A/N – So, this is my first fanfic. I have been thinking about this story line for a very long time and finally decided to just DO IT. So here I am just going for it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of it's characters. All of that credit goes to Mrs. Meyer. I don't like that kind of attention =]

From Where You Are - Summary: Edward and Bella have both encountered great loss in life. Together, can they overcome their pasts and rise above them?

Chapter One – Before the Worst

"If the clouds don't clear

Then we'll rise above it, we'll rise above it

Heaven's gate is so near

Come walk with me through

Just like we used to, just like we used to

Let's take it back before it all went wrong…"

Before the Worst by The Script

Bella POV

A doorknob turning. The old front door slowly screeching open. One heavy foot stepping inside. This could only mean one thing…

"EMMETT!" I shrieked as I sprinted down the hall from the kitchen in hopes of seeing my guy. It had been too long since I had last seen this man. My man.

It was then that I saw him. He was wearing his old dark, blue jeans and light blue polo, complete with his usual worn, white Converse. He was toweringly tall, his muscular arms easily holding the weight of his stuffed luggage, and his curly, dark hair was disheveled from the windy day outside.

I couldn't wait any longer for my hug. Once I had finally closed the gap between us, I jumped onto him, refusing to let go. I could feel him chuckle, his chest rising and lowering underneath mine, his laugh echoing in my ear. I nuzzled my face into his neck impossibly more in hopes of drowning myself in his comforting scent as he finally dropped his luggage and wrapped his iron arms around my waist.

"I missed you, too," he joked as he easily pried my legs and arms from around his body, lowering me to the ground.

"Hey, no judging, sir! It's not everyday I get to see my big brother. Maybe if he called me every once in a while…"

"Now, now, none of that. You know what it's like with work, Bells."

"I know, I know. It's just frustrating sometimes!"

Emmett is in the Marines, meaning we had limited communication. He enlisted straight out of high school against our father Charlie's wishes. Charlie was the Chief of Police here in Forks and had an overprotective heart for his family. Our mom, Renee, supported Emmett's life choices and eventually convinced Charlie to do the same. All Charlie ever wanted was to protect his baby boy, but Emmett was an adult and was capable of deciding his limits. So Emmett signed on and was sent off to training. He wanted to make a difference but in the process have a chance to kick some ass. Typical Emmett. Now, here he was ten years later on leave for two weeks, visiting his favorite person: his baby sister.

Emmett and I had been inseparable growing up. Even though he was three years older than me, Em never looked down on me like his friends would. He took me everywhere, taught me everything, and has always been my best friend. Whenever I had a bad dream, or a fight with our mom, or my boyfriend dumped me, Emmett was always the one there to pick up my broken pieces. He would come into my room late at night to find me buried underneath my quilt on my bed sobbing. He would then scoop me up in his arms and carry me down the hall to his room where he would sit us down on his bed and hold me in a tight hug, letting me get all of my tears out.

I remember one night in particular my mom and I had a terrible misunderstanding over something, I know now, was completely stupid. I had been asked to the senior prom by one of the captains of the football team, James—Emmett was the other captain as a junior. This guy was a total ladies man, the epitome of bad news. I, being the naïve freshmen I was, said yes immediately. My mom, on the other hand, said no immediately. She grounded me and forbade me from seeing him ever again. I cried my eyes out that night. Em came into my room and did his usual scoop Bella up routine until we were situated in his bed: me in his arms, his chin resting on the top of my head, his rubbing my back comfortingly in small, slow circles. He told me our mom was right, and he knew what bad things could happen to me if I went with James. I told Emmett how much I had liked him and how we had been secretly dating for a few weeks. It wasn't until I told Em about after the homecoming game when James had tried to get me to have sex with him that big brother Emmett kicked into gear. That little piece of information did not please him. At. All. I was worried James would hate me forever for telling him, but Emmett reassured me I wouldn't have to worry about that. He was going to talk to James the next day and tell him I couldn't go to the dance. I knew Emmett would take care of me always so I agreed that would be best.

