.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

- William Shakespeare

((The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158))

~ o ~

CHAPTER 3:

Delirium

My body startled at the terrible crash of thunder that shook the building. The whole room, it seemed, clasped onto itself aside from the good doctor staring down at me. While I could scarcely acknowledge his introduction with words, the proper thing to do, I tried anyhow. Wanting to state my name, my lips left the sanctity of being joined as the words lingered on the tip of my tongue. Dr. Cullen took another step towards me, as if he anticipated my intention and held his hand up.

"Please, you don't have to speak," he said and lowered his hand. "I have heard so much about you, Edward. Your mother speaks highly of you."

If my body had lacked attention in his presence, it no longer did. My mind came to life, roaring with questions about his exchange with her. How is she? Is she comfortable? What is her condition? I wanted to know every detail, even if it was insignificant and held no meaning. I feared for her health when I saw her walk away into the darkness with Nurse Pat when we had first arrived earlier today. It felt permanent, hopeless and I knew that my abiding thoughts would never cease until I was rest assured that she would be okay. She is a kindhearted, good, honest woman…one of the best in Chicago and I would argue anyone on the fact. She doesn't deserve to be here. She's too good for it.

I tried to suppress a cough that climbed ambitiously from my chest and I let it topple into an enclosed hand. My chest stung with an overwhelming cold as I inhaled a sharp breath and I could feel the sickness bubbling in the recess of my cavity. I immediately felt thick and sullied at the harsh pains that were relentless in their need for torture. There weren't many things that I feared before the turn of this year but after I bore witness to my father's death, new horrors haunted me and for enough reason to re-think leaving home for the military; my future. Now, that my mother was widowed she would be alone if I left, without the safeguard of my father there was unexpected panic that was coiled in my mind regarding her safety. I, also, didn't want her to be alone. She would fear too much for my well-being if I was away and this would drive her to the brink of madness if she experienced it by herself. Her collecting thoughts of worry would knead out every other positive image and this fact was a burden. My attempts to dismiss any other claims by her after I broached the subject were troublesome. She always tried to assure me that she would miss me but in any case, capable of handling herself. Again, one of the best women in Chicago but the worst liar in the world.

Dr. Cullen, holding onto silence, took hold of the papers in Nurse Pat's hand and she glanced over it with him, standing strangely. The closeness seemed forced by her. Or may be it was him eliciting the odd behavior. He held his body angled away while she was leaning into him. It was a peculiar situation to witness. A cough, that wasn't predicted, spread my lungs in my chest and I heaved heavily into my fist. The back of my throat was dry and itched terribly. I needed water to lure the sickness back into the pits of my stomach where it belonged. I didn't want it near my mouth to distract my words and their meaning. I had every intention of asking him the questions that were on my mind.

He allowed Nurse Pat to take the papers and he offered me a gentle grin. I tried to form the first words of a question but I only ending up coughing more. I gasped for a quick breath and my fingers clutched into my chest while the other hand held onto sheets for brace. I shut my eyes, squeezing them at the intruding pain that tore into my lungs as I tried for a sliver of air. A cool sensation squeezed my hand and I realized it to be Dr. Cullen's own hand.

"Edward, I need you to breathe gently. Steady breaths, even," he said.

I listened to him, inhaling steadily but it didn't feel like it was enough. I wanted to gulp the air, so I did. It wasn't a thing that could be easily controlled.

"Edward, steady breaths," he reminded me.

"I can't," I said harshly against a hard hack.

"It is difficult, but it will be for the best." He squeezed my hand with both of his. They embraced my tense hand carefully. I wanted to listen to him, to do what he said but in the wandering of my mind and the sickness that embraced the rest of my body, it was effortful and I was becoming too weak to fight against what was taking hold of me. Dr. Cullen grasped my hand and wrapped his cool fingers around mine.

"Edward," Dr. Cullen said softly, "your mother wanted me to tell you that you do not need to have agonizing thoughts over her."

I coughed a grin, painfully amused at his words. "She's sick, isn't she?"

He didn't deny it.

