The idea that Esme enjoys Sherlock Holmes stories comes from Miki In Blue Jean's story Faith & Love found here on FF, and the inspiration of the difficulty of a vampire seeing a live beating heart comes from Tale of Years: 1950 by Jessica314.

Beta: The incredible and amazing kiwihipp without whom this chapter would not look as is does

(Updated 07 Nov 17)


Chapter 2: An In-Between Life


By the time I was changed at twenty-three my father had already handed over the majority of the vicar responsibilities to me. He had refused to do so completely, until I had a successful persecution. Once my place was confirmed in the church and thus society, an eligible lady would have been found for me to marry. I had liked the idea of starting a family, but my plans and my hopes that had accompanied them had been destroyed with one bite. It was ironic that my actions to achieve my station had actually been the undoing of those very aspirations.

After realising what had happened, its implications, and then had found a way to live without taking a human life, I had vowed to never steal from someone what had been taken from me. I was law abiding, kept to myself, never made friends with humans, and took no interest in them beyond my role as a doctor. Any other way of living would have only endangered them and made my nomadic necessities harder on me. In so many ways, these choices reflected the man I had been before my transformation.

My tendency to care about others welfare above my own was just one of the qualities I had brought into my second life. Those qualities that tied me to my lost humanity I held onto tightly. Though something had crept into me over the last century so slowly that I had not noticed its presence until it had already taken a foothold with me–melancholy. My suspicion was that its presence was a result of my loneliness, a situation tricky to resolve, given my values and way of life. Since leaving Volturra, I had spent little time with others and as the decades had turned into centuries my isolation had begun to wear on me. Although I could name my ailment and even its cause, it was tricky to resolve, given my values and way of life.

All that changed in late 1911.

It had been a routine day, so, as had been my custom, I had finished up my shift, turned in my notes, and left my charges in good order. I had walked out the door only an hour past the working hour expected. Honestly, if they would have let me, and it would not have caused suspicion, I would have preferred to work through the day as well. There were numerous things I enjoyed about my work. First and foremost, it allowed me to fill my day. I had no idea what other single vampires did with the hours afforded to them, but lounging around seemed frightfully dull to me. Second, my work allowed me to make some good of my life. I liked that my hands and heightened senses aided in the healing in humans. Short lives or not, there was something sublime about making their years as pleasant as possible. And third, it engaged my mind in curious problems.

On my way to my bench, I had, once more, considered ways to combat my melancholy. Purchasing the equipment necessary to run my own experiments had been at the top of my list, but there had been two obstacles. One, I moved quite a bit, so it seemed a waste, as many experiments I wanted to run would not be at completion when it would be time to move on. Two, the equipment would require more space that I usually rented. Hopefully soon I would be able to live in a bigger city with a larger library collection, as that seemed a more likely possibility to keep my mind occupied than a lab. Maybe one day I could settle in a location longer. So much in my life had already changed since my turning, over the last two hundred years, that even this seemed possible. If I could become a doctor to humans, 'maybe one day' did not seem unreasonable. Thus my hope was not completely lost.

That particular day had been full of the beauty of fall. The leaves had been turning and the trees had been mostly still full of their vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. I had gone to a park, which had become my pattern since I had started at this particular hospital, and had found the bench in which I customarily thought over my shift. No true emergencies had arisen in the past night. Sitting on my bench, I had repeated the prayer that I had spontaneously said the first time I had aided someone medically. As had become my habit, I listed all the names of my patients from the previous shift. Occasionally, I would add someone who had been discharged already, if the case was especially dire. Despite the words and intention of my prayers, they seemed flat in comparison to decades past. Although I meant the words, it was as if there were said insipidly. My bench was not the place for excessive self-contemplation, as the streets were beginning to fill. The sun was unlikely to show itself directly; nevertheless, I decided that it would be best to head over to the library.

Given the time on my hands, I had begun reading every non-fiction book the local library had in stock. When I had finished reading through those, I had started on the books in the fiction section. The librarian had gruffly commented that at my rate of consumption I was bound to have the whole library read. Little did she know that she was not far off, seeing as I had skipped all the books I had previously perused. The library was not that large in any case. Thus the temptation of a posting in a larger city for a larger collection, but I was not ready for that yet. Smaller hospitals tended to have moderately skilled doctors who were grateful for my skills and tended to overlook my oddities. Perhaps in a few more years, it would be worth the risk just for the library.

Standing in the stacks I had sighed frustrated at my impatience. After collecting my next book selections, I had made my way home. Probably, by most human standards, my place was not that nice. I had gotten it because it had no direct view of the sun, it was inexpensive, and it had no neighbours whom could see easily into my windows. Upon returning, I had sat down in the one chair in the single room that made up the space and began reading the book I had put aside yesterday. By the time it was getting near to my next shift I had finished that book and three more. I changed my clothes, checked my appearance before I left the house, and headed back to the hospital.

The hospital where I worked was not that bad, as they came. If the conversations I was not meant to overhear were to be believed, the most senior surgeon was annoyed at my knowledge and skills at my presumed age. This was no different than most hospitals, as the majority of senior staff assumed that my capacity as a doctor implied that I was interested in a more senior position than the one I had been hired for, which could not have been further than the truth. This was particularly so because the more senior positions were during the daytime, and for many reasons I preferred to work the night shift.