The next day I saw James walking out of the boy's locker room on my way to biology and he had a black eye and his bottom lip was split with a little blood gathering around the open wound. Our eyes met for a split second and his eyes were full of anger and fear. James then joined the rest of the flow of the hallway traffic and headed off somewhere. It was then that I saw Emmett walk out just a few steps behind him. His knuckles were beat up and he had a gleam of sweat on the top of his forehead along with bright red cheeks. His appearance spoke a thousand words to me. He stopped dead in his tracks once he saw me. I think he thought I was mad at him, or that I was never going to forgive him. Instead, all I seemed capable of doing was running to him and giving him a huge hug. I knew what kind of dangerous person James was. Emmett was just protecting me from him. Emmett was and still is my guardian angel. I don't know what I would do without him.

"Bella? Hello?" he asked as he waved his hand in front of my face, bringing me back to the present.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about… never mind."

"So how has my baby sister been? How is the dance career going?"

Oh that question will never get old. I've only had to live with family and friends hammering me with it since, well, forever. I started taking ballet classes when I was four years old. I have done nothing but eat, sleep and dance since I was three. My parents always encouraged me but weren't the most supportive when they found out I wanted to go professional. They let Emmett go shoot off guns in a foreign country but they won't let me even try to do what I want. Emmett on the other hand has always told me to do what my heart feels. So since my heart wants to dance professionally, I recently decided to start auditioning for some professional dance companies in the Portland and Seattle areas.

"It's going okay I guess. I auditioned for a company in Seattle a week or two ago, but it's very prestigious so I'm not sure what to think."

"Hm. So, you think you got in?"

"Well my audition went great as you would expect from someone who has been living and breathing ballet all their life, but I don't want to get my hopes up and then have my feedback come back negatively, you know?"

"Since when are you superstitious?" he asked as he eyed me down suspiciously while crossing his arms in front of his torso. I hated the power stance.

"Ever since I decided I wanted to be a professional ballet dancer. I'm not as young as all the other girls, Em. Dancers have a short-lived career and in the dance world, I'm old. I'll be lucky if they accept me."

"Well if I'm already back overseas before you find out anything, send me a letter so I can tell you, 'I told you so', when you get your acceptance letter."

"Sure, sure. Speaking of letters, did you get my last letter? I sent it just a few weeks ago…" I hinted. I couldn't stand it anymore. I'm a horrible secret keeper and this surprise I was keeping was killing me! I had written to him three weeks ago about it and now that he's here I can't hold it in any longer! I guess the cat is out of the bag.

"Psh. For sure! You said you had a 'HUGE' surprise. I want it. Now." he demanded. I guess Emmett wasn't too keen on waiting for his surprise. This impatient bastard is going to have to be a little sweeter if he will be receiving this gift. He just didn't know that part of it yet. All the more fun I get to have I suppose.

"Ho, ho. I don't think so. I didn't even hear the magic word…"

"Seriously? Come on, sis, I'm not going to say any of your little 'magic words' until I know just how good this surprise of all surprises really is."

"Hmm. In that case, I don't know if you deserve it…"

"Oh, come on. You can't do this. Come on… don't make me beg. Tell me?" he questioned, as he began batting his dark lashes at me oh so innocently, his big bottom lip pouting out all while his palms were pressed together as if he were praying. "Tell me?"

"That could be interesting," I teased. His sweet position he had been maintaining changed instantly fierce at that. We stood there staring each other down for what felt like an hour. Both of us were extremely stubborn people, and neither one of us was willing to give up.

"FINE! You win," Em sighed. That's right, I thought, I always win. "Isabella Marie Swan, my little sister, my most favoritest person on the whole planet, will you… PLEASE… tell me what my surprise is?"

"I'll think about it." I said conspiratorially as he began pouting like the three year old he is, "but first, a quick question. Now, refresh my memory, who is the greatest band of all time?"

