Written from Bella's POV. This story takes place three years after the final events from Breaking Dawn.
"Well Charlie, I've got good news and bad news," Carlisle announced as he studied the thermometer he'd just taken out of my father's mouth.
"Bad first," Charlie moaned, wincing in pain as he clutched his stomach with his clammy hands.
"The bad news is you've contracted a particularly violent stomach flu. I'm afraid you'll be in bed for a few more days before you feel like yourself again. Unfortunately nothing will help more than rest and fluids. This means plenty of sleep and water or orange juice only." Carlisle delivered the diagnosis gently but deliberately, knowing that without specific instructions Charlie's version of rest and fluids would amount to a few beers on the couch in front of a Mariners game.
"Is there a point in asking for the good news?" Charlie writhed under the wool blanket, sweat beads forming along his hairline.
"The good news is that you're going to be back to normal in just a few days," I chimed in from my bedside chair. "Thank goodness it's just a stomach flu – you really scared me, Dad!"
Earlier that morning, Alice had burst into my living room rambling about a vision she'd had of Charlie, collapsed on his kitchen floor. If it hadn't been for Edward's levelheaded suggestion that I use a car to get to Charlie in order to keep a lower profile, I would have dashed out the door that second and sprinted the distance from our cottage in the woods.
Despite the fact that Edward's Volvo was significantly slower than I could have run, I still managed to pull into Charlie's driveway just a few minutes after Alice's terrifying premonition, and exploded into the house to find Charlie lying in the fetal position on the kitchen linoleum. He was both shivering and sweating buckets simultaneously, and his teeth chattered as I helped him to his knees. He had opened his mouth to speak, but instead vomited down the front of his sweatshirt and into his lap. I resisted the urge to scoop him up and carry him straight to Carlisle, and instead opted for calling Carlisle on the phone. Both he and Edward arrived soon after, and had assisted Charlie into bed.
"Just a stomach flu?" Charlie cried. "There's nothing 'just' about this, Bella."
I patted his back, trying to show sensitivity. The truth was that it was hard to relate. Since becoming a vampire just three years earlier, I really couldn't remember what it felt like to be in pain. Not human pain like this, anyway, though I had vague memories of the burning agony of the change. Regardless, at that moment it was difficult to sympathize with Charlie's stomach cramps.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Charlie?" Carlisle asked as he placed the thermometer back into his bag of medical supplies.
"No. Thanks for coming, Doc. You too, Bells. I'm lucky you stopped in when you did." Charlie fought for words through clenched teeth.
"I'm not going anywhere, Dad. I'll see Carlisle out and then I'm here for you, whatever you need."
Downstairs, I thanked Carlisle again for showing up so quickly and hugged him in gratitude. As I pulled away, I caught his gaze and realized his eyes were an extremely dark brown. Almost black.
"Are you ok?" I asked nervously. "Did being around Charlie…bother you?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Carlisle reassured me in a calming whisper, "but it's been a while since I hunted last. Esme and I were just leaving with the others to do so when I received your call. If you're sure Charlie doesn't need any more help, I'll leave now and try to catch up with them."
"Of course," I said quickly, identifying with his thirst.
"I'll go with him and pick up Renesmee," Edward suggested. "Rosalie's got her now, but she won't be able to hunt as effectively with Nessie."
I rolled my eyes, still bitter about how the nickname had managed to stick. But he was right. I was beyond thankful that Renesmee's rapid aging had begun to slow to the point that she now resembled a seven-year-old child instead of the three-year-old she really was; however, I could attest to the fact that it was difficult to feel like a deadly predator on a hunt when there was a smiling, giggling, precious little girl on your flank. Edward and I usually took Renesmee into the woods on our own, unless Jacob was tagging along, which he usually was.
"Thank you," I said as I reached my arms around him, standing on tip toes as I strained to kiss his forehead. He smiled and walked out the door, but not before I noticed that his eyes were even darker than Carlisle's.
Later that evening, after feeding Charlie tomato soup and dry toast in bed, I watched nervously as his head rested back on the pillows I'd stacked behind him. Still feverish and glistening with sweat, he closed his eyes tight as a fresh wave of nausea rolled through him. I placed my right hand on the back of his neck, gently running it up to his temple and across his forehead. He instantly responded to the cool relief of my icy skin, which I hoped he'd chalk up to his own elevated temperature without any further thought.
"You take such good care of me, Bells," he sighed, eyes still closed as he slowly drifted to sleep.
"You've always done the same for me," I replied, though fairly certain he was already out.
I stayed seated on the side of his bed for a while longer, looking at Charlie in a way I never had before. He looked so helpless and innocent. Maybe it was just the fact that he was sick that made him seem so defenseless and in need of my protection, or maybe it was the realization that for the rest of his life, whether he knew it or not, I would be faster, stronger and quicker to respond than he ever would be. As much as he might believe he was still my protector, his safety was my responsibility from now on. I knew this stomach bug would pass shortly, but seeing him so vulnerable was a frightening reminder of his mortality. In that moment, I never wanted to leave his side for the rest of his life.
The moment was interrupted, however, when I heard Edward's Volvo turn off the main drag and onto Charlie's street. Moments later, he was walking through the front door with Renesmee in his arms. She was fast asleep with her head resting on his left shoulder. Her long auburn hair draped down her back and over her arms which hugged around Edward's neck, hands clasped behind his head. He moved effortlessly with her, turning around so that I could see her face as I glided down the stairs to greet them.
"She had a big day," he whispered softly. "Emmett and Jacob tired her out playing hide and seek in the woods all afternoon."
I took a few seconds to marvel over her beautiful little face. Her cheeks were still rosy from the crisp autumn air, and her pink lips were pursed in a secret smile. Her lavender eyelids fluttered for a moment, and she sighed happily.
"Is she dreaming?" I asked, and Edward nodded.
I carefully unclasped her right hand and cupped it against my cheek, hoping to catch a glimpse of what she might be imagining. Sure enough, my mind was clouded by a vision of Emmett scaling a giant fir tree with the speed and agility of a cougar. He swung his legs out over a branch and hung upside down, puffing out his cheeks and making monkey noises. Renesmee clapped and giggled with delight from her seat atop Jacob's shoulders at the base of the tree.
"Looks like she had a great time," I whispered, replacing her hand on Edward's neck and circling around to face him. His dazzling eyes stopped me abruptly. They were kind and smiling - as breath-taking as ever - but dark as night.
"You need to hunt," I said sternly, though I had meant it more as a question.
"No, I'm fine. I want to be here with you," he replied, flashing his crooked smile to convince me of his comfort.
I knew I should argue – insist that he leave that instant and feed, but selfishly, I wanted him to stay. Seeing Charlie so weak had left me feeling anxious and lonely, plagued with the nagging reminder that I would eventually outlive him and lose him completely. I wanted as much of my family around me as I could gather. So I dropped the issue, and we climbed the stairs together to the bed in my old room, where we cuddled together with Renesmee nestled between us, dozing soundly. All night the house was beautifully silent, save for Renesmee's occasional sigh and Charlie's deep and steady breathing from his room across the hall. I remember this night so clearly, partly because I was so overcome with the comfort and peace of having so many loved ones under one roof, but mostly I remember it because it would be the last time our lives would ever feel perfect.