Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight books (even thought I do own copies), or any of the characters. Those belong to Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so please review and tell me how I'm doing. I used a part out of New Moon for Carlisle's memory, but I changed it a bit to fit the story. Also, in this story, Charlie has absolutely no relation to Bella (you might want to keep that in mind, or else his reaction to the accident will seem really weird). I also made up Dr. Blume; I don't think he's in the real story.

Anyways, enough with my rambling. Enjoy! (I hope)

Forward

Dr. Carlisle Cullen's peaceful and predictable day at the Forks Hospital was suddenly disrupted by one of his colleagues. A very distraught Dr. Blume slammed open Dr. Cullen's office door and rushed in, gulping at the air and clutching his cell phone.

"Carlisle!" he gasped, still trying to catch his breath. "Come quick! Accident. . . Forks. . . car crash. . . need medical help!"

Carlisle was alert at once. "Where?" he asked sharply, immediately springing up from his chair at an inhuman speed.

"Side of road on the 101, South Forks Avenue!" was the breathless reply. Carlisle was out of the room and in his black Mercedes S55 AMG before Dr. Blume had time to blink. He started the engine and floored the gas pedal, heading towards Highway 101. It was fortunate that today was overcast; he didn't want his family's secret to leak out.

In less than five minutes, Carlisle had arrived at the scene of the accident. He rushed out of his car towards the lump of burning metal on the side of the road that had once been a van. Charlie, the police chief of the small city of Forks, Washington, hurried towards him.

"We managed to get the people in the car out," he explained. "But it doesn't look good to me." Carlisle nodded to show that he understood. His gold eyes darkened. It was dangerous to move an injured person at the best of times, but he supposed that a little further injury would be better than burning to death.

Carlisle walked towards his patients as calmly as he could; he knew that the other workers here looked up to him for support. His stomach churned when he looked at the family of three lying in a pool of blood on the pavement. He was lucky that all his years of training had steeled him for the sight of all the blood.

The obvious father, a tall but stocky man, had a large gash on his forehead, several broken limbs, and his neck turned at an unnatural angle. Carlisle knelt down and gently felt for the man's pulse. He found none.

"He is dead," he declared soberly to Charlie. The police chief's eyes darkened. Carlisle reached for the girl next. She was so young; probably just sixteen or seventeen, about the same appearing age as his son. To his relief, the young woman was still alive, but wouldn't be for much longer. Her long brown hair was already soaked with blood, her skin unnaturally pale, almost as light as Carlisle's.

Finally, he turned to the woman. She was unconscious, but alive. He stanched her and the girl's wounds and stabilized their broken limbs as best as he could, then lifted them onto the stretchers. After directing the ambulance to Forks Hospital, he climbed into his one car.

The woman would most likely not survive, with her severe wounds. She would die in hours even with his medical attention. There was nothing he could do for the girl either. She was even worse off than her mother. Unless. . .

Carlisle shook his head fiercely. There is nothing to guarantee that she would like this kind of life better than death, he thought to himself firmly. Besides, according to Edward, it's probably worse. . .

He made his decision as he parked outside the hospital. The girl and the woman had already been put into their rooms, which was where Carlisle was headed right now. He decided to check on the woman first. She was still unconscious.

As he leaned over to check on her broken ribs, he felt a tugging on his sleeve. He immediately looked down to find the woman staring at him with wide green eyes.

"Where's Bella?" she rasped.

"Ma'am," Carlisle replied, gently prying her fingers from his shirt. He noticed that she didn't even flinch at his ice-cold touch. "You should rest. You are not strong enough to be talking."

She glared at him. "Tell me where my daughter is," she demanded, though her voice was weak. Carlisle didn't have the heart to resist her.

"She is in a different room," he answered. The woman closed her eyes.

"It doesn't look good, does it?" she asked quietly. Carlisle sighed.

"I'm not going to lie; she probably won't make it another day." There was a slightly awkward silence as he continued to monitor her heartbeat. Then, unexpectedly, the woman's eyes flew open. They fixed on him with a sharp, piercing green.

