Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight :)

Change is never easy.

You fight to hold on.

You fight to let go.

-A quote from Wonder Years-

Calm

BPOV

The pointer of the clock moved slowly. I followed it with my gaze relentlessly, watching as the seconds ticked by. The sound was giving me a headache. If I stared at the clock long enough, would it blow up? I guess it was worth trying. Anything was worth trying.

After Carlisle had brought me back to my room, he had been quickly called elsewhere. Apparently there had been a car crash a mile away from the hospital, and every available doctor was needed in the ER. Carlisle had apologized profusely that he had to go, and I had said that he didn't need to be sorry for doing his job. I had almost cracked a joke that I would probably stay alive during his absence, but I had managed to stop myself from blurting out something like that. I had given him quite a scare last night, and I didn't need him worrying over me any more than he already did.

And here I sat, four hours later, trying to make the clock explode with the power of my mind.

Sweet. It was needless to say that I was bored.

My condition had been pretty good today. No throwing up or passing out, despite the fact that I had almost bled to death the previous evening. It was a nice change to be able to stay conscious more than one hour at a time. And because for once I wasn't tired, I couldn't make my time pass with sleeping.

The walk with the nurse a few hours ago had been surprisingly effortless. It hadn't been a long walk, only a couple of dozen yards, but in my standards it had been quite long. And I could have gone even further if the nurse hadn't disagreed - it made me wonder where I had gotten all this energy. It felt strange, and I wasn't used to it. I was feeling too good.

Some pessimistic part of my mind reminded me that maybe it was only a calm before the storm.

Trying to rid myself of the grim thoughts, I idly began to think about all those people who were fighting for their lives in the emergency room right now. I knew they were lucky to have Carlisle taking care of them. He was the best of the best.

Sitting up on my bed and crossing my legs, I tried to stretch my stiff limbs. My back and knees protested with jolts of pain, as if to remind me that of course there should be something wrong with this day. Ignoring the discomfort, I started nibbling a tasteless cracker the nurse had left for me, only to find out that it was too dry and stuck to my throat. My appetite still hadn't returned properly, but nonetheless I tried to eat something.

Eventually I had to put the half-eaten cracker away, deciding that I'd try again later. After sipping a few mouthfuls of water, I began to consider if I should try to get some sleep after all. The thought alone made me bored - I felt so alert that even the idea of sleeping seemed impossible.

The door opened suddenly. I turned to see who had entered, and was surprised to see Carlisle stepping in. I had thought that he would be stuck in surgeries and such for the entire evening.

I studied his face as he closed the door behind him and turned to look at me. Most of the doctors with a long and busy afternoon behind them would have looked rather abused and exhausted by now, but not Carlisle. Not even a hair in his head had gone out of place. There was no physical fatigue to be seen, but behind his smile I could see weariness. It was only very human of him to be a little burned out after a long day.

"Hi," I greeted before he managed to say anything. "How was your afternoon?"

Carlisle didn't quite manage to hide his surprise after seeing that I was so eagerly initiating a conversation with him, voluntarily even. For a moment I tried to remember how cranky I had been for these past few days in his presence. I could only hope I hadn't been too grumpy.

Carlisle recovered quickly from his surprise, and he gave a small sigh as he sat on the edge of my bed.

"It was... it was a lot of things," he answered. The small smile that had curved his lips disappeared, and suddenly he looked very sorrowful, although I could see that he tried to hide it from me. I wondered what made him look so sad. My guess was that someone had died, and now he was blaming himself for it.

"Was the crash bad?" I noticed myself asking. "Did everybody make it?" I had no idea if he wanted to talk about it or not, but I asked anyway.

Carlisle still wasn't looking at me. I watched the light reflecting from his golden blond hair; he suddenly reminded me of an angel.

"It was a quite bad accident," Carlisle answered. "Not as bad as it could have been, I suppose, but there was enough to do even then." He paused, glancing at me quickly. "Most of the the victims made it, except for one." His jaw clenched. "A young man died in my care."

His eyes fell to the floor, and I tried to figure out something to say that would make him feel better. It wasn't your fault, I'm sure you did everything you could... Those words sounded lame even in my own mind.

It was very Carlisle to mourn for someone he didn't even know. But I guess when you were trying to save someone's life, you just happened to create something, a bond or a connection with that person. And when that person died...

