A/N: Okay, I know I should probably be working on my other stories, but inspiration struck and I couldn't help myself. Please read, I hope you like it.
The bronze haired boy walked down the deserted streets. Piercing green eyes examining everything in his path. An eerie silence blanketed the empty street, the air thick with the smell of death.
"And no matter what, do not leave this house. Do you understand, Edward?"
"Yes, father."
"Good. Take care of your mother for me."
"I will." With that, his father disappeared through the front door, the sound of the door closing echoing behind him.
He was disobeying his father, he was quite aware of this, but some things needed to be done.
Glancing to his right, he eyed the barren courtyard of his school, no longer in session. This was fine with him; he never really did like being there. It wasn't the work that he shied away from, that was simple; most was review for him anyway. No, it was the people his disliked so. Always trying to goat him, make his short temper flare. Nobody understood him. Except his mother. 'Which is why I'm disobeying Father in the first place.' He thought.
At long last, a large building loomed on the horizon. It had been the museum, but once the influenza hit, had been transformed into a hospital. A pitiful one, but a hospital nonetheless.
He entered the lobby and was met at once with the burning smell of antiseptics and a strange odor that he couldn't quite make out. A nurse that was rushing by seemed to take notice of him.
"Can I assist you?" She asked politely, but her eyes told him that she really didn't have the time.
"My mother. She's sick." He said bluntly. The nurse sighed and nodded.
"You will have to bring her here, we can't spare anyone to retrieve her. Doctors and nurses are scarce these days, more and more are dying from caring for the infected. Never in my days would I guess I would see such a tragedy." She shook her head, momentarily mourning for all of those who were less fortunate.
"Yes, a pity." He said, quickly dismissing the topic as his patience began to wear thin. "My mother though, I am only seventeen, what am I to do?" He asked, finally voicing the question that had been nagging at him ever since his mother became ill.
"I am deeply sorry, sir, but I cannot help with your dilemma. My previous statement still stands, we cannot spare anyone."
"So I am to sit by and watch as she withers before my eyes?" He asked, an edge to his voice, his frustration finally letting loose.
"I cannot help you, sir. You will have to work something out on your own." She dismissed, walking away from the boy to return to her previous activities. He gave a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his tousled locks, before turning to exit the establishment.
For the second time that day, the boy entered the "hospital".
"Not another." A nurse said, stopping in front of the adolescent, a limp woman in his arms.
The resemblance between the two was impeccable. The strange colored hair, the eyes as green as emeralds was visible as the woman opened her eyes. She abruptly went into a severe coughing fit and began to cough up blood. Her face had a sickly blue tinge to it, and she looked worn. Her son looked at the nurse desperately.
"Please, help her." He begged the woman before him. She sighed tiredly and called a doctor from a nearby cot.
"Please, help her." He said desperately to the doctor.
"We'll do everything we can, son." The medic replied, taking the woman from the boy's arms. He watched helplessly for a moment, before breaking into his own coughing spasm.
"Sir, you should lie down." He would have argued but he felt the heavy pull of fatigue take away his argument. He nodded and the nurse led him to a cot beside his mother. Within the next few hours, the influenza had fully invaded his body. A high fever was whisking him in and out of consciousness and he was gaining a bluish tint to his skin.
He felt a cool hand on his forehead during one of his black periods, but all delusions felt real here, in this state of which his grip on reality was loosened greatly. The stubborn boy refused to believe in anything.
Another few hours passed, seeming like eternity to the bronze hair boy with the emerald eyes. He could faintly hear voices, and quickly grasped a chance to bring himself to awareness.
"Save him." He could hear his mother demand. That was her, always looking out for others, completely selfless.
"I'll do everything in my power." He heard a smooth voice promise.
"You must." He heard her say sternly. "You must do everything in your," The boy heard the emphasis on 'your'. What was so special about this physician he wondered. He knew his mother had always been good at reading people, something she had passed on to him, also. "power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward." He heard his mother, Elizabeth, order. What did she know that no one else knew?
An hour later, the teenager could feel his mother's presence leave. He was sure that his mother was gone forever, his father most likely gone, probably another fatality of the epidemic. Life suddenly seemed so barren. No one to care, no one to love him. If he did make it through this living hell, what would he do? He was merely seventeen, too young to start an occupation. Sure, his father had prepared him some to take on the family business, but had planned Edward to be older, and thinking he, himself would be there to guide him. Once again, he felt completely helpless, a completely alien feeling to him.
The hand was back. The hard, cooling sensation there, less noticeable, but there, on his forehead. He felt his cot be set in motion, into the sticky summer air of Chicago, then into a place, that even under the spell of the fever, he could smell the taint of death.
Strong arms lifted him up and he felt wind ruffle his hair. With the numb, comatose state gone though, the adolescent was now completely aware of his own frailty, and this bothered him to no end. These thoughts were interrupted though, as a fire far worse than the fever seized him, and he thrashed in the pressure of the burning.
Dr. Carlisle Cullen watched on with sad eyes as the boy silently took the pain. Had he done the right thing? He hoped so.
A/N: What did you think? I played around with the ending a bit, but I like this one. Please review and tell me what you thought. If you want me to continue, just tell me. I have a few ideas.