A note to my readers, new and old, this is my very first M rated story. It's rated as such because of sensitive subjects and discussions. I'm sorry if any of my readers are offended by the content, but in all fairness, the reason I gave it its rating was to serve as a warning. This is not my usual, by any means, and I feel kind of weird about posting it, but a few friends on this website encouraged me to do it. There is no sex at all, so if that's what you came for, you can just hit that backspace key (though I'd really appreciate it if you read it). Lemons burn my eyes, and it would just be sick to give a Winnie the Pooh quote before a smutty, sex filled story. Also, I do not own the Twilight Saga or its affiliates, Gone With the Wind, or Winnie the Pooh. The preceding quote to the story will make more sense towards the end, I promise. Now, to end this ridiculously long author's note, please leave a review, and - of course - read on.

If you live to be one-hundred, I want to live to be one-hundred minus one day, so I never have to live a day without you.

~Winnie the Pooh

I raised my fist to knock on the door of room 417. The roommate of my target answered the door, then jerked his head towards the area of the room hidden by the door. He gave me a nod, then left, allowing me to go in and close the door behind me.

Sprawled out and facedown on a too-small twin bed was the man I'd loved since high school, more broken than my arm on the day we met in sophomore year. I had fallen off the top of the cheerleader pyramid, successfully distracting him and causing him to get a concussion from the resulting pileup on the football field. We were carted off in the same ambulance, and had been inseparable ever since.

Now, though, no amount of bandages or casts could fix him.

I walked over to his bed, setting my bag on the floor and sitting on the edge of his bed. He didn't even flinch when I put my small hand on his shoulder. Instead, he took a deep, shuddering breath, and then rolled over.

His eyes were bloodshot and wet, and he croaked my name in a tone I'd heard him use only once before, when his oldest brother was killed in a car crash. "Alice…"

"What happened, Emmett?" I asked, reaching out to stroke his stubble covered chin.

He shook his head, taking my hand in his and squeezing my fingers tightly. "I can't…"

I fought back my own tears, knowing it couldn't have been good. "Is Rosalie okay?"

He squeezed his eyes shut as tears began to stream from them, repeating, "I can't…"

"Please, Em, you're scaring me," I said, tears springing to my eyes. "When you called me, you said that something had happened with Rosalie, and that you needed me."

He sat up slowly, clearing his throat. "I just wanted you then. I need you now."

I held my arms out for him, and he hugged me close, nearly crushing my small frame. I knew something was really wrong when he miscalculated his strength. He treated me like porcelain most of the time, and even called me Madame Alexander when he was feeling playful or affectionate. He wasn't feeling at all playful, and this was not affection. This was a tortured man seeking solace in the arms of woman who was half his size and being suffocated, but who didn't give a damn.

"Emmett, please, tell me what happened," I managed, my own tears beginning to fall, a sick feeling beginning to spread from my gut to the rest of my body. I somehow knew the next words he would say before he said them, and they sounded worse in his emotional croak than they did in my head.

"She's dead."

At that point, I felt numb, like Novocain was running through my veins instead of blood. I took a shuddering breath of my own, then pressed onward. "What happened to her?"

Emmett pulled back from me, rubbing his face roughly. He spoke quickly, his voice catching a few times, but his flat tone never left. "Yesterday, before I called you, we'd gotten into one of our bad fights. She was screaming and shouting and throwing things at me. She took off the necklace I gave her for her birthday - the one with the glass pendant - and threw it in my face, saying she never wanted to see me again. She said that you -" - he cleared his throat - "- she still loved you, and she never resented us for being so close, but she couldn't handle us as a packaged deal. She said she couldn't ask me to choose, but that she would choose for me, and she left."

"At which point you called me," I said, remembering that he'd told me a shorter version of this story when he called me at eleven the night before, nearly twenty hours before.

"Well, this morning, Garrett found a note taped to the door. I read it and-and I called her phone, but some guy picked up. It was J-Jasper, her twin brother, and he said that her body had been found in her car outside of her parents' house. She'd taken a bottle of sleeping pills and drank a whole bottle of vodka, and had left a note to her family, too," he said, choking on his words, his rough exterior breaking.

Tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I couldn't say anything. Rosalie had been our friend since senior year of high school, when we met on campus of our university during a tour. She and Emmett had clicked right away, and she'd taken to me as well. There was something about the two of them that had always made my heart ache, but I loved them both, separately and together. She and Emmett had been on-again-off-again - always breaking it off again when they got too close to being serious - for almost two years, and I really thought she could be it for him. Now, though… I'd left for a few days, for spring break in Malibu at my family's beach house. The both of them had been planning to meet me down there halfway through the break. Just my luck, I leave them alone for two days and one of them ends up dead.

Emmett turned away from me for a moment, then turned back, pushing a piece of paper at me. Rosalie's suicide note to him.

Emmett,

I know we've had our fun over the last couple of years, and I know I'll always love you, but this isn't what I want or need anymore. My life has never been what I wanted it to be. Ever since I was a little girl, I've always felt different, and now I know how. Until you, I didn't feel attraction to many people or things. For years, Jasper was my only companion. When I met you, you made me feel different. Special, even, and Alice made things even better, because when she was happy, you were happy. Not only did I have a boyfriend, I had a best friend as well.

Things have never been easy for me. After our first kiss, I broke down and told you how I'd been raped by my first boyfriend - Royce - when I was only fifteen. You held me in your arms and let me cry for hours, you would have held me through the night even, if I wasn't terrified that the same thing would happen with you that did with Royce. You weren't even angry that I didn't trust you. After I told Alice and she reacted the same way, I felt a connection to the both of you that could only be described as love.

Soon, though, I saw that you and Alice had a different kind of connection. You may not see it - you may never see it - but you two are meant for each other. I realized it on Valentine's Day of freshman year. We went on a double date - when she was with that Paul guy - and you two kept picking off of each others' plates when you didn't think anyone was looking, and your eyes kept meeting. They would stay locked for sometimes moments at a time, then you'd share a smile, like you had a secret only you knew. I know you love her, and she loves you, too, and I can't be a barrier anymore. I can't die without telling you that Alice is your soul mate, and I hope you take that seriously. Let her read this note. I can't bear the thought of writing another one saying the exact same thing.

For a long time, now, all of the things that happened to me as a child and as a teenager have been haunting me worse and worse. I think of my life every night, and how I could never imagine myself living long enough to get a wrinkle or my first grey hair. It slowly came to me, though. I've never loved life. Every night since I was fifteen I've seen images of Royce, relived the hell he put me through. After that, the loneliness I'd felt in my childhood intensified, and I finally realized it. Now I know what makes me different from everyone else, from everyone that's ever done me wrong or done me right. I have no desire to live.

Emmett, I will always love you, and Alice, too. I can't let you love me in the way you think you love me. Whatever you do, remember that I'm not the only one in the world that loves you, and I'm definitely not your soul mate. I love you so much, and I'm vain enough hope you never forget me.

Rosalie

PS- Alice, I know you will read this at some point or another. I'm sorry you didn't get your own personal note, but I couldn't bear to write all of this all over again, which I would have done, because you and Emmett are sometimes the same person, to me and to everyone else. You're a packaged deal, and I get that. I never resented you for being so close to him. I love you and I wish you the best.

