intolerant, and pretty-much-everything-else intolerant, and I don't think she'd like to watch me regurgitate the food that's indigestible to me (you have to have a digestive system to digest food, you see) as my body forced the foreign substance back up and out after forcing it down.

"You mean you bought all this stuff for me?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it, Vera." I could see that she was, however, so I added: "Like I said, it feels nice to be treated special sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Well, ..." Vera said, and began eating, uncomfortably.

Eventually, as I continued to entertain the baby — apparently Maria liked to play the drop-something-on-the-floor-and-regrasp-the-retrieved-item game — Vera's tension eased.

"How's the food?" I asked. Besides disgusting, I added to myself. It smelled like spoilt milk and overfermented beer to me. And the smell of human food was so oppressive. The only thing that made it tolerable were the scents of Vera herself and little Maria — my 'food' as it were, but luckily for them, here, too, I was on a diet.

"This is really, really good," Vera responded with relish.

"I'm glad you like it," I told her, pleased.

She washed down her pasta with a swig of water. I ignored my bottle for now.

"I've got to say," she added after a moment, "having a conversation with another adult also feels really good. Maria has a beautiful laugh, but it really doesn't stretch the brain muscles at all."

I didn't think it appropriate to tell her that the brain wasn't a muscle.

"But it's also a bit of a surprise," she said. "I didn't think you were ..." She hesitated. "What I mean is, you seemed rather ..."

"Focused?" I asked helpfully.

Vera couldn't quite repress her grin of agreement. "That's one way of putting it," she said.

"I get that a lot," I said. "I just happen to think it's okay for a girl to know what she wants and to act on it."

Vera continued eat in silence. "Well, you certainly do know what you want ..."

"I've always known what I've wanted," I said.

But then I realized I was becoming dogmatic, which was fine with family. After all, they've known me for eighty years, except the newcomers Alice and Jasper, so they just had to deal with me. But Vera was different, I've only just met her today. This wasn't my best friend from eighty years ago, as much as she looked and acted like her.

She wasn't, and, given what I am now, she cannot be. Not ever.

"But look at it this way," I offered in a conciliatory tone, "if I hadn't approached you as I did, would we be having this conversation now? I mean, how else could I get through to you?"

"What's wrong with the usual way?" she asked.

"Oh, as you're running off to your van, I do what? Run after you and ask, 'Excuse me, ma'am, can you tell me the time, and, oh, by the way, can we be friends?' That's not creepy at all!" Incredulity and sarcasm filled my voice.

Vera took a thoughtful sip of water from her bottle. I reached out for my bottle, and pretended to drink from mine. I had become quite accomplished at moving water into and right back out of my mouth, making it appear as if I were drinking.

She put her bottle down.

"So a commando lip mash is the best way to meet people?" She was just as incredulous.

I shrugged. "Until you tell me a better way ... It has worked fine for me."

"You've had a lot of practice then?" she asked.

I shrugged again. Much more practice than you would believe, I thought a bit darkly.

Vera sensed my mood. "I'm sorry about that comment," she apologized.

"Don't worry about it," I said easily.

"You say that to me a lot." Vera's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you think I'm a worrier?"

I thought about that, rocking the baby who had drifted off to sleep. Sweet thing! I thought looking down into that cherubic face.

"Hm," I answered eventually, "I'm not sure. Maybe you're too cautious? or too self-effacing? or too nice? But that may not be all bad, right? The world needs more nice people, I suppose." I grimaced. The world needed more nice people in Rochester in the '30's, that's for sure. "But how are you going to get what you want from the world if you won't demand what you want from it?"

"The world can be a dangerous place," she countered.

"There is that, too," I concurred, reflecting I was now very much a part of that danger.

I took another pretend sip of the water.

Vera had finished her meal. She had made only a little dent in the food. The Bella Italia portions were enough to feed two, and she only ate what half a person would eat. She was in good food for a little while, at least.

"Are you sure there's not something I can get you to eat?" Vera asked with concern.

"It's okay, Vera; like I said, I've already eaten."

We stood and cleaned the table, making room in the refrigerator for the fresh leftovers.

"Well, ..." Vera said, looking a little lost.

"Where does the baby sleep?" I whispered.

"Um," Vera looked embarrassed. "We could put her in the crib, I guess."

She led me to the bedroom. It was small, the bed taking up most the space, and the crib taking up most the rest. I could tell the crib had never been used. That was odd. I carefully put the baby in the crib and turned to Vera.

"Um," she said again. "I haven't, um, ..."

"Go brush your teeth, sweetie," I directed her. Kissing fluoride taste was much preferable to the lactic-citrusy-glutenous mess that she had just consumed.

