Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight :)

"If life is a journey from birth to death,

how much of that path must be walked alone?"

-Unknown author-

Air

BPOV

The awakening came slowly.

The familiar sounds of the hospital echoed in my ears as I tried to open my eyes. I wasn't successful; I felt as thought my body was still asleep. Lying completely still, I focused on listening to the sounds around me instead of forcing myself awake, having no wish to face another endless day. The annoying sound of the monitors and machines told me that I was still alive. It made me sigh quietly.

A group of nurses were chatting with each other quite loudly as they passed my room; I tried to catch the words but they were talking too fast. It had to be morning already, because otherwise they wouldn't be so vocal, would they? Somewhere down the hall doors were opened and closed, footsteps followed by loud bangs. It made my head ache; I felt like I was having a hangover of the century.

A loud, squeking sound reached my ears, and at first I couldn't place it. I frowned as it came closer to my door and then receded. Maybe it was a hospital gurney being rolled down the corridor. Somewhere a door opened again, and then closed with another loud bang.

Suddenly I had a feeling that something was amiss. Like I had forgotten something very important. Something had happened, and I should have remembered it - it was vital that I did.

Was it the dream I'd had? There had been a little girl in it, and we had blown soap bubbles together... I tried to remember, frowning as I racked my brain.

And then it hit me; Carlisle had been in my dream, too. Not in the same dream with the summer field and the sandy-haired girl... But in the dream after that. He'd been in my room and apologized for leaving me. He had been so sad that I hadn't had the heart to harbor any anger towards him...

I had to stop any further thoughts. It had been just a dream, and there was no point thinking about it and making myself miserable. I pressed my eyelids closed more tightly, wondering if the day would pass more quickly if I never decided to open them.

"Are you awake?"

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard the voice. A startled gasp escaped me, the sound sharp and loud in the silent room. I wrenched my eyes open, searching for the origin of the voice, the voice that simply couldn't exist.

But it existed. There he was, sitting in that same chair. My eyes almost dropped out of their sockets as I stared at him, unable to believe what I saw.

"I'm sorry," Carlisle apologized, rising from the chair. "I didn't mean to startle you," He seemed truly sorry as he watched me with his butterscotch eyes, coming to stand closer to the bed.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my heart down.

"You're really here." It was almost like a question.

"I am," he answered, a swift smile passing on his face. He observed me for a moment more, and then began to check the monitors routinely. "How are you feeling? Any nausea?" he asked, gently beginning to probe the skin of my throat, probably to check my lymph nodes for any swelling. His fingers moved beneath my jawline, and I tilted my head without him having to tell me. I had gone through this examination a million times before.

"No," I answered. The treatments made me sometimes awfully sick. Sleeping or any other normal activities were impossible when you felt like you had to throw up once in every five seconds.

"That's good. Do you think you're up for a short walk?" Carlisle asked, observing my reaction carefully.

A walk, I thought. I idly wondered where he was going to take me - and why. I knew that it'd be good to stretch my limbs every once in a while, but recently walking and any moving around had been pure hell. It was like my joints were on fire.

But I'd be damned if I let him see any weaknesses. I shrugged, meeting his questioning glance. "Sure," I muttered, putting on my hardass mask.

"Do you want me to get a wheelchair, just in case?" Carlisle offered, his expression slightly uncertain. I answered his gaze squarely, lifting my chin up as well as I could from my position.

"No wheelchairs."

I pulled myself up into a sitting position, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and managing to do all that without a grunt of pain. I cheered inwardly, watching as Carlisle unhooked my IV and all the other wires that I was attached to.

When he was done, he reached out with his arm, putting it behind my back to help me stand up. He didn't force his help on me, but kept a steady hand in the small of my back in case I needed more assistance.

At first I felt quite good as I stood next to the bed, thinking that standing up had been easier that I had thought. But then, black spots began to dance in front of my eyes and I swayed slightly. I felt Carlisle grabbing my arm quickly to steady me.

"Bella? Maybe you should sit back down." The worry in his tone aggravated me.

"No," I insisted. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

When did I get so breathless? I must have been worse than I remembered. A normal function like standing up shouldn't be this hard.

Get a grip already, I told myself, blinking the black spots away.

"Okay," I said, trying to sound interested. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Just down the corridor," Carlisle suggested. "Maybe to the cafetaria if you want to." He frowned, beginning to look around him and apparently considering if it was safe to let go of my arm. "Where's your robe?" he asked. "In case you're getting cold."

I was only wearing my light hospital gown and a pair of pants, but despite his cool touch, I wasn't feeling chilly.

"I don't need it. I'm not cold," I insisted, slipping my socked feet into a pair of slippers.

Carlisle seemed to accept my answer, but nonetheless I saw him grabbing a blanket from the bed. He began to lead me out of the room, but after that I decided that I wouldn't need any help with walking. I managed to make it through the hallway just fine. Our pace was slow, and for a moment I wondered if Carlisle was annoyed because of it. At least I was. But I didn't want to risk falling down - I didn't need any more bruises.