I put the note down and put my face in my hands, sobbing silently. Emmett's arms surrounded me and soon we were in a tight embrace, sobbing together. In a way, I felt responsible for her death. How she could look at Emmett and think he wasn't perfect for her was beyond me. I'd never seen Emmett more compatible with anyone except me, but Emmett had been my best friend for nearly five years. We meshed. It was natural.

After we had cried for a long, long time, we pulled apart. I wiped his tears and he wiped mine, then he pulled me to lay down with him, and we faced each other silently. After a long while Emmett spoke softly.

"I can't stay here tonight," he whispered, his voice gruff. "I may never be able to sleep here again. She lives - she lived right downstairs."

"Stay at my apartment," I said lowly, finding his hand with mine. "I don't want to be alone."

He nodded in agreement. "Me either."

We both sat up in nearly the same instant, and I leaned over to reach under his bed, pulling out the duffle I knew was there. He got up and started tossing me a few things to pack. In a few minutes, he was itching to go, and had only sat down again for the moment it took to write a short note to Garrett.

G-

Staying at Alice's for a few days. If there's an emergency and you can't reach me, I wrote Alice's number and address on a post-it at your desk.

-Em

We left without looking back. I drove us to my apartment. When I went to college, my parents didn't want me in a dorm, since Emmett was my only friend on campus that they knew and trusted. Instead, they bought me an apartment close by. At first, I was irritated that I wouldn't get the experience of living in a dorm. Now, I was glad. Emmett and I needed a place to go that didn't have memories or traces of Rosalie. All of our time together in which we were in someone's room - as a trio - was spent in his dorm or hers. Rosalie never had a desire to go to my apartment. I always sensed that she secretly resented the fact that my parents cared enough to make sure I lived in a safe place, and because of that, my home was untainted. Just what we needed.

I made Emmett take a shower while I worked on something to eat. I dug a bake-and-eat casserole from the back of the freezer and popped it in the oven, then took my turn in the shower when Emmett emerged, his hair damp and his outfit reflecting his mood. His pajamas were black flannel pants and a black shirt, and it made his usually warm and chocolaty brown eyes look dark as well. After my shower, I put on my comfort clothes - sweat pants and a tank top with Emmett's high school football hoodie. It was an outfit I'd worn many a night - with and without Emmett - and it gave me a sense of normalcy.

We ate in near silence, both of us obviously famished. Afterwards, we put on an old movie and sat in my bed with a carton of ice cream. We passed it back and forth, staring at the television screen, where Clark Gable wasn't giving a damn and Tara was being burnt to the ground - though not necessarily in that order. We sat together in our little bubble, shielded from the world by the walls of my apartment and the blankets covering us, and it felt safe. We leaned on one another, and it was comfortable to pretend like nothing was going on, that we were just two friends having a sleepover. It felt like home. In all actuality, though, this wasn't the usual for us.

It wasn't exactly normal for Emmett and I to be in the same bed. Sure, we'd camped out on hiking trips with our family's, and when my boyfriend dumped me the night before junior prom, Emmett skipped and slept on my floor after a long night of comforting me with chick flicks and cuddling. We'd only slept in the same bed three times, though. When his oldest brother was killed in our senior year, I snuck in through his window and slept in his bed with him, holding him through the night while he cried bitterly. In freshman year of college, when an older guy wouldn't leave me alone at a stupid frat party, Emmett spent the night with me in case the guy - who was very drunk, and very obviously an angry drunk - followed me home. The third and last time we'd slept in the same bed was after one of his and Rosalie's wars. He was angry, and after narrowly missing Garrett's jaw, he'd punched a hole in the wall. I was the only one able to calm him down, and we had slept in his cramped twin bed. Even that had been nearly six months ago.

"Alice?" Emmett said softly, his hand finding mine.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to leave? To sleep on the couch?"

I shook my head. I sunk down into my pillows, then laid down all the way, suddenly exhausted. "Stay with me."

He followed suit, turning off the lamp on the way to laying beside me. We faced each other awkwardly, our hands still intertwined. "I don't know what to say."

"About what?"

"Anything. I don't think I want to talk."

I forced myself to breath, despite the pain in caused in my chest. "Then let's not talk."

Emmett's eyes searched my face, then met mine. "Let's not talk."

I don't remember falling asleep that night, but the next morning - when the doorbell woke me up - I was sweltering. I realized Emmett was spooning me, and his warm body and his old sweatshirt were working together to bake me alive. He was still dead asleep - so asleep that I actually checked that he was breathing - so I carefully slipped from his grasp and tiptoed out of my room, closing the door behind me. When I opened the door, I found my parents. When they took in my appearance, they stepped in without me saying anything, collecting me in a three-way hug.

"The McCarty's couldn't tell us what happened," Mom said, her face in my hair.

"We called yesterday when you checked in with us after landing," Dad added, his arms protectively around my mother and I. "They said something bad had happened, and that you should be the one to tell us."

I pulled back and rubbed my bloodshot eyes, feeling numb as I recalled the events of the previous day. "Let's go to the kitchen. I need coffee."

They followed me into my kitchen, where I numbly set up the coffee maker, then sat down at the table with them. I didn't know any way to say it except flat out, like Emmett did. "Rosalie's dead."

My mother raised her hand to her mouth. I knew what she was thinking. First his brother, then his sometimes-girlfriend. "Oh my goodness."

My father reached across the table to cover my hands with his. "What happened, sweetheart?"

Suddenly there were fresh tears in my eyes, and I didn't feel so numb anymore. "She killed herself. She t-took a bottle of sleeping pills, and drank a bottle of vodka." My voice broke and I raised my hands to my face, wiping furiously. "She left a suicide note for Emmett and-and me."

"Where is he?" my mother asked, likely knowing exactly where he was.

"My room. I couldn't be alone, and he couldn't be at his dorm, so we stayed here."

My mother put a hand on my father's arm when he tensed slightly. "That's fine. Right Carlisle?"

My father nodded, albeit reluctantly. In the end, Emmett was the only one he trusted with me in the first place. He just didn't like the idea of his baby girl bunking with a man. "How's he taking it?"

"Worse than me," I said, sounding muffled behind my hands. "When I woke up I thought he'd k-killed himself, too. He was completely still. That's why it took me so long to open the door."

Mom stood up and walked around the table to me, kneeling down and pulling me into her arms. I broke down and started sobbing into her shoulder, and I felt my father behind me, wrapping me up into his arms as well. They let me cry for a while. When I let my guard down with my parents, I thought about a lot of things. I thought about Rosalie, and what it must have felt like for Jasper or her parents to wake up and walk outside for the paper, only to find her dead and waiting. I thought about Emmett and how sick it made me to see him so broken. My stomach ached imagining what it must feel like to lose the one you're in love with. After a while, my sobbing ceased, and my mother got a wet napkin to rub my face.

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this," she said, taking a dry one out of the holder for me to blow my nose with. "I don't know what to do to help you."

