Love Lights Fires; Chapter Seven
"We judge a man's wisdom by his hope." —Ralph Waldo Emerson
Carlisle Cullen,
September 11, 2001. 10:30 A.M.
We were just about to watch a showdown go on between Renée and Charlie when I heard the usual beep of my pager.
I immediately stiffened and gasped. I knew what I needed to do.
I checked it. Sure enough, it said—432-343-3149.
Well, that's the hospital.
I looked up at my family, "I'll be right back."
I got up off the couch and walked into the bathroom.
I got out my cell phone and called back the number that paged me.
"Bellevue Medical Center? This is Jayla speaking," I heard the frantic voice of the receptionist answer.
"Jayla, it's Carlisle. I need to come in?" I asked.
She sighed loudly, "Yes. We know it's your day off, but with the….And there are too many patients with barely any doctors—"
"I know, I know," I cut her off; "I'll be right in."
I snapped my cell phone shut and took a long breath. I walked back out into the living room and everyone looked up at me.
I knew they wouldn't like me leaving—especially Esme—but I have to get out there.
"I have to go help out at the hospital. There are too many patients and very little doctors," I told them. I looked over to Esme. It broke my heart to see her looking so scared. I kissed her passionately, "I will be back, love."
"Be safe," she whispered in my ear.
I smiled at her, "That I will."
I walked to the door and took one last look at them. Then I closed it.
As I was jogging down to the parking garage of the apartment building, I couldn't get the image of my poor Esme looking so torn and broken out of my head. I wish I could stay with her…I really do. But, I have a duty to do. As chief of medicine at Bellevue.
There was a long line for the elevator—probably people trying to get out of here.
I turned around and ran the other way, to the stairs. I slammed the door open and took two steps down at a time.
When I finally got into my black Mercedes, I pressed the automatic unlock button and climbed in. I jammed the key in the ignition and floored it out of the garage.
As I was soaring down the road, I kept looking to the side—hoping maybe, just maybe, I'd find Edward and Jasper and Emmett.
I only saw people I didn't know, total strangers, looking up at the sky in shock.
I didn't even look the way that the Twin Towers were. I couldn't find enough strength to search for the place where this dreaded day began. If I did look over there, I'd drive straight there and help all of the firemen and police.
When I finally got to Bellevue, I parked in the first parking lot I could find. I got out, slammed the door again, and ran to the automatic doors of the emergency room.
I saw hundreds of people scrambling around. Doctors, nurses, patients, families…
"Doctor Cullen, we need to help to sort all the patients!" Doctor Henderson said as I jogged towards him.
"What do you need?" I asked.
"You tell me!" he barked.
I just simply blinked at his outburst. I took a look around the room and turned back to him, "Do as best as you can for the people who are fatal. Get morphine, a lot of morphine. We're going to need it. Whoever needs surgery, give them to me!" I shouted as I started running backwards.
He nodded and turned back to his work.
I turned and ran into my office to get on my coat. Once I got it, I ran back outside and helped out with the patients.
The place was in total chaos. People were running around with patients on beds attached to IV's.
I walked towards Doctor Eversett and gently patted him on the back, "I got this one, Adam. Go take a break," I told him. He looked like he was about to pass out. The poor guy had night shift. He probably never left.
He breathed out and set down the patient's chart, "Thank you so much, Carlisle," he said right before he turned and ran out of the emergency room.
I quickly evaluated the patient. He was clearly a firefighter. He still had on his helmet and jacket and boots. He had soot and ash all over. He also had a pole going through his right thigh.
I looked over to Nurse Diana and waved her over. She caught my hand motion and zoomed over to me.
"Are there any open rooms? I don't care if it's surgery or not, but I need to get him out of this crowded area," I said while pointing to the firefighter. He was falling in and out of consciousness.
"Mmm," she thought out loud, "There might be one open down the hall from here. I could go check for you?"
