Chapter Notes:
So I feel like this chapter is simply information... information on Spanish Influenza... Information on how fixated Edward is on this dream girl... Information of the kind of character Edward's mom is and how that leads to her eventual plea to Carlisle... information in general. This was the easiest chapter to write to date, because it is information... information I found fascinating. However, this chapter does give us Carlisle so yay!!!!
Chapter 3
I had no idea how much time had passed since they had taken my father away. No one had come out to give us a definitive answer as to what was wrong with him; if it was indeed typhoid that had stricken him. My mother, emotionally drained from the day's events, rested her head on my shoulder. She wasn't fully asleep, but she wasn't conscious either. She had grown quite pale from the fatigue of the day, with dark circles surrounding her eyes and tear streaks staining her cheeks from her periodic breakdowns. She was strong, but the lack of information, the not knowing, was getting the better of her. Trying to keep my mind occupied, I reverted to a game I had found myself playing ever since I had first begun dreaming of her.
I would take in the people around me and truly look at them. I would look deeper into them than I'm sure anyone else did around me. Did the admitting nurse have the right color eyes? No. Though brown, they did not have the depth of the chocolate orbs that I recalled from my dreams. Was the girl sitting across from me in the waiting room the owner of the same fair, creamy skin that had me aching to touch it? No. And even if she did, her hair wasn't a match; it was far too light. Dark hair was an easy enough match to find to the girl in my dreams, but whenever I looked to either the eyes or the skin to complete the combination, I always came up short. Sure there were times that I found dark hair, brown eyes and fair skin, but it was never quite right. It was never perfect enough to convince me that she was who I was dreaming of. There was always something; freckles on the skin or a lack of depth to the eyes. It always came down to the eyes. My angel's eyes had captured my soul since the first time I dreamt of her and it was in those eyes that I would find the completion to myself. And so I would continue to look, desperate to find the one that would make my heart flutter, convinced that she was the one I was destined to be with.
The arrival of Dr. Hastings into the waiting room pulled me from my thoughts and thrust me back into reality. I gently shook my mother to wake her, not realizing how warm her head was against my shoulder until she had removed it. She quickly attempted to fix her appearance as the doctor approached us. Eager to get any kind of information as to what was going on, we stood as he shuffled towards us. My mother grasped tightly to my arm, steadying herself for whatever the doctor was about to tell us. I barely noticed the young, blonde man in the doctor's coat standing a few feet behind him. Every ounce of my attention was preparing me for whatever Dr. Hastings was going to say.
"Elizabeth... Edward," he said, nodding to us individually. His demeanor hinted that the news was not good. He kept his face drawn with no emotion coming through. He was a doctor delivering bad news, not a family friend with information. "I'm afraid that it's what I feared."
"Typhoid?!" My mother cried out, her voice cracking with emotion. "But how..." she trailed off, tears streaming down her face again.
"Now, Elizabeth, I need you to remain calm. It's quite early into it and there's still a good chance that he could pull through this. We've already started him on antibiotics."
The blonde man that had been standing back moved very quickly to the doctor's side. "Dr. Hastings, can I please speak with you for a moment?" He asked, a sense of urgency in his voice. It was then that I truly looked at him. He was young, far too young to be wearing the doctor's coat he had on. His hair was perfectly blonde, as though he had lived his life in the sun. However, his skin looked as though he hadn't seen daylight in years. He was pale, too pale to even be considered fair. His lips were a deep crimson and contrasted drastically with his white skin.
"Dr. Cullen I am with a patient's family..." Dr. Hastings began.
"I am aware of that, sir, and it is the reason I really wish to speak with you," the young doctor interrupted. He turned and cast a soft smile at my mother and me. His face was unlike anything I had ever seen before. He was too attractive to be labeled as handsome, but was 'beautiful' an appropriate term for a man? His eyes, though kind, were the most peculiar color; a soft gold that seemed to shine out under his blonde hair and against his pale skin. I felt my mother's breathe catch as she pulled herself back and away from him ever so slightly. He returned his attention back to Dr. Hastings and said, "Please, just for a moment."
Dr. Hastings exhaled loudly and excused himself from our conversation, stepping a few paces away from where we were standing. I was unable to hear their conversation from where he had left us standing, so I took the opportunity of moving closer to them by showing my mother to a seat. The word 'typhoid' had brought about the return of her tears. I brought her head to my shoulder, turning mine so my ear was towards the conversation I was not meant to hear.
"I just think you should consider it as an option," I overheard the young doctor, Dr. Cullen, say.
"Spanish Influenza has already come through here in March Dr. Cullen. I appreciate your input, but I would rather you attend to your own patients and leave me to attend to mine."
"But sir, your patient isn't showing signs of typhoid. He has pneumonia and the antibiotics are not going-"
"I am aware that he has pneumonia, Dr. Cullen. Typhoid makes a patient very susceptible to other illnesses and antibiotics are how we treat pneumonia." There was a patronizing tone to Dr. Hastings voice.
