A/N: Hello faithful reader, newcomers and so on.. here is a new story. We've never done this before.. yes, this is an all human story. wow!! now we know some of you might want us to update on Problems of Peace... but this story.. is something different and we will be updating this one more often.. and to tell you the truth POP is on hiatus right now.. and we'll pick it up at some point..

FULL SUMMARY:

He's a surgeon with a past...He's a hit man with a sense of right and wrong...And he's got 24 hours to beat the reaper. Edmund Vargas, is a young Seattle surgeon with an strange past that is just about to catch up with him. Because Edmund's new patient knows him from his other life, when he had a different name and a very different job. The only reason he's a surgeon now is thanks to the Witness Protection Program - and even that can't protect him from the long reach of the Chicago Mob. Now he's got to buy some time to do whatever it takes to keep his patient - and himself - alive. AH, Canon

-Louise & Charlotte. :D

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns the characters and and we've borrowed some things from "Beat the Reaper" but not much.

Prologue

Seattle, 2009 5th of October, 3 AM

EPOV

White walls, white lights, people in different shades and colours of scrubs and of course the crisp, white lab coats; the hospital. A distant sound of a pager going off and my hand automatically went down to my waistband, hoping that it wasn't mine. But as I saw a tired looking doctor running past me I felt the relief running through my body. I still had a little time. My bag felt heavy against my shoulder and my eyes were half closed; telling me that I should have slept some more. As I took a turn towards the locker room, I snuck a glance at the clock hanging on the wall; 3 AM.

I lifted my head to look at the deserted hall way, only to come face to face with Isaac. He looked like I felt; tired as hell, which was understandable. He had been working the night shift almost constantly, since we began our internship. Poor guy. And the only reason was because he wasn't a Native American and that apparently was enough reason. I hated the system. He still managed the smile at me, as he slowed down to talk with me.

"My oh my, did Dr. Vargas finally get a night shift? Never thought I would live to see this happen," he said in mocking tone that made me smile.

"Don't start with me Isaac. So is there anything good tonight?" I asked, while Isaac's smile just got wider and turned into something that resembled a smirk; this wasn't good.

"If you by good, mean something to cut open, then no, But what we do have is Mr. Johnson," He stopped to take in my expression, and started again, apparently finding it satisfying, "And then we have a dying man in room 407; Cancer. He's annoying as hell, and he's all yours," he finished this off with yet one of his annoying smirks, that made my fist clench and me fighting back the urge to slap him.

"I said something good, not the usual, Isaac," I said dryly, trying to wipe off that smirk of his, with no luck.

"It's all there is, and trust me. You'd rather talk to Mr. Johnson then stitching up crying girls in the ER, right?" I nodded mutely, he clapped my shoulder and walked past me.

"Good luck, Vargas, see you at rounds," and then he was gone. I sighed, hating that motherfucker because I knew he had something good waiting for him at the ER.

I turned to left and walked into the locker room, already dreading this shift. I took of my beat up jacket and pushed it into my locker, while taking out my white lab coat. I took a look at the name written on.

Dr. Edmund Vargas.

The name disgusted me. Really, who would name their child Edmund? And do you really think that a guy like me would have fucking name like that? Fucking witness protection, they never took the time to actually look at the names they gave people, Edmund?! Edmund; An Idiot name, which made me sound like a guy from a fucking Jane Austen novel, which in the end meant; gay.

I took on my crisp, white, hospital smelling lab coat on, then proceeded to grab the water bottle from my bag, and then closed my locker. I leaned against it and took a sip of the cool liquid. I opened the locker and laid the bottle on top of my bag. I took a deep breath, draped my stethoscope around my neck and nodded at myself while looking in the mirror.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

I walked out of the locker room, passed some of the nurses, whom I sent my dazzling smile, which made them turn into fuckable goo, which in turn made me smirk. I would always thank my dad for his genes. I entered room 247, with the smirk still intact.