Upon my arrival the shift had started in its regular way. Each hospital had its own unique routine of how to move through the transition of its personnel. The way this hospital did it was not entirely poor. I had experienced worse. The doctor I had relieved had informed me that the hospital had not received any new patients in the last hour, so I started the shift by doing rounds greeting each of my charges already admitted and making sure nothing else could be done for them. My rounds had been nearly half complete when I had heard the cry of a male come into the hospital asking for help. Despite what I had just heard, I had to ignore it. It was one of the most difficult things to learn in order to work in the medical environment. I had finished up with the patient in front of me as the urgent footsteps of the duty nurse had come for me.

"Dr. Cullen?" she had called loudly when she had been near enough that a human would have heard her, while continuing to approach me.

After finishing my notes, I had turned to her. "Yes, Nurse Weaver?"

"You are needed, please."

"Certainly," I had told her replacing the clipboard to its designated location.

She immediately turned around confident that I would follow. Keeping two steps behind her, I had made noise with my shoes on the linoleum floor. We had entered the admitting area when I experienced something completely foreign. On the bed was the most beautiful creature I had ever had the fortune to lay my eyes on. She had long dark golden hair that might most apt be described as caramel with a slight curl. Even in this light white blond and strawberry red highlights could be seen. Her eyes were as blue as the Mediterranean Sea that, despite the pain, sparkled in a mischievous way that told of secrets she dared not share.

Standing there mesmerized, my body felt buoyant as if joy had been returned to me. Since the nurse had not even coughed yet, I had figured that the time elapsed must not have actually been that long as it had seemed to me. It was if my sense of time had slowed down from the moment my eyes had come upon her. A vague human memory surfaced of an eligible woman from my village who had similar coloured eyes that I had admired from afar. This young woman in front of me must have reminded me of her, which explained my initial reaction. I was grateful for the human memory this patient had given me, as well as its intrinsic link to my humanity. She had given me a rare gift.

Setting my temporary state aside, I turned to the man standing next to the patient, who had informed the duty nurse that he was her father, and asked, "What brings you in today?"

I would have most readily desired to address the young lady, but propriety in this era dictated that as a gentleman was in the room he would speak on her behalf.

"She broke her leg," he explained with a tone that contained an exasperated tiredness that I did not understand. "She fell out of a tree while reading," he added reluctantly as if admitting a sin.

Literacy, generally, had improved amid humans since my era, and, although I had read newspaper articles over the last half century encouraging literacy among females, it seemed from my vantage point that most young ladies knew little more than the basics. Even within the nursing staff, who were quite educated women, literary conversations were rare and, even all these centuries later, seemed reserved for the wealthier. Thus, I presumed that this young woman's reading habits had caused her family some sort of shame. What kind I could not imagine, unless it had to do with her doing so in a tree. Certainly, she was the first human I had encountered to have done so. Whatever the reason for her family's reaction, I suspected that this had ended her tree climbing days.

The young woman in front of me did not look abashed at the revealing of this information. If I had to guess, in fact, I would say she looked sad as if she was waiting for her dog to be put down. She was not even wincing. The combination struck me as brave and slightly brazen.

"Nurse, would you mind escorting Mr.?" I asked waiting patiently for him to fill in his name, as I was not meant to have known it yet.

"Platt," he filled in authoritatively.

"Platt," I repeated smiling kindly at them both, "to the waiting room."

Mr. Platt looked reluctant to leave.

"I promise to fetch you as soon as I have examined her and mended the break," I told him reassuringly.

He nodded curtly, and then walked out briskly.

Each time I had the opportunity to work had caused me to thank the Almighty for the honour of saving lives, but also for the diversion. Medicine was what allowed me to move through time. For at least these hours my mind would be engrossed in the here and now business of healing humans, although medicine's capacity to hold my attention had lessened as the decades had passed. Unfortunately, especially over the last hundred years, the cases had all begun to look like something I had seen before. Certainly the way medicine was practiced had changed a lot from mostly herbs to the increase of pharmaceuticals and there were always new things to learn. It was one of the things I loved about medicine. Nonetheless, the excitement and thrill I had once received from my role as doctor had decreased. Thus my occupation, which was once fulfilling, had lost its lustre adding to my melancholy and bringing with it sentiments that had hounded me in my early years, although the hopelessness that had plagued me then was, fortunately, not present.

At least on the night shift I stood some chance, no matter how small, that something complex or new might come in. The downside of a smaller hospital like this one was that it could be hours before an emergency arrived. Certainly wishing for humans to become injured or infirmed was wrong, so I tried to pass the time by thoroughly ensuring the welfare of admitted patients. Whether the shift contained thrills or not, I did my job and worked hard at making sure that senior surgeons forgot that I worked at their hospital. The shifts I preferred and the temporarily positions I filled limited me, but my schedule kept me out of the direct line of sight of anyone who might want to look at me too closely. Out of sight, out of mind the saying went. Therefore, instead of focusing on what I did not have and the melancholy that accompanied these thoughts, I forced myself to be grateful that I had been able to practice medicine at all.