She minced out of the room. I sighed. I would have to be really slow and gentle with this one.

I sat down on the bed. It was a bit lumpy, but serviceable enough. Vera came back in, and I patted the spot beside me, smiling.

She nervously took her place next to me.

"It has been a while, hasn't it, honey?" I asked her sympathetically.

"Yeah, a long while," she winced.

"Your husband — John, was it? — leave you?" I asked, probing gently.

"Sort of," she said. She looked down.

"What happened?" This was going much slower than I would have preferred, but it seemed we really had to work through this. I wasn't going to do something she didn't want, and she looked really uncomfortable about doing anything with me right now. I needed to know why.

Vera shrugged, looking away.

"Vera ..." I said. I smelled salt. "Did he hurt you?"

"Oh, no! Oh, God, no!" She turned back to me, her eyes glistening with tears spilling over.

I captured one and tasted it.

Exquisite! Her taste of black raspberries mixed in with her sadness and longing to make a heady melancholy essence. I was filled with her sadness and could not help but feel empathy, even as I didn't understand the reason for it.

I wonder if this is how Jasper tasted our emotions all the time?

"Then what happened?" I asked.

Vera shrugged again. "You remember that friendly fire incident that happened in Iraq last year?"

I suddenly knew the whole story. She didn't have say one more word, but I nodded my head to let her tell the story.

"Well, John was a marine's marine," Vera said this quietly, and a little bit proudly, and a little bit regretfully, "and when the marines say you go, you go. So off he went for God and Country, and as soon as he hit the dirt, he took a bullet for the team." She smiled weakly as she continued. "But that big dummy," her laugh was more of a gasp, "he took the wrong bullet." She shook her head.

Then she whispered: "He never was one to dodge anything," and she looked away for a moment. I smelled more salt.

"I'm so ..." I began softly, but Vera wasn't finished. She didn't even hear me, so lost she was in her story.

"First I heard about it, there were two marines knocking at my door in full formal dress. That only ever means one thing. When I saw them through the peephole, I couldn't let them in at first because it hurt me so much right here." She balled her hand over her stomach.

"'Mrs. Widmann,' they said, 'we regret to ...'" she gasped, "'we regret to inform you that your ... that ... yuhr huzb ...'"

Here she totally broke down. She turned her head into my shoulder and wailed, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I put my arms around her, holding her, breathing in her and her loss, feeling her tears wet my neck and sweater. Her scent was all over me and my clothes now, but in a very different way than what I had imagined it would be.

"Oh, Vera," I said, totally losing the disconnection between this girl today, and my dearest friend from more than seventy years ago.

She held me, and I, her, and she cried and cried and cried.

Eventually her crying turned to gasps and those became sniffles. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"He came home in a box," she continued quietly and sadly, calm again. "'Sealed casket,' but that was just a matter of form. A-10 rounds? They tear apart tanks. There probably wasn't enough of John left to put in a coffee can. The only way they knew who died was by taking muster and see who's names were missing. His tags didn't even make it."

"Vera," I said, "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well," Vera said from her well of regret, "he died 'a hero for his country.' But where does that leave us? There's the rent to be paid, and taxes to file ... I don't even know the first thing when it comes to any of that! But, when the man joins the service, the whole family joins, right? So I guess I just have to soldier on ... just like John."

She sniffed. My eyes looked around for tissues, but I didn't see any. Vera blotted her eyes and then her runny nose with her shirt sleeve, her face disappearing into the crook of her elbow for a second.

Her scent was just everywhere.

She leaned her head against my shoulder. "I just spoiled your night, didn't I? I'm sorry, Rosalie."

I lifted her off my shoulder and turned her toward me. "You do not need not apologize to me about ..."

She waved dismissively, "Not the night of fun you were hoping for, huh?"

"Vera ..." I began.

"You say my name so easily," Vera stated. "Do I remind you a lot of her?"

Hm. Even when she's sad, she's so observant.

Just like Vera was.

"Yes," I sighed. "In many ways, you're just like her. Especially right now."

"I'm not her, though, you know," Vera said, "whoever she was."

"Yes," I answered quietly. "I know that. I guess I just miss her, too, and I didn't realize how much I do miss her."

"Was she your lover?" she asked.

"No," I answered, "she was my friend. She was my only friend in the whole world. She was the only person who ever accepted me as I was and still even liked me at all."

"What happened to her?" Vera asked.

I shrugged. "She died."

"Oh," that caught her by surprise, "... I'm sorry."

I shrugged again, looking away. "That's what happens to people. They die. They just die on you."

"But it still hurts when they do," Vera's voice was touched by her experience.

"Yes," I answered, "more than I'd ... well."