"Yes," Dr. Cullen said forcefully. "As long as the pneumonia you are treating is bacterial. However, what you are dealing with here is viral. Antibiotics won't have any affect. All you are doing is preventing him from getting bacterial pneumonia in his weakened state."
"What are you basing this on? It's August. Influenza outbreaks don't usually occur until the winter months and the patient is thirty-seven years old. That's not your typical age for an influenza patient. I don't know how they taught you medicine in New York, but here in Chicago, we-"
"Spanish Influenza attacks stronger immune systems and causes it to be used against itself. There has been an extremely virulent strain reported in France as well as Boston just last week."
Dr. Hastings chuckled softly. "We are quite a bit away from France, dear boy."
"But not Boston," Dr. Cullen countered. "He's had a fever for a few days now, trouble breathing and since being admitted to the hospital he has started coughing up blood. Once you add to that the slight blue tint in his face-"
"There's no blue tint to his face," Dr. Hastings interrupted roughly.
"Trust me, there is." Dr. Cullen said, hardening his expression. "I have very keen eye sight."
"And you're saying I don't?" Dr. Hastings pulled his shoulders back, clearly insulted.
"No, that is definitely not what I'm saying. What I am saying concerns your patient."
"That's right. My patient." Dr. Hastings said, with an edge in his voice. "My patient has typhoid. Now if you don't mind..."
I watched in my peripheral vision as Dr. Hastings began to turn his back to Dr. Cullen, but was stopped when the young doctor forcefully grabbed his arm.
"If it's typhoid then where are the symptoms? There haven't been any bloody noses, no delirium, no red splotches or distended stomach."
"Those are symptoms that occur later on."
"Not for how sick he is. He should be showing all those symptoms now if what we were dealing with is typhoid."
Dr. Hastings pulled his arm from Dr. Cullen's grasp. "If you have any wish of being in this hospital for any length of time, then you'll learn to mind yourself young man. We do things differently here." With a final glower at Dr. Cullen, Dr. Hastings turned back to us.
I did my best to act as though I didn't overhear everything that had just transpired as Dr. Hastings spoke to us again. My mother brought her head up from my shoulder, giving her full attention to the doctor. "We've got everything under control. I'll let you know if there is any progress." He smiled insincerely as he turned and shuffled away, casting a final bitter glance at Dr. Cullen.
"Stubborn old fool," muttered Dr. Cullen under his breath. The young doctor turned and looked at me, causing my breath to catch in my throat. Nothing about him seemed menacing and yet, I had a feeling of unease as he looked at me. Even when he smiled a pleasant smile, revealing glowing white teeth, I wanted nothing more than to back away from him. His soft smile faded from his lips and concern took over his face as his attention fell to my mother. With troubled eyes, he smiled at us again then turned and walked away.
I watched as the young doctor strode across to the nurse's station and picked up a patients chart. He had a graceful quality to him.
"There's something, I don't know, different about him," my mother said pensively.
"Who? Dr. Cullen?" I asked, confusion in my voice.
"Yes," she said, furrowing her brow.
"He seems nice enough," I said, still looking at the young doctor.
"Edward, listen to me," she whispered, placing her hand on my cheek and turning my face so I was looking at her. "'Different' doesn't mean bad. I want you to remember that, okay?"
I looked back in the direction of the young doctor and I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw his cheek tick, as though he were about to smile. I faced my mother again and nodded, knowing that her assessment of the doctor was right. Without question, he was different. And though I felt uneasy around him, I knew he wasn't bad. He couldn't be, knowing how much concern he had for my father. Different, yes. But definitely not bad.
End Notes:
1. So now you have permission to not like Dr. Hastings. Although, Carlisle is just brilliant and has been around forever so he just knows things that poor Hastings had no chance of knowing.
2. All the information I got for Spanish Influenza was obtained on , and to the best of my knowledge is correct. There was a second outbreak in August in Boston and in France however I don't know if it got to Chicago... I assume it did because by September it was in D.C., so I took some creative licensing and had it work with the time frame I was going with (because ww1 ended in November and round 2 of the flu came around in August, so I just picked a week and went with it). On a side note, Edwards parents are mentioned in the fictional characters that were killed by Spanish flu on wikipedia!
3. I want it known here and now, I adore Carlisle!! I will be reiterating this throughout the coming chapters.
4. Once again, sorry for the slow progression of the story. I probably could have skipped all of this, but I wanted there to be some human Edward time so I could have a harsh contrast between what he was to what he became. And I just didn't want to be like "oh he got sick." So I actually took the time to look up what the symptoms probably were, as information on it is sketchy at best. One thing every place I looked seemed to agree on, it killed quickly.
5. The dream girl, he's desperate to find her. He looks every where for her... of course we all know when/where he finds his dream girl, but keep on trusting me... there is a point to it!!
6. So here is where I beg you to give it a chance, keep coming back! Give me to at least chapter 6 or 7 before you decide if you completely hate it!! I'll try and update again quickly so as to keep you interested!!!
