Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I just mess with the characters and twist the plot.

Summary: Edward's fighting for his life. Bella's fighting to get away from the memories of her past. They've known of each other for awhile now. But a summer surrounding Seattle General will have these two strangers questioning themselves and each other. All Human. Cancerward/Nursella.

Warnings: If any of you are sensitive to subjects surrounding cancer, sickness, depression, and death, then I suggest you stop now and turn back. This story is not for the fainthearted. But if this sounds like the type of story you'd read- then hold on and enjoy the ride.

Thanks to my awesome beta, FelicityT for editing this for me.


Now turn away,
'Cause I'm awful just to see
'Cause all my hairs abandoned all my body,
Oh, my agony,
Know that I will never marry,
Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo
But counting down the days to go
It just ain't living
And I just hope you know

That if you say (if you say)
Goodbye today (goodbye today)
I'd ask you to be true (cause I'd ask you to be true)

'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you

-Cancer, My Chemical Romance

~*~*~CHAPTER ONE~*~*~

Edward's POV

July 15th

Beep. . . Beep. . .Beeeepppp. . . .

My hands fisted the scratchy pillow tighter in my grasp. My head was pounding. The urge to puke again was overwhelming- it always was.

"Sweetie?"

My eyes cracked open.

Mom stood in the doorway of the room. A frown lined her face, making her look older than usual. She walked into the room, almost cautiously, as if she were approaching a wild animal that needed to be calmed.

I closed my eyes again, and didn't open them until I felt her hand on my head. Flinching away from her touch, a warning sound automatically left my throat.

"I'm sorry," she said, regret and hurt was evident in her tone. "I just. . . I just want to be able to comfort my boy when he's hurting. I forgot that you didn't want anyone touching your head. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," I rasped, letting her off the hook, because I knew that she would keep on apologizing until I forgave her. "Don't do it again."

"I won't," she whispers sadly. I know my attitude isn't making matters any better. Too bad I didn't give a damn. "How are you feeling?"

That's a pretty stupid question. Mainly because there's no point in really answering. The answer is laying out right there in front of her. I knew what I must look like to other people who stare at me.

A seventeen year old guy. Sickly looking, who's taken on a graying tint to his skin. I smelt like vomit, hospital and medicine. My eyes were probably rolling in the back of my head as we speak. And I knew what was underneath my hat- as did everyone else. I think I took losing my hair the hardest. My sister Alice offered to shave it off for me, but I refused. My hair, to me, was my second greatest feature. My first was my green eyes.

Yeah. I'm a vain person- or at least I was.

My hair came out in clumps and patches, mostly in the shower. When that started, I kept my black hat on at all times. My eyebrows were the first to go, after I started my Chemo a month ago.

A month ago. I sighed. June, the beginning of summer break seemed so long ago. When I was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma- cancer, at the end of May, my life as I knew it was gone. I had planned to go Egypt with my girlfriend, Tanya and her parents for the summer. I had been pumped about the trip. It was an opportunity to get me out of the sleepy, boring town of Forks. But during my physical, the doctors spotted something, which led to the finding of tumor on the lower end of my femur.

The tumor. I named it Bob. It was still on my leg, sitting there, hoping to kill me. The doctor, Aro Volturi, had said were going to try neoadjuvant chemotherapy first, before going into surgery to remove the tumor. I didn't get the point of Chemo first, because what was the point of going through all of that when the tumor was going to be removed anyway? I think the Doc was trying to kill me.

Mom wanted to know if I was hungry.

The mere thought of food has my stomach churning. I feel the need to upchuck, just to get my point across, that no, I'm not hungry, and I don't know if I'll ever be again. "No," I ground out, wondering how she can ask that. She knew I had just finished a round of Chemo. Anything that involved food, for the next five hours was impossible to think about. But I knew how hard this all was on here. Sitting there, watching her youngest son laying in a hospital bed, looking like death.

The door to the right burst open. I was expecting the doctor. I got Alice.

"Hey! Guess what!" I swear her voice was louder than Emmett's at times. Mom chastised her, before standing up, saying she needed to go ask the doctor a few questions.

My fourteen year old sister practically bounced into the room, looking cheerier than normal. Her face fell though when her green eyes landed on me. She was immediately at my side, taking my pale, dry hand in her small warm one. "Hey," her voice was soft, and her expression was apologetic. "You must feel like shit."

I couldn't help crack a small smile, just for her. We blame her sailor's mouth on the fact that she has two older brothers. "You guessed correct. Distract me."

This was our routine. She would come visit me, I'd close my eyes and pretend I'm anywhere but here, stuck in the hard cold hospital bed, and she'd tell all kinds of stories about her day.

"I went to the mall with Vicky and Leah today. We went into Hot Topic and bought a whole bunch of freaking hot goth clothes-"

"So you're goth now?" I interrupted, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. Pink skirt, white tee, and flip-flops.

She rolled her eyes at me, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Her hand squeezed mine, and rubbed some warmth into it. "Well, obviously I'm not goth yet. I'm thinking of starting next week."

"What brought this on?"

"You."

"Me?" Her answer was puzzling. "What'd I do?"

"Well, I decided since you're such in a down mood, I'd be in one too. But well, you know how hard it is for me to stay glum, so I'm making a statement by going goth," she made her answer sound so simple.

I was too tired to fight with her. My eyes were getting heavy. She continued on with her stories.