This was the first time in my new existent that I had ever had a conversation with anyone as an equal, opening my heart to her and she did to me. I felt myself going onto dangerous grounds with this person who would just end up dying on me ... as they all did.

"Well, at least you have your sister, right? I don't even have that." Vera said.

"Yes, at least I have the Cullens." I answered distantly.

"I thought ..." Vera paused. "I thought your last name was something different. You said your last name was 'Hale,' right?" She looked down at my left hand. "But you're not married ..."

I sighed. Of course I couldn't wear my ring that Emmett gave me from our most recent wedding because that would raise too many questions for a 'girl' going to high school in this era. Time to play the charade, the ruse. "My brother, Jasper, and I are sort of adopted into the family. Dr. Cullen married my aunt, and we were living with her, and so ..." I shrugged.

"What happened to your par-..." Vera began, but then I felt comprehension stiffen her body. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I barely even remember them at all, because they died so long ago."

This was another true statement. I was just sharing my whole life's story with this sad little creature, wasn't I?

"How old are you, Rosalie?"

This threw me off guard. Which ruse would I play now? The question was asked with an insightful voice.

"Why do you ask?" Vera would tell me in her answer to this question how to answer her own. The Cullen coven had been playing this game for decades more than this girl.

"You seem so young, but you seem so old," she said.

Ah! She was looking for a soul-mate, not an age. Her question was easy to answer now.

"Just like you, Vera. Just like you." I replied sincerely.

Vera rested her head on my shoulder. It felt nice, companionable. Just like with my Vera. Friends, true friends, sharing a moment in time, a moment of the heart.

But then I felt the wheels turning in her mind.

"Why don't we get you showered and to bed," I suggested. "It's been a long day for you, hasn't it?"

Vera surprised me with a big yawn.

Humans. They are so dependable in their frailty, so I coaxed her off the bed and helped her collect her night clothes, shooing her off to the shower. I heard the water going and heaved a relieved sigh.

That was close. We were getting too close, too fast.

My liaisons up to now had simply been for mutual gratification. Person X wanted a good lay, and I wanted to lay her. Very easy. No complications. But Vera with her complicating name and her complicated life just got me all entangled into her and then she started pulling apart the tangles to see me, the real person hiding behind the façade.

Just like that Swan child was doing to my stupid brother.

Edward.

I shook my head. I would not make his mistake. "Love'm and leave'm" ... that was my motto on how to deal with humans, because otherwise, they started asking questions ... or they died. Or both. And I didn't need complications: I was knee deep already living with those Cullens and their high drama. I didn't need one more drama that was named Vera ... no matter which decade she showed up in.

But she had been the only person how saw me as I was, and still liked me. Both then and now.

No. I have Emmett. He fills that role nicely, and he won't go dying on me.

But he doesn't really, truly understand me ... like Vera does ... I mean: did.

No, I can't think like that. I just have to ...

In the midst of the turmoil of my thoughts, the baby started crying in the crib. I went to her, swaddled her, and tried to settle her down, but it was vanity on my part. Her crying was needy.

I went to the bathroom door. The water had stopped, and I hear Vera dressing quietly and quickly. I knocked. Unnecessarily, of course: the baby was making herself heard perfectly well.

"I think Maria's hungry," I added helpfully to the baby's cries.

"I'll be right out," Vera called from the other side.

I cooed to Maria, rocking her, as Vera hastily finished her evening routine. I knew it was only a matter of seconds, but it felt like forever: a hungry baby is only consoled in one way, and doesn't understand that a short delay isn't an eternal one. By the time Vera came out, Maria was bawling.

Vera came out, and my "I tried to distract her, but ..." was said the same time as Vera's "I'm so sorry it took me so long, but ..."

We smiled at each other as Vera lifted Maria from my arms, heading toward the bed singing, "It's okay, sweetie, Mama's here; Mama's here. It's okay, sweetie."

Vera laid herself and the baby on the bed and started feeding. Maria instantly settled down, suckling hungrily.

I felt out of place. "Should I ..." I began.

But Vera surprised me again. She smiled and patted the bed beside her.

I was on the bed in an instant. I actually moved a bit too quickly, judging from the surprised look on Vera's face.

"A bit eager, are we?" she asked teasingly.

I saved my relieved sigh for later.

"Well, you know ..." I smiled back at her.

Vera rolled her eyes.

"Actually," I offered, "did you wish for me to get the light for you?"

"Yes, thank you," Vera said.

I got back up, turned off the light and returned to the bed. Both she and the baby glowed from the heat they were emitting.

"You both are so beautiful, Vera," I said. They were indeed. Mother and child: so close to each other, and so beautiful.

"Thanks," she whispered.

After a bit, she said, "I have to turn and feed her on the other side."