My initial horror at being turned into the monster I had previously hunted lessened when I had discovered that my diet had given me the freedom to explore the advantages God had given me from my transformation without succumbing to the demon inside. In some moments the demon was harder to fight than others. Fortunately, God had continued to give me strength, and over the years my ability to keep the demon contained had increased. It was a generous gift from my heavenly Father, and one that took me into the in-between space of not human but also dissimilar to my own kind. As the strength within me to resist human blood had increased, so had my desire to have a companion, hence my increased thoughts of someone accompanying me through time and space, while also dwelling in this in-between alongside me. Each time the thought had come up I had dismissed it. I could not condemn someone to my life, not to mention that the thought of causing someone the pain of transformation purposefully shook me to my core. Despite my moral conviction, in my darkest moments, corners of my brain would be working on the possibilities. I did better to instead be grateful for what had brought me to today.

After a few decades of living in England and attempting to gain direction regarding what the Good Lord wanted from me and how I might serve His will, I had decided to leave my homeland. In Paris I had discovered the incredible institution of university and sat on rooftops or in nearby trees listening to lectures and learning. I had enjoyed the disciplines of philosophy and theology, but it was when I had listened in to a class on medicine that I had found my calling. I then had absorbed everything possible on human anatomy, biology, and chemistry. Libraries became my sanctuary. The more I had learned the more passion I had acquired. The hopelessness that had accompanied me in those early years was replaced by excitement, joy, and anticipation for the future.

Naturally, the greatest obstacle to my chosen profession was the necessity of mastering the demon that dwelt within. Never once could I allow myself the luxury of forgetting the temptation human blood brought. As my control grew and the call of human blood lessened, I grew in my belief that God had given me a chance at redemption while also giving me a good use of the years ahead of me. Fortunately, during those years in Paris testing myself around human blood was easy to come by, as Paris in the late 1600s was a violent and gruesome place. By the time that I believed myself to have enough information to not cause harm, and was, at minimum, able to be in the vicinity of bleeding humans, I began to explore other parts of Europe.

In Sweden I had been able to help a young boy who had an internal fracture. The lack of blood had made things easier. With intense concentration I had been able to put the bone into place and had made a splint that would God willing, one day, allow him a complete recovery. I had travelled when the cloud cover had allowed me learning languages and helping humans when it felt safe enough for me to do so. Eventually, I had found my way to Italy and had come across the Volturi. With their vast libraries, ancient scrolls, and company I had enjoyed my time with them and decades passed easily. Our only difference, my diet, eventually led to me leaving, although I was grateful for Aro's well-meaning intensions to convert me, as each one gave me an opportunity to practice controlling my bloodlust and over time I gained in confidence. As an added bonus, my chosen profession had allowed me to begin to earn money, which had opened up new opportunities and new experiences, although a new human memory was a first.

Turning my attention to my patient, I asked her, "So, Miss Platt, which leg did you break or did your reading manage to damage them both?"

At the same time, I heard Mr. Platt ask the nurse where the waiting room was and then inform her he would return shortly with his wife.

Miss Platt scowled at me in response to my question.

I fought a smile that threatened and managed to look at her sternly.

Usually my nature caused my patients to be a bit weary around me. Few had scowled and all of them males. Her response endeared her to me as it caused me to feel most like myself than I had with a human ever before.

Waiting patiently for her, she eventually dropped her eyes. "Just the one," she admitted her voice holding a tone of embarrassment.

Nodding I asked her, "Would you mind lifting your skirt to your knees please?"

While making the request I had pulled down the bed sheets. I was surprised to find her in no shoes.

"How old are you, Miss Platt?" I asked softly.

"Sixteen," she answered jutting out her chin. Once more her lack of fear startled me, but in an enjoyable way.

"Sixteen seems old enough to be wearing shoes. Did your parents take them?"

The teasing in my voice surprised me. I had never teased a patient like this before.

Miss Platt's cheeks became slightly pinker, only adding to her beauty, and then she looked down at her hands. "No." She frowned as if she were admitting a great crime. "I generally run around the farm and climb trees without shoes, much to the dismay of my mother."

"I see." I could not help a small smile from escaping.

Memories of the girls in the village in which I had grown up sprang to mind. Most of them ran around without shoes. Well, at least to a certain age. What an odd thing to remember at this moment. Even more surprising was that Miss Platt had given me not one but two human memories. I was indebted to her.

My mind returned to the last time I had visited my village. When I had decided to leave Volterra and travel to America, I first returned to my homeland collecting the few remaining possessions of my father's to add to his Bible that I always carried with me, and chose a boat that took longer than the direct ones, but would port every two weeks or so. At each port I had been able to find something to drink and even had attended to a few minor injuries on the ship. By the time I had arrived and had declared my occupation as a doctor to the American immigration officer, no one questioned my skills.

Once in America, initially, I had worked as a doctor's assistant, learned hospital protocols, and continued to master my bloodlust. By the time I had met Garrett in the surgery tent I was able to be around flowing blood for a few hours at a time. If the other doctors noticed my absences in between, they never mentioned anything. By the time of the Civil War I could go a day sometimes a bit more around flowing blood without the need to hunt. This experience strengthened my confidence and gave me the belief in my capable to work in the emergency ward, which I had learned was my favourite place in the hospital. It had not taken me long to discover the existence of the emergency ward night shift.