"I knew she was. Even before me, I knew it. She dislikes when she is worried over," I paused for a moment, thinking about when I had first saw her and had suspicion that she was coming down the Flu. She was in the kitchen and moving slower than her usual pace and when she coughed, that thick, strained and harsh cough, I knew that it was a matter of time. She denied it then, and she denies it still. I felt the tears welding in my eyes, making me feel hot and flustered as I tried to swallow them back. "How sick?"

Dr. Cullen took a breath but never released it. "It is hard to say. This condition can be quite deceiving but she is quite ill. There isn't anything that I can do that we are not doing already. I am truly sorry."

I bit back the tears but my weak state wouldn't allow me to win this fight and the liquid overwhelmed my vision as it streamed over and down my face. I felt it roll down my cheek and settle behind my ear.

"Would you, perhaps, like to discuss this?"

"I want to see her," I said strictly, having it no other way. Surely, if she was dying and if I am dying, they would allow this simple request.

"I will make the arrangements for you to visit, but it will have to be brief. It is the only offer I can give to you. There isn't much more that I can do, I do hope that you understand and you will not think ill of me," Dr. Cullen responded. Through the harsh throbbing of my own heart that pounded in my ears I could interpret the tone in his voice. He was remorseful and genuine. He was touching my hand and leaning towards me, unafraid of my illness and revealing his true humanity to me. He felt for these people locked away in here, shut off from the world. These people, myself included, could be compared to barbaric animals not fit to be around civilization. The moment a cough escaped the mouth of a tamed animal, people cried out that they were feral. But this man, that didn't know a line of my life nor anyone else's in here, cared for us. I could see it residing behind his gold eyes and hear the evidence in his voice. I believed him when he said there was nothing else he could offer and I shook my head, letting him know that I had no amiss notions towards him.

"I do not think badly of you, doctor," I said then coughed. "I thank you for doing this one favor for me, for her."

"You are surely welcome. Now, you rest. Nothing need be done until tomorrow morning. If you are feeling up to the strenuous task of getting out of bed, a nurse will take you to see your mother then. I'm sure you must be in a great deal of pain." He gripped my hand reassuringly and I grinned in response, shutting my eyes and welcoming the darkness that welcomed me behind my lids.

I didn't know how long I had been asleep when my eyes fluttered open into the amber light that bounced around the room. The rest had done my body a great difference and I had the strength to turn my head to look around the room. My eyes fell on Georgie's bed and I almost gasped when I saw it to be empty. I was even taken aback more when the surrounding beds were clear of life after my lingering glance widened. Every one of them, gone. The white sheets and garments were folded neatly at the end of each bed, like they had never been used. They stood waiting for the next sick people to occupy them. My sight drifted back to the empty bed beside me. It felt strange that Georgie was no longer there, even though I hadn't known him more than I had. We only exchanged a few words that seemed meek and trivial, but I couldn't escape the sheer knowledge that he and I had spoken, regardless of its significance…and now he was no longer there. It was then I realized that I was completely alone in this lowly-lit, large room.

"Hello?" I called out into the dark emptiness. My voice echoed eerily through the dormant hall. I asked again and waited for a response, but nothing came. I raised my body off the bed, readying myself for a struggle against my own body, but it was easy and pain free as I reeled myself up into a sitting position. I was taken aback by the feeling in my extremities; normal, light. I looked around once more, making sure I was as alone as I thought I was and it was true. "Is anyone here?" I swallowed a hard lump in my throat and then realized that my chest was no longer thick from the illness. More confused, I flung the sheet off my body, surprised by my sudden strength when before I had none. My bare feet sought the floor and made contact with the cold tile while I hoisted myself off the bed with the help of my hands. It was easy to stand straight after I had been bed ridden for nearly twelve hours. I felt good; strong even. I squinted through the amber light at my surroundings. It was the same room, I was sure of it, yet somehow it seemed different. It was cleaner than I remembered and less odorous. There were no makeshift mattresses on the floor between the beds, no shallow bowls to take up space on the few tables that were placed erratically around the room and the gurneys to take away the victims were no where in sight. It was notably odd and shuddersome.