"Really? Come on. You know this, Bells. We have gone over this a thousand and one times. Nothing can compare to Kings of Leon. How could you possibly forget?... Wait. You didn't…"

"Oh I most certainly did. You. Me. Front row. Kings of Leon. Tonight in Seattle."

"Holy shit! Bells! Oh my… how did you… God, get over here!"

There was really no need to 'get over there' seeing as how I was already there and he was already in the process of spinning me around in circles in the air. He kept chanting, "best surprise ever!" into my ear as I kept giggling. He wasn't lying. It really was the best surprise ever.

"Can I see the tickets?" he asked, as he set me back down on the ground suddenly.

"Oh, I guess." I pulled the tickets out of my back pocket carefully and held them up in the air.

"Careful they could get bent in your pocket! Don't get any fingerprints on them. Wow. They're so beautiful!"

"Wow. You would, Emmett. Now, let's go eat the fantastic meal I cooked you and then hit the road! We have to make it to Seattle before seven!"

Emmett, being the overeager man he is, made us leave two hours earlier than I had planned. So that put us in Seattle around four. We decided to just make a day of it, and headed into one of the malls in downtown Seattle. Em insisted on buying me something special. I insisted on doing the same for him. With that, we decided to get something for each other, but coordinate them. Emmett picked out a simple black leather bracelet for me to wear everyday, claiming it was edgy like him so people wouldn't mess with me. I picked out a Saint Christopher necklace for him. I was always so worried about him over seas; I wanted to give him the necklace so that he would always have a little piece of me there watching over him. Plus, having a Saint Christopher—the Saint that protects and guards us all—around his neck would give him double coverage.

After a quick bite to eat in the mall food court, we were on our way to the concert!

Two hours later at precisely 7:45 p.m. we were standing in front of the stage bouncing up and down, anxiously waiting for our dream concert to start. We kept looking at each other like complete buffoons, but we didn't care. We were going to be witnessing the concert of the year from seven feet away. Nothing could top this night. Nothing.

After two opening acts around nine, our gods of rock graced the stage and began strumming their guitars.

The speakers blasted Em's favorite song My Party, which then gracefully merged into their disgustingly popular song Use Somebody. As we were jumping ferociously and screaming along to the music, Emmett pulled me close to him and he swiftly lifted me up and onto his shoulders as if I weighed five pounds and not one hundred and five. We swayed and jumped to the blaring melodies and when I reached my hand forward the lead man himself, Caleb Followill, grazed my hand with his. I died. Emmett's screams from below me only amplified the moment.

But sadly, it was over in a flash. All too soon our favorite rockers were saying goodbye and telling us how much they love their fans for their support throughout the many years. If I could bottle up their awesomeness, I would have a lethal weapon on my hands. I wanted to relive this night over and over again.

We waltzed back to Emmett's Jeep in the parking garage next to the stadium, singing and screaming our favorite songs from the night, acting like a pack of crazed Justin Beiber fans. Luckily we had much better taste in music than those psycho tweens did. I inwardly shuddered at my awful comparison.

Once we were strapped in, Emmett put in our 'Trip Mix' CD we made a few years back. We had filled it with our favorite songs from all of our favorite artists like Kings of Leon, Paramore, Muse, Three Days Grace, and our hidden favorites Train, The Fray and The Black Keys.

As Only Exception by Paramore began playing through the speakers, Emmett quickly put the car into drive.

We had decided earlier in the day there would be no drinking before, at, or after the concert. We had to drive for three hours afterward and there was no way we would be able to get home safely with alcohol in our systems. I mean we already felt like we were high from the unbelievable night we had just experienced, so why enhance it by injecting alcohol into our systems?

About twenty minutes outside of Seattle, our trip just getting under way, we dove into our favorite topic: love. Well, the way the conversation headed, it was really, our lack of it in our lives. Emmett was always on duty overseas and insisted he never had time for anyone, while I simply wasn't interested in anyone I ever met.