"You must save her." Her voice was no longer so weak. "You are different; you can do what others cannot. You must let her live! Give her a chance at survival!"

Carlisle was shocked. This woman knew . . . she knew his secret, and she wanted him to make her daughter one of them? His mind suddenly flashed back a century, to the time his first son, Edward was changed. . .

It was the year 1918, and the Spanish Influenza was ravaging through England. Carlisle was one of the doctors in charge of the victims in the hospital. In the hospital, Carlisle had grown rather attached to one of the patients. . .

"'Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Masen. Her husband, Edward Senior, never regained consciousness in the hospital. He died in the first wave of the influenza. But Elizabeth was alert until almost the very end. . .

'Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son Edward. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. Carlisle expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. When the end came for her, it was very quick. It was just after sunset, and Carlisle had just arrived to relieve the doctors who'd been working all day. That was a hard time to pretend – there was so much work to be done, and he had no need of rest. How he hated to go back to his house, to hide in the dark and pretend to sleep while so many were dying.

'He went to check Elizabeth and her son first. He had grown attached – always a dangerous thing to do considering the fragile nature of humans. He could see at once that she'd taken a bad turn. The fever was raging out of control, and her body was too weak to fight anymore.

'She didn't look weak, though, when she glared up at him from her cot.

'"Save him!" she commanded Carlisle in the hoarse voice that was all her throat could manage.

'"I'll do everything in my power," he promised her, taking her had. The fever was so high, she probably couldn't even tell how unnaturally cold his felt. Everything felt cold to her skin.

'"You must," she insisted, clutching at his hand with enough strength that he wondered if she wouldn't pull through the crisis after all. Her eyes were hard, like stones, like emeralds. "You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward. . ."'" (page 39-40, New Moon)

They had the same knowing green eyes and smooth tone, and they both had asked him to save their children. But could he do it?

The woman saw his hesitation. "Please. . ." she was begging now, her voice once again soft and feeble, as if each word hurt her bleeding throat, which it probably did. "Please, doctor. She is only seventeen! She still has so much in front of her . . . so much. . ." She looked like she was fighting the urge to close her eyes. She was fading, fast. "Promise me. . ."

Those brilliant green eyes made up his mind. "Alright," he agreed. "I promise."

The woman smiled and closed her emerald eyes. "Thank you." Carlisle could barely make out the quiet words, even with his enhanced hearing. Her breaths turned pained and raspy, then suddenly stopped. Shocked, Carlisle listened for her heartbeat. He found none.

Carlisle got over his shock quickly. He had promised the woman, and he was going to keep true to that vow. He raced as fast as he could out of her room and into the girl's. He knew he had to be fast if he wanted the girl to survive without the respirator. Thankfully, to the other doctors and the security cameras, he would only be a barely distinguishable white blur. He unhooked the girl from the machines, turned to the room door to leave, and ran right into Dr. Blume.

"C-Carlisle?" Dr. Blume stuttered. "Where are you taking the girl?" Carlisle thought fast.

"She is dead," he answered, hoping that his status would keep his colleague from questioning his opinion. "Before her mother died, she wanted me to bury her daughter in a special place. I'm going now." Thankfully, Dr. Blume believed him.

"So, the woman is dead?" he asked soberly. Carlisle nodded, impatient to go on with his promise. Dr. Blume nodded slowly and backed away to let Dr. Cullen through the door. "I won't bother you then," he said, walking away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Carlisle raced as fast as he could while still passing for a human out of the hospital. His car would be too slow; he would run. He turned towards to forest at the side of the road. Once in the cover of the trees, he began to run full out.

After making sure there were no humans around, Carlisle bowed his head to check on the girl. To his relief, she was still alive, but barely. Carefully, he leaned his head down and sank his teeth into the girl's neck.

Edward, tell Esme to get a room ready. We have a . . . guest, he thought, knowing his adopted son would hear him. He kept his teeth in the girl's neck as he let his venom take over.

That's the forward! I'm probably going to update reeeeeeeal slow; I'm a slow writer. I'll try to get chapter one up by Friday, latest.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed what I have so far!

-Scribbles