My acquired working schedule had quickly led to my custom of spending much of the day exploring the town in which I lived when cloud cover had permitted me. I would walk around, get books from the library, and generally learn my surroundings. Not that I ever stayed long, but this routine allowed me to make easier conversation with patients as well as my co-workers. In addition, it gave me a sense of being more a part of the place and time in which I lived. However, there were always the days when the sun shone and I was forced to stay in my lodgings. I also had learned quickly that fill-in temporary positions were a reasonable way for me to explain my mobility, never causing suspicion. In fact, I was due to leave this hospital in a week and already had my new placement set up. It would start in ten days giving me a leisurely three days to travel and find new accommodations.

It did not happen very often anymore, but, on a rare occasion, we would get an injury in which there was a profuse amount of blood. It burned my throat and I could feel my inner nature's desire to sample what lay before me. I had not yet once lost control in such a situation, but a few times, once the patient was mended as much as could be, I had needed to excuse myself in order to get some clean air. I was getting better as a surgeon. This pleased me, but often it was a strain on me. Once, thirty years ago, I had been asked to assist with repairing a bullet wound. For a moment a small hole through the chest cavity appeared and I was able to see the heart pumping. It had been necessary to go hunt directly afterwards, and I had called in sick for a few days. For weeks my mind had automatically visualized the organ in every human I met. Although it was difficult, I had been through similar trials, which reassured me that everything would get easier with enough time.

None of God's creatures could change their basic natures, but each held within it the capacity to overcome its baser instincts. Had that not been the more glorious aspect of my father's teachings? It had inspired me as a youth and it continued to do so. In reflection I was grateful for passing the test that beating heart had given me. It was the last time something had truly challenged me. Wishing for challenges was dangerous, so I worked to be grateful to God that He had given me the strength to do this work.

Miss Platt was not a challenge in that way, but my reaction to her had been strange. I had experienced the sensation of light headedness at the image of her reading in a tree barefoot, which was bizarre and contrary to what I had learned about vampire nature. As far as I knew, vampires could not be light headed, leaving me stumped and confused. It had been so many years that anything but gloominess had been my primary emotional state that I was overwhelmed. Rather than dwell on mysteries, I internally thanked the Almighty for the gift of new experiences and set my mind to the moment. As I did so, I went and checked her right leg and then the left.

"I agree with your assessment, Miss Platt. Just the one is broken. "Fortunately, it is a clean break. I will need to set it in place, so it will heal properly. That part will be quite painful. Then you will need bed rest while it heals."

"Mother will be terribly displeased." She smiled but her eyes looked worried.

"Pleased or not it will be doctor's orders." I attempted to smile warmly and reassuringly. "Are you ready to get the worst bit over?"

Her eyes hardened and her body stiffened. "Yes."

"Alright, let me get a nurse to assist," I let her know.

She let out a breath heavily as if she had been holding it.

Leaving Miss Platt, I went and found Nurse Weaver. "Your assistance is required, please Nurse."

"Yes sir," she replied.

From the beginning of my work in hospitals I had wished the nurses would be less subservient. Their job was just, if not at times more so, as vital as mine. I might be able to mend a few humans' bodies, but many things were simply out of my hands. The culture of hospitals was certainly one. My only hope was that it would change over time and their value would become more acknowledged.

We arrived back to Miss Platt with Nurse Weaver trailing behind.

"Miss Platt, Nurse Weaver here is going to hold you steady while I set the bone so that you do not accidently worsen things," I told her with authority.

She nodded and stiffened her body once more.

Nurse Weaver held her. I grabbed Miss Platt's calf with my right hand. A little vibration moved into my fingertips and down my arm to my elbow. It was the oddest sensation, one I had never felt before, but this was not the time to analyse it. I manoeuvred my left hand into position. A similar sensation happened when I touched her once more. Using my sense of touch, I felt for where the bone needed to go. As much as I hated to cause Miss Platt pain, there was no better way for the bone to heal.

I gave Nurse Weaver a meaningful look and she nodded that she was ready.

As quick as I could, without raising suspicion, I moved the bone back into place.

Miss Platt made a squealing sound, but it was muffled. I smelled blood. Looking at her, I noticed that she had bitten into her lip. Luckily the wound was already healing.

"Well done," Nurse Weaver commended Miss Platt before leaving to retrieve the items for a splint.

She did not seem to register Nurse Weaver's words.

"So what book were you reading that caused such a misadventure?" I whispered at a human level as a means of distraction.

"The History of Mr. Polly," she whispered back.

"Was it worth the fall?" I asked quietly.

"Any book is worth it," she answered assuredly.

"Do you have a favourite author?" I asked intrigued.

"It is hard to choose, but perhaps Jules Verne," she told me shyly.

It was a strange choice for a young woman. I wondered what about his books she liked so much. Instead I nodded my accord and imagined that if there had been books, apart from the Bible, in the village of my youth then I would have more likely been up a tree reading rather than minding my chores. The thought warmed me.

From the very beginning of my transformation, I had tried to not think too far into the future or dwell on what I had lost. From the moment of my awakening I had focused on what was presented to me. It was incredibly difficult to do so and an act of forced discipline. After enough practice, what came to matter was the moment. Not the past, as it could not be changed, and not the future, as it looked too bleak. I invested and saved and was prudent about my financial future, because it seemed wise knowing that the more funding I had stashed away made covering my tracks easier, if ever necessary. Money bought things including freedom and silence, even if I might be loathed to use it in this way. Fortunately such a case had never presented itself, but I was wise enough to know there might be a day when having more money than was reasonable would be useful.