"Bella, you will find someone. You are too beautiful of a person to go to waste," he claimed.

"Well, Em, I could say the same exact thing for you!"

"I'm serious Bella! I am going to find someone for you if it's the last thing I do…" Emmett tried. He has been saying this for years. Never have I gone out on a date with a guy that Emmett approved of. I guess I'll be a lonely, old, crazy cat lady after all. Joy.

"Yeah I'll believe it when I see it, Em."

He reached across the dash and grabbed my left hand up in his massive grip and said, "Bella. I'm your brother! I want you to be happy. When you're happy, I'm happy. It's as simple as that. When the right person comes along, and I approve of him, of course, you'll know it."

"How will I know it Emmett?" I questioned pathetically. When we were together, we were children all over again.

"You'll feel it. Right here." He had just pulled up to a stop sign and was pointing at his heart. I knew he was right. He was always right.

"Okay. I believe you, Em."

"Yeah, you better," he finished lamely as he squeezed my hand in his.

He then turned his attention back to the dark road in front of us. But just as Emmett began pulling forward from the stop sign, we were hit hard from the rear, sending our bodies flying forward, then restrained easily by our secured seatbelts.

"Jesus… Bella, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?"

"I think it'll take a lot more than that to take down this man," he joked. God, Emmett and his shitty timing. Like now was the time to be cracking jokes. "That car literally came out of no where…"

And as if it had been staged or planned days prior, everything began happening very quickly. Too quickly.

I heard a car's horn disturbing the eerie silence in the night, which directed my attention to something illuminating Emmett's panic-stricken face through his side window. We were seconds away from being hit.

Even though everything was happening so quickly and my mind was racing, I seemed capable of taking in all of the details of the situation, storing then into my memory bank, never to be stripped from it again.

I first saw Emmett reaching out to me in a heroic, but sadly pointless attempt at protecting me. There was nothing that could be done. I then noticed exactly what was just seconds from crashing into the side of Emmett's Jeep. It was a small, red, Volkswagen Rabbit, blowing through their stop sign. This car was not slowing down and we had no time to react…

"EMMETT!"

"Oh my God. Bells—," was the last I heard.

It was the last I heard before the unbearable impact.

It was the last I heard before we were flipping and tumbling in every direction.

It was the last I heard before I couldn't feel Emmett's hand in mine anymore.

Edward POV

There is only one word in the human language that can possibly describe hospitals: depressing. Well, it is if you visit the cardio wing of the hospital. This was probably the hardest floor in the hospital to be on. Everywhere you turn you hear people struggling to breathe. You hear family members snoring in their sleep too afraid to go home, just in case. You hear televisions blaring in an attempt to distract the sick patients from their sad reality.

I have been at this hospital for six months now and I have met some extraordinary people. Hell, I've been here day in and day out, so I have become quite familiar with the signs to look for in people. You can tell if someone has been through a surgery and who hasn't by simply stepping in their rooms. The survivors who have gone through multiple surgeries are the ones who have the smiles and the ones whose families smile more too. This is the room that has hope and faith floating in the air. The newbie's, they are a little bit more identifiable. They are the ones who appear to be strong, but when you look them in the eyes, you see pain and fear boiling over. These are the ones whose families are biting their nails, or they are always staring at the patient. They are the ones whose room feels dark. They know everything could go okay, but they keep focusing their attention on the bad side of the surgeries.

It is in this wing that I see why people become doctors. I mean, sure you see your failures. But you see a good case of miracles. There are people who survive for years, waiting for a new heart. Waiting for a new start, a new lease on life. But miracles don't happen everyday…

"Edward?"

It took me a moment to respond, my throat aching from all of the coughing I had been doing, "… yeah?" I rasped back.

"Do you need anything, baby?" my mother, Esme, asked.

I lifted my frail, white hand up, covered in needles and tubes to give her a slight wave to let her know I was okay. I had so little energy left; my hand only came about an inch off my bed. "Nah. I'm… good… for now." I attempted a smile, just to reassure her I was telling the truth this time, which I really was.