"How are we doing tonight Randy?" I said, as the old man turned towards me and grunted.

"I feel like crap. The food sucks, all the good nurses left and now you're here? What do you think, doc?" he groaned and glared at me.

"Randy, you know I have to ask. Are the painkillers working or do you need me to tell the nurses to give you a higher dosage?" as the words had left my mouth, I could see his eyebrows frown at me, and I knew that the randy show had just begun.

"Why are you just standing there? Do you think I hired you; just so you could stand and fiddle with your thumbs all day? And what the hell are you wearing? We're builders, not… doctors, son! Hand me my hammer and get started!" I smiled and handed him one of my pens and he seemed perfectly okay with that.

Randy was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer last year. His lucid moments were short and rare. The guy always made me smile. He started hitting the table next to him, while looking extremely concentrated. I shook my head and took a look at his chart. Everything looked good.

"Randy? You need anything?" he turned to glare at me. The old fucker loved to glare at people, though it just made you want to laugh some more, not cover in fear. He grunted and got back to work. He clearly didn't need my help tonight. I walked out of the room, with a small smile playing across my lips.

I walked towards the nurses' station, hoping to find the chart for the guy in room 407. Fucking Isaac! I turned to the left, then to the right and came face to face with the nurses' station. There were three nurses there at the moment; Shirley, Ashley and Ellen.

They all looked very busy, maybe it was an illusion, because let's face it; the nightshifts were not the busied time. They turned to look at me, as they heard me approach, all three of them smiling. I turned on the dazzling smile I knew would give me whatever I wanted. And it worked as usual. They were like pudding in my hands.

"Hello Ladies, how are we doing this evening?" I said in my almost disgustingly, charming voice. They fell for it and there smiles widened.

"Hello Dr. Vargas, since when did you begin to have nightshifts?" was Ashley's reply as she batted her eyelashes at me and tried to look sexy. But wearing scrubs made that an almost impossible feat. I leaned over the tabletop and looked her in the eye.

"Since you started working the nightshifts" I said and flirted back at her, even though I wanted to puke. She smiled and blushed a little.

Damn it, not the blushing, not now. I promised myself that I wouldn't think about her.

"Ashley, I need the chart for room 407. Could you maybe find that chart for me? Please?" I finished off my plea with one of my dazzling smile that usually made women weak in the knees. It worked.

"Of course Dr. Vargas, let me find it for you," she said in a shaky voice that made me smile. I still had it in me. I looked at the other two and saw that Shirley was staring at me, while Ellen was shaking her head at me. Ashley turned around with the chart in her hand and smiled at me.

"Here it is. And just to give you a little tip, call him Mr. Black, and only Mr. Black. He can be awful when he wants to," she stage whispered at me, I dazzled her and nodded to the two others.

Black. He can't be here.

He's not, why would he? He thinks you're dead, now calm the fuck down!

I am calm, nothing is wrong… a lot of people has the name Black. It's common.

"I shall see you ladies later," I said and smiled to hide my panic, they didn't notice. They all said a mutual, "Yes Dr. Vargas," which made me shake my head. Nurses… Way too easy.

I turned left, then turned right, then to the left and then I entered my patience room. I opened the chart and greeted him without looking at him.

"Hello Mr. Black, I am Dr. Vargas. How's the pain? Do you need any morphine, I see they gave you 5mg, but we could push another dose if the pain is making you uncomfortable?" I said, still looking through the chart. He was a lost cause …. Stage four, nothing we could do about it. He had a day, maybe three left. And that was if he was lucky. A harsh, cynical whisper brought me out of my daze.

"Well, well… if it isn't Edward Cullen, back from the land of the dead I suppose?" the voice made my eyes widen and my head snap up to look at my worst nightmare.

Jacob Black.

A/N2: I hate these.. I really do..

but I just want to tell you that Reviews makes writers happy.. so

REVIEW!!!

-Louise. :D