"Of course," I said. "Do you need help, or ... ?"

"No, I've got it. Practice, you know?" Vera answered easily.

So I scooted over a bit, and now Vera's backside was pressed against me.

The baby continued to feed, but then she drifted off into sleep.

"Why are you so cold, Rosalie?" a sleepy voice asked me.

"I have Wilson's Syndrome, and the weather really affects me," I answered. Another pat and prepared answer.

"You really ought to see a doctor about that," Vera said lazily.

"My 'father' is a doctor," I answered, and thought silently to myself, and so am I.

"Oh, ya, that's riiii-..."

And Vera was out.

Well, this was a swell soiree, wasn't it?

But I also had another problem.

Vera had placed herself into my favorite position.

I like girls in any and every way, don't get me wrong. Of course, I don't allow cunnilingus, because I could explain away quite a bit: the not eating and the cold body temperature, but I can't very easily explain sweet honeysuckle and rose tasting 'mucus' (venom, actually).

The thing is: I have to be so careful and gentle when tribbing vulva to vulva.

But in this position? I can be a bit more forceful when rubbing against her buttocks as there was more padding back there. There is less risk of me causing internal organ damage ... or smashing the pelvic bone. So I can pleasure her with my fingers as I rub firmly against her backside. Feeling a girl, squeezing down on my fingers and then completely letting go, as I feel the warmth of her against my front, stimulating my labia and clitoris by pushing her body against mine ...?

I've had, and given, some very satisfying orgasms this way.

But now, of course with Vera asleep and holding her baby, for goodness sake! I don't think her waking up in the midst of me coming against her is anywhere in the cards.

I got up and when to the living room couch, very frustrated, and lied down.

A plane flew loudly over the apartment building, vectoring into the Fairchild airport. One just like the one that brought that Swan child to Forks, ruining everybody's peaceful existence.

I mean, she was nothing to look at. Just brown on brown on pale white skin: she looked positively sickly. And what was it with children these days? In my day, a girl knew the proper amount of face paint and perfumes to apply to be both modest and beautiful. Girls these days? They either overdid it, looking positively alien with glitter and whatnot, or didn't do it at all, looking positively frumpy. 'Grunge' was the term these days, right?

That's what that Bella Swan child looks like: grunge. Well, at least she didn't rip her jeans ... on purpose.

I had no idea what Edward saw in the thing. Okay, yes: I suppose she had this innate beauty, this air of innocence. But did she even try to do anything other than hide in the bushes? Literally? A woman could use those characteristics to bend anyone to her will. All that girl had to do is blink her eyes just once, and men would be falling at her feet, but did she?

That is, did she with any skill at all?

No! She was just so ... fucking ...

I didn't realize that was I was masturbating as I was meditating on the girl. I stopped myself. I didn't like her. I didn't desire her. She was just an annoying, mousy, little problem that was in everybody's way. She was better off dead. Jasper was right. I was right. The God-damned van was right, but no! Don Quixote Edward had to rush in and save the day, and now he's all entangled with her, and she's got the hero worship complex going for her own personal midnight stalker.

God! I could just kill them both ... that is, if Edward wasn't dead already, and if her own personal guardian vampire through tonight and every night from apparently now on didn't shred me first before I got to her.

Well, Edward would stay attached to her, no matter how hard he worked on denying this, for as long as she stayed fixated on him. Working on Edward was hopeless, as it always was. The big beanpole was always so sure of himself, even in the face of overwhelming evidence and a pile of dead bodies in the wake of his crusades.

But the girl ...

Hm.

It's actually rather easy to get humans not to think about us. Humans, by their nature, are distracted things, so this girl, so fixated on Edward now, could have her attention moved elsewhere. All she needed was a distraction, a substitute, and it would be accomplished.

And what better substitute than a replacement? And what better replacement than the best?

Me.

Of course, it would be a lot harder than normal, what with a vulture in her room all night. But Edward did have to come back to the house before the Chief woke up and checked in on his daughter. Oh, the complaints! from that boy about that, as if every second watching an unconscious girl drooling was somehow vital. So, actually, it wouldn't be all that hard. Edward had to come back, and that's when I would strike.

Not to kill the girl, now ... that would cause too much family strife. But to show her the folly of her ways.

Well, to show her something.

She'd wake, crawl out of bed, and I'd be right there, and put her right back into bed. I'd meet her in the 'usual way' ... my 'usual way.' And by the time I'd finish kissing her, by the time my fingers and caresses had worked their magic on her, she'd see reason.

Or, more precisely, she would be beyond seeing anything, reasonable or not.

I'd have to be very careful with her, of course. Extra careful. She looked like she was still a virgin, so, if the hymen was still intact, my probing finger would have to bring her to bliss without stretching her so much that she tore.