She eyed me skeptically until she finally decided she believed me. "Okay, sweetheart," she said with a warm smile that took some time to reach her sad, tired eyes. Her eyes had always been so alive and healthy; so full of life and laughter. Now they look aged and cold, almost on edge. It caused impossibly more pain to build in my chest at the thought that I was the one who drained her of such life. Me. Her only son. "I'm going to go pick up your dad from home and be right back. I shouldn't be gone more than fifteen, twenty minutes. Okay?"

"Take your… time, mom."

"Okay, baby," she said as she gently snatched my left hand up in both of hers. She placed a small kiss on the top of my bony hand. "I love you."

"I love you too… Go get… dad," I instructed her, in between gasps for air.

"I'll be right back. I promise," she said. She then bent down and kissed me gently on my right cheek while she still held tightly to my weak hand in hers. "I better go."

She shuffled about the room gathering her purse and small duffel bag she used to keep an extra pair of clothes in. My mom had been here with me everyday since they put me on the transplant list.

I have been in this hospital for the past six months. Let me rephrase that: I have been in this hospital room for the past six months.

To put it simply, I've had a bad heart for years. I have what they call hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It's a condition passed down genetically through your family that makes the heart muscles thick, making it difficult for blood to flow, and because I am young, the condition is worse. My doctors have performed countless procedures, drugged me up and down with prescriptions, ran every test known to man, all in the hope of giving me more time—but at the ripe age of twenty-three, I find myself fighting for my life because of a failing heart.

I'm dying.

I can't walk up stairs anymore. I can't complete a full sentence without coughing or gasping for some air to fill my empty chest. I have been on constant oxygen and IVs for quite some time, just trying to keep me alive until I am given a second chance.

The doctors say my only hope is to have a transplant. I have to have someone else die just so I can go on. It isn't right. Quite honestly, it disgusts me. Who could possibly live normally knowing they're breathing because someone else died for them. Someone gave them their heart. Ironically, it's heartbreaking. After six months of waiting, I'm still on the list waiting as patiently as I can for someone to drop dead and give me life.

It's a scary thought, death. I'm a single guy, so all I will be leaving behind is my best friend and my mom and dad. My parents got pregnant with me at twenty-one. They married soon after and it's been the three of us living happily ever since.

That is until we learned about my heart condition.

At the time, I was thankful. I was in high school and I couldn't even make it through the day without feeling dizzy frequently and sometimes even blacking out. My father, Carlisle, is a neurologist and prolonged a visit to the doctor to find out what exactly was wrong. He thought I was just making excuses because I didn't want to go to school. I am a crafty guy, but even back then I wasn't that great at lying. Needless to say, he was horrified when we got the news. He felt responsible because his father died when he was twenty-five from it, and since it was a hereditary disease, he blamed himself. Dad was guilt-stricken for months, all the while I started taking lots of pills; my doctors were hopeful things wouldn't take a turn for the worst for a long while.

That didn't last long.

My senior year in high school I collapsed walking down the hallway to my next class. I just blacked out. I hadn't told anyone about my condition; I was so worried everyone would think I was weak and vulnerable. When I collapsed, I was in and out of awareness. I remember my best friend, Jasper, walking beside me, and then he was suddenly hovering over me yelling at people to get a teacher. There was an ambulance. Paramedics. Then my parents racing towards me on my gurney rolling through the hospital telling me that everything was going to be okay. I woke up in a hospital bed with my parents sleeping on the couch, my mom in my dad's arms. They woke up almost instantly, as if they could sense I had awakened. My mom was crying, trying to convey to me how much I had scared her and how much she loved me. My dad was rubbing her back lovingly in a futile attempt at calming her down. After my doctor had swiftly entered the room, I was then told I had barely escaped death the night before. This brought around another round of tears from my hysterical mother. He told me I wasn't reacting to the medications, as I should have been. According to him I was headed down a fast paced road towards heart failure and eventually I would need a new heart.