I didn't pretend to know what it was like to save people. But that's how I imagined it would be for Carlisle. He was so passionate about his work - it was like oxygen to him.

I still hadn't figured out anything to say. Carlisle was still looking down, gazing at his palms.

So I didn't say anything.

Reaching out with my hand, I touched his shoulder in a manner I hoped to be somehow comforting. My sudden gesture made him lift up his head, and he turned to gaze at me with sorrowful eyes. They were like molten gold, his eyes; like topazes glistening in the sunlight.

How much pain and death had those eyes seen over the years?

A lot.

"I'm sorry," I found myself whispering. I didn't even know why I was whispering, but I just felt that this moment had some sort of solemnity in it. It would be wrong to talk loudly; it would break the stillness.

Carlisle lifted his hand, lowering it on mine that was still resting on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Bella." His voice was also quiet. It reminded me of the wind that made the leaves rustle in trees.

Carlisle removed his hand from mine, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind my ear. His cold fingers made me shiver. It made him chuckle quietly, and the moment was gone.

"So, how was your afternoon?" he asked conversationally, his eyes twinkling teasingly. "Any mischiefs made?"

I shook my head. "Not really. But I assure you that my day was much less active than yours," I answered, throwing an angry glare at the clock that was still hanging above the door. Still intact and in one piece. My telekinetic abilities were obviously insignificant.

"Do you bear a grudge against that clock?"

Carlisle was looking at me curiously, and I decided not to tell him about my attempts to make the clock explode with the power of my mind. He would cart me off into a padded room and make me stay there.

"Has the snow melted yet?" I asked to change the subject.

Carlisle shook his head. "Surprisingly, no. And it seems it won't melt in a while, because it started snowing again. It's quite beautiful out there."

I could only imagine. Usually I hated snow - and also rain. But now I had a sudden urge to see the snowy scenery, and I began to wonder if Carlisle allowed me to go out for a few minutes. I was feeling so good today, and I wanted to take this chance to do something before my condition would get worse again.

"What's on your mind?" Carlisle asked, observing my expression.

I took a deep breath, deciding to act before I would chicken out.

"Can I go out?" I asked. "Just for a moment?" Crossing my fingers, I watched Carlisle's reaction.

He seemed to ponder my suggestion carefully, looking at me up and down and probably evaluating if I was fit enough to walk outside. If I was fit enough to even walk across the room.

"Alright," he finally stated, still looking hesitant. "Would you like to go to the balcony again, or really go outside? There's a small area close to the parking lot that's meant for patiens if they want to take a short walk."

I measured the distance to the elevators, and from there to the lobby, realizing that I couldn't remember it properly. I didn't even remember which floor I was situated on currently. I had rarely left my room during my presence here, and I had never cared enough to ask where exactly I was.

"I guess we could go outside," I said, careful not to hesitate so that Carlisle wouldn't back out. I began to get up from the bed, considering my clothing.

How cold was it out there? I was only wearing my short hospital gown and a pair of pants. That wouldn't do.

Carlisle was apparently thinking along those same lines.

"Do you have anything warmer to wear?" he asked. "Something you've brought here earlier, perhaps?"

I racked my brain as I walked to the small locker in the corner of my room, looking over the contents. I tried to remember if it had been summer or winter when I had been admitted to the hospital. After a few moments of searching, I triumphantly pulled out a brown coat and a pair of black sweatpants from the locker.

"Yay," I said to myself, deciding to put them over my hospital clothes. The more layers, the better.

Leaning against the wall with my other hand, I tried to get the pants on. Carlisle stepped closer and grabbed a hold of my other arm to keep me in balance. The leukemia may have affected me physically and mentally, causing the weight loss and making every day of my life harder to live and breathe, but one thing that hadn't changed was my clumsiness. I was glad that Carlisle didn't force his help on me and gave me space to get dressed by myself. Apart from grabbing my arm, I managed to wriggle into my clothes without any help. I was quite satisfied with my performance.

Carlisle reached out for my jacket, holding it open for me in a very gentleman way. You rarely saw those kind of gestures anymore, and I felt like this moment belonged to the 1940's or something. I guess I couldn't blame him for doing that; old habits died hard. He had lived through those times, after all.

I slipped my arms through the sleeves and shrugged the jacket on, pulling the zipper closed.

