Characters: Bella, Charlie and 'Granddad' Swan, Edward Masen/Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, Elizabeth Masen, and Edward Masen Senior (minor) .
**Summary: Bella is a nurse, living in the city of Chicago, Illinois during the year 1918 when the Spanish Influenza is at its most crucial point. Happening upon a young man by the name of Edward Masen, her heart is quickly won over by the fact that something so beautiful shouldn't deserve to die. Facing strange, and prophetic dreams of what really happened to Edward Masen, she struggles with dilemma of whether or not Edward is still alive or if Dr. Carlisle Cullen is telling the truth when he insists that Edward is dead. But fate brings her across another Cold One during one night when she leaves the hospital late, and she is thrown into another world where nothing makes sense, and what she feared most becomes something she desires more than anything.**
Side notes and think to be taken in account:
-Takes place in Chicago of 1918 when the Spanish Influenza dominates the life of Bella Swan (who is sixteen years old).
-This is basically what would happen (in my opinion) if Bella had met Edward while he was still human.
***-Will eventually shift years into the future to present-day.
And finally, the Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Twilight Saga, even the scrumpdiddlyumptios Edward -or for that matter anything that belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
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The sky was but a mere heather gray as dawn officially tumbled slowly across the star filled-sky. I stood staring out of the large window, the kitchen tile cold on my bare feet. I watched the process until about civil dawn when I began to see some of the few pedestrians multiply as they trudged down the sidewalks of Chicago, Illinois. As for me, the fourth week of my first job at the city's hospital started in exactly forty-five minutes.
I greeted my father who was busy adjusting his black tie as he entered the kitchen, drowsiness apparent on his aging face.
"Good morning, Father."
His brown eyes sparkled at me, slightly intrigued with the preparation of his cheese omelet already cooking on the stove. "Morning, Bella. Smells good," he said with some enthusiasm.
I laughed lightly, carefully flipping his omelet on the skillet. His drowsiness had evaporated as fast as a puddle exposed to summer heat! I was easily flattered, and I took that as a compliment to my own personal cooking.
Charlie's eyes ran over my nurse attire, flicking from the cloth nursing cap adjusted neatly upon the low bun on the nape of my neck, fully through the long cloth apron that reached my ankles, and finally to my white stockings and sterile white heels. "Your mother would be proud of you, Bells," he said quietly, almost formally.
I returned my eyes to the omelet, hiding my face as grief crept through my emotions, resting upon my expression and feeding off my helplessness. "I know," I replied quietly. I silently retrieved a fine plate from the cupboard and set it in front of my father, quickly finding him a fork and knife so he could begin eating.
My thoughts subconsciously began to churn and I sadly thought of mother as I scraped away the residual of the omelet from the skillet. It was the year 1918, one of the most excruciating years I had been through. The Spanish Influenza pandemic dominated most of our lives, and it wasn't only three months ago when my mother was diagnosed with it.
We all had heard of its symptoms, my father, mother, grandfather and I, but we were never quite aware that it would hit so close. We had heard the same thing over and over again from the news, from gossip, from the doctor…"Convalescence in survivors is protracted, with fatigue, weakness, and depression frequently lasting for weeks." Oh yes, we knew the story quite well by the time my mother's astonishing fate was submerged in darkness. We were completely helpless, and yet, we were so completely aware….
We bathed in tears for only one week before she was gone from the disease wracked world, leaving behind a ragged corpse. But she was also, for the first time in many weeks, very much in peace. I could paint only too beautiful of a picture of her face so parched from pain and suffering. I was grateful she no longer had to feel pain, but it only took four more weeks to receive more horrible news, and for me to feel much, much more than grief.
My grandfather had fallen into the influenza's bloody fingers shortly after, but with a less serious case, something that had lifted my father and my own fallen hopes severely. From that point in time my grandfather was diagnosed to present, I had been volunteering at the hospital to visit him frequently, and of course to help those who have taken my own family's fate with their condemned family members.
I blinked into reality, holding a polished skillet and a content father who sighed happily. "You never let me down," Charlie kissed my cheek and grabbed his police cap from the hat rack.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I said with a smile as I began to scrub his breakfast plate.