"That'd be great, thanks," I smiled.
She nodded and ran off.
I turned back to the man and laid a hand on his shoulder, "I'm going to get this pole out of your leg. You're going to be fine," I assured him.
The only problem was I didn't know if he was going to be okay. This pole might have stabbed his Femoral artery. If that pole comes out, he might bleed to death. But I won't let that happen.
He nodded weakly. He looked like he was going to cry.
At the moment I was about to say something else, Diana came back.
"Room 342 is open right now. You can go in there. You might need to sterilize everything first…" she warned.
I waved my hand, "Get some people to do that for me. I can't right now. Get only two or three. I don't need a bucket load of people in there while I do this."
She nodded and scurried off again.
I went to the head of my patient's bed and began to push him into the room Diana directed me too.
"So, tell me your name," I said to try and lighten the mood.
"Grant Lewis," he murmured quietly.
"Okay, then. Hello, Grant. My name's Carlisle Cullen," I said politely.
He laughed quietly before gasping from the pain, "Ow."
"I'm sorry. We're going to perform surgery on your leg to try and get the pole out without causing too much damage to your Femoral artery," I told him.
"O-okay," he stuttered.
I walked the rest of the way to the room without talking to him. When we got in, I pushed him over to the far wall and started to hook up a more IVs and a heart monitor.
A nurse walked in and told me they'd have all the equipment ready in five minutes. I told her thank you and she walked out. I turned back to Grant and patted his shoulder.
"Anything you need?" I asked quietly.
He shook his head a little, "No thanks."
I nodded and sat down in a chair, "What was it like down there?"
He shook his head slightly from side to side and whispered, "Horrible."
I nodded my head understandingly, "What were you doing with this happened?" I asked and motioned to his leg.
"I was walking into the lobby of the South Tower—" he choked.
I patted his shoulder as the team I organized came in with medical equipment, "It's okay, you don't have to talk." I glanced up at one of the doctors that came in. he nodded slightly at me. I looked back towards Grant and stood up with a sigh, "We're going to get you better, okay?"
He nodded as an anesthesiologist came over with a mask attached to sodium pentothal and started turning knobs.
I turned back to Grant and put a hand on his shoulder, "We're going to knock you out for this. Is there anything you want to say before we go?"
He took a deep breath and nodded his head, "Save my ladder, please," he pleaded with me.
I furrowed my eyebrows, "Ladder?"
He gulped and nodded, "My station," he croaked.
Understanding lit up on my face, "Oh, of course. I will do the best I can."
"Tell them…I tried," he groaned as the nurse stuck a new IV in his arm.
"You're going to get out of this," I promised.
He nodded once again and closed his eyes. I patted his arm and turned to watch the anesthesiologist put the mask over his nose and mouth.
"Mr. Lewis, I want you to count backwards from one hundred," the nurse commanded.
"100...99...98...97...9...6..." And his eyes drifted closed.
I breathed out and turned to the doctors behind me, "Let's do this."
!#%#%&^*%^$
I walked out of the operating room stiffly, I felt numb. I felt defeated. I felt...angry. I was angry at myself. How could I do that to him? I promised over and over that I'd get him out, but I just couldn't. There was already too much damage.
Now, here I am, stomping out of the operating room with a haunting 'beep' following me. I walked out into the emergency room—still in scrubs—and rested my hands on the wall after I threw off my rubber gloves. I kicked the wall forcefully and let out a breath as I hung my head low. How could I break that promise?
I heard footsteps coming from behind me, loudly over the emergency room buzz.
A hand clasped my shoulder and gently shook it, "Get some rest, Carlisle."
I turned around and faced Doctor Henderson. I shook my head, "I can't. I have to help—something, I have to do something," I whined miserably.
"Go," he demanded shortly and pointed towards the door.
I stared at him for one last moment before I complied and stormed out of the building.
I went over to sit on one of the benches and leaned my head back.