The clothes sagged on me, making me feel really small in them. I had lost weight more than I had thought.

"Do you have anything to cover your head with? A hat, perhaps?" Carlisle asked, probably worrying that I'd get hypothermia. How very likely in the city of Vancouver. But with my luck it was a possibility - a probability, even.

I shook my head and looked at him determinedly. I would go out, with or without a hat. Carlisle sighed quietly, pulling the hood of the jacket over my head.

"I'm not a baby. I won't freeze to death in a few minutes," I grumbled.

"Most of the body heat is lost through the head and neck." Carlisle's voice very doctor-like and professional, but I could see that he was hiding a smile. Something apparently amused him, but I didn't know what.

"Shall we go then?" I asked without waiting for his answer. I marched to the door, and I was about to yank it open when Carlisle's voice stopped me.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.

With my hand on the door handle, I spun around. Replaying our conversation in my mind, I wondered what I had supposedly forgotten.

Carlisle had a very innocent expression on his face. Nothing indicated that he was amused, but yet I knew that beneath the surface he was probably smiling at something I didn't get. It annoyed me.

I frowned at him, trying to figure out what he meant.

He cleared his throat. "Your shoes," he decided to help me, nodding at my black socks. Apparently, I had no idea anymore what I needed when I was going outside.

I gritted my teeth and marched back to the locker. "Why do you need shoes anyway," I mumbled under my breath, finding a pair of sneakers and slipping my feet into them. I straightened myself again, giving a glare at the man with golden eyes and blond hair. He was apparently finally satisfied with my clothing, because he strode to the door and held it open for me.

"Ladies first," he urged politely with his honeyed voice.

I contained the urge to smack him as I walked through the door.

The corridor was silent and deserted as we made our way to the elevators. I looked out of the window; the lights of the city shone through the blackness. The sun had already set, and another day had come to an end.

We didn't have to wait for an elevator very long. As the doors swished open, we stepped inside. Carlisle took care of pressing the buttons as I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The space felt too small and narrow, and I hated cramped spaces. I hated elevators. I hated these stupid anxieties.

Carlisle heard my heart rate speeding up. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

I nodded without saying a word and kept my eyes closed, counting the seconds until the doors would open and I could breathe.

Soon the smell of disinfectant hit my face. Hospitals always smelled like it, but now I welcomed the unpleasant smell because it meant that the doors were open. I stepped outside without looking at Carlisle, not wanting to see his concerned expression. I wondered what kind of a mess he thought I was - I couldn't even use an elevator without any drama.

Carlisle reached me with two long strides, and we made our way across the lobby towards the automatic doors. I saw him raise his hand and nodding at the nurse receptionist behind the counter as we passed by. The receptionist smiled widely and tapped her pen against the counter. I saw her regarding Carlisle with her gaze from head to toe. The woman was very beautiful. I felt a sudden sting somewhere within me as Carlisle exchanged a few quick words with her, smiling throughout the entire conversation.

I turned my eyes away from the woman, trying to drown all the emotions that almost arose in me. Confusion stepped in quickly. I didn't know why I was getting upset.

Carlisle began to lead me towards the doors again, and soon the crisp air ached in my lungs as we stepped outside. My eyes took in the scenery before me. The ground was covered with a powdery layer of snow and so were all the cars and trees. I turned my gaze towards the sky; it was pitch black, the clouds still hanging heavily above us. The snowflakes sailed in the air calmly, dropping down to the ground very slowly as if to say that they were in no hurry. Maybe they weren't.

I suddenly remembered that Carlisle was here with me. I was so consumed by the scenery that I had nearly forgotten him. I glanced at him, noticing that he was looking at me intently, an indecipherable expression on his face. It made me wonder if a person could look sad and happy at the same time. Because that's how Carlisle looked like; it was a strange expression.

"I think someone promised me a walking park of some sort earlier," I uttered to break the silence.

Carlisle gave a small laugh and began to walk forward. I followed.

"Well, I wouldn't call it a park. I was being very careful not to exaggarate the truth," he jested. "I hope that you won't be disappointed."

The ground was icy and slippery under my sneakers, and I had to focus on staying on my feet. It prevented me from giving Carlisle a cheeky comment. A small yelp left my lips as my foot suddenly began to slip beneath me, but Carlisle had already wrapped his hand around my arm, holding me up.