"Oh, did I tell you, on the way up here I ran into this really cute guy? He's adorable. Blonde hair, sky-blue eyes. I talked to him for a few minutes in the elevator. Apparently he's like allergic to a ton of things. Did you know you can be allergic to chocolate? I don't know how I'd survive! But he is. Allergic to chocolate I mean, and dogs, and lint, and copper- well, he's not too sure about that one yet, that's why he's here at the hospital. I think he might be a slight hypochondriac, or something. But he's still really cute. His name's Jasper. I told him about you and. . ."

Her voice faded away as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When my eyes decided they wanted to reopen I was alone and from the look of the darkness that surrounded the room it was well past midnight. My joints still ached, but at least the nausea had passed- thank God. And now I was starving, more like ravenous. I pressed the call button, hoping some sleep deprived nurse would take pity on my poor broken body and would sneak me some food. I'd take anything, as long as it wasn't pudding, because it didn't bode well with me from a previous experience that I'd rather not get into.

It took a good five minutes for someone to come to my aid. If it had been a real emergency I most likely would have slipped into coma already. There was a brief, soft knock on the door- I wasn't sure why they even bothered because they didn't wait five seconds before coming in.

"Took you long enough," I scowled, and then winced because I had jerked back as the 'nurses' face came into view by the light illuminating from the hallway. "What the hell are you doing here?" The words were out of my mouth before I had time to process what was going on.

Isabella Swan. Bella, my previous lab partner from Bio stood in the doorway, looking at me with a semi frightened expression on her face. "Sorry," she muttered, and skillfully skipped over my previous question. "You called." Her long mahogany hair was twisted up into a messy bun, and a few strands came loose as she shifted from foot to foot.

"Yeah. I rang. But for a nurse. Not you," I nearly growled, but knew it came out hoarse. My throat was dry, and it killed to talk.

She sucked her bottom lip in-between her teeth and sucked on it, looking nervous. "There's no nurses available right now, so they sent me." Her voice was so soft- just as it had been in Mr. Banner's class not two months back- that I could barely hear her reply.

I scoffed at her answer, and subtly tried to pull the flimsy blanket closer to my body, wishing that it would swallow me whole somehow. On the outside I was fuming, furious, annoyed, but on the inside I was scared, embarrassed, and curious. What was she doing here? And what did she think of the Fork's High School's best pitcher lying in a hospital bed looking like he were about to die at any moment. Did it even faze her? "Aren't visiting hours over?"

Now it was her turn to scoff, which was kinda humorous because it was followed by the stink eye, something Bella Swan couldn't quite accomplish. "I'm not here to visit you," she hissed.

I was taken aback by her tone, and the sting of her words. "Then why the hell are you here?" My tone matched hers; unfortunately I wasn't up to taking on her expression. My face hurt, as did everything else.

She came closer to the bed, taking a few light steps into the room. Her arms were folded over her chest, and her brown eyes held determination and something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on. "I'm here because my uncle asked to come and assist who was ever in this room. You interrupted a pretty intense card game actually, so if there's nothing you need, I'd like to get back to it." Her chest was heaving, and I could hear her breathing increase.

If I wasn't so weak and annoyed, I might have thought her getting all worked up was kind of cute. And then I chastised myself, because Bella wasn't cute. She was my quiet, shy, mousy lab partner who had quietly accepted that she were to do the brunt of the work, because I had greater things that needed to be done- like winning the next baseball game with my killer curve ball.

"Why are you here?"

Her question through me off guard, and I immediately froze. "Don't you know?" My voice was stiff and bitter.

"I heard you have cancer," her voice softened again. Pity. She obviously felt sorry for me.

It made me sick. I wanted to puke again. That meant that if she knew, everyone knew. The whole freaking town was aware of my declining health. "Then why did you even ask?" I wanted to sound furious, but my voice and emotions were so screwed up that it practically came out as a broken whisper.

"Because I wanted to hear you confirm it."

What kind of answer was that? "Screw you, Swan. And get the hell out of my room. Go back to your freaking card game, and leave me alone." My eyes were shut tight, and I wanted to murder the heart monitor, because it was it beeping so loud and fast, I knew she could hear it.

She was immediately at my side, not touching me, but hovering close. I could smell her strawberry shampoo- it reminded me of all those times I had sat by her in Bio Class. "Edward, you need to calm down. Breathe, in out, in out. Do it with me, in out, in out. . ."

What the hell?

"I'm fine. My heart rate's just a little high. God, Swan, I'm not gonna pass out on you. You can relax."

She looked a little dazed, and then her eyes met mine. We stared at each other, until her gaze shifted upward, and it was too late.

Too late for me to realize what she was looking at. She was staring at my head. My balding, patched up head that belonged to someone who was well in to their sixties. Now I felt the need to be calmed down. I swallowed the urge to throw up on her.

And then she did something I didn't expect. Her hand reached out and touched my head.

"Stop," a whimper escaped my throat. "Stop."

She snatched her hand back, as if I burned her. "I'm sorr-"

"Get out."

"I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't mean-"

"I said, get the hell out, Swan!"

She didn't need to be told twice. She turned on her heel, and swiftly left the room, shutting the door quietly, but firmly behind her.

And then I was alone again. Me, the heart monitor, and the darkness. My stomach grumbled. I was still starving. I was still lonely, and embarrassed, and ashamed of my appearance. I hoped tomorrow would bring good news. Maybe someone would tell me that I was miraculously cured. I was doubted it. There was no point in hoping anymore.

I learned that a long time ago.

ANN: Review!