"Do you need a ride to the hospital? I'm heading to the station now," Charlie's grizzly eyebrows raised in my direction. "'Wouldn't want you to walk after all of that work."
I laughed out loud, "No, Father, you'll be late. The hospital isn't very far from the house." Charlie's guilt was always plain on his face, much like the rest of his emotions. I always knew I had inherited from somewhere.
"Alright, Bells. I'll see you this evening. Say hello to Granddad for me."
"I will. Have a good day," I called after him, setting the clean dishes in their appropriate spots. I dried my hands quickly, grabbing the house key and heading out the door in less than a few minutes after our brief conversation.
Charlie's cruiser was already gone by the time I made my way towards the hospital, catching a few eyes of the young men who walked by. Being sixteen wasn't exactly what I thought of as a 'popular commodity'. I just wasn't quite ready to take on the roll as a womanly figure of a husband or children at the very least. I was very simply content with personal status, especially at the moment.
I passed a sign, a crease emitting from in between my eyes as I read it.
Obey the laws
And wear the gauze.
Protect your jaws
From septic paws.
I scowled angrily. "I don't think wearing a mask will reduce the spreading," I whispered harshly to myself as I entered the hospital lobby.
I greeted some of the fellow nurses with a smile and wave, receiving hello's and how are you's politely. Another issue with being sixteen; I was currently the youngest working nurse in the hospital. Many of the women looked down at me for various reasons, especially since I was a virginal youth.
I released the thought, passing them so I could visit my grandfather on the first level. He was currently in the recovery section, his case of influenza so mild he would be able to be released in a week at the latest.
I knocked on his door before entering, seeing his wrinkled and most of all his healthy smiling face clearly in the morning light that poured through his windows. He lay in the cot, reading the November edition of Carry On: A Magazine on the reconstruction of Disabled Soldiers and Sailors, a magazine more popular for the case of men who were interested in WWI.
"Isabella, dear," he cooed softly from his position, reaching out a hand. I took it lovingly, pressing it against my cheek.
"Granddad, it is so good to see you. How are you doing today?" I asked concerned with his condition.
"Good, good," he rasped. My Granddad had been a smoker, and it would have been impossible to tell otherwise if he had not been affected by the flu. "I feel ten years younger," he smiled happily at me, his turtle-like face extremely loving.
The sound of footsteps interrupted my thought process and I turned into the golden eyes of the doctor. "Oh, Dr. Cullen," I breathed, slightly embarrassed that I was caught so far from my morning duties.
He held up one marble-white hand, his face genuine. I stared into his handsome face, bewildered. "I have no complaints against you, Ms. Swan. You are allowed to visit your family members. It's no crime."
Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Unmarried, untouched, off limits- not that I cared. Dr. Cullen was talked about by all the nurses, and I was almost positive that many of the volunteered nurses had a certain interest in him. Most women swooned in his site, though that was very lightly put. However, Dr. Cullen seemed very unresponsive when it came to the nurses, no matter how attractive. He never seemed to express much of an interest in women, but there was one particular interest that always caught me off guard.
I had never met a man who was more into his job than this one. I had heard from the night-shift nurses that he would stay for an entire twenty-four hour shift. That means all day, all night he would be here watching and caring for sick patients. I would always feel a burst of empathy and pity when I gazed into his shadowed eyes, while dark bruised and sleepless bruises always managed to accumulate there after long periods of strenuous activity. None were uncared for in his hospital, and few suffered for long-whether by death or by cure. Dr. Cullen knew it all, was all I could conclude after being around him only thrice during his work.
I gazed into my grandfather's eyes, "I'll see you soon, Granddad. Just rest. We don't want you to relapse." He smiled at me, and I nodded, "Father gives his regards. I love you." I kissed his hand, and turned away, slightly upset. His eyes were so similar to my own and most of all, my mother's.
Carlisle smiled at me, "I would like to speak to you privately when I am finished with your grandfather's daily check up, if you would, Ms. Swan."