Hence Edward hospitalized for six months.

It was then that I heard my cell phone ringing and vibrating some cheesy-ass country song on the table next to my bed. There is only one person in the entire world who would choose THIS as their ringtone. I struggled reaching for the phone two inches away from my bed, but within a few tries I was answering the phone.

"Jazz… what's with the… ringtone?"

"Oh Eduardo, you know you love it. Now you'll know when to ignore my calls, like you always do asshole, since they'll be so identifiable," he teased. I loved the fact that Jasper knew not to treat me like a porcelain doll. He treated me the same way we always had growing up. He didn't sugarcoat anything. He spoke the truth. Always.

"So… to what do… I owe… the pleasure?"

"Eh. I just wanted to check in on you. It sounds like you're breathing is worse."

"Yeah..." I sighed painfully.

"I'm sorry, man."

"It's not… your fault."

"Whatever. So do you want me to stop by today? I'm off work here in twenty minutes or so."

"It's like… eleven at night. Go home… I'll see you… tomorrow."

"You sure?" he questioned obviously worried by the fact that I couldn't even say more than two words without a jagged breath.

"Yeah… hundred… percent."

After a heavy sigh and a few moments of contemplative silence he caved. "Fine. Well, I just wanted to see if I should stop by. I have to go lock up the museum so I've got to go, but I'll come see you tomorrow."

"Sounds good…"

"I love ya, man. Keep strong, bro."

"I'm doing… my best."

"Say hi to the parentals for me."

"Kay… Bye, Jazz."

"Adios."

I brought the phone down from my ear slowly. It had been about ten minutes since my mom had left so she should be getting back here soon enough. Whenever I was alone, I seemed to struggle a bit more. I felt like I had nowhere to be, no one to live for when everyone was away. I needed her and dad to get here soon. I needed some other form of entertainment than the television.

I flipped through the channels on the tiny cube on the wall. As expected, nothing good on. I settled for the cooking channel where I found an Emril rerun. A couple minutes into it, a nurse came in to check on the machines and do their usual routine of checking my IVs and heart monitor. Once she left I returned my attention back to Emril, but was quickly interrupted by my dad walking in through the door.

Since my dad Carlisle was always off in another part of the hospital working, we only got to see each other when he could slip in a quick break. When we got the news that my heart was failing a few months back and I needed to stay in the hospital, my dad was offered time off to spend with me. However my father is a giver. He would do absolutely anything for any one of his patients. So tonight, being his night off, he came here to spend with me.

"Hey, dad." My dad's face, already drowning I worry and fear, turned ten shades darker at the sound of my voice. He was obviously unhappy with the way my breathing sounded. Not to mention the fact that I felt like ass. I probably was not the prettiest site to be seen.

"Hi. You, my son, do not look or sound good," he offered. Dad had always been quite the charmer.

"You just get… straight… to the point."

"It's what I do," he smiled.

We spent the next hour just talking about our day, what I had been watching on television lately—all very stimulating topics. When you have been cooped up in a hospital for months on end, your conversations are pretty one sided. My dad always could keep the conversation rolling though.

It was around midnight that my doctor came in. She entered the room with a bright, yet nervous air about her. My doctor, Dr. Angela Weber, was an expert in cardiothoracic surgery, and highly demanded of all across the country. Since I was the son of Carlisle Cullen, I got the very best working on my case.

She greeted my parents warmly and then turned to face me. I was curious as to what was going on. Once her eyes finally met mine, her smile grew exponentially. She had good news.

"I have good news, Edward," she started.

I eyed her down skeptically, not wanting to get my hopes up then have them come crumbling down when it wasn't what I was thinking. "What's that?" I croaked out.

She allowed a few moments of silence before taking a deep breath, then gusting it out and saying, "you got a heart, Edward," she finally offered. Her face was swimming with a mixture of excitement and relief. I had been her patient from the start making us very close. She had been staring at me with a massive smile on her face until she broke the stare to take in all of our confused and shocked faces.

