Some of the dialogue and events in this chapter are based around Chapter 2, Stitches, of New Moon. Which is, of course, the property of Stephanie Meyer.

1918

Carlisle

It was an epidemic like none I'd ever seen before in all my centuries of practising medicine. They called it the Spanish Influenza, though why I do not know. Just when we had thought it was over, a second, more deadly, wave had struck. Unlike a normal flu, it did not take down the weak, but the strong. It took down adults in the prime of their life. Men and women who had so much to live for. Those who had families who needed them and lives ahead of them. However, the worst part of all was that there was nothing we could do. Patient after patient came in dying, and, even with all the medical advances in the last century, there was nothing I, or any other doctor, could do. It was hard not to feel useless when I was not treating people, but simply observing them as they died. I could see the death and loss taking its toll on my colleagues. They all appeared tired and downtrodden, worn down by the constant fight against death. I, of course, showed no outwards signs of our struggle against this deadly disease, but inside I was just as frustrated as they were. The worst part for me was when I had to return home to keep up my human façade. I would have to leave the hospital where I was so badly needed, and return to the cold and empty house on the outskirts that I lived in. I spent the nights when the humans thought I was sleeping searching through my impressive collection of medical texts, looking for a solution, a cure. I found nothing though, and always returned to the patients I could not cure empty-handed.

"There's a new patient for you in Room 13, Dr Cullen," Nurse Young told me exasperatedly. There was none of the flirty overtone to her voice that she usually used; she was as worn down from the effects of the flu as everyone else in the hospital. I did not miss the unwanted attention that the nurses always paid to me, but would have gladly dealt with it if it meant that this dreadful epidemic was over.

"Take a mask, it looks like the flu," she told me, pointing to the pile of masks on the nurses desk. My heart plummeted at her words. Yet another patient I can't save. Though I did not need a mask, I picked one up anyway in keeping with the human charade. It was times like this I wished I didn't have to hide what am I. That I could do everything to try and save my patients, including throwing caution to the wind and using my vampire abilities. But of course, that would achieve nothing but to attract the attention of my former companions in Italy.

I walked into Room 13. There were three people in there. Laid down on the bed was a man who was clearly suffering from the flu. Beside him was a woman and a boy, presumably his wife and son. They both shared the same strange bronze-colored hair and vivid green eyes.

"I'm Dr Cullen," I introduced myself to them.

"Elizabeth Masen," the woman told me, "this is my husband, Edward Senior, and my son, Edward Junior. What is wrong with my husband?" she asked. She tried to keep her voice strong, but I noticed the way it broke down just a little.

I knelt down beside Edward Masen Senior, confirming what I already knew. Even though I had known it was coming, it still sent a wave of grief through me. I turned back to his wife and son.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Masen, but I think your husband has the flu," I told them sadly. Despite how many times I'd had this conversation over the last month, it still pained me ever time I had to tell someone's loved ones they were dying. It was a part of my job I truly despised, even after all these centuries.

Elizabeth Masen surprised me with her reaction. She did not break down like so many other wives.

"And what do you intend to do to treat him?" she asked assertively. She looked at me expectantly.

How do I tell her there is no cure?

"Mrs. Masen, there is very little I can do except try and make your husband as comfortable as I possibly can."

"There must be something," she begged quietly, her earlier determination dissolving at my words. She began to sob. Her son hugged her, whilst trying to keep his own tears back. I looked at the pair of them, there was a simple love for each other there, and it made me envious.

"You should be wearing masks," I told them professionally, trying not to show how much their affection for each other had bothered me.

It's something I can never experience.

The younger Edward stood up at my remark, but his mother refused to move.

"I'm not leaving his side," she said forcefully, regaining some of her earlier strength. She picked up one of the damp cloths that must have been left by a nurse, and began bathing her husband's face. Her son left the room and I followed him, wishing to give his parents some privacy.

Once he was out of the room, the younger Edward collapsed onto a chair and allowed the grief he had hidden from his mother to come out. I wanted to console him, but could think of no comforting words. Instead I got two masks for him and his mother, and passed them to him.

"Thank you," he mumbled. He wiped his eyes and put on a brave face, then walked back into his father's room.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

It felt like I was encroaching on their grief. The elder Edward had just passed on, and I had wheeled his body to the morgue. I wanted to be able to comfort his wife and a son, but I knew there were no words I could say to help.

I really do hate this part of my job.

