Warning: slash/yaoi/shonen-ai/whatever the hell you wish to call it, if you squint. But, not too much. One-sided Carlisle/Edward.
Edward POV:
Surprisingly, my first thought wasn't "I am going to die," Rather, it was, "I've let him down." When I realized that I was going to die, that was all that went through my head.
It was the bridge from adrenaline to disappointment, paved in blood and bullets.
That's all I can think now. I am going to die, so I've let him down. Over and over, bombs and machine guns make lovely music in the background. A chorus of dying men's screams chime in. My slowing heartbeat keeps the tempo, all to the beat of, "I've let him down, I've let him down, I'm going to die, I let him down…"
My name is Edward Masen Jr. I am eighteen years old. My arm is full of bullets, and my feet are near rotting. My gun is beside me. I'm going to die. I've let him down. He wanted me to live. He worked so hard to make me live. He focused so much on me that my parents died. Those dark shadows must be permanent under his eyes. He wanted me to live. I should live. I would live. But, I can't. I don't know if I really want to anymore. How can this be living? Rotting in a trench. Better than burning in a hospital bed, I guess. Even so, anything would be better than this. That's just what they wanted for me. What she wanted for me.
Mother.
I can finally see now how scared she was for me. I never paid attention. Mom never got scared. She was so brave. "Scared" didn't apply to her.
So I just blew off all those terrified glances she gave me every time we heard news about the war. Oh God, I feel so sick. It's not because of bullets in my gut.
I've wasted his efforts. Wasted the lives of the countless others he could've saved when he was helping me. Wasted all the chances I had to live a life in which Mom could look down from the clouds, smile and whisper "Good luck" like she always used too. All of it wasted like how my feet are wasting away right now. I know Mom's looking down right now. I know she's trying not to cry. I know Dad's trying to pull her away from her little perch on a big, fluffy cloud. I know she's shake him off. I know she'll want to grab at me when I finally float on up to her.
Sorry, Mom. Right now, I just don't know where I'm going.
I am Edward Masen. I think I'm eighteen years old now. My arm hurts like hell. I can't feel me feet. These damn machine guns are making me deaf. I'm going to die. I let him down. I've been trying not to think about him, but, what the hell? I'm going to die. I let him down. Why not think about him, too? I've already pictured Mom and Dad and thought about how much they were right. Why not think about…
I'm searching for his name. My head's foggy, so it'll take a while. I should remember his name. I can almost picture his face. He had blonde hair. It looked like sunlight. And his eyes looked like gold in that hospital room. I must have been so delirious. People can't have gold eyes. I must really be going now, because I can't picture him with any other eyes other than that of a sunrise.
My heartbeat's getting slower. It's getting tired. It was trying to escape from its cage. My bones finally wore it down. That's what I was, a short while ago. I was a heart, trying to hold on. The bombs kept coming. The trenched collapsed. A man pointed his gun at me and shot before I understood what he was doing. Some soldier I was. I finally gave up, slowed, trapped forever in that ribcage they called the "enemy".
Everyone's scrambling around me. Everything looks gray. I can't breathe that well anymore. His face I can see better. He's smiling. He's so pale. I wonder if I look that pale right now. Surely enough of my blood has drained for me to look that way. Surely I'm so worn from the battle my eyes have those shadows.
All I'm missing are the eyes. His eyes. Golden eyes. The eyes of the angel who saved me. I want those sunrise eyes. I want to be with him. I want to be like him. I want to save someone. I couldn't save myself. I want to save someone who couldn't save themselves. I used up my second chance. I want to give one to someone else. I want to redeem myself. I'm letting him down. I'll make it up to him. In his eyes, with his eyes, I'll make it up to him.
Everything's whiter now. I can barely hear the battle. I'm breathing easier, but I can't breathe at all. I can see him clearly, but my vision is hazy. The man who saved me is reaching out.
I can feel myself getting up. I have no clue how, the pain is so unbearable. My legs feel useless and dead. I can see myself walking forward. He's smiling. He's talking. I'm running to him.
My heartbeat is getting slower, slower.
I'm walking faster, faster.
It's getting brighter, brighter.
He's smiling wider, wider.
I'm breathing slower, slower.
I am Edward Anthony Masen Jr. I am eighteen years old. I am going to die. Am I letting him down?
Gold eyes shining, or is he crying? Pale lips trembling, he says my name. The angel knows my name. I can feel my own eyes tearing. I can feel my voice shaking. I speak his name. Finally, I remember.
Dr. Cullen, he saved me. He's saving me again. Dr. Cullen. Are you sure I didn't let you down?
Mom, can you see this? Can you see me? He's saving me again. I'm going to be alright. I know it. You don't have to cry. You can smile. You can say, "Good luck." I'll need it.
My heart is fading.
My blood is staining.
He's holding me.
He's whispering.
It's so bright.
I'm so warm.
I don't want to leave.
I can't feel the bullets.
I can't hear the battle.
I can't see the wounds.
I can't taste the toxic air.
I'm free.
In this warm place.
I've got gold eyes.
I'm free.
I didn't let him down.
I was Edward Masen.
I was eighteen years old.
I was dying.
I was saved.
He saved me.
An angel.
My angel.
My golden-eyed angel.
He's with me.
My last breath escapes.
One name on my lips.
As he saves me from the abyss.
"Carlisle."