Setting aside everything but the moment and ensuring that my mind stayed focused on the blessings Our Heavenly Father had given me that day became my way of navigating my world. In my last shift I had made a few human lives a little more comfortable. Such a thing was a gift afforded to few and one for which I was grateful. The Lord had graced me with blessings and a way to positively use what I was. It was an in-between life, but perhaps it was my punishment for my arrogance that I could defeat a true monster. Ironically, each time I defeated the demon within me a little bit more I realised that although I had not defeated my sire, I was defeating a monster of a kind.

Though Miss Platt's tree adventures had pleased me, mine was not an exciting life. I had never been much for excitement in my human life either. That thought caused me to smile. Perhaps my enjoyment of the quiet life had something to do with the fact that the last time that I had gone looking for excitement I had burned. I remembered clearly, despite the transformation, the excitement I had felt at possibly demonstrating to my father my worth and being able to gain the possibility of having a family. Through the years, I had often pondered if my sentiments reflected a true excitement regarding my actions or merely the possible rewards that they might have brought me.

Although I did enjoy these thoughts on my own nature and character, I might never know the answer. Psychoanalysis had fascinated me as soon as the first papers had been written on it. Jung's work particularly interested me for its spiritual elements that it added. The enlightenment era's rhetoric was thick and heavy in Paris when I had been there, and I could not help but agree that a being's mind was its most important instrument and to allow one's emotions to rule one's life only led to folly, and in my case, grave sin.

Looking at Miss Platt I could not help but recall the doctor who worked the previous shift's rush to get home, most likely due to him being a newlywed. He had hurriedly filled me in on my rounds and thanked me for the fact that he was able to leave on time and ran out the doors. It was an enjoyable sight to see, and I had been glad to aid him in this small measure of happiness in this inconsequential way. Nevertheless, my heart had tinged a little as I had wondered if I would ever be graced with a spouse.

In Italy I had learned that Aro and Caius both had wives and Marcus' wife was no longer, but it had given me hope that maybe one day love would be possible for me. There was no hurry. I enjoyed my work and my present lifestyle was not conducive for married life, but facts did not change my yearnings to have company. Consequently, the idea of being married often came to me in my loneliest moments. One of the many things I had learned in Voltura was that our kind only ever had one spouse for the entirety of our existence. Given our long lives, the knowledge pleased me and relieved me of many of the concerns that had lain hidden in the back of my mind. I had not come across many single females through the years, and often mused what would happen regarding diet when I met the one God had planned for me.

Aro and I had discussed the topic a few times. He believed that one of the signs that we had encountered our mate was that we changed to accommodate them. Admittedly, since he had shared that with me, I had been more than concerned that the woman for me would require me to join her in consuming human blood, but I had hope that God had in mind someone who would be willing to share my belief in the value of holding human life sacred. As usual when my mind wandered to such topics, I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the task on hand. My working hours certainly were not the time or space to entertain such thoughts.

Nurse Weaver returned and we got to work. She held Miss Platt's leg in place while I secured the split.

"All right, it is all set," I announced upon its completion. Looking up Miss Platt was smiling at me. I smiled back tentatively. "Nurse Weaver, would you please inform Mr. and Mrs. Platt that the operation is complete."

"Yes, sir." And then she was gone.

I wrote my notes.

Her parents were on their way, but still out of human hearing range.

"I am sad to inform you Miss Platt that you will need to remain with us," I let her know.

"Oh?" she asked but her eyes sparkled and the edges of her mouth were creeping upwards like she was trying to hold in whatever was amusing her.

I nodded solemnly. "Yes. I will explain your treatment upon your parents' return."

She smiled. "That sounds just fine, thank you."

There was silence, but it was a companionable one. While we waited, I attempted to understand the strange occurrences that had happened.

Her parents walked back in without Nurse Weaver.

Putting my thoughts aside and turning to Mr. Platt I informed them once they had entered the curtains, "The bone is set, but it will need time to heal." Pausing I allowed that information to settle before continuing, "I would like to keep her here for a few days just to make sure it is healing correctly and there are no complications. When she does go home she will need to keep weight off of it for at least a month."

"A month?" her mother gasped.

Miss Platt had a look like, I told you so, clearly written in her features.

"Unfortunately so, Mrs. Platt. The bone will take time to mend, but by God's grace she will recover fully and be healed soon."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mr. Platt said and extended his hand to shake mine.

"You are welcome," I replied while shaking his hand in return.

"Yes, thank you Doctor," Mrs. Platt said almost at a whisper.

"You are sincerely welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Platt," I told them. "I will be back to check on her." Then I walked out of the room and returned to my rounds giving the Platts the semblance of privacy.

Oddly I felt colder as I walked away, as if Miss Platt was the sun and without her I was living in the dead of night. Certainly that could not possibly be the case, as vampires were not affected by temperature. Her similarities to my human life were creating a sense of familiarity that simply was not there. A gleefully reckless part of me wanted to consider the possibility that the familiarity might mean something more, but I refused myself the indulgence. If she were meant to signify something significant to me, then certainly I would feel more than coldness. Chelsea had described an unwillingness to let the man who became her mate go. At the same time Aro had tons of stories of vampires who believed a human to be his or her mate only to turn them and find that was not the case. I would not even remotely consider taking a healthy young woman's life over something so banal. I put the whole thought process out of my mind.