If she did tear, the ensuing bloodlust would solve the Bella problem, no doubt about that, but it would also open a Pandora's box more of other, nastier ones, both inside and outside our family.

And probably her father would miss her if I murdered her thus.

Just as my father missed me when I was murdered thus.

So, dulce, dulce, dulce. But dulce could be very nice for both of us as well, and when she finally wraps her legs about me, eagerly pressing herself against me, then there would be tearing ...

Tearing of her pajamas or sweats or whatever she slept in off of her, and my clothes off of me, and then more than just our lips would be kissing.

Well actually, the labia are lips, too, so ...

Yes, indeed, I would fuck the shit out of that little girl, and then ...

And then I would taste her sweet taste.

Not her blood, silly! But the mucus that would be flowing out from her? That, too, is surely to be perfumed with her lavender and freesia-scented goodness, and I would lick, and suck, and drink until she came again, drinking that in, too.

And that's when, in the aftershocks of her most recent of multiple orgasms, I would flip her about and ...

God!

... and I would assume my favorite position, and firmly press myself to her backside, and my caressing fingers would go to work on her, and make her come once again, and I would come, myself, good, long and hard.

As I had just done right now, I was surprised to find out. I restarted the breath that I had been holding and removed my hand, putting it on my hip. I smelled my scent coming out from me so strongly permeating Vera's living room.

And then, I would explain things to that Swan girl. I would explain why I had rescued her from that Edward. That Edward who had turned down every single girl's advance at Forks High School. That Edward who had led Tanya on for two whole years and had left her high and dry in Alaska. Did this little Swan girl want to go through that Hell? After having had me?

Of course, she can't have me, either, so ...

Hm.

Whom could she have? Whom could I give to her?

Not any of the boys at Forks High School, of course. That Mike Newton surely tried hard, didn't he? But she saw right through him. All the boys, in fact, didn't deserve her ... they were, in actuality, far beneath her. For example, either Tyler or Eric having her?

Please.

And none of the other boys had the balls to approach her, so they disqualified themselves.

So that left the girls.

Jessica Stanley?

No. She was just like Mike Newton, only worse in a more vicious way that girls can be.

Lauren? She was quiet, like Bella ...

No, far too damaged. And that quiet façade was just that. What boy hadn't she slept with yet?

Angela Weber?

Hm.

Shy. Quiet. Dependable. Steady. Strong.

Perfect.

Of course, Angela wouldn't make the first move, so I would have to school that Swan child in the Rosalie Hale methodology of the 'usual way.' I would have to push through that girl's shyness to make her get what she needed: somebody to look after her, to care for her, to love her and to be her lover. Somebody strong without designs on her.

And I'd have to help things along.

I'd drive little exhausted Bella into school. It would be lunch time by the time I had finished with her and explained the facts of life. I'd escort her into the cafeteria. Right in front of my siblings, right in front of everybody, and bring her to her table, but then I would ask for sweet and lanky Angela's help.

"Bella's not feeling well, Angela, so could you look after her?" I'd ask innocently, and Bella's blush would explain enough to that Jessica, and my death glare would give that girl who couldn't take a hint a very clear message. Stay the fuck away, bitch! Then I'd help Angela bring Bella to their own, new, permanent table.

Those freshmen didn't need that table anyway.

I'd even have a note, perfectly imitating Carlisle's handwriting, excusing her from participating in physical activities for the day ... well, planned gym activities. She'd be doing her own physical activities later ... with Angela.

But that would come later, because now I would saunter back to my own table, reading Edward's disgusted and furious expression with pure glee, and to make sure everybody got the message — which they would have already, but why not have fun rubbing it in? — I would pull my Emmett's ear down to me and say: "I just fucked the shit out of that Swan girl, and I am so fucking hot for you. I want you right now!"

And Emmett and I would excuse ourselves to one of the many available maintenance closets, and he would take me so forcefully and fill me as only my man can. Good thing we have more than several stashes of clothes in hidey holes around about the school.

And then, after gym, when Angela was showering from basketball — or was it volleyball? — I would make sure to push the Swan child toward her with some words of encouragement, pretending to leave.

But I would stay, hidden, and watch.

Just to make sure she didn't screw this chance up, don't you know.

But she wouldn't. She would be a good learner.

And Angela would ask Bella, all concerned, "Bella! Are you feeling better? You looked tired at lunc-..."

And that's would Bella would strike, kissing Angela, kissing her hard, pressing her naked elfin body against Angela's soaped and lanky one, and — oh! my Goodness! — she went right to tribbing, grabbing Angela's ass and tribbing against Angela's leg, and rubbing her own hip against Angela's sweet little pussy.

