The Swan Has Horns

34

It was moments like this that Rosalie wished that everything was all a dream, and she would wake up to see that all was simply fake. That she was in a coma, and her brain was trying hard to entertain her while she was stuck in such a vegetative state of mind. Or that was just her way of coming up with an excuse as to why she decided that taking a child was the best decision instead of just leaving when the call from Alice was given.

She couldn't help when she noticed just how cute she was, how she eagerly clung onto the first person that held her with such care, and even snuggled deeper when she released a small yawn to signal just how tired she was after almost killing her Grandpa. As shocking as that sight was, it still didn't deter Rosalie from seeing the child as nothing but innocent, and enhancing the protective instincts within her that flared at the thought of the child being left alone for about an unknown amount of time.

"You should really put her down." Esme nervously stood beside her, the others could handle James on their own, but could they handle whatever had created this...baby? "Holding her will do nothing for neither of you." But confirm the fact that she was indeed the person that took her whenever the parents swooped by. Esme didn't have the heart to say anything though, already knowing how she was feeling considering she felt that stabbing pain in her chest from her own lost child. She didn't have the heart to tell her to leave the child where they were, didn't have the heart to tell her that they could get killed for this and whether the Volturi came for them or not, whoever created this child would. She didn't, and that was something she wasn't ready to admit to anyone.

"I love holding her though, It's not like I can get tired from doing so." She said that so softly like she was scared of waking the child, and the slight sway of her arms had them both in a trance as the soft little puffs of breath were released through the mouth of the child. She warmed her arms, and just her presence alone warmed her heart, "I can hold her all night if I want." And with the lack of a crib, Rosalie really had no choice in fear that the child might roll over and injure themselves. She appreciated the excessive concern, but it was very much unneeded. She somewhat knew what she had to do, those motherly instincts within her weren't entirely dead like her body was, but they still lacked an extraordinary amount considering she never had one to begin with.

"D-Do you want to hold them?" She had hesitated a bit, there was no point in feeling ashamed, but she felt horrible knowing that she was hogging something that they both wanted, but would never receive, "no matter how much I want to keep them, I'll understand if you want a second too." Her voice wavered a bit, and a slight grip was applied to the sleeping child, almost like they were willing Esme to say no, desperate for the warmth of the child to remain.

"Th-" She signed, though her skin crawled at the thought. All she could see was her baby boy shedding tear after tear while she struggled to heal him in any way she could, before he sobbed his last breath away. It bothered her to hold another baby, but there was a tiny part of her that itched to just hold the small human like she had with her son. Sing a few lullabies, rock them to sleep, and even cuddle up close to a nice warm fire. That tiny part of her screamed with a burning fury, but that bigger part of her that knew that they had already done enough was stronger.

"I-I'm fine." She just receded back into herself, plopping down onto the hotel's dirty looking couch, and hugging her arms closely to her chest as she weighed for a call, or even signal from the others. She thought she had gotten past the fact that she could do nothing for her child, gotten past the fact that it wasn't her fault that her child was now dead, and so was she in a strangely sick way.

"Are you-" It took one glance up from the child to know that even if Esme wasn't sure, she most definitely wasn't in a good state to hold anything. She looked ready to fall apart on the sofa, and she sickly gave herself a mental pat on the back. "Okay." At least she wouldn't lose this warmth right away.