As I spoke the empty words that I knew would bring no comfort, I looked at Elizabeth. Though her husband had never woken up all the time he was in the hospital, she had never given up fighting for his survival. She amazed me with her strength and dedication.

Elizabeth gave a hacking cough. Looking at the pair of them closely, I noticed there was a feverish sheen to both their skins.

Not them too! How can I tell them they might have the same disease that just killed their husband and father?

I had been regrettably right. Both remaining Masens also had the Flu. If my diagnosis were correct, neither would survive the night.

They were a simple loving family. Why did God feel the need to take them?

It was a question that had been nagging at my mind throughout the epidemic, but I had no answer. I couldn't question the mysterious ways in which He worked, even if it didn't seem fair.

Their room was the first place I visited when I arrived at the hospital, after another wasted day of pretending to sleep. A part of me knew that I shouldn't be growing this attached to patients; especially ones who I knew would die soon. Ever since Columbus, I had worked extra hard to maintain a strictly professional relationship with all my patients. But there was something about the Masens, the goodness and love that radiated from them, that drew me to them. Just like she had …

No, Carlisle, you made a promise to yourself.

As I walked into their room, I looked sadly at Elizabeth. She was lying on the bed now. The fever had finally taken over her body so badly that she could no longer go to her son's bedside, though I had no doubts that if she could have, she would. I had continuously had to guide her back to her bed, so determined was she to nurse her son, just as she had been with her husband days earlier. It was touching to see the love she carried for her son, and yet heart breaking, as I knew they would both die soon. At one point, Edward had woken up from his own fever-ridden sleep as I guided his mother back to her bed. I had gone back to his side to check up on him and he had looked at me with those piercing green eyes.

"Tell her that I told her to stop. That I'll be fine, but I need her to survive too," he had told me. The look of determination on his face was just the same as his mother.

"Edward, I…"

"I know, the chances of us both surviving are slim. But it will stop her from hurting herself." Then the fever had won out and his eyes had fallen closed again. His concern for his mother touched me. I had looked at his young face, somewhat tarnished by the effects of the disease that was killing him, but still beautiful in a way. He still had so much to live for, but it would all be gone soon.

"Dr …Dr. Cullen?" Elizabeth croaked at me from her bed.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" I asked gently, using my cool hand to soothe her brow. She was too feverish now to register the extreme coldness of my hands, everything would feel cold to her.

"He wanted to join the army you know," she told me, looking towards her son's bed. I mentally recoiled from the idea; he could get himself killed! Then I remembered that it did not matter now, he was going to die anyhow. "I fought hard against him when he suggested it. He's my only son, my only child. A mother would do anything to save her child," she sounded like she was trying to talk herself into something.

"Shhh, now, Elizabeth," I whispered to her. The effort of talking was clear in her hoarse voice, and it would surely only weaken her more. Her steely green eyes locked onto mine. I could see the determination in them. Whatever she had been talking herself into; she had decided to do it.

"Save him!" she commanded in a voice that anyone would listen to, despite the hoarseness.

"I'll do everything in my power," I promised her, even though I knew it was an empty promise. This terrible disease took everything out of my power. I grasped her hand gently, trying to be reassuring.

"You must," she began, clutching my hand so strongly that I began to wonder if perhaps she would be one of the lucky ones who survived after all. Or not so lucky, if both her husband and son were dead. "You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, this is what you must do for my Edward." I let go of her hand in shock.

Does she know my secret? How? I wanted to ask her what she meant, but she had succumbed to the disease that ravished her body once more. Her eyes were closed again, and all her strength from earlier seemed to have gone. Looking at her, I judged she'd be dead within the hour.

Did she truly mean what I think she did? Did she want me to change her son?

I looked over at Edward. In his fever-induced sleep, he looked so young, so pure and good. Exactly how I would have hoped my son would look. Despairingly, I realised he didn't have long left either.

I could never take another's life.

But Edward didn't have a life ahead of him. I wouldn't be stealing anything away, but giving. I remembered my thoughts on how he deserved to survive. I could give him that chance, make myself the companion I'd always wanted, and fulfil a dying woman's last request.

Can I actually do this?

Behind me, I could hear Elizabeth's heartbeat slowing down and her breathing becoming shallower. Then, with one last thump, her heart gave in.

She is dead. I felt the sorrow sear through me, even though I had known it was coming.

I turned to look at her. Even in death, her face still had a determined look to it. It was like she was silently insisting I listen to what she had said. I gently covered her face with a sheet, but I could still remember how the green eyes that were now closed forever had pierced me earlier. Hard, like emeralds, they had demanded I listen to her.