"Would you like to go outside for a moment?" Carlisle asked, nodding towards a balcony nearby and clearly having decided to break the uncomfortable silence between us. "I'm sure it would be nice to get some fresh air."

I considered his words, wondering when was the last time I'd seen the sky. I remembered that one of the nurses had carted me off to the balcony a couple of time before. It had been a long time since the last time, and it happened rarely. My weak condition kept me inside most of the time.

But now it certainly would feel good to breathe some fresh air. As fresh as it could be in a city like Vancouver.

"Sure," I murmured. "That'd be good," I glanced at him, wondering if he thought that I had a word limitation for each day. But he didn't seem to be insulted by my curt anwers. He seemed only relieved that I was even speaking to him. A quick smile passed on his face as he stepped to unlock the door of the balcony with his key. He held it open for me as I stepped out into the cool air.

Shivers rippled through me as the wind whipped against my skin. I inhaled deeply and wrapped my arms around me, suddenly wishing that I had brought my robe after all. At least it wasn't raining - I hated rain.

I felt Carlisle wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. His small gesture was very sweet.

I lifted my eyes to observe the cloudy sky. It was an average day of November, and the weather wasn't really that cold. Not for a normal and healthy person, anyway. But I wasn't normal, nor healthy. My teeth began to chatter as if to prove it.

I devoured the gray sky with my eyes, idly wondering if I had a chance to see the sun ever again.

"We'd better go back inside," Carlisle suggested. "I don't want you to catch a cold. Your immune system is too weak to fight it off."

"I've had a flu like twenty times during the past six months. One more wouldn't rock the boat." Nonetheless, I stepped inside as Carlisle held the door open for me.

"I'm not doubting you persistence," he commented with a hint of amusement in his tone.

Yeah, I'm sure you don't.

The silence fell between us again as we made our way back towards my room. It wasn't that uncomfortable as before, and somehow I was relieved because of it.

"I can take you to the cafetaria if you like," Carlisle offered quietly after a moment. "You missed your breakfast and lunch while you were sleeping."

His words made me frown. I hadn't realized that I had slept that long. Not that it really mattered.

"No thanks," I declined. "I can wait for the next meal time. I'm not that hungry, anyway." That wasn't even a lie. I had lost my appetite a long time ago, and usually I had to force myself to eat something.

Suddenly I remembered the reason for my sleeping in. Last night Carlisle had given me a sedative when I had asked about Esme and Edward... The memory of his anxious demeanor and evasive words puzzled me; what was it that he didn't want me to know?

I pondered about it in silence, and before I knew it we were back in my room. The walk had gone a lot easier that I had expected. Maybe I could get used to moving around again; my limbs didn't feel as stiff as they had before.

After kicking off my slippers I climbed back to my bed. I didn't lay down, however, only settled on sitting in the middle of the bed with the blanket still around my shoulders. I gazed cautiously at Carlisle.

He pretended not notice my impermeable look, only started to attach me to the monitors again. I turned my head away as he insterted a new cannula into my hand, connecting it to the IV-line.

"How do you feel?" he asked without raising his eyes. I observed his face as he checked my blood pressure and some other things from the monitor.

"Fine," I answered, and I didn't even have to lie. Fresh air had been good for me. "Thanks for taking me out. This room started to feel a little too small."

Finally Carlisle looked at me. A small smile lifted the other corner of his mouth.

"You're welcome, Bella," he said quietly, pulling a folder from the corner of the desk into his hands and starting to flip through the pages, scribbling something down.

During the walk it had been me clamming up, but apparently it was now his turn to be mute. Several moments passed in silence before Carlisle broke it by clearing his throat. I wondered if it was a learned habit after pretending to be a human all these years. He really didn't need to cough to have a crystal clear voice.

"It's time for your cytostatic treatment tomorrow," he reminded, his eyes still on the papers. His words were contemplative - they almost sounded like a warning. But I already knew what to expect. I'd gone through those treatments for a couple of times before since radiotherapy didn't work out.

But what was the point anyway? My body was slowly giving up on life, fading away - the doctors had been very honest about that. They said they could try to continue with the treatments, but they couldn't promise anything. And I didn't have the strength to fight anymore. And no reason to. So why bother?

Why would Carlisle bother?

I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts, almost feeling Carlisle's gaze drilling a hole to the side of my head. So I turned to him, raising my eyebrows.

Our eyes met, golden mingling with brown.

He was about to open his mouth to say something, but then turned his head towards the door, hearing something what my human senses weren't able to catch. There was a quick knock on the door before it opened. A familiar nurse peeked inside the room - I couldn't remember her name. There were a lot of things I couldn't remember.

"Dr. Cullen, you're needed in the room 739. It's urgent."

"Thank you, Denise. I'll be right there." Carlisle nodded at the nurse, putting the papers aside.

The brown-haired head vanished from the door. The deity creature next to me gave me a long look.

"I'll come and check on you later," he promised. "Try to stay on your two left feet, all right?" Behind the playfulness there was real worry.

"I'll do my best," I said, pretending to be a little insulted. He only chuckled softly, turning around and walking away.

Then he was gone.