Work Text:
The first thought that Rose has upon waking up in agonizing pain and in a pool of her own blood is that somehow she’s willed this to happen. Maybe Shirley has instead—manifested this with each methodical tap of her typewriter’s keys—but that doesn’t make a difference in her mind. They have become too entwined for her to tell, and it doesn’t matter in the end anyway, as the end result will be the same. Her first instinct is to call for Shirley, despite her husband sleeping soundly at her side. Even now, as she writhes in agony, she is afraid to disappoint him. Yet, Fred wakes in a panic and, trusting Shirley’s wisdom over his own, retrieves her.
Shirley guides Rose to the bathroom. Her thoughts mirror Rose’s: Did she will this into existence, or did Rose? It did not matter. Either way, the result is the same. Rose leans against her as they wait for the waves of pain to subside. Shirley thinks of Paula, and now Rose and Paula are truly one person in her mind. She mourns the loss of Rose, just as Rose mourns the loss of her child. This isn’t the transformation Shirley had envisioned for Rose; she had hoped Rose would outgrow Paula’s red coat once she had what she needed from her.
Rose thinks of everything leading to this moment, every step she should’ve taken in another direction. She wishes she would’ve stepped away from Fred the most. Maybe he’ll leave her after this, disgusted by her inability to give him a family. Maybe he would’ve left her anyway. She figures that it doesn’t matter in the end; the result is always the same.