"I'm right here. I know you're talking about me," my Granddad mumbled.
I laughed lightly. "Check his hearing while you're at it, doctor. We might have a serious case of deafness." I teased mildly with my granddad.
"Hmph," my grandfather looked back at his magazine, ignoring us.
I exited, leaning against the wall beside my grandfather's door as I waited with more than patience for Dr. Cullen's return. Eight minutes had passed when he appeared, quietly shutting the door behind his handsome form. A small smile lit at his lips when he met my eyes.
"You're grandfather is doing quite well, Ms. Swan," He motioned for me to walk with him. I slowly followed beside him, only a rugged rag doll compared to the perfect porcelain doll that stood as Dr. Cullen. "It won't be long, now, that we will see him out of this hospital and back at home where he belongs," he continued to smile seriously down at me, though his eyes were light-hearted and so very wonderful….
"But that wasn't why I requested your audience, Ms. Swan," Dr. Cullen's smile faded and his eyes hardened ever so slightly. I could just vaguely make out the change in mood. I blinked slowly, registering the expression of his face to the way his mood changed. The thought hit me like a wave of cold water; there was something wrong. Whether or not it involved me was begging to weigh down my heart as if there were a stone imbedded in my left breast. Was there another condition that my grandfather was suffering from without my knowledge?
A sharp wheezing sound caused my thoughts to burst and flutter aimlessly in my head as I thought through everything that could possibly go wrong. The worried look I caught from Dr. Cullen woke me from my cynic thinking, and the wheezing sound that began to sound routinely stopped. I realized that each wheeze came from my parched throat, and that Dr. Cullen's concerned look stemmed from my wheezes.
"Maybe some water, Ms. Swan?" He ventured, looking at my face closely.
I closed my gaping mouth and shook my head with half embarrassment. "No, thank you."
Dr. Cullen's eyes narrowed, but he seemed to take my reply seriously as my eyes begged for the answer.
"Now, before I say what has been bothering me, I would like to hear your opinion," he waited coolly, noting the way my expression remained open and did not change. "Your grandfather will most likely be out shortly, and I was wondering whether or not you were going to remain as a volunteering nurse?"
For some unknown reason, a drop of guilt washed over me, and my mind sputtered for a response. Instead, I stared at him with a blank expression.
The question definitely caught me off guard. My plan was originally for me to leave when my grandfather recovered, and that had maybe already happened. But the more I thought of leaving, the more I struggled with idea of actually leaving and knowing I wouldn't return to care for sick and innocent patients. Something kept dragging me back, something too powerful to overcome and control.
"I-I'm not sure, Dr. Cullen. I didn't think I would be coming back once my grandfather recovered, but believe it or not, I like it here." I winced when his chuckle greeted my ears, and I blushed hiding my face as I stared at my sterile-white heels.
"Was there ever a time you doubted the hospital experience?" Dr. Cullen pressed, seeming to take my accounts seriously. I briefly wondered why. It never seemed my actions or thoughts proved important to the handsome and pale doctor.
"Well, yes," I laughed without humor, my tone dry. "You've seen my reaction to blood-" I shuddered, my words dying as I looked closely at Dr. Cullen's ludicrous expression. "What?"
Dr. Cullen chuckled, a sound much to calm for the scenario. "I understand you're distaste, Ms. Swan. To be truthful, I was hoping you would take my offer, but if your unease will stand in the way then maybe I was wrong."
"Offer? Dr. Cullen, please go on," I shook my head, a burst of light suddenly emitting from my tone.
"I am willing to give you a permanent place here in the hospital. I've watched you work with patients, Ms. Swan. It's something that strikes me by surprise." I looked at him with a mixture of surprise and excitement.
"Here? In the hospital?" I whispered half to myself, and Dr. Cullen nodded.
"You're work is quite unerring, to the slightest degree at the least. You bring joy to the patients, I've seen it myself. But as equally as important, the hospital needs as many free hands as possible. The influenza is far from over, I'm afraid," his words echoed in my mind darkly. "However," his voice rang clearly and beautifully, his tone changed to one that was much brighter, "do not feel obliged, Ms. Swan."
