AN: So, here's another story I wrote for the SUPER AWESOME CAUSE, SupportStacie. I highly recommend that you go check it out at supportstacie . com.

As far as I can tell, it's going to have four parts, although I'm really in love with writing it, so it could possibly be five. This is also just my working title, and if you come up with any ideas while you're reading, definitely let me know. Comments are appreciated. I'd love to know what you think!

"Don't you dare die on me!"

Bella didn't move.

"Bella! Isabella Swan, don't you dare die! Wake up! Wake up!"

Still no movement.

It had been four weeks. Twenty eight days. 672 hours. 40,320 minutes. It had been one entire month since Bella's first cliff dive, and her last. One month since she had hit her head just a little too hard, since Jake had gotten there just a little too late. One month since she'd slipped into a coma.

Each ticking second had drilled itself deeper into Jacob's brain. Not just his mind, but his very brain. It had been one entire month, and Bella hadn't moved an inch. Neither had she been alone, though. Not for one single ticking, maddening, haunting second. It was April, and despite several of them still being in school, Jake had arranged for a La Push boy always on patrol. This was partly to protect her machine-enabled body from the ravages of Victoria, but it was mostly for Jacob.

It was for Jacob, whose worry haunted his thoughts during the hours spent on his extended runs during the hours he should have been resting. It was for Jacob, who sat by her side and held her hand and whispered encouragement more continuously and persistently than any of them. It was for Jacob, who couldn't help but blame himself.

Finally, after a month, it had gotten to him.

"Wake up, I said! Did you hear me? I'm sick of this, Bells, get up! Get up!" Charlie started awake at the sound of the shouting, rubbing his face and springing to his feet as a nurse came running in.

"Mr. Black, please, you must be quiet! I can't have screaming like this in my ward! Mr. Swan, do something about him, please!" Charlie nodded and took Jacob by the shoulders. His yells had faded into hoarse sobs, and the nurse turned to go, but shot Charlie with a look that left him no option but to keep Jacob quiet. He nodded as she left.

"Jacob," he began awkwardly as Jacob's dry sobs continued. Charlie wrapped his arms uncomfortably around the big boy for a moment, patting him inconsequently. "Jacob," he began again after no more than ten seconds, "go home."

Jacob shook his head vehemently and unkempt, dirty hair flew in all directions. "No, Charlie. I'm here til six, then Quil. You know that." It was three o'clock.

"Jacob," Charlie said, "go home. I've let you and the boys keep this crazy schedule because strings were able to be pulled, and you just made it seem so damn important." Running a hand over his scruffy face, he admitted, "I'm not ashamed to say it made me feel…well, safer, having you guys here when I couldn't be. But enough's enough. Go home, sleep a solid eight hours—although I'd recommend something more like a solid eighteen—and then you can come back and see her. Quil can still come at six if you want, but you're going home now. I think I'm plenty capable of watching over my own daughter for three hours by myself."

"But Charlie—"

"No 'but Charlie.' Go."

Jacob knew there was no fighting him—not that he would have had the energy to, anyway. Hanging his head in defeat, he walked slowly to the bed and kissed the cool cheek of his Bella. "See you later, honey," he whispered, and flapped a tired hand at Charlie as he left the room. He ran as a wolf once he reached the woods, and had just barely made it home when he began to phase back out of pure exhaustion. He dropped into his bed without ceremony, without a word to his father, and, amazingly, without another thought of Bella.

The hospital was void of werewolves then, for the first time in 40,320 minutes. 672 hours. Twenty eight days.

Edward Cullen was there by morning.