I took a step forward expecting to stumble but I didn't. I walked with no effort and then found myself stepping faster over the cold tile towards the quarantine doors that would lead to the hall. With the barriers close, I sprinted and barreled into them, knocking them open forcefully with my hands held out in front of me. I came to a sudden stop in the hall and the doors closed behind me, darkness enveloping my form and causing me to go blind. I searched quickly, looking for a flicker of light but there was nothing but the empty obsidian in the hall. I had never seen a thicker black before in my life; it was as if a shroud was blanketed over the hospital preventing any light from leaking in. I tried to breathe slowly to keep myself calm.

"Is there anyone here?" I cried out, sucking raggedly at the cool air. I reached to my left. There is a wall here, I thought. I felt nothing to my left until I took another couple of steps until my fingertips brushed the coarse bricks. Relief overcame me as I knew I had means to guide me to the front of the building where there was sure to be light and possibly another person. I walked steadily, foot by foot, hand by hand, both leading me to where I wanted to be.

Edward.

I stopped and spun around at the whisper of my name, expecting to be met with another person who was as lost as I was but the voice had no author.

"Hello? Who's there?"

Edward…

"Who's there? Where are you?" I asked the voice. I received no answer and thought briefly if I was becoming delirious but I was sure I had heard my name being called. I started walking back to the quarantine room quietly, listening carefully for my name again to determine where it was coming from. The more steps I took, the more sodden the floor became beneath me. As if the world was finally coming into focus, an amber glow flickered on the wet floor, moving with the disturbance of the water and I was instantaneously relieved at the fresh sight. My pace quickened through the flood that had mysteriously appeared and I came face to face with a pair of white doors which read:

Women and Children's Quarantine.

How could I forget her? I thought, as I raised my hands to the sheet-covered, square glass cut in the middle of the left door. My fingertips descended slowly as I pushed it open to reveal a water-logged room, the same size as the unit had I come from before entering the darkened hall. I didn't have to look around to know that there were differences between here and there. It was empty and pitch black except for the one bed that stood silently in the middle of the floor, water surrounding its frame and a lantern by the bedside, blocking the face of the patient that was laying there. It wouldn't be careless to say that everyone in the building had abandoned us; me and this other person here. My eyes fell to my feet that were underneath the ankle-high pool.

A sob shook my frame, but it wasn't mine. It was feminine and familiar as it resonated again as I ascended my sight to the white figure lying in the bed.

"Is that you crying?" I asked to the person, but there was no answer, only the delicate cry. I sloshed through the water quickly, my pants soaking up my legs. The water hit up to my knees as I moved to the bedside and nearly came out of my skin at the sight. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was taut, the skin around her cheekbones was sunken in and every inch of her face was pallid…Mom. She was, indeed, sick…deathly. Her form suggested that she had already passed since she was lying poised with her hands resting on her stomach. I nearly sank to the soaked floor but I caught myself on the edge of the bed and positioned myself next to her as her soft incoherent pleas haunted the air around us while her mouth remained unmoving and her body rigid.

"Why did they leave you?" I asked, placing my hand on hers. I flinched at the sensation as cold pings pricked at my palm. Her hands were as winter, colder than I would have ever imagined. I furrowed my brow at thought of going to fetch another blanket for her but I was unsure of where they were. I was afraid to leave her side now that I had found her in the darkness and I wasn't sure I'd be able to find my way back if I left. I waited patiently for her answer but she remained silent as the air continued to fill with her wavering voice that held meaningless words. I didn't understand a scrap of what she was saying, but I listened to her anyhow, comforted by the babbling brook that was her song. It was comforting, even if I didn't know fully what it was that she was speaking of, I felt myself breathing easier in her presence. The air flowed in through my nose and out my mouth with passivity. I said her name a few times and gracefully tapped her hand, hoping to stir her in some way so she would say something to me, to acknowledge my presence.

Overwhelming emotions over came me as I watched her lie peacefully, not opening her eyes nor her mouth to speak to me. I always knew that I would outlive my parents if life were to course naturally. It would be probable that she would pass before me under normal circumstances, but it wouldn't be for some time. And now here she is…deathly sick and barely clinging to a state of understanding, if any at all. I was not prepared to lose them so quickly. It was suppose to be years from now when I had someone to confide in, to brace myself on. I was not prepared to be alone in the world so early. It was a grim reality that I faced now, and the sharp edges of it ripped out my heart and clipped at the recesses of my thoughts. She sighed heavily through thick mucus and relief crossed the boundaries of my unsettled mind. I waited…waited for her to open her eyes and look at me, to lie to me and tell me that everything would be alright and I didn't have to worry.