After completing the rounds that Miss Platt's arrival had interrupted and a few other jobs required of me, my feet took me back to Miss Platt's bed wishing, as I went, that there were some way to repay the gifts she had given me. Pulling the curtain to the side in order to maintain Miss Platt's honour and as was the custom of this hospital, I found her staring off with a contemplative look.

"How are you Miss Platt?" I asked softly mindful of the other patients.

"I am doing well, Doctor. Thank you for asking," she replied cordially, but appeared sad.

"Well, it is not everyday I get to treat a sixteen-year-old tree climber," I proclaimed quietly smiling at her hoping that she knew that I was teasing her.

She looks serious. "No, I suppose you do not. There are not many of us mystical creatures left," she asserted. There was a sweet bantering note to her tone. Then she winked at me.

Over the centuries women have winked at me. Usually, it is accompanied with a look of lust and wanting. Hers was not that type of wink. It was a playful teasing kind.

I shook my head at her choice of words. "I suspected as much. Then it is a great honour to meet, what must be, the last of a dying breed." And then I bowed unable to keep the smile off my face.

She giggled at me. It was the most glorious sound. It was if it came from the heavens.

"May I join you for my break?" I asked cordially.

"Please do, my dear sir. I would run out and fetch you some tea and biscuits, but sadly I am otherwise indisposed." She grinned that mischievous playful smile once more.

I looked into her eyes and was lost in the mystery that was Miss Platt.

She looked back to me. She did not shy away, look down, or become nervous.

I felt as if she had peered into my very soul.

A nurse cleared her throat. How had I missed her approach? Fortunately I was still standing at the end of the bed so Miss Platt's honour was intact and gossiping about this would hopefully be kept to a minimum. Ideally Nurse Kelly would assume that I was checking on Miss Platt in a professional manner.

"You are needed, Dr. Cullen," she told me.

Turning to her, I closed Miss Platt's curtain. "Lead on Nurse Kelly."

Following Nurse Kelly out, as she explained the information of the new arrival, I found it difficult to keep my mind from being distracted by Miss Platt. Hours had passed before I was no longer needed. Upon returning to Miss Platt, all her vitals indicated that she was asleep. Nevertheless, curiosity got the best of me and to get a better look than was possible looking through the curtains, I moved them aside just enough to peek in. She was partially sitting, no doubt due to the splint. Her hands were in her lap with her face tilted to the side. For all intents and purposes she looked like she had fallen asleep reading a book, but without the book. It was an endearing sight.

I experienced an emotion I could not name. The closest analogy I could come up with was the sense that my heart had swelled, despite me knowing that it was anatomically impossible. I had this strange desire to run my finger down her temple to her jaw line and to hold her hand. This was neither the time nor place to analyze these thoughts or feelings, so I turned around and went back to work. An hour before the day shift doctor was to arrive I visited Miss Platt once more, but she was still resting.

After my shift, I went to my bench as usual and said my prayers as usual, but I was unable to focus on any of my new patients apart from Miss Platt. Vague recollections from my human life of a young lady from my village that I had been enamoured with kept appearing. During one of our discussions, Aro had commented that I remembered my human life more than most and questioned if this might have been as a result of my diet choice. I had told him that I honestly was uncertain, but our conversation had left me pondering as to why I was unique in this way. As the sun rose behind the clouds my brain attempted to puzzle out how my memory was being triggered by Miss Platt.

When I had returned to my village, before coming to America, I had found my marker in the village graveyard. It had made no mention of being a husband or father. That small bit of information had assured me that my lack of memories of a significant relationship or children was accurate. I was grateful that I had not left behind abandoned children. At the same time, sitting on my bench unable to leave Miss Platt mentally behind in the hospital, I wished that I could remember more. Why I had been enthralled with this young lady of my memory? In the memories there was a longing for her and so a small sense of loss, which was as equally strange as the fact that Miss Platt had triggered them at all.

As I reviewed my behaviour with Miss Platt, I became aware that I was just as captivated with Miss Platt as I had been with this unnamed woman from my village. However, in this case, Miss Platt was human and I was not. It was an inappropriate pairing. My vow ruled out any possibility of a courtship. Had God sent her to test me in some way? Was she an answer to my prayers? The most grievous of elements was that she was merely sixteen-years-old. Sure, by all human accounts of this era she was a woman of marrying age, but in my time she would not have been expected to marry for another three to four years. Not to mention that from my vantage point of over two hundred years watching humans develop, sixteen seemed too young to begin starting a family no matter how common the practice.

She had so much of her human life ahead of her. Assuredly any interest on my part would derail her from those opportunities. A part of me wanted to reject this line of thinking and be more selfish, but it simply was not in my character. Perhaps this was a temptation sent by the devil. If so, it was a poor attempt, as logic, not to mention my moral code, had kept me righteous, as much was possible, all these years. They would not fail me. The proper course of action was to make her life as pleasant as I could, thank the Heavens for the gifts she had afforded me, and send her on her way.