I sighed shakily, leaning back into my father's arms. "Is it okay if Emmett stays here longer? I don't think he can stay upstairs from her room and be okay, and I don't think I can stay alone."

"You're an adult," Dad murmured, giving me a gentle squeeze. "Do what you think is right."

"Why are you here? What made you drive for so long?"

"We were worried about you when you called and said you were going home early, and when the credit card company called to confirm that you canceled the other roundtrip flight, we knew something was wrong," Mom said gently, reaching out to caress my cheeks. "My poor baby."

"Poor Emmett, too," I muttered, sighing, thinking about how broken he'd been the day before. I didn't know if I could stomach seeing him so destroyed again today. "He scared me yesterday. It was worse than when Aaron died. At least he talked about Aaron. The last thing he said to me before he fell asleep was that he didn't want to talk."

Dad breathed slowly through his nose. "Maybe we should go before he wakes up. We can have lunch in the city and come back and make dinner for the two of you tonight."

"You don't have to come back," I said, not wanting to impose on anyone.

"Well, why don't you talk to Emmett about it, and if he's okay with it, we'll come back. If not, we'll go home."

"Okay," I said, pulling myself from the comfort of my parents. "I'll call you later. Thanks for coming."

They gave me more hugs and kisses on their way out, and then I was alone again. Well, alone with Emmett. I peeked in on him to see him still asleep, but now on his stomach. I sat down on the couch with a steaming mug of coffee and turned on the television.

"Twenty-year-old Rosalie Hale was found dead by her twin brother yesterday morning outside of the gates of her family's home," a reported said, standing in front of the Hale home.

My heart stopped, I cringed violently, and I could feel my blood turn to ice.

"She was found with an empty bottle of what has been confirmed was an alcoholic beverage, and an empty bottle of prescribed sleeping pills. An autopsy performed shows that she had, indeed, been killed by the medication and alcohol. She had what appeared to be a suicide note in her hand, addressed to her family, and we have reason to believe that she left another to her ex-boyfriend, a fellow student. The family is not disclosing any information on the contents of the note, and we have been unable to get information on funeral arrangements. This development could mean-"

I shut the television off, pulling my knees to my chest as I began hyperventilating. It was only a matter of time before her suicide was the talk of the state. Her parents were very high up and involved with politics, and this was just the scandal Mr. Hale's opponent needed to beat him out for the state senator position.

"Alice?" Emmett suddenly called, sounding panicked. "Alice!"

I jumped to my feet, sprinting to my room.

Emmett sat up in my bed, obviously thinking what I had thought about him when I first woke up. He had an expression of sheer horror, and when he saw me, he gasped, starting to breathe again. "Sorry… You weren't here and I thought-"

"I thought the same when I woke up," I said, sitting on my bed next to him. "You were really still."

"You scared me," he said, yanking me by the shoulders into a hug. "God, you scared me…"

I let him hold me. He wasn't so ferocious today, and he seemed to not be as manic. "I'm right here. My parents stopped by to check on us."

He didn't respond for a bit, and I almost thought he didn't hear me. "Why didn't you get me up?"

"Because if you were in a hermit mood you'd be uncomfortable," I said, hoping I didn't offend him.

"I'm okay, but thank you. Are they coming back later?"

"Depends on how you're feeling."

"I said I'm okay," he said, pulling back. "How did they know I was here? Do they even know I'm here?"

I didn't like the hurt tone in his voice. "Of course. And they're okay with you staying here as long as you like. I just… When I woke up, you were really resting, and I didn't want to bother you."

Emmett nodded, then tried to give me a smile. "Sorry, I'm just…out of it. I need energy."

"I made coffee."

"Have I ever told you I love you?"

I actually managed a chuckle at that. His miniscule smile grew slightly, and he got up, pulling me too. We went to the kitchen and he filled a clean mug, then I topped off my own and went to the fridge. "I don't have food."

"I'm not hungry," he said lowly, after draining his mug.

I sat down at the table and he followed suit, after refilling his mug. I decided to just tell him about the news story, so he wouldn't be surprised when he saw it for himself. "Rosalie's death was on the news."

He looked up at me, pain in his eyes. "What did they say?"

"What we already know, and that Jasper was the one to find her."

He cringed, much like I did, at the thought of Jasper finding his twin dead. "Thanks for telling me."

"I'd rather you hear it from me." My voice was low, and I shifted my gaze to the table. "They haven't announced funeral arrangements."

"I figure they'll get it over with quick. Mr. Hale can't take another blow to this campaign."

"Will you?"

Emmett looked confused. "Will I what?"

I hesitated, then I asked, "Get it over with quick? I mean, will you hang on to everything that reminds you of her, or will you just…act like nothing happened."

His eyes were surprised, like I'd read his mind. "Of course I'll miss her, and things might remind me of her once in a while, but she did this to herself, and I realized I can't let this ruin me." His voice began to grow loud and angry. "She chose this for herself, dammit! I can't let myself feel guilty or depressed when she put it in black and white. She didn't want what I had to offer, and she couldn't let go of her past. Rosalie's death was Rosalie's choice, and I'm not going to let it take me over."

The thought I'd had earlier - the thought about not wanting to see him so broken - was immediately countered. Broken was better than this pissed off and non-caring Emmett. I felt tears spring to my eyes. "Emmett, she was special to both of us. It's not a crime to be sad."

"But I'm not sad anymore," he insisted, heated anger rolling off of him in waves. "I'm pissed that she had to prove her point by giving up and just dying. It destroyed me when I realized that she was really gone and that I'd never have a chance to prove her wrong. Now I realize I didn't want to prove her wrong. I just needed something other than her deluded self to show me that she wasn't right for me, and this was it."

A single tear rolled down my cheek at his words. "Emmett… Please, don't be angry. It's worse than seeing you sad. I'm sorry that she didn't think you were as in love with her as she was with you."

He got a strange look on his face. "Alice, we were never in love." He spat the word love as if it was poison.

That was news to me. "B-but you two were perfect for each other… She loved you, and you loved her. If I wasn't there, you two would have probably been married or something by now."

"But you were there, and we weren't in love. Yeah, I loved her, but…she was right. She wasn't the only one that was deluded. I was deluding myself for a long time about how and how much I loved her."

"If you had another chance to be in love with her, would you take it?"

His anger was evaporating. This was good. Instead of fury, he had an expression of deep thought. Finally, he whispered, "No."

I couldn't help but ask, "Why not?"

"Because she was right. We talked a lot before our last fight." Emmett looked down at into his mug. "It's time to move on, and her dying just emphasized what she'd been trying to tell me."

This passive Emmett scared me. A lot. More than how quickly his mood had done a complete three-sixty.

"But let's not talk about her today. Let's do something we never do anymore. What's something we used to do all the time that we never do anymore?"

I swear I was getting whiplash. "I don't know. Em, you're really freaking me out."

My words sobered him. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to think today. I want to pretend nothing's happening. Please, can we just be Al and Em today?"

I still didn't like it, but it was better than nothing, I suppose. "Okay."