"Fuck Angela's sweet little pussy, Bella! Fuck it!" I whispered as I watched them embrace each other, now with inhibitions gone from both girls.

And Angela would come, moaning into Bella's mouth that she had to bow down to kiss, lips to lips.

But then Bella, sweet little Bella, sweet little impish Bella — such a good learner! — would then scoot down in front of Angela, kneeling before the wonder that is Angela, and press her lips to Angela's still quaking lips. And lick. And suck.

"Oh, God! Bella! Lick Angela's pussy!" I whispered fervently, watching them.

But then Bella, still kissing, still licking, still sucking, would look up into Angela's face contorted with pleasure. She would look up ... lovingly.

And then ... and then ... and then I imagined instead of Angela, she was doing that to me! Looking up at me so lovingly!

"Oh, oh, oh Bella!" I cried out, coming hard. Smelling my own scent again fill the room, but then smelling Bella's black raspberry scent as well.

Wait ... black raspberry scent?

"Who's Bella?" A groggy voice asked from the bedroom door.

Black raspberry was Vera's scent, not Bella's. She had surprised me again, as I was so lost in my plans and schemes ... and other things.

"Nothing! Nobody!" I said quickly, removing my hand from myself guiltily.

Vera regarded me skeptically. "It didn't sound like nobody ..."

"It's just some girl at my school, is all," I said quickly, sitting up on the couch.

"And Angela goes to the same school?"

Apparently, Vera had overheard more of what I thought I was saying to just myself.

"No," I said quickly, "I mean, yes. I mean, they aren't ..."

"Which school?" Vera asked, and the way she looked at me, a fresh round of guilt overcame me.

"Forks ... I mean, nowhere!" I shouldn't have said 'Forks.'

"Forks?" Vera asked in confusion. "I don't remember hearing of a college there ... Wait!" Realization dawned on her face. "You mean 'Forks High School'?"

I looked away.

"Rosalie," Vera commanded, "how old are you?"

I couldn't look at those intense brown eyes.

"Oh ... my God!" Vera exclaimed. "I ..."

It sounded like she didn't know how to continue.

"I'm a lot older than you think, Vera," I whispered, still looking away. "Besides, age shouldn't matter, right? If two people, you know ..."

"I think," Vera said so severely that I had to look at her, "there are two other people that you have issues to deal with before we even think about talking about us."

"No!" I said. "They don't mean anything to me at all. Besides, what with Alice and my brother Edward being so protective of Bella ..."

It was a hopeless scheme. Alice probably already read my decisions and was running off to tattle on me to her favorite brother. Those two! You couldn't even think or plan anything without the whole family having an emergency council meeting about it, for goodness sake!

"They don't mean anything to you, but you were calling out their names while masturbating." Vera crossed her arms.

"I mean, they don't me anything to me anymore, ..." Vera raised her eyebrows at that. She looked so imperious. She looked like Mother looked when she was talking down to me.

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed, putting my face in my hands. "I meant, I'm here for you now, that's what I meant."

Vera just shook her head. "Rosalie ..." she started.

"Look," I said desperately, "can we start over? You know, just start over? I screwed up, okay? I'm sorry. Can we just try again?"

I had no idea why I was so uncomfortable nor why I was trying so hard with this human ... and that made me more uncomfortable. Where had the upper hand that I always held ... where had it gone?

"Rosalie ..." Vera began again, and my throat went dry as I sensed my doom.

"... maybe." She concluded.

My doom that shockingly didn't materialize.

"'Maybe'?" I asked in surprise.

"You're a nice girl. You were very ... nice to me, and Maria, tonight, but I think you have to work some things out before we go any further. First, you need to talk things over with this Bella person and ..."

A cry from the bedroom interrupted her.

"Oops," she said, not at all surrendering the upper hand, "it sounds like a diaper needs to be changed."

She turned toward the bedroom.

"May I help?" I asked timidly.

She turned back and regarded me in silence.

"Please?" I asked.

"... okay." She said, giving in.

I smiled.

"But, Rosalie ..." Vera held up a warning finger.

"Yes, yes, I'll be a good girl," I acquiesced eagerly.

Vera sighed, but let me in the bedroom.

I changed the baby. You'd think that be no fun, but taking off the diaper, wiping her, putting on the new diaper ... the whole time touching that soft, new human skin? It was heavenly for me.

It may not do anything for you, but then, you may have a baby someday. I never will.

Vera fed Maria again. I watched for a moment and then dared, "May I ..."

"Rosalie ..." Vera scolded.

"I'm ... I'm lonely, Vera. I'm lonely, and I just need to hold you, that's all, and be held by you. That's all."

