Thanks for all the great reviews I've gotten for this-- specially since it's my first Fan-fiction. At the moment, I'm not sure exactly where this is going, so sit back and enjoy the ride with me :)

Edward and Bella belong to Stephanie Meyer, I just enjoy borrowing them sometimes :)


"What?" Charlie called groggily. Shuffled into my room, rubbing his eyes.

"You look awful," he muttered, staring at me. If I had felt better, I probably would've snorted. Gee, thanks, Dad.

"I have the flu," I croaked, my throat searing painfully. The yelling really didn't help anything.

"Flu?" he seemed confused, "So you were throwing up." He added quietly.

"Yeah," So he had heard me. Nodding, he turned around and shuffled back out of the room.

"Dad?" I rasped, falling into a coughing fit.

"Hold on, Bells." He called back. I leaned forward to take a sip of water, as Charlie slammed cupboards in what sounded like the bathroom. Setting the glass back down, my stomach rolled uncomfortably and I lay back against my pillows, taking deep breaths. Charlie wasn't one for playing Nurse, and the last thing I wanted to do was get sick in front of him and freak him out.

"Here," he said, coming back into my room. He held the discarded thermometer Edward had taken my temperature with a few hours ago. I stuck it back under my tongue and waited, closing my eyes. Charlie pressed his warm hand against my forehead and I felt an ache in my chest. Charlie's warm hand didn't feel as good as Edward's ice cold hand did.

"You're burning up," Charlie commented dryly. He pulled the thermometer out of my mouth and squinted at the little numbers. "103, it looks like."

"It was 102 when I first got sick," I told him, hoping he'd do what I wished he would. He paused for a moment, and then opened his mouth, thinking as he spoke.

"Think… his dad's awake?" Charlie asked. He obviously meant Edward.

"Probably," I rasped. Awake and waiting for our call, I added smugly in my mind.

"I'm going to call Dr. Cullen then," he said, shuffling from the room again. I sighed, feeling the nausea return, and snuggled back into my bed.

Carlisle, thanks to either Alice or Edward, was no doubt expecting Charlie's call. I could imagine what he was saying:

High fever and vomiting? I should probably check her out then, if you wouldn't mind, Chief Swan… And if you've got to work, I'd feel much better knowing she was being watched… I know Bella's dislike of hospitals, so why doesn't she just spend the day here? I could check her out and Esme can watch her if I have to go into the hospital… No, Edward will be at school, of course. He can worry about her when he gets home…

"Bella?" Charlie's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"How would you feel about spending the day at the Cullen's?" he asked, poking his head in my room. "Dr. Cullen can keep an eye on you while I'm at work. And I want to get that fever checked out, and make sure it's nothing serious."

I shrugged, trying to seem indifferent, but my stomach jumped again. Nausea overcame me and I lunged forward for the garbage can. I heard Charlie retreat down the hallway as I threw up the rest of the water in my system, phone still in his ear.

"Yeah, I'll bring her over on my way to work."

"Good morning, Bella!" Esme's voice sang as she met Charlie and I at the door. I gratefully took her hand, and let her lead me shakily to the couch, where a blanket and pillow were already set up. Charlie lingered in the doorway as Carlisle made his way downstairs. I could hear them conversing quietly in the doorway as Esme helped me lay down. I couldn't shake the feeling of nauseas exhaustion, and was thankful to see the small plastic garbage can sitting next to the edge of the couch.

"…probably just the average flu, but I agree it's always best to get checked out," Carlisle was saying, "I'll let you know if it's anything more than that."

"Thanks, Doc." Charlie replied. The front door shut quietly, and Carlisle strolled into the living room, smiling.

"How're you feeling Bella?" he asked, grabbing his black bag off the table next to the couch. I grimaced, feeling slightly awkward.

"I've been better," I rasped. He chuckled, and pressed a freezing hand to my forehead. A shiver danced down my spine, raising more goose bumps along with it.

"Vomiting and fever," he murmured, removing his hand, "Any other symptoms? Sore throat? Headache? Muscle aches?"

"Throat and muscles," I replied. He nodded, and then leaned down to look into my eyes. I forced myself not to look away, knowing this was part of the examination.

"And she didn't seem able to sit up on her own when I found her on the bathroom floor," a velvet voice chimed in. I jumped, and my stomach rolled again. I held my breath as Edward came to sit on the arm of the couch by my head.

"I see," Carlisle said, "And when was the last time you threw up, Bella?"

"When you were on the phone with Charlie," I mumbled. Edward's cool hands combed through my tangled hair. I closed my eyes, trying to keep from getting sick again. The garbage can seemed like it was a thousand miles away.

"At the moment, just rest and stay hydrated. If your fever gets any worse, I'll run a blood test to make sure it's nothing more serious, but right now it just looks like the stomach flu." Carlisle said, "I've got to go into the hospital but Edward and Esme will be here all day. Feel better, Bella."

I nodded weakly and my stomach twisted again as Carlisle left the room. Edward kissed the top of my forehead, and then paused.

"Bella?"

"Edward," I whispered, my voice shaking. Once again, Edward as in front of me with the garbage can.

"Water?" he asked, once I had finished. I nodded, leaning back against the couch. He was back in seconds, holding a full glass of ice water. I took it gratefully, but my hands were trembling too badly to keep it steady enough. Edward's white fingertips stabilized the bottom of the glass as I sipped it.

"Should you go get Carlisle?" I asked, nodding towards the garbage can on the floor. Edward shrugged, his eyes watching me intently.

"I'm monitoring your fever," he sang, "and as long as you stay hydrated, you'll be fine."

I nodded weakly, and he set the cup on the table.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, stroking my cheek. I shrugged, and tried to snuggle back into the couch. Edward pressed his hand lightly to my arm.

"I've got an idea," he said, smiling. At human speed, he quickly grabbed two other blankets, and sat down where my pillow had been. Applying barely any force at all, he laid a blanket and my pillow on his lap and helped me lay down, with my head resting on my pillow. He draped the other blanket overtop the two I already had wrapped around my body –not to mention the long sleeved shirt, sweat pants and sweat shirt I already had on. I closed my eyes, and he pressed his cool hands against my flushed cheeks.

"How's this?" he asked, looking down at me with his perfect amber eyes.

"Good," I croaked. He flipped on the television to the Discovery Channel and kissed my forehead.

"Now sleep, my patient." He whispered. As he began to hum my lullaby, I felt myself drift off…


Questions? Comments? Concerns?

I would greatly enjoy criticism as well as all the nice comments :)