We spent all day watching old movies, and I ended up passing on my parents' dinner invitation. It was good to just have Emmett to myself, where I could keep him honest and make sure he was alright. It wasn't normal and we weren't happy, but the setting was comfortable, and comfort was the one thing we could never have too much of.

The rest of spring break passed in the same fashion. Wake up, make sure Emmet is alive, deal with whatever crazy mood he's in, ignore whatever pains or flutters I felt, lay in bed next to Emmett, go to sleep, start over again.

Friday morning, I got a call from Jasper Hale. I was watching Emmett scramble around the kitchen, whipping up something to eat. He was in an unhappy mood, but he was attempting to distract himself, since he knew I hated when he was unhappy. My cell rang, and I slipped out to answer it, in case it was an unpleasant conversation.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Alice Cullen?"

I was confused at how a perfect stranger could know my name. "Who is this?"

"Jasper Hale. I believe you were friends with my twin sister."

My breath caught in my throat. "Yes, I was."

The man cleared his throat, then continued, as if rehearsed. "I'm calling to inform you that her funeral will be tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock, and St. Paul's Chapel. Do you know the place, or would you like directions."

"I know the place."

"I was told that you and Emmett McCarty would most likely be together, or at least be in touch. Can you pass the message along?"

I balked at his abruptness, but answered. "Yes, I can. Would you like to speak to him?"

"I'm afraid I don't have time. We hope to see you and Emmett at the service, though."

"We'll be there."

I hung up, appalled at the formality and passiveness of the man. I went back into the kitchen, where Emmett was. He seemed to know what was coming when I sat on the counter next to the stove, looking carefully into his eyes.

"Who was that?" he asked in a forced casual tone, scraping up the slightly crisp eggs in the iron skillet to be flipped.

"Jasper Hale," I said, continuing slowly when his expression didn't change. "The funeral is tomorrow. Two at St. Paul's."

His eyes locked with mine, unreadable. He finally spoke slowly and lowly. "Okay. That's good. That they got in touch, I mean."

We stayed silent for a few minutes, then I yelped when his hand wielding the metal spatula slowly drifted over towards me, pressing the burning metal to my thigh. Emmett jumped into action, grabbing a dish towel and soaking it with cold water before pressing it against my bare skin.

"I'm sorry, Al," he said, turning off the eye of the stove and moving the skillet and spatula safely away from me. He pulled the towel away to look at the angry burn. "Where's your first aid stuff?"

"Medicine cabinet," I said, pushing myself gently to slide off of the counter.

Emmett stopped me before I touched the ground, instead scooping me into his arms and carrying me to the bathroom. He set me on the closed toilet lid and opened the cabinet, finding the burn cream quickly. He knelt down and put the cool cream on my thigh, making me wince. He put a bandage over it and kissed it, like one would kiss a small child's injury. The act was so foreign, though, that we both jumped in shock, then flushed red.

"Um, all better," he said, turning his back to me to rinse his hands and to put the cream and bandage box away.

I stood up and walked past him, to my room and to my closet, looking for a reasonable distraction. I found one easily, realizing I had to dress for a funeral. And so did Emmett…

"Em?" I called, walking out of the closet.

"Kitchen," he called back.

I went back into the kitchen, finding him salvaging what breakfast he could. "You need a suit."

He cursed, realizing I was right. "It's back in my dorm. I can get Garret to drop it-"

"No," I interrupted. "We need to just go. You need some more clothes and your things for school. We'll be in and out in just a few minutes."

Emmett looked reluctant, then nodded. "I guess so."

"We can go after breakfast."

The next afternoon, Emmett and I stood at the graveside of Rosalie Hale, hands intertwined. We'd barely exchanged a word all day, and we hadn't even looked at each other since arriving at the small funeral. Rosalie looked flawless, as always. Like sleeping beauty. But this was one beauty that wouldn't wake up from the kiss of a handsome prince.

We walked together to place our black roses - as dramatic as Rosalie herself - on top of her coffin, then we walked together out of the graveyard, and away from Rosalie for the last time. I cried, as most polite women do at funerals, but it was a sniff-whimper-dab cry.

In other words, fake.

Back at my apartment, I changed into my sweats and crawled into bed to really cry. Emmett took a shower than lasted nearly an hour, and when he emerged in his own sweats, he crawled into bed with me and held me while I cried. He hadn't shed a tear since that first day, and finally - finally - he cried with me; albeit it was just a few tears shed and a silent sob or so, but it was still some kind of sadness. I didn't know exactly why he was crying, but it was better than his mood swings and unpredictable emotions.

We didn't talk much that night. In the entire day, we exchanged very few words. It was too hard, I suppose, and just being close to one another helped.

Sunday was a different, though. Emmett was up early, cooking again, and when I came into the kitchen, there was a basket of clean laundry sitting on the floor, already neatly folded. The idea of Emmett washing and folding my clothes - and worse, my underwear - made me blush, then I realized that was not the only change. The once full sink was empty, and clean dishes dried in the rack. There was already a plethora of food choices on the table, and my kitchen was cleaner than it had been in months.

"Emmett, what's going on?" I asked, shocked to say in the least.

He smiled from the stove, then put the last of the foods onto a serving plate. "I had a lot of energy and nothing to do, so I did this as a thank you for letting me stay here."

"I need it as much as you do," I said, walking up to him.

"But you've already said I can stay until the end of the semester."

I pulled my eyebrows together, confused at how he couldn't understand what I said. "And I also said I wanted you here. It's for me as much as it's for you. You don't have to thank me or make it up to me."

He continued to smile as he put two plates on the table, then grabbed two forks out of the dish rack. "But I wanted to. You've done a lot for me over the last few days, and I want you how much I appreciate it."

I walked up to my best friend, putting my hands on his cheeks. "Emmett, are you okay?"

"I'm great. I'm…moving on with my life. She wanted that for me. For us. I'm just…jumping in." He sounded so happy, so sure of himself.

I knew he couldn't possibly be okay this fast, and I didn't have a proper response. "Okay. Okay."

Emmett talked through breakfast. He told me how he'd figured out how we could keep the peace living together, how we could split the chores up according to who had what classes or work shifts, and how we could go through to grocery bill at the end of every shopping trip and split it in half. He said that since utilities were one collective bill, he would gladly pay it as his rent every month, and didn't let me protest, telling me to think about it. I had to admit, his plan was good, and it was pretty foolproof, since we'd been friends for so long and we understood each other so well.

"I was thinking about maybe investing in an air mattress, so if we can't sleep well so close, I can just sleep on that," he said finally.

"But it's a king sized bed." It was so large, it was really no different than sleeping on opposite sides of our tent on camping and hiking trips. We were just using the same blankets now.

…And Emmett sometimes got cuddly in his sleep.

He pressed on. "But it's your bed."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. It's not like I take up much space."

"But it's your bed," he repeated, standing up to put his plate in the sink. "If you want it to yourself, you should be able to have it to yourself."

I rolled my eyes again, standing up and passing him my dish when he motioned for it. "Tell you what, if you want it, get it. If I want to emphasize my personal space, I'll put a pillow between us, or I'll just kick your ass out of my room."

He laughed. "Hence the air mattress."

"Whatever."