Esme quickly chimed in, "but the waiting list…"

"…Doesn't come into effect if it's a patient in the hospital," Carlisle cut in. "I checked this morning myself, Angela. There weren't any matches. What happened?" my dad inquired.

"While I can't give you all of the details, there was a fatal car accident outside of town. One of the passengers was a match. Edward, we are here to prep you for surgery."

I was in shock. I was just starting to embrace the fact that I was going to die at a young age with this bum heart of mine. I was not prepared for this news. My mind was racing, compensating for my heart that couldn't take such activity. There were rapid images flashing before my eyes: my parents that first day I had collapsed… a crumbled car outside of town that neglected to protect my donor's fragile body… Jazz picking me up off the ground and rushing me to the hospital… my mom and dad squeezing each other's hands as they waited in the waiting room of the hospital for some news on my first surgery… that tragic day in my old high school…

All of these images were racing through my mind, reminding me of everything that had brought me here. But the one image that continuously appeared was that of a young man sitting in the driver's seat of a crumbled up car. I wasn't sure it was a man who had passed away tragically, but there was something inside me telling me it was. It was almost as if I was seeing the entire scene play out. He probably wasn't alone in the car. He had a life, love, happiness, friends—all things that I was lacking; things that I wouldn't miss if I had died before getting a new heart. I don't know if I can do this.

I hadn't realized I had been sitting staring at Dr. Weber. I'm not ready for this…. I kept thinking.

"I know this is all happening very fast, Edward, but I need you to stay strong and positive through this. You got that?"

Huh. I guess I was in some state of shock, not even realizing I had said what I was thinking.

"Edward?"

I looked at my parents, who were holding onto each other next to my bed. My dad was squeezing my hand and staring down at me, eyes full of love. My mother then reached one of her hands down and placed her hand on top of my father's hand. This is why I had to do this. I had to live for my mom. My dad. Jasper. They would die with me if I were to give up on this fight. With one last small but sure squeeze from my dad, I knew what had to be done. "Yeah, yeah… um… let's… do this," I said, attempting to sound as if I was somewhat excited for this news. A healthy young adult just died for me… he is dead and I'm alive… Mom and dad, Edward. You have to live for them…

"Very well. We'll get you prepped and have this surgery get under way as soon as we can."

And with that, she was gone, and everyone began bustling around preparing for my new start. My new heart. My new life. My parents embraced me and kissed me on the cheek, each of them whispering how much they loved me into my ear. I soaked in all of their warmth and love, letting it soak into me. This was what would be waiting for me on the other side. They would always be here for me.

"Come back to me safely, baby," my mom choked out in between tears.

"I'll… always… come back… mom," I promised. Her face lit up at that and she bent down to give me a small kiss.

"Mom. Tell… Jazz."

"Already done, sweetheart." She was always one step ahead of me.

"I… love you…"

My dad was on my left, my mom on my right. Each of them scooped up one of my pale hands then reached across the bed to take the other's hand.

"We know. We love you, too, Edward. You're our everything," my dad spoke confidently.

I was quickly rushed down to the operating room where Angela met me, hands sterilized, face mask on.

"You ready?"

I took a long drag from my oxygen tank before replying, "as I'll ever be…"

"Okay. Edward, I need you to start counting backward from 100," she instructed as a mask was placed over my mouth.

"One hundred… ninety nine… ninety… eight…" I wasn't getting much farther than that. As I started saying 'ninety seven' I could feel the darkness begin to come over me.

It was then I heard Angela at my ear whispering, "If anyone deserves this, it's you. Cherish it, and flourish in it, Edward."

Unable to hold off the darkness anymore, I closed my eyes for the last time.

A/N—I hope you enjoyed it! I should (hopefully) be posting chapter 2 sometime next week!

... HOPEFULLY

Reviews are better than Kings Of Leon suprises!