Vera scowled. "You sure are a piece of work, aren't you, Rosalie?"

"Is that a 'yes'?" I asked hopefully.

Vera sighed, and I got onto that bed before she changed her mind.

"Lights out?" I asked.

Vera nodded. Maria was falling asleep again, so Vera switched sides, rousing Maria for the other breast, as I switched off the lights.

I got back into the bed and kissed Vera on her crown.

"Holding only," Vera whispered groggily, succumbing to sleep.

"Okay," I sighed, cuddling up to Vera's back.

My favorite position. I sighed again as Vera drifted off to sleep.

I held her for a good long while, and then put a blanket between us when her body temperature started to drop too much as her heat was absorbed by the coldness that is me. With the blanket between us, I held her for a good long time more, feeling the warmth and softness of her and her baby through the blanket, smelling that delicious scent of hers as she breathed it out through the rest of that night as she slept in my arms.

...

I got up before she did, of course, and prepared a cheese omelet for her.

"Mornin'" came the groggy greeting to my ears ... long after the creaking of the bed and the shuffling footfalls did.

How could I have possibly missed those tell-tale signs before?

"Good morning," I said pleasantly. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a long time," she admitted, and then added: "Coffee. Please."

I held out a bottled water to her.

"Not for you as long as you're breast feeding your baby. You do know that caffeine does get into the mil-..."

Vera's raised hand silenced me, but then she did take the bottled water.

"What's all this?" she asked as I put the plate-full of omelet and toast in front of her

"It's called 'breakfast' ..." I informed her.

Vera sighed.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Oh, I had a muesli bar before I cooked that." I said the practiced lie easily.

Vera grumbled. "Must be nice to be chipper in the morning ..."

She ate in silence.

"Do you have to get ready for work?" I asked her when she finished.

She looked away. "I don't have a job."

This was surprising. "How do you afford ..." I waved to the dingy little apartment that must have cost some amount of money in rent each month.

"John's pay covers part of it, but ... I can't," she said.

"And you're going to Starbucks?" I asked shocked.

"At least it's a change of scenery, and so I can spend the morning in a nice looking place with my baby for the price of a cup of coffee." Vera shrugged.

"But what are you going to do when the landlord come calling?" I demanded.

"Get kicked out on my ass? Live in the van?" she offered.

"Go back to live with your parents?" I suggested forcefully.

"No way," she shook her head just as forcefully. "No way. And go back to them and have them say: 'Now, Vera, we told you that John boy would turn out to be a nogoodnik, and see what happened?' every day for the rest of my life? And have them take away Maria from me because 'I ain't raisin' her right'?" Then she repeated, "No way."

"And you can't get a job?" I demanded.

"Nope," she said, then grimaced. "Look, Rosalie, this isn't your problem, okay? It's mine. I don't have college, so any daycare? It'll cost more than the job would pay. Besides which over ninety percent of daycare places don't meet federal standards, did you know that? And who's gonna raise my baby while I'm at work? The TV? Now with four hundred channels all showing God-damned Barney and Dora 24-7 at a daycare center near you? No, thank you."

"Welfare?" I offered.

"Nope. Don't do welfare, and besides, you have to be looking for a job — which I'm not — to be on the dole, and John's pay makes welfare help for me zilch."

I sighed. Love'm and leave'm. Was there any rule that was surviving these days? I blame that Bella Swan.

I pulled out my private business card and wrote a phone number on the back of it.

"Nice pen," Vera observed.

I handed my card to her.

"I thought you were going to high school, Rosalie." Vera said when she looked at my card.

"I am," I answered.

"'Rosalie Lillian Hale, Partner, Pacific Northwest Trust'?" Quoted the card disbelieving me.

I shrugged. "The Cullen family owns a hedge fund."

Vera handed the card back. "I don't do handouts."

I pushed the card back. "For goodness sake, Vera, how many decades will it take for you to learn? It's not a handout. You have to call that number, and you have to get a job there. I just happen to know we are in need of good, honest, decent people."

"... and they'll let me take my baby into the office?" Vera shook her head.

"Yes, as your office will be here. We need telephone answering service personnel, and ..."

I stopped. Vera was looking at the card and then she spoke quietly and regretfully.

"I don't know, Rosalie ..."

"What's not to know?" I demanded.

Vera looked back up at me. "You can't buy me."

I closed my eyes and blew out my breath slowly.

She was right. I couldn't buy her. I could buy the entire Fairchild Heights apartment complex. I could buy the whole city of Port Angeles. Maybe I could buy all of Seattle. Okay, maybe that was pushing it, maybe just a few of the (nicer) blocks of Seattle. But I couldn't buy her.

"Vera, you were always so, so proud and so God-damn stubborn, will you just for once ..."