"Why?" I shouted to the sky, "Why us? Why now?" I demanded. The only reply I got was a bird chirping.
I sighed and took out my cell phone. I dialed the all-to-familiar number and waited for her beautiful voice to answer.
"Carlisle?" I heard her whisper into the phone.
"Love," I croaked. That's all I got out.
"What's wrong? What's going on? Are you okay? Have you heard anything? What's going on?" she asked in a rush.
I ran a hand through my hair and closed my eyes. The sound of sirens and doctors ordering firmly still loud and clear.
"This is...complete chaos, Esme. I've never been this...overwhelmed in this hospital," I groaned.
"Well...have you heard anything about them?" her voice cracked at the end.
I shook my head, even though she can't see it, "No. But I did work on a firefighter. Grant Lewis. Ask Rosalie if she knows him," I suggested.
I heard murmurs in the back and I prayed to God that Emmett and Rosalie didn't know Grant.
"Carlisle?" Esme's voice brought me back.
"Hmm?" I asked, slightly out of it.
"Rosalie said she knows him. He's in Emmett's ladder. What's going on?"
I moaned sadly and rested my hand on my forehead.
"I did surgery on him. He had a pole stuck in his Femoral artery. I tried...I really did," I said.
Esme gasped, "He's gone?"
"Yes. It was...fairly bad," I muttered. I heard my name being called in the distance. I looked up and saw Henderson—once again—coming up to me. I held up a finger when he got close to me telling him one second.
"Love, I have to go."
She sighed, "Be careful, Carlisle. Find my babies for me."
"I will my love. I will bring them back to the family," I promised strongly.
With one last 'I love you', I hung up and faced Henderson's confused face.
"'Bring them back to the family'? What's that about?" he asked.
I got up from the bench and walked back into the hospital with him next to me.
"My son, Edward, and my 'fake-sons', as I like to call them, Jasper and Emmett, are somewhere in that wreck," I said pointing towards the area where the World Trade Center was.
His eyes popped open wide, "Are you kidding me?"
I shook my head sadly, "Edward is the Director of Trade for the United States. Jasper is the Assistant Director of Trade. Emmett is a firefighter. He's the captain of his ladder and...Lewis is one of his men."
He gasped, "Holy shit. I didn't know you had this much connection Carlisle. Maybe you should go home..." he said hesitantly.
"No, I'm here to help people. Now, what did you want?" I said forcefully.
"We need some people to go down to the World Trade Center and help find people. They need people to help perform surgeries or treatments too. Can you go? I'm going too."
I nodded and motioned for him to follow me to my car. We made a U-turn in our path and walked back out of the doors. We jogged down into the parking garage and I unlocked my doors with the automatic beeper.
We jumped in and sped down the road as fast as we could.
^#!$^$*%^*%^%$#
When we got there, I my worst fears were confirmed. The scene around me was mass chaos. People were running all over. Some just stood by and stared at the wreck in a trance. They were covered in dust and debris. Ambulances and fire trucks were all over, trying to get the fire out before they could do anything.
We got out of the car and walked over to someone who looked to be in charge and started to job from hell.
A/N: So, there's Carlisle's POV. I'm not a big fan of writing his, but that's just me. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I'm just so god damned stressed.
Finals are soon—I have to study for them. I have two projects for Geometry. I have an English test on Of Mice and Men. I have so much homework. I'm practicing my dances and songs for a huge concert we're doing—it's our last one, because my school sucks.
Two days ago, there was a bomb threat at my school, too. It was pretty scary, even though we had no idea what was going on when they evacuated us. We thought it was just a fire drill, but nope. Crazy kids and they're gang activity.
So, me and my friends Amber (morningsandmeaningsxD) and Kelly were thinking of some crazy ass story. It's the Twilight gang, but they're in a nursing home. It's crazy. Check it out.
fanfiction(dot)net/~morningsandmeaningsxD. Then go to the only story she has. (:
