"No – no – Forks! I have to get back to Forks!" I sat bolt upright, breathing heavily. Edward! A young woman with plain brown hair and blue eyes gave me a speculative look.
"Well I certainly wasn't expecting that to work," she said grumpily, pulling out a tatty notebook and taking a large feather in hand. She dipped it in a small, green glass bottle, filled with a mysterious inky substance.
"What is that mysterious inky substance?" I asked, trying to keep panic from showing in my voice. Where ever I was, and who ever this strange woman was, I didn't want them getting the advantage of me. If only Edward – my chest tightened, the hole widening, and I remembered Edward wouldn't ever be coming back for me again.
The woman gave me a pitiful look. "It's ink," she said kindly.
Now to get down to business. "Where am I?" I asked, "How did I get here?" I looked around, taking in my surroundings. I was in a hospital of some kind. My spirits rose – maybe Carlisle would be here? That would mean Edward! People were wandering in and out, and a smiling, blonde haired man with large blue eyes waved excitedly to me. A mournful looking, large, bright red bird was perched on the end of my bed and I shied back. Birds scared me a little.
She sighed. "You're in St. Mungo's, Mrs Longbottom, we've been waiting for you to wake up for a long time," sympathy filled her eyes and she stood, flipping the notebook shut and walking away from me. Another woman – another nurse I presumed – stopped her and said something, gesticulating at me. She nodded and kept going, the other nurse walking over to my bed, apparently satisfied. She pulled a roll of papery stuff off of the end of my bed, giving the bird a stroke and a sad smile. It gave a mournful cry and spread it's wings, waking off and flying out the door. The nurse watched it go, the smile spreading, though still heavyhearted.
The first nurse reappeared, a scarred young man walking nervously next to her. He was dark-haired, and retained some vestiges of what might have once been chubbiness. He gave me a bright, hopeful smile as he sat down and reached out to take one of my hands.
One of my old, wrinkly, scarred hands.
I shifted, desperately looking down at myself. It was my worst nightmare. I was old. I was ancient. I was WRINKLED. I had to stop myself from screaming. The man's smile turned into a distressed look, and he turned, panicky, to the nurse, who pulled a long stick out of the sleeve of her dress thing and waved it at me, muttering nonsense.
Great. Not only had my worst nightmare come true, but I was surrounded by nutcases who wouldn't understand.
For some reason my body became lethargic, though my mind still panicked and raced. "Who are you? What have you done to me?" I sobbed.
The nurse and the man exchanged significant looks. "Just tell me who you are!" I demanded.
"I'm Healer Quinn, Alice," the nurse said patiently. "Do you remember me? I've been your primary for the last eight months now."
"I'm Neville, Mum," the man said softly.
I stared at them in amazement. I'd been called three names in my time so far – and not one of them had been my own. And 'Mum' – he looked older than me!
Well, me normally.
"I never seen you before in my life!" I shrieked, starting to struggle again.
The nurse – the 'Healer' – pulled out the stick again and waved it once more. I calmed again, this time sinking back down, still conscious, just, but unable to move.
Quinn began to address Neville. "It's amazing that she's come this far – God only knows how amazed I was when she began to speak – but to regain full awareness like this," she hesitated, "Well," she said lamely, "As you can see there are still… lingering effects."
Neville nodded, still downcast. "What can you tell me about her condition?" he asked evenly, as if holding back tears.
Healer Quinn took a deep breath. "From what she's been saying, she's been using her own memories, projecting them onto the people in her fantasy life. We've only been aware of it since the Phoenix-"
"Fawkes," Neville said.
Quinn nodded. "Yes, it's astounding that he even returned after the death of his companion, Phoenixes don't often come back, but there are recorded occurrences-"
Neville cleared his throat, and the beginning gleam in Quinn's eyes died down a little. "Anyway," she said, a little embarrassed. "I think she recognised him – he created her surroundings, conveniently real places in the Americas, Phoenix and Forks, USA. She effectively reverted to youth, idealising herself and making her perfect, wanted, loved," her tone was slightly pitiful, and Neville nodded sadly. "She projected Frank, onto a young man, an immortal, strong, flawless, protective, undying young man, what we believe she wanted Frank to be – always protecting her."
Neville's eyes filled with tears, and he turned away slightly. Quinn patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "She projected Dumbledore, we think, onto an ever knowing, kindly, well of wisdom she named Carlisle, and her idea of the mother she wanted to be onto his wife, Esme. Her own experiences and life were projected onto Edward's 'sister', who she called Alice, a girl believed to be insane, who always knew what she was doing, who was just misunderstood and could see the future."
The two of them paused, giving heavy sighs. Neville's face was wet with silent tears. I wanted to scream, 'I'm not this person! You've made a terrible mistake!' but I remained, still, unable to move.
"When Frank died a fortnight ago, Edward left her fantasy suddenly, causing an emotional breakdown," She said this softly with a careful look at Neville, who studiously avoided her gaze, before continuing. "We've managed to narrow down the various other members of her idealised life, but there's one I'm only shaky on. She has a friend, called Jacob, who is a werewolf. Was your mother-?" Quin gave Neville an inquisitive look.
He nodded, tears still flowing. "Someone mentioned she worked with Remus Lupin," he said thickly, excess saliva from keeping his tears down choking his words.
Quinn gave a nod and took out her notebook, marking something. "That's what we know so far. It's my personal theory that she created this world to escape from the pain, but the others on the ward have their own. Hopefully with careful attention we'll be able to draw her true memories out."
Neville nodded. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you so much – for everything."
Healer Quinn gave him a sad look as he turned and left, before turning a sympathetic gaze on me. She turned and swept away, headed towards a door in the other end of the room, all the while I was silently screaming. 'NO! NO! YOU'VE GOT IT ALL WRONG! EDWARD! EDWARD! SOMEBODY HELP ME!'