With my decision made, I walked over to the library. As I was perusing, I could not help but think of Miss Platt in bed with naught to read, which would seem frightfully dull to me. I could not imagine that a tree-climber would enjoy sitting in bed all day. I debated with myself the impropriety, if there was any, of giving Miss Platt this small token. It seemed to me that if it was given anonymously, then no inappropriate assumptions could be made by either the nursing staff or Miss Platt, while allowing me some small way of repaying her. I wanted to take my selections to her straight away, but knew that I would need to do so secretly. So, I decided to do something very uncharacteristic. I sneaked into the hospital and waited until she was in need of the facilities. When no one was watching I silently slipped into her bed area and left the books on top of the night stand. Pleased that I had been able to improve her stay in this small way, I went home.

Although I was not really thirsty, my unusual behaviour inclined me to hunt as a precaution. Upon returning home I bathed and changed my clothes for the next shift. Six more shifts including tonight and then I would be leaving for my next placement. Despite my decision regarding Miss Platt, I was unable to keep her far from my thoughts. The words on the page could not hold my attention. It was a challenge, but eventually I focused on the task at hand until it was time to leave for the hospital. To my surprise I found myself humming on the way. At first I did not recognise the tune. After some internal searching I realized that it was an old hymnal sung frequently in my father's church. I had not even known that I had remembered the tune. Just one more thing Miss Platt had given me.

Once in the hospital, it was easier to give my attention to the task at hand. I started my rounds greeting each patient, checking on aliments, and ensuring their comfort for the time being making sure that Miss Platt was at the end of my list. I was interrupted three times by incoming emergencies, so it was nearly ten in the evening by the time I moved aside the curtain into Miss Platt's space. Once my eyes caught her fully with no hindrances, I stared. She was sitting in the bed much how I had seen her asleep; only, she had one of the library books in her hand.

"Good evening, Miss Platt," I greeted.

She looked up in surprise, her eyes large. She looked happy.

After a intake of breath she greeted me, "Good evening, Dr. Cullen." She smiled. "Would you believe that the most incredible stories magically appeared on my bedside table today?"

"Hmm," I replied as if carefully considering a reply. "Must be some of the magical powers you possess. Did you conjure up anything good?" I asked attempting to hold my face stoically.

"Well," she started and then paused evaluating me, "honestly, I did not get very far with the collection of Shakespeare; too dramatic. Not my style at all. The history of Europe was interesting. I especially enjoyed looking at the different pictures and seeing the different buildings. Right now I am engrossed in Sherlock Holmes. I am enjoying him immensely."

Her face was so expressive. She had been truly unimpressed if not repelled by Shakespeare. Her eyes were sparking with pleasure as she spoke about buildings, while she had a serious face regarding Holmes like she was trying to solve a mystery, which I suppose she had been doing. I could have looked at her expressions all day.

"Do you mind?" I asked while I waved my hand towards the chair.

"No, please," she responded assuredly but with bashfulness.

I sat mindfully to ensure that no nurse found me in such a position. The town was small enough that hospital gossip could tarnish Miss Platt's reputation. Why interactions between in sexes had become more censored over the centuries was beyond my understanding, but perhaps it would swing the other way over the next centuries. Only God knew.

"I am curious," I began and then paused making sure that questioning her would not offend her before continuing, "what about the buildings interested you?"

Her eyes darted around the space as if she was concerned to voice her response.

I waited joyfully enjoying watching her.

"Well … truthfully?" she hedged talking slowly.

"Naturally; anything less that total honesty is just dull." I smiled at her.

"Indeed." She took a breath through her nose that moved her shoulders and chest, looked at me wearily, and then exhaled. "Well," she paused as if reconsidering what she was going to say. "In truthfulness, I enjoyed the make of buildings, how the structure interacts with its surrounding, and the use of light. I also enjoyed the art of the building. The decorations used around the windows or on the top of the doors particularly interested me. If such a thing were possible, I would go study it at a college." Her last statement was made with such earnestness, yet such sorrow.

It pained me to hear her voice such pain, even if it was over a wish.

"What are your obstacles to doing just that?" I asked.

I guessed at a few, but was aware of the fact that there might have been some that I would not have considered. Many things changed in the human world that I was not aware of, even though I attempted to keep myself abreast.

"I am a girl." She made this statement authoritatively, and as if it was the answer to this question and every question I might want to ask in the future.

"I was aware of that, Miss Platt," I said in a soft teasing tone. "I am a doctor after all." I smiled hopefully in a reassuring way.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at me in an evaluative fashion. "Dr. Cullen, perhaps you are not aware, but girls are not allowed to study those subjects."

Despite the fact that I had guessed that might be the case, the reality of it seemed like a blow. I knew girls were restricted professionally, but before I had never considered the true injustice of her culture's gender expectations and limitations. My memories included no references in order to judge the village in which I had been raised in terms of roles and responsibilities divided by gender, but there must have been some. How I saw the human world all these years later was simple. She was being refused to do something that pleased her solely because of her gender. I had heard the arguments for confining women's professions ever since the idea of a profession was made. I had never agreed or really understood these arguments, but before this moment they had been human arguments made to govern human behaviours, something I had let pass by me as I had the years.

"There is not an exception?" I questioned my face haven fallen due to my thoughts.

She shook her head and I could smell her eyes filling with water. "No. Maybe my daughter could, but it is simply not an option for me."

A small smile lifted my lips at her optimism. She sounded so sure the world would change and her hope that this might be altered in the future inspired me. I had seen many things change. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this would too.