"I win," he said, sticking his tongue out at me. "So, what are you thinking so hard about? You're eyebrows are all scrunched together."

"I really don't want to go back to school tomorrow," I said conversationally, lying through my teeth.

"Wasn't much of a break," Emmett said agreeably.

In truth, was finding myself angry at him. He wasn't acting like he was supposed to act. He was supposed to be crying and screaming and throwing things. Not cooking and cleaning and acting like Rosalie's death was the equivalent of breaking up with someone you dated for a month. I didn't want to anger him, but I was starting to worry about him. It was painful to watch him act like he'd been acting. The 'steps of grief' weren't supposed to be taken one a day. It wasn't normal to be so…okay with the woman he loved for two years dying. Dying by her own hand, especially.

"You know, I think I'm going to go to the mall today. I need a day to myself," I said, quickly finding a believable excuse to get away from him.

"Okay, well, do you want to hang out later?" he asked, looking a little let down.

"Maybe. I'll probably be out for a while. I need to run by the craft warehouse to get some materials for my final project, and I might call Ed and see if he wants to meet me for dinner somewhere. He and Bella just got back from Detroit."

Emmett couldn't very well argue with me. I hadn't seen my older brother in over a month. I could tell that Emmett knew that I wanted to get away from him. He looked hurt, but he didn't press anymore. Maybe he would see that his moods were upsetting to me if we had a day apart by my choice. I hardly ever chose something else to do if I could hang out with him. Ever since our ambulance ride together, we did everything together.

"Okay."

Shopping on my own without Emmett was a drag. He usually carried my bags for me and watched me try on anything and everything. He'd helped me decide on a few of my favorite outfits. Anything that made him look around at the other men in the store like he was daring them to look at me was always a definite 'yes', and it drove him nuts. Rosalie never shopped with the both of us. She only shopped with me, because it bothered her when he would look me over every time I tried a new outfit. She just didn't understand that it was our norm. Thinking about her brought a wave of guilt and sadness that killed the trip.

When I called Edward, he said he'd love to meet me for dinner, but Bella was sick, so it'd just be him. I liked it better that way, because I really wanted to talk to him about Emmett, and Bella had to have things explained to her about Emmett and I when she was included in conversations. I loved my sister-in-law, but she hadn't known the teenaged Alice and Emmett.

"How are you holding up?" Edward asked over dinner.

I shrugged, realizing I had been paying less and less attention to what I was feeling. "I don't know. I'm worried about Emmett."

"I can imagine," he said, looking apologetic. "Has he talked to you?"

"Yeah. I know how he feels, but I also know he's holding back. I don't know why he can't just be sad."

Edward chuckled. "Emmett is the toughest person I've ever met. His pride is probably keeping him from admitting he's sad."

I shook my head. "It's the opposite. He admitted all of his feelings, and showed them even better. He just… I don't know."

My brother didn't say anything for a few minutes. "Well, have things changed between the two of you? Has anything happened between you two that made things weird?"

"I know what you're getting at," I said, my voice venomous. "And no."

"In neither sense?" For years, Edward had sworn up and down that one day, Emmett and I would get together. He could never decide the sense, though; he was never certain if it would be physical or emotional or both.

"We've never had sex," I said slowly and firmly, realizing that my voice was fairly loud when I got a few looks from people at neighboring tables. I continued in a lower voice. "We've never even kissed on the mouth."

Edward pursed his lips, then gave a shrug. "Maybe later then."

"I know you're so sure that one day it's going to happen, but I don't know what to expect anymore," I said, looking at my plate. "He's been having wild mood swings. Yesterday we barely spoke, this morning he was up early cooking and cleaning, then he told me all about his plan to make sure living together works for us."

Edward's eyes snapped to mine. "You're living together?"

I nodded, a slow blush spreading across my cheeks. "We're working on moving his things in. We just…need each other right now. We will for a while."

"Are you sure you haven't-"

"Edward!"

"What? It's a legitimate possibility that arouses genuine suspicion."

I fixed him with a scathing glare.

"Well, where's he sleeping?"

I didn't even give him an answer. A small smirk appeared on his face, like he knew exactly what my answer was. He continued to smirk as we ate in silence for a bit.

"Okay, I just have one more question, Alice," Edward said, his expression growing somewhat serious.

I looked at him, daring him to make one more allusion or assumption. "What?"

He leaned over, closer to me, a totally serious look on his face. "Do you love him?"

I knew my face betrayed my emotions. Edward was the only one in the world that I'd ever talked to about my internal feelings for Emmett. I hesitated on answering vocally, then whispered my answer. "I've always been a little bit in love with him. You know that."

"It's hurting you to see him like this, isn't it?" he asked lowly, coming to the realization quickly.

"Yeah. It hurts."

Edward didn't push me anymore. He hugged me goodbye in the parking lot, wishing me luck and suggesting that I talk to Emmett. I didn't say I would, but I didn't say I wouldn't. It all depended on time, and on how things continued with Emmett.

At home, Emmett was laying on the couch, watching the news. A story about Rosalie was on, and I held my breath as I passed him. He flipped the channel. I showered and got dressed for bed, deciding to turn in early.

"What time's your first class?" I asked Emmett, stepping into the living room before going to bed.

He looked up at me. "Ten."

"Mine, too. Will you wake me up?"

"You got it. You going to bed already?"

"Long day," I said with a shrug. "Night."

Emmett gave me a small smile. "Night."

Over the next school week, I realized that having Emmett living with me was a blessing. I was never late for a morning class, because when I tried to stay in bed for a few extra minutes, he'd yank me out and throw me over his shoulder, getting me into the kitchen and caffeine into me in record time. In the evenings, we'd sprawl out on the bed together, studying like we did in high school. At night, we'd curl up on opposite sides of my king sized bed. Nearly every night, he would roll over to spoon me in his sleep, and we would be in that position when we awoke the following morning. It was kind of funny for such a gargantuan man to be so cuddly in his sleep, and I poked fun at him for it. He teased me as well, saying that I would hum in my sleep, and off key at that. I knew, though, that he was just making up something to tease me back about, and his story would change a little every days, and by the end of the week, I was quoting Tennyson.

We didn't discuss anything of heavy matter. That weekend, when we were suddenly free of distraction, things felt slightly awkward. We occupied ourselves with homework, extra shifts at our part time jobs - Emmett as a waiter, I as a barista -, and movie marathons.

A month passed with that routine, but when Rosalie's birthday passed, something changed in the both of us. I came home from work late the day after her birthday, a Friday night, expecting Emmett to be asleep already, after a late night of cramming and an afternoon shift at work after his big test. I let myself in quietly, intending on changing and crawling right into bed with him, but he was sitting in the living room on the couch, Rosalie's suicide note in his hands.

I put down my things and slid silently out of my shoes, walking over to him. "Emmett?"

"Alice, can we talk?" he asked, his voice curious, and holding no sign of emotion.

"Okay," I said, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, folding my legs under me.

He put the note back where he got it, in the drawer of the side table, a place we deemed safe when we decided we couldn't do away with it. He readjusted himself to face me, fixing his eyes on me with an unreadable expression. "Rosalie was right."