I wheeled her body to the morgue, her final words still churning through my mind. Could I do as she had commanded? Or I am skewing her words out of my own loneliness, to use them as an excuse to give in to my own selfish want for company? I remembered her dedication to her family, and I knew she truly would have done anything to save them.

Even this.

I didn't want to leave her body in the morgue, but I had no other choice.

"I'll do my best by him, Elizabeth, I promise," I whispered to her corpse. With those words, my decision was made.

Back in their room, Edward was too far overtaken by the disease to realize Elizabeth had died. His life was slowly slipping away like so many before him, but this time I could do something to save him.

I covered his face with a sheet and wheeled him to the morgue like I had his mother, there were to many dead for anyone to notice another body going to the morgue.

Once we were there, I was thankful to find there was no other living person around. Gently, I cradled Edward in my arms. Then, before I could change my mind, I rushed out the back door with him. Not wanting to be spotted by any humans, I jumped over the rooftops to my house. This also meant I could go at full speed, which relieved me as I could feel Edward's life slowly draining away. Now I'd made my decision, the last thing I wanted was for him to die before I got a chance to change him.

Finally arriving at my house, I laid Edward down carefully on the bed I never used, and only had on the off chance there was a human in my house who would spot anything odd. This would be the first time that had happened.

What do I do now? I began to panic. I had been so focused on deciding whether I should change him or not, I had failed to consider what would have to be done to do so. My hand moved subconsciously to my neck, where I still bore the scars I had gained over two centuries ago.

I will just have to do as my creator did.

I took one last look at the boy on my bed, as I steeled myself for what I was about to do.

I placed my hand on his neck and he gasped at my cold touch on his feverish skin.

Could I do this?

I could hear Edward's heartbeat slowing down, I had to act soon before the fever claimed him like it had his mother, and his father, and so many other people. If I was going to do it, I had to stop hesitating, and act now.

I felt his skin rip like butter under my razor sharp teeth, but all conscious thought was lost for a second, as a pleasure like no other invaded my body. For just one second, I forgot who I was, what I believed in, and why I was doing this, as the instincts I had ignored for so long took over and rejoiced in their first taste of the forbidden liquid.

No! You don't want to kill him, Carlisle!

It took all the self-control I had earned in two hundred and fifty five years to pull myself away, and my throat screamed in protest. I spat the blood out all over the floor, not caring about the mess, just wanting rid of it before I swallowed. I had never drunk human blood in all that time and I did not intend to start now. Not with this boy.

He deserves to live. That's why you've done all of this. I reminded myself. I drew my attention back to Edward.

Have I done it right? Will he survive?

A scream ripped through the room as Edward's body began to jerk. I remembered the unbearable pain of my own transformation.

What have I done? What was I thinking? How could I do this to another being?

I began to pray to God for forgiveness, while I moved over to sit next to the thrashing boy.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I whispered.

"Dr. Cullen?" he managed to question through his screams. "What's happening to me? Help me!" he shouted.

"I'm sorry, Edward, so sorry," I replied frantically.

What have I done to him? Surely he will never forgive me. Why would he? I don't deserve forgiveness. What right did I have to do this to him? To decide who lives and dies. I am not God; this should never have been my decision.

Elizabeth Masen's face flashed into my mind, as she made her last request.

It is not her role either. The two of us have tried to play God, and now an innocent young man must suffer for it.

I could not bring myself to be angry with Elizabeth; she had been a mother desperate to help her son, her judgement clouded by love. I was the one who had made the final decision, and I had no excuse but my own weakness. I could claim I had done this for Elizabeth, but a part of me had rejoiced at the idea that I would finally have the companion I had longed for after centuries of loneliness.

Why would he even want to stay with me after what I've done to him?

"I'm sorry, Edward," I said again, miserably.

There was no going back now. I couldn't reverse my actions.

What if he hates me for what I've done? Who could blame him? I'd hate me!

Again I began to pray for forgiveness, as I watched Edward suffer on the bed before me.

OK, Carlisle always seems to have this way of making things becoming more self-doubting and self-angsty than I envisaged when I first started writing the chapter. But that's just Carlisle for you really.

I had a bit of a writer's block problem with this chapter; it was really difficult to portray human Edward and his parents just the way I wanted to.

Any thoughts on Edward's transformation? Did I portray the Masens how you would have expected? Too much self-doubt from Carlisle in the end? I would really love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. I love reviews and they seriously are greatly appreciated.