"Since I cannot do that, I entertained the idea of going to college to become an art teacher. It would not be as exciting, but it would be something."

I smiled genuinely. "I imagine you to be a wonderful teacher."

"Thank you." She looked at me calmly, but she must have been somewhat nervous as she had put the book down and had entangled her hands together.

"You are welcome, Miss Platt."

She smiled, but there was disappointment still there.

"Shall you, then, be heading to college to study to be an art teacher?" I asked after moments of silence.

"No, I do not think so."

This time her chin was on her chest and she was pressing her hands together firmly. For all intents it seemed as if she were holding herself in a stoic manner. Memories came to me of me doing something similar in conversations with my father when he had rejected me pursuing any interest except to follow in his place in the church. Perhaps unconsciously I had seen something of my human life in this young woman.

"Oh," was all I knew to say.

Prying seemed rude and, based on my own memories, continuing this topic seemed cruel. Not for the first time, I stopped for a moment and thanked my Creator for the gift of being a doctor and that I had been able to do something with myself other than be a vicar.

Miss Platt took in a deep breath and talked into her shirt. "My parents think that higher education is wasted on a girl. They are hoping for me to find a suitor soon, preferable one willing and able to take over the farm as I am their only child."

I was honoured that she would confide something so intimate with me. Simultaneously, I understood the weight in her words–the familial obligation–that I was only freed from upon my removal from humanity. In this simple statement it was obvious that that she loved her parents very much and did not wish to disappoint them. I knew that feeling quite well. It endeared me to her even more than I already was, while it also caused me to wish that I knew a way to free her so she could take flight.

In the midst of my wishful thinking I could hear a nurse moving in our direction. I stood and silently put the chair back.

"Glad to hear you are healing as you should, Miss Platt. It seems to me that you have found a productive means in which to occupy your time during your stay here and it is doing you well. If you need anything, do not hesitate to search out a nurse and ask her for assistance."

She looked at me confused.

Right then Nurse McCarthy entered the ward.

Miss Platt's eyes widened and an understanding appeared. "Yes. Thank you, Dr. Cullen. I will be sure to do that," she told me composing her features quickly.

I winked at her as a way of thanking her for her propriety and then turned to face the nurse.

"You are needed Dr. Cullen."

"Certainly, Nurse McCarthy."

I closed the curtain behind me and continued my shift. Any moment that could be spared I went over to Miss Platt's ward and listened to her sleep while writing my notes. Her sounds of life were exquisite in a way that compared to no other human I had encountered prior. The end of my shift came too early. Miss Platt was still sleeping as I made my way out of the building and over to my usual bench.

If I were to be truthful to myself, I would have to admit that my affection for Miss Platt had only grown. Tomorrow would be my last opportunity to speak with her. My intent to stay out of her life had not altered. However, there was a part of me that yearned to have just a little bit more time with her, and I had not properly repaid her. I had no right to interfere with her affairs. We were strangers, but I did not want us to be. Certainly a friendship with Miss Platt was in poor taste. A woman might have a childhood friend of the opposite gender, but the present human standards for Miss Platt stated that a friendship between us could impact her eligibility to marry and potentially lead her on. Then there was the worst of all potential risks to consider–it could potentially expose some element of my nature. I reasoned to myself all the rational and logical explanations as to why anything beyond our relationship as patient and doctor was preferred for both parties.

The one image that stopped me dismissing my irrational desires entirely was the resigned look she wore when she explained that college was not an option for her irrelevant of her dreams. It was hard to let that go when I had the financial resources available. More than anything, I wanted to see her happy. It was the least I could do for what she had given me. From our conversation it seemed that she really wanted to go to college. However, there were many problems with that desire, particularly her parents, her gender, and her age, in that order. She was sixteen. Her father had full rights over her until she was wed and then those would pass to her husband.

I was at a crossroads. The two possible paths were simple. One, leave my position and Miss Platt as planned, as I had time and time again, allow my patients, her included, to go on with their lives while I prayed that I had made at least some small positive difference. Two, inform Miss Platt of my desire to aid her in going to college. The first option was more rational, more reasonable. There were a plethora of reasons why option one was best, including keeping the law. I had seen what the Volturi did to lawbreakers. Not to mention that I considered myself an honourable man. If she remained in my life in some way there was a chance, with enough time, that she could discover that I was not human and thereby the law would be broken.

It was just too risky. Too much was at stake. Her life and living it was more important than me staying in her life, even if my presence might mean that she got to go to college. The problem was that I had grown attached, and my heart was not so keen on option number one. If I chose option two and the law were ever to be broken, ideally, I would want to give her the option of her death or being changed. That was a conversation I wanted to avoid at all costs. The only other choice would be to act on her behalf. Killing her outright was barbaric and unacceptable, which left biting her. That presented another problem. Although I knew the semantics, I was not sure if I could create another vampire without killing the individual. Then there was the fact that I had never tasted human blood and I was afraid of what might happen if I did allow it past my lips. The risks in option two were too great. I would not rob her of her future.

Ultimately, therefore, to keep her human and alive prevented me from being in her life. How I wished that things were simpler like I remember my village being. Living a life of lies did not suit me, even if it was required. Option two was dirty and messy and fraught with peril. I did not like option two, any more than option one. My heart was not easily convinced and was searching desperately to find an alternative, thereby creating an option three, without which I was stuck.