"About what?"

"About us. Me and you."

I didn't understand it at all. "Emmett, what are you talking about?"

"Rosalie made her decision all on her own, but she helped me choose while she was at it. The things she said in her note…she was right."

My confusion evaporated as I sucked in my bottom lip and began to chew on it, a nervous habit I'd acquired at a young age.

"What's wrong, Alice?" he asked, realizing that I was holding back. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't want to talk about her tonight," I said, releasing my lip. "I don't want to even think about her. Her note hurts, because it reminds me of everything, and it really hit me when I read it."

He didn't say anything for a few minutes, then he said lowly, "What do you mean, her note really hit you?"

I shook my head, regretting saying anything in the first place. "Nothing."

"Is it about what she said about me and you?"

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read my mind," I said, studying his expression.

Emmett got a pained expression, then he spoke softly. "Because Rosalie was right, and that's what I want to talk about."

"So talk," I said weakly, not sure what to expect.

He was completely silent for a moment, then he spoke urgently and desperately. "It's always been you. It's been staring me in the face for nearly five years, and it took her dying for me to see it, but it's always been you. You're it for me, Alice, and I never saw it."

I gaped, a shock going through my body. "Emmett, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you, Alice," he said, his tone desperate. "You're amazing and beautiful and-"

"Emmett, stop," I choked, forcing out the words.

Everything was making sense to me now. The ache in my heart when he and Rose were on-again, the intense love I'd felt for him for nearly five years. It was all because I wasn't a little bit in love with him. I was deeply in love with my best friend.

Now was a bad time to decide we were in love. If Emmett was talking with the influence of Rosalie's suicide note and didn't really mean his words, I couldn't face him as a friend ever again, because it would kill me. If we were to be together, it would need to be by his choice, and not the words of a woman that was now dead by her own hand.

What I said next broke my heart. "Emmett, you're not thinking straight. You just read Rosalie's suicide note. If you say things like that, if I think things like that, someone is going to get hurt. We need to get through this without the added complication of doing something stupid or rash."

His eyes filled with hurt. "Al, I just told you that-"

"If you don't mean every word you say when you say things like that, I will never be able to be your friend again. You're feeling phantom emotions brought on by the words of a dead girl. Please, don't ruin our friendship. Don't break my heart."

"You feel it, too, Alice," he said angrily, tears in his eyes. "I know you. Why can't you just act on your feelings."

I felt my heart shatter, and tears slowly built in my eyes as I gave my next speech to him in the hopes of curbing this insanity. "If we act on our feelings right now - right in this moment - we're going to make a mistake by having sex or doing something else we have no business doing, then in the morning we'll wake up and realize we made a mistake, and our friendship will be destroyed. If you act on the feelings that were brought on by a suicide note, you may not know if they were your true feelings until it's too late, until after we possibly ruin our friendship. You can't be sure of your feelings, and I can't handle that, Emmett."

He took a few deep breaths, calming his anger. "So if I wanted to kiss you, would it be a mistake?"

I forced myself to nod. A single tear escaped my eye.

"So making love to you is definitely out of the question."

"It wouldn't be love, it'd be sex, because we'd be too focused on our lust and the words of a dead girl." More tears began to fall. I'd wanted Emmett since before I was sixteen years old, and turning him away was heart breaking. I knew in my heart, though, that if we were truly meant to be together, this was not the way we should start.

"Okay," he said, a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he didn't see my tears. "Which would be less of a mistake? Kissing or sex?"

"Kissing, I guess. Both are pretty stupid. It would still be a m-"

Emmett had been nodding slowly, then suddenly his lips were on mine, kissing me like I'd never been kissed before. The shock hit me before I could feel anything else, and that was probably the best timing in the world, because it gave me a chance to put an end to this whole fiasco.

"Emmett!" I gasped, shoving him away.

"Give this a chance," he begged, tears forming in his eyes.

I leaned back, away from him. "Not now."

Tears began to fall down his face. "Alice, please. I'm in love with you."

"I just told you I can't do this," I said, my own tears falling faster and faster. "If you really care, you will listen to me. I can't do this now. I can't be with you when I'm not sure you feel the same way about me as I do about you."

Emmett looked about as upset as I felt. "How can you question this? Alice I told you I'm in love with you and you yell at me. Why are you being like this?"

"Because," I said, my voice quivering. "You're not thinking about me. You're thinking about Rosalie and what she thought. If you're really in love with me, you'll understand that I can't do this right now. We have to ease into this, and we need time to see if it's really love we're in." Of course this was a lie to myself. I knew I was in love with him. I was just unsure of his feelings for me, and my heart was turning into a fine powder from the number of times I'd shattered it with my own words.

"I love you, Alice," he said weakly.

I couldn't see his face from the tears blurring my eyes. "I'm sorry."

That was the first night Emmett slept on the couch.

I stood and walked to where I'd left my things and gathered them up, then went into my room and locked the door behind me. After showering and changing, I laid in bed, crying softly, listening to Emmett crying outside of my room. He sat against the door for a while, crying nearly inaudibly. It broke my heart to hear him, but I knew what I did was right, no matter how painful it was. I just hoped that - in time - Emmett would find it in his heart to forgive me, and I hoped beyond hope that he really was in love with me.

The next morning, he was up making breakfast, smiling and chatting about the oldies marathon on later that day.

That nearly killed me.

After the ordeal the night before, I'd hoped to find him in a more sane state, repeating everything he'd said the night before, but meaning it this time. It was painful to watch him act as if nothing had happened, like he didn't have tear stains on his cheeks and like my eyes weren't bloodshot. If I'd ever dreaded spending time with him, it was now.

The next week was particularly painful. We went through the motions we'd always gone through. Emmett even came back and slept in my room a few times. But there was no doubt something had changed. If our thighs brushed against each other sitting on the couch, if his hand accidentally brushed over my breasts reaching past me for something in the kitchen, or if we just happened to look into one another's eyes for too long, we'd slowly slide apart, as if retreating from a wild animal.

Saturday afternoon, after a particular hard day at work, I came home in the hopes of a calm and boring night. Funny how those things work out.

Emmett had cooked for us already, having had the weekend off. We chatted lightly through dinner and washing dishes, then retreated to the living room for ice cream and movie night. We were having a relatively good night until yet another news feed about Rosalie came on in a preview for the nightly news. I turned off the television in order to avoid it.

"Why do you do that?" Emmett asked me, reaching for the remote.

"Because I've seen and heard it all before," I said, holding the remote away from him. "Don't you get sick of it?"

He crossed his arms. "I'm getting sick of you doing that like you're the only one it affects."

I gaped at him angrily. "I turn it off because it's painful for both of us."

"Well stop trying to protect me. You're not my mother, and I'm a big boy. You're not even my girlfriend," he said, then gave a great huff, his eyes shooting murderous daggers.

"You have as much choice in that as I do," I said angrily, standing up and throwing the remote at him.

He followed me as I stalked to my room, shouting after me, "How?"

I spun to look at him. "How what?"

"How do I have as much choice as you do?" he demanded, coming into the room and standing inches from me, glaring down into my eyes cruelly.