I blinked slowly at him, my head slowly nodding as I took his question seriously. "I shall ever wonder what I would think if I decided to leave the option with another. I also believe part of me belongs here. Dr. Cullen, I think I would be very happy with a job here. I accept the offer."
A small smile turned at the corners of the handsome doctor's lips, an angelic reflection of my own smile. "I am glad to hear," he declared, nodding his head in my direction, his face growing serious "Unfortunately, some other patients have been recruited into the hospital. Two out of the three suffer from sever cases of the influenza, and according to Nurse Borrow they are not doing very well."
I grimaced. The world was falling into darker and darker hands, something that was very hard to stomach. Dr. Cullen must have noticed my uneasiness, and he frowned in sympathy.
"I may need some assistance, if you wouldn't mind, Ms. Swan." I nodded, slowly following the doctor with a look of renown somberness. He turned to me as we continued to pace across the tile quickly. "Tell me, Ms. Swan, are you familiar with the Masen's?"
The Masen's… the surname struck an unknown cord in the back of my mind. I took a small breath, realizing I was suddenly too tired to try and fiddle with my odd mind.
"No, I cannot say that I am," I said simply. I did not admit, however, that the name suddenly made me curious.
Dr. Cullen nodded. "Our newest patients," he spoke softly as we entered the critical wing of the hospital. I nodded, narrowing my eyes straight ahead as we passed an open door with a dying boy whose soft cries of suffering were tended to by a nurse. I shuttered, closing my eyes briefly.
The critical wing was where death smelled strongest. It was where people lay dying for weeks, and if not weeks they lay there dead within hours. It was also where the smell of blood filled the rooms as the patients spewed blood from their pale noses and cold lips. I usually avoided this area because of the blood, and stayed with patients who were mostly recovered. I was born with the unjust gift of fainting at the sight of blood; few did not let me forget it.
Dr. Cullen led me to a door, stopping as he set his hand on the handle. He looked at me with his golden eyes, a frown the only flaw on his perfect face that was as pale as the light cast from the moon in a diamond-littered sky. "Do not be alarmed," he warned. He opened the door and I peered over his shoulder to get a glimpse of these Masens.
The scene that mat my view caused my breath to catch and my pulse to falter uneasily. A middle-aged man with sickly-pale skin was lying with silent lungs, and blood-red lips. I wondered if he was breathing until a quick and labored breath made his chest rise faintly. His cheeks were slightly swollen and evidence of a nose bleed was apparent despite the fact that it had already attended to before. His mouth lay ajar, a tongue coated with thick saliva hidden behind straight teeth. I noticed how he rarely stirred; not a sound came from his coated throat.
Beside this dying man who was most likely Mr. Masen was a woman who must have been his wife. Though she was also the color of a pathogen's work, her breathing was stronger, the sign of sickness there, but not so severe. At that moment, she coughed twice, a feeble sound that could make the most pig-headed of men collapse to his knees in shame and sorrow. Sweat beaded at her upper lip and around her hairline, the signs of fever already setting in. I winced inwardly as I gazed upon their mangled forms.
A sound to the right caught me off guard and I realized there was another present in the room. I suddenly remembered Dr. Cullen's remark about three new patients. I slowly turned to look at the cot, my eyes meeting yet another pale member of the influenza. But this time I saw an angel, an angel standing before the gates of death.
"Edward Masen Sr. and his wife Elizabeth Masen," Dr. Cullen read from a yellow paper that he had retrieved off a folder on one of the metal tables. I glanced at Dr. Cullen for less than a second before I squinted in pain as I watched the face of the boy. "And their son, Edward Masen Jr."
With the sound of his feeble breathing in my ear, I watched Edward Masen Junior with a horrible realization. My mouth unhinged itself slightly and specks of black began to block my vision. For a moment I watched the ceiling grow far and the tile close. I had almost nearly collapsed if it had not been for the strong and stable arm of Dr. Cullen that secured me. One thought echoed in my mind as I struggled to stand:
Nothing so beautiful deserved to die.
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