We passed a row of cars, and then Carlisle led me to a small lawn that the snow hadn't covered completely. Huge oaks towered over us, and under them there was a wooden bench. Carlisle brushed off the layer of snow with his hand so we could sit down.

I was grateful for the short break, because I had started to get out of breath. Carlisle sat down next to me, gazing at the hospital windows that were shining brightly in the darkening evening. I took a few deep breaths, savoring the fresh air in my lungs. I was fed up with the filtered hospital air I had to breathe from day to day.

The pale deity next to me was quiet, and I suddenly noticed that he looked very pensive. I wondered if the young man's fate still bothered him.

"What's on your mind?" I asked. If he wanted to get something off his chest, I would be willing to listen. It was the least I could do for him.

Carlisle straightened himself, leaning against the back of the bench. His pale fingers began to caress the wooden material idly. He was silent for a moment more before answering. "Nothing particular," he eventually said.

"But I want to know," I insisted, knowing that something was weighing on his mind.

He hesitated, as though he was preparing to tell me something unpleasant. His golden eyes avoided me as he spoke.

"I was only thinking about tomorrow," he murmured with a tone that was a little bit too casual.

"What happens tomorrow?" I asked.

Carlisle glanced at the sky. I followed his gaze, but saw nothing more than blackness though the tree branches. I had to wonder what he saw; what made him search the sky with his gaze as if to look for something.

"It's Esme's birthday," he answered, his eyes still on the dark sky above us.

His voice was wistful and his eyes were sad, and when he turned to look at me, I had to turn away. His words made me feel very small again, and it had nothing to do with the oversized clothes. It was guilt that made me shrink.

I cleared my throat to break the silence, and to make sure that my voice was stable. "Human birthday or otherwise?" I asked, as though it was a normal question that could be asked from anyone. I needed him talking - it felt better than the silence. It was selfish of me to force him to talk, but I needed to hear him speak.

"Human," Carlisle answered, and for my surprise there was amusement in his tone; apparently my question was something he hadn't expected. I could understand the surprise, but not the amusement. For the millionth time I wondered why he wasn't furious with me for breaking his family. If it wasn't for me, he would still have his wife by his side.

"What day is it now?" I queried, realizing I had lost the track of days once again.

"The second day of December," was Carlisle's answer.

Wow, I thought to myself. It would be Christmas soon - another time of year I wasn't looking forward to. I had used to like that particular holiday before, at least to some extent. I had thought it to be a little too hasty and hurried for my taste - too fussy. But now it was just an empty day.

A sudden screech that sounded from the sky made me jump. I looked up to see the origin of the noise. The only thing I could see was the silhouette of a small bird against the dark sky.

"A sharp-shinned hawk. Accipiter striatus," Carlisle reported like an experienced ornithologist. I shot an astonished glance at him.

His eyes were still following the hawk as it flew away. "It's odd that it's still circling up there," I heard him murmuring. "They usually hunt during daylight."

How inappropriate hunting behavior from a bird.

The lights of the hospital reflected from Carlisle's eyes as he turned to look at me. "Did you make a wish?" he inquired.

Apparently my face went blank, because he started to explain.

"Native Americans believe that hawks are messengers. They hear our prayers and fly them up to the skies." A small smile played on his lips as he spoke.

"Oh."

"So make a wish."

"You make a wish," I grumbled.

"I already did," Carlisle laughed. I wondered what he had wished for.

I didn't know what to wish - nothing came to my mind. And the hawk was flying away, taking the chance with it. Taking my empty wish up to the skies.

"Make the wish for me," I asked from Carlisle. He still wore that secret smile, fire dancing in his eyes.

"If that is what you wish," he said.

I had to smile at his teasing tone. Carlisle closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and looked at the receding shadow moving against the dark sky.

"You can't ask," he stated, just as I was about open my mouth to inquire what he had wished for me. I huffed in frustration.

The snow was falling from the heavy clouds as we sat together, watching the messenger on its way to the heights.

A/N: Once again I thank you all for your reviews. And also thank you for those who have bothered to read but didn't comment :)

This chapter is a bit different, and I'm quite satisfied with it. It has a little less angst in it and a little more playfulness. About Esme's birthday; I searched for that information but Stephenie Meyer hasn't given any specific date of birth.

Hope you enjoy the story so far!