"I've waited for you," I said, my voice quivering as my eyes grew damp, the pain of the past week - the past five and a half years - all hitting me as I recalled it all at once. "I've waited for years for you."

Emmett now looked shocked as well as angry. "I told you I was in love with you and turned me down. How the hell do you think that made me feel, Alice?"

"You've spent the last week acting like nothing is wrong when everything's wrong!" I shot back. "How do you think I saw it? Huh? You had just read a suicide note. What, was I supposed to believe you when you were in that kind of state?"

"How can you make this my problem?" he demanded, seething.

I slapped him. I don't know what came over me, but I slapped him as hard across the face as I possibly could.

His eyes were wide, the slap giving him a vital moment of total sanity in which I could get my point across.

"You were emotionally unstable. You read a suicide note, and not just a suicide note, but the suicide note of a woman that you loved, and that you were with before you even considered the idea of being in love with me. How was I supposed to believe that the man I've been in love for all these years with really returned my feelings when he was acting crazy? Emmett, you were crying and babbling. I was frustrated, because I couldn't tell if you meant what you said, and I still don't." My words were rushed, but for the last bit of my speech, they slowed down and my volume lowered. I surprised even myself with the amount of distress that weighed on my voice. "Trust me, I've gone through enough pain over you to know that if you don't mean every word you say and we do something stupid, I won't be able to handle it. I won't be able to be friends with you."

"Alice, I didn't know," Emmett said, studying my face carefully. "We've been best friends for years, and we know each other better than we know ourselves, so why can't this just be a natural step?"

I shrugged, tears starting to drip down my face. "You tell me."

As fast as his sanity came, it left, and he body slammed me against the wall, kissing me roughly. It was shocking, and this time, I almost gave in. Almost.

"Stop it!" I screamed, shoving him away from me. "Why is that your cure for everything? I'm not Rosalie! You can't just kiss me and make it better!"

"Why not!" Emmett roared, glaring as I stalked to the other side of the bed, putting distance between us. "You just admitted you're in love with me, too! Why can't we just be together!"

I turned my back to him, hiding my face in my hands as I broke down. "I can't do it, Em. Not anymore. You can't possibly know me if you don't know what I want."

I heard him breathing heavily, perfectly timed out, an anger management technique he frequently used. It took him a long time to speak again. "Why do you have to make things so difficult? Tell me what you want."

"To know the truth. All I want is for you to feel the way I feel about you, and really mean it. I don't like this Emmett. He scares me, and he's not the one I love, but I'm afraid he's the only one that loves me." It was painful to be honest with him, now that he knew how I felt.

"At least he is brave enough to see what's been there forever," he defended.

"But he's not the one I want," I said, my voice a whimper. "I want my best friend back, and if he doesn't want me, at least I still get the old Emmett back."

Emmett was silent again, for even longer. He started walking slowly, and I could tell he was getting close to me. "Can I tell you a secret?"

I hesitated, fearing another psychotic, lust filled attack. In all actuality, my willpower was breaking as fast as my heart. Finally, I whispered, "Okay."

I felt his breath on my neck as he stepped up behind me, looking down upon me. He leaned down so his lips were even with my ear, whispering softly, "I'm scared." I couldn't decide which side of Emmett was speaking, and it killed me.

"Get in line," I breathed, walking swiftly away from him before all of my willpower was gone.

The next week was slow. Emmett slept on the couch every night. Few words were exchanged, but there was a noticeable change in Emmett. It began with Chinese takeout. Our favorite, to be exact. He came in Thursday evening with a big bag of food and a small smile on his face.

"Peace offering?" he said, looking hopeful. "I got bourbon chicken."

I looked at him skeptically, then a smile broke across my face. "And house lo mien?"

"Wouldn't be a proper meal without it."

Emmett and I sat at the table with our food, and soon, we started to talk. Really talk. We laughed over things that happened in class, bitched about work, and just talked like we used to. We couldn't find anything for dessert, so we on an ice cream run and got a quart of vanilla with cookie dough, just like in high school. We ate right out of the carton until we were full, then put it in the freezer for later. It seemed like we weren't running out of things to talk about. We sat on the couch for what seemed like forever, until we were yawning and our eyes were watering, for once not from tears.

"I think it's bed time," I managed through a yawn, then I started laughing.

Emmett smiled, giving a laugh as well. "Maybe so."

I stood up and stretched, yawning again hugely. "Definitely bed time."

"Definitely."

"You know," I said, looking at him. "You can come back."

"I'm good here," he said, smiling at me and giving a slight nod. "Goodnight."

I nodded back. "Night." I went to my room with a slight smile on my face.

As I fell asleep, I found myself happy. It was possible - just possible - that my old Emmett was coming back to me.

The next few weeks were the best I'd had in a while. Emmett and I relearned each other, getting to know one another again. We were slowly going back to normal, and after the second week, Emmett decided to invest in the air mattress he had been talking about. At night, we'd say goodnight, then I'd get in my bed and he would lay on the air mattress, now on the floor next to my bed. It felt like a really weird sleepover, and I loved every minute of it. The weeks turned into a month, and at the end of that month was my birthday. My parents and my brother and sister-in-law took me out to lunch, and I had the evening with Emmett.

I got home late in the afternoon on the day of my birthday, surprised to find that it was dark. Assuming Emmett was just out for a few minutes, I went to my bedroom to rid myself of my bags and shoes. When I went into my closet to change, I found a little handwritten note.

Not just yet.

I chuckled when I saw Emmett's handwriting. He was forever coming up with little games for us to play, and my birthday always held new surprises from him. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

My phone vibrated, alerting me of a text message that led me to the living room for my next note, which was taped to the television.

Close your eyes and count to twenty, then go to the kitchen for your next clue. Count out loud, and if you cheat, you lose the game.

I laughed louder this time. "Emmett, where are you?"

I got no reply.

"Okay!" I called again, then started counting out loud. I made my way to the kitchen door, then swung it open when I said 'twenty'.

A plethora of lit candles assaulted my eyes. This was new… I walked to the table, where sat another note, taped to a skewer in an otherwise empty vase.

Turn around.

That was the strangest of all the notes. I hesitated, putting the note back in the vase and wondering what in the world he could be planning next.

"Turn around." Emmett's voice was low, and right behind me.

I slowly turned around to face him, finding him with a bouquet of bright red roses. I felt my jaw drop, forming my mouth into a perfect 'o'. Breathing was difficult, and speech was impossible.

He walked up to me. "It took me forever to decide, because everything has meanings to it, and I wanted to make it just right."

My eyes traveled from the beautiful roses to his eyes, which were full of sincerity. "What did you want to say?"

He smiled slightly. "You're not getting your way that fast. You haven't even gotten your present yet."

"That's not my present?" I asked, accepting them when he held them out to me.

"No. And you won't be getting it for a while. I want to talk seriously, and I owe you a decent evening after everything lately." He looked slightly guilty. "I got good takeout, because I couldn't find a recipe I could follow well for Greek food. I made dessert, though."