"I think you're confusing me with somebody else," Vera said tightly, and pushed the card back to me.

I took the card and narrowed my eyes at her. I saw her limned in red as the capillary action made her very appetizing. I was furious.

"Yes," I answered in a quiet bark, conscious of the sleeping baby in the next room. "Yes, Vera, I confused you with somebody else. And I'm sorry. But I didn't confuse the fact that you and your baby have several options, one of them is this," here I held up my card, "and another one of the several options is the streets in January in the Pacific Northwest! Is this charity? No! In business you work with people you know, and you like. And I like you, okay? So call the God-damn number, and talk to our personnel department, or don't call the God-damn number, your choice, Vera, okay? But at least have that choice to make."

I stood, placing the card, very gently, on the table, and started heading toward the door. If I had slammed my card down on the table, like I wanted to, Vera'd be pulling table splinters out of the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and ... herself, for days.

"Rosalie, where are you going?" Vera asked, a little surprised and overwhelmed at my tirade.

I didn't turn around. "I have to get ready for God-damn school." This weekend was an entire bust, and, on top of that, I had the face my dear little sister very much having lost the upper hand in yesterday's argument.

"Rosalie ..." Vera said quietly, and I did turn at that. She looked at me sadly. "Thank you. It was ... an interesting weekend."

I sighed and went back to her. "Hug?" I asked.

"Hug," she answered.

And we hugged each other cautiously.

"Friends?" I whispered in her ear.

"Okay," she answered then pulled back. "But Rosalie ..." she demanded.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Work out your issues with Bella before you come back here expecting to start anything."

"Okay," I answered sadly. "'Bye, Vera." I said.

"'Bye, Rosalie." Vera smiled a sad smile in parting.

"Kiss Maria for me, will you?" I asked her, and Vera nodded yes.

I let myself out.

But after the door closed behind me and I was already down the hall, I realized two things: firstly, I had told her that she hadn't changed in decades. That was a bad slip, with me not looking decades old, but one I hope she didn't notice. She didn't seem to. The other thing was this. I had passed by Night Dreams and picked up a couple items in anticipation of what were to be last night's activities before things turned out very differently. When she looked in the shopping bags and opened the black box with the pink bow? And found the strap-on harness ... and the vibrator?

God damn it!

I guess I wouldn't be seeing Vera again, or, at least, for as long as Bella was alive, because that was another thing Vera was very clear about. And Bella and I? The two of us? Working out our differences?

That wouldn't be happening in her lifetime.

Author's notes:

Canonical?: The characters are canonically based, Rosalie's specific behavior here is not hinted at in the canon, but then it is not denied by the canon, either. So: yes.

Fiction: The events described in Iraq are accurate, the persons implied involved are fictional.

Continuation?: Yes, Vera has whacked me upside the head with more chapters ... I guess I know my Muse's name for this story ...

Endnotes:

[1] twilightlexicon(dot)com timeline used to verify date of van incident

[2] Wikipedia was used to identify the Battle of Nasiriyah as the friendly fire incident where an A-10 barrage took out six U.S. Marines in late March of 2003.

[3] Bella Italia's menu is online (bellaitaliapa(dot)com), and, of course, their featured item is "Bella's Mushroom Ravioli." Work it, GF!

[4] Information about Port Angeles apartments is easily retrievable from various sources. Unfortunately no pictures of the area give a feel of how it's like, but multiple tenement buildings crowded near an airport next to the Straight of Juan de Fuca? It's not hard to guess, as this author has been very similarly situated.

[5] It may appear incredible, but many foundations have difficulty getting money out to the organizations they are supposed to support, so some have turned to a form of recruitment and mentoring to solicit requests.

[6] Wilson's Syndrome is depressed body temperature and is the cause for many health issues. It often strikes early in life (so people who have it often don't know, because they think that it is how they are normally) and eighty percent of the people affected are women.

[7] Rosalie has her M.D. That's somewhere in the canon, but I'm not quite seeing it in the twilightlexicon at this moment. Somebody help me out here?

[8] Pacific Northwest Trust is the holding corporation for the Cullen's assets. It is mentioned as part of the New Moon outtakes published by Stephenie Meyer on her website at stepheniemeyer(dot)com / pdf / nm_outtakes_scholarship(dot)pdf.

[9] I got the idea of Rosalie's scent, honeysuckle and rose, from my brother's stories about Rosalie, particularly "My Sister Rosalie."

[10] The tale of Rosalie's best friend, Vera, in her human life in the 1930's is told in Eclipse, chapter 7 "Unhappy Ending." That Vera died a natural human death, insofar as the canon implies. This Vera ... ? Well, does she need her own story?