"Mother? It's Edward," I said while I tapped her hand but the babbling continued to float around us which was becoming discerning. How was I hearing her if she wasn't speaking? My eyes shifted around the room dissecting the murky darkness around the copper glow that I was immersed in but I saw nothing in the shadows. The only movement was the tame water moving gently in subtle currents that came from nowhere and disappearing into the obsidian. Why had they left us here?

Edward.

I looked back down to her, expecting to meet her open eyes but she was lying in the same state, still. "Mother…Elizabeth Masen?"

Nothing.

I sighed heavily and bowed my head, feeling defeated. "Why won't you speak to me? What have I done to deserve your silence? Please, tell me so I may right my wrong," I pleaded. Her brow furrowed at my words and I was sure that she heard me.

I love you. I have been proud of you since you were born.

"I wish you were proud of me now."

I only hope that there is some one who can do more for you now since I can not. You do not deserve to be in here. You are too young, too remarkable.

I placed my other hand on her icy fingers and held onto them, hoping to warm them. "If I could trade places with you, I would. I'm sorry. I tried to take care of everything after father passed. I tried with everything I had. I wish it could have been enough."

He can't die.

"Who can't die, mother?"

Edward.

"I'm here."

Edward.

"Yes, I'm here."

He can't die.

"Who can't die? Please, speak to me?"

I love you, my son.

"I love you, too." The statement caused my surroundings to become blurry as the tears started to form on my lower lid. This world full of senseless chatter ceased and my hands started to sink into hers as her form became less of a physical being and started belonging to air. My breathing picked up at the sight of her figure dying into the brass glow and white bed. I shook my head, denying what was happening to her as she slowly disappeared. My fingertips grazed the mattress of where she used to be and I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the drops from my eyes and praying that it was a vision caused by my blurred sight but when I opened them again, the images remained true. A tug pulled at my chest and climbed my neck to the back of my mouth until I had to scream…until there was no other release to the pain that shook my limbs. I fell into the bed, curling my cold wet legs into the sheets and smothered my shouts into the pillow, feeling utterly alone.

A pair of firm hands gripped my shoulders and I tried to push them off, not wanting to be bothered in this new torment. I didn't care to speak with anyone and even if I did, I couldn't. Another scream escaped me as my body shook unwillingly. My cry was deafening and my voice cracked and my throat ached with each second I shouted. Through the agonizing pain that stung my chest I could hear my name being called over and over again but it wasn't the familiar voice that I wanted to hear. I was being shaken again while a masculine whisper was lit in the darkness. He called my name several times before I finally gave in and submitted to his suggestion that I was dreaming. I couldn't believe it in it's entirety since the pain remained.

"He's become delirious," I heard him say, "it's a rare occurrence, but I'm sure of it. His fever has become worse."

"None of the other patients have had this. What should we do, Dr. Cullen?" a nurse asked, although I wasn't sure which one, as they were all out of my sight.

"Cool water and a towel, it is the only thing we can do. The fever must be subsided," he answered.

My eyes slit open to see Dr. Cullen standing over me with a gauze mask draped over his mouth and nose. The brass flicker of the lantern lit his face and contorted the sharp shadows on his cheekbones as he stared at me with emotionless eyes. I tried to move to lie on my back from my side and I found my legs were wrapped around the sheet. Every movement that I made to correct myself bore new agony into the hollow of my bones. There was no part of me that ached more than the other; my whole body was now a screaming bruise. My shoulders gave to the persisting pain that coursed down my arm and through my hands. It charted its way back up and over my neck and down my back then into my hips and thighs. My thoughts raced back to my father. I could see him toss in the painful phase of the illness and wishing for death. He had his salvation away from the pain, now I could only pray for mine. A crack of thunder echoed through the room, as if it were confirming my last request.

A/N:

If you couldn't tell, Edward was dreaming. No, his mother did not die…yet. Delirium was a symptom of the Spanish Flu, so I used this to my advantage.

Can anyone guess why?

See you next chapter!

=)