I was touched. The fact that he'd gone through the trouble to find my favorite food - something I scarcely ate since my maternal grandmother passed - was a sign that this night was going to go well, for once. Ever since Momma Sophia died, my mother hadn't taken her Greek half so seriously, and as an artistic soul, it disappointed me. "Aw, Em, that's so sweet."

"Let's eat," he said, smiling at me.

Emmett pulled out my chair, then took the roses from my hands and placed them in the vase as I sat down. After pushing my chair back, he went to the oven where he pulled out a dish filled with food. We had dinner like normal - save the only lighting being candles -, talking and joking with one another. Afterwards, we shared homemade baklava for dessert, something I knew wasn't his favorite, but that he knew I could eat like candy.

"Now I want to talk," Emmett said, after clearing the table. He scooted his chair over so it was close to mine, close enough that I could drape my legs over his lap.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, ignoring all of the things flitting through my mind.

He started to absentmindedly run a hand up and down my crossed calves. "About what you said when we had our last fight."

My breath caught in my throat. "Talk."

"You were right about me not being myself," he said, looking intently into my eyes. "I've been fighting to gain control back from what I let myself become. He was an angry idiot that thought he could solve all of our problems by throwing you against the wall and having his way with you. What you said during our last exchange really made an impression on him. Ever since then, I've been really trying to make things right with myself and with you, and I couldn't have done it without you." He paused for a moment, swallowing hard and then speaking again, slower and with determination. "I've been able to think about what I want out of life, lately, and how I feel about things."

"Well," I said softly, meeting his eyes. "What did you come up with?"

Emmett's hand stilled on my knee, and his other went into his pocket, pulling out an envelope. "Well, I definitely know that I'm myself again. Whoever - whatever - was possessing me before is gone, and you'll never have to face him again."

I couldn't help but smile. "That's the best birthday gift I could have asked for."

He handed me the envelope. "You and Rosalie are so different."

"Can I open it?" I asked, ignoring his comment about Rosalie. He gave an encouraging not, then I tore it open, rushing to read the card inside. My eyes flew over the card, then up to him. "Winnie the Pooh? I never told you that I loved this… It seemed too childish or unimportant."

"When we were in the hospital, you were really heavily medicated. Since you only broke your arm, they let you come into my room to see me, and you saw a balloon Aaron had given me as a joke with Winnie the Pooh on it. You told me how you loved that quote, and then you said it was funny how you were tiny like Piglet and I was big like Pooh." He had a humored smile playing on his lips. "After that, I never forgot the words the little bitty cheerleader with the bright pink cast said to me sitting in that little hospital room, staring at that stupid balloon."

"You remember all of that? You were the one with a brain injury." I searched my memory for that moment, but it wouldn't come to me.

Emmett smiled and nodded, then he took the card from me. "There's a big difference between you and Rosalie that, and when I saw it, it told me know exactly what I need."

I looked expectantly into his eyes. "What is that?"

"I can't live without you," he said, his eyes locked to mine and conveying his every emotion. "This is me, Alice. I'm the same person I've been since we met in that ambulance. Do you know what the roses mean?"

"Yes." And I did. I just didn't know if he did.

"I did my research well, then." Emmett leaned close to me, so his hot breath fanned across my lips. "Red roses mean that I love you, and eleven of them mean that you are the person I love and treasure most in my life."

I studied his face, looking for a single sign that this was a joke or a lie. "Do you mean it?"

He held my gaze as he slipped his hand into his pocket again, pulling out a small box. "This is your birthday present. Close your eyes."

I obeyed, and he removed my legs from his lap, standing up and behind me. I felt an ice cold weight on my collar bone, and he wrapped the chain around my neck, fastening it.

"Look."

When I opened my eyes and looked down own chest, what I saw surprised me. "Your Celtic Trinity pendant? Emmett, that's your most treasured possession."

"Which is exactly why I want you to have it. Yes, I mean what the roses symbolize, and now you have my pendant. My two treasures, together."

I gave a tiny smile. "I'm your treasure?"

He returned my smile, kneeling in the floor next to my chair so that we were eyelevel. "Alice, I'm in love with you, and nothing will ever change that."

For once, it was happy tears that sprung to my eyes. I couldn't find a reason to doubt him, and I knew I would never find one. This was real. This was my Emmett. "I love you, Emmett."

The intense emotion I felt radiating off of him made me dizzy with love and happiness, and soon I was pulled into his arms, in a snug embrace. He pulled back for a moment in order to look at his pendant around my neck. He smiled at the sight, and kissed my forehead.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah, Alice?"

"Kiss me, you idiot," I said desperately.

When his lips descended to mine, I knew that things were finally right. If I'd known kissing my Emmett was so amazing, I'd have done it a long time ago. We kissed for an immeasurable amount of time, pouring every ounce of love we had into it. Our embrace never ended throughout the entire kiss, and when air became a necessity, we stayed in the embrace. Our noses brushed together, and we giggled as we shared an Eskimo kiss that reminded me of our childhood and the childish innocence that was and would be present in our relationship. We shared many more kisses through the night, and everywhere we ventured. The couch, the wall between the living room and my bedroom, the door of my closet before bed. After the events of the night and the new affection we'd experienced, the moment we spent apart to change for bed were almost painful. My heart set off all over again when we reunited, and I loved the feeling.

"I love you, Alice," Emmett murmured, hugging me protectively.

"I love you, too, Emmett," I replied, smiling against his lips as I gave him a light kiss.

He released me to lay in my bed, and then went to the folded air mattress in the corner. I chuckled at him, then gave him a look when he turned around with an eyebrow raised.

"Emmett, stay with me tonight. I don't want to be alone," I said, a smile playing on my lips.

He gave a brilliant smile before coming to lay in my bed with me. He gave me a goodnight kiss before spooning me, my small body molding into the contours of his large one. "Happy birthday, Madame Alexander."

I smiled and tucked myself further into him, feeling his warmth surround my person and relishing the fact that it was all for me.

The next morning, I was awaken by Emmett's hand on my thigh, on the bare skin that wasn't covered by my shorts. He was stroking my skin with his warm hand, and when he realized I was awake, he propped up on his other arm and leaned over to see my face.

"Good morning, Alice," he said, his hand slowing.

I turned my head and smiled softly up him. "Good morning, Emmett."

He pressed his lips against my cheek, then pulled back.

"I could get used to that."

"I love you." His smile was gentle and loving.

I rolled onto my back so I could see his handsome face fully. "I love you, too."

He touched his forehead to mine, looking into my eyes. "Can we stay like this forever?" His voice was a soft whisper.

"I don't know," I said reaching up to touch his face. "Can we?"

He gave a half smile, then traced my neck and collarbone with his fingers. He leaned over and kissed the pendant, then the skin next to it, murmuring, "My two treasures."

I wound my fingers in his hair, making him look at me as I smiled significantly.

"Yes, Alice?" Emmett asked teasingly, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Kiss me, you idiot."

A/N: It would mean so much to me if you would leave a review. I'm already extremely nervous about this story, so if you have encouragement or constructive criticism, please share. If you're going to leave a plain flame, just forget it. Thank you in advance, and I really hope you enjoyed my story.

~Sidney