Twilight's by Stephenie Meyer
Chapter25/Awake
My eyelids snapped up and I blinked painfully at the hospital windows and the glare of the early morning sun.
Who drew the fucking curtains aside?
I shut my eyes again.
I heard the creaking of a bed and my eyes opened wide.
I sat up suddenly, my heart pounding. I winced at the pain my jerky action was inflicting on my fucking head.
Bella was staring at me.
She was sitting up on the bed hugging her knees and rocking back and forth.
She was utterly quiet.
I felt a nagging emptiness. I wanted to go to her but I hesitated. I willed her to come to me on her own.
Let me know you want to, Bella. Please.
I managed a very wobbly smile.
I slouched back against the headboard.
"Come here, Bella," I murmured.
She unfolded herself; her expression impassive. She swung her legs off her bed and approached my side at a slow pace.
She stopped at the edge of my bed.
I wanted to grab her and pull her unto me but I was fucking terrified. She was so fragile, so unreal to me.
Her mouth trembled open.
"Edward," she whispered so softly I had to strain to hear it.
"It is me, Bella," I said quietly.
She took shallow breaths, almost gasping. She carefully climbed onto the bed and wrapped her arms around me, mumbling words incoherently.
"Bella, baby, I'm here … I'm here now," I crooned, trying to calm her. I shifted our bodies until she was on my lap.
I could feel her heart was fluttering wildly.
I leaned down and brushed the lightest of kisses on her lips. To my intense relief, she parted her mouth and I swept my tongue over her soft, bottom lip. I tasted tears.
"Oh, Edward," she sobbed. "I thought y-you were dead!"
I wrapped my arms around her body tighter, rocking us both.
"Didn't I tell you I would never leave you?" I whispered, trying to smile but failing miserably.
"But y-you were gone!" she cried, her hands clutching at my arm.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I rasped.
I was kissing her face and neck now, wanting to get closer to her. I fucking missed her!
A loud coughing announced the entry of Nurse Dorothy.
I briefly wondered about her rotation schedules. Was she ever off-duty?
"Good morning Mr. Cullen, Ms. Swan."
With a sigh, I lifted my head and muttered a greeting.
"I hope you're not thinking of breakfast yet, Mr. Cullen. We need you in radiology again this morning," she chirped.
I felt Bella trembling and I rubbed her back soothingly.
"Bella will come with me," I told Nurse Dorothy firmly.
She took one look at me and didn't even attempt to argue. Then, gently, she turned to Bella. "Bring your coat, Ms. Swan. It is against hospital policy to let a patient walk out of a room without the benefit of a wheelchair. But, I'm sure Dr. Dalton will allow you to accompany Mr. Cullen."
With that, she exited the room again.
She returned 10 minutes later and barked several questions at me in preparation for the MRI.
"Are you sure you can walk? It's several floors down," I informed Bella.
She gripped my hand and nodded emphatically. Nurse Dorothy wheeled me out.
Alice packed clothes and toiletries for us which, as expected, included a coat for Bella.
I reminded myself to include the nurse in the Cullens' Christmas gifts list when she started prattling about the hospital, UCMC and about Chicago in general as if we were touring a grand hall. I knew she was doing it to put Bella at ease.
Bernard Mitchell Hospital was a busy place and there were a lot of people and medical staff around.
Bella was clutching my hand and she was avoiding looking anyone in the eye.
She was a little jumpy when a helicopter noisily circled the building but she calmed down when I suggested that she ride on my lap.
It was a brilliant idea, I thought with relief.
Nurse Dorothy looked as if she was about to forbid this plan but she just shrugged, mumbling about the advantages of having a father on the UCMC board.
I just grinned at her.
"Oh, but you're a lightweight, Ms. Swan," she teased.
Bella let out a half-giggle, half-squeal when the nurse accelerated our pace.
She was definitely getting a Christmas gift. And, a birthday gift and for Thanksgiving and even Valentines Day, I vowed to myself.
When we got to radiology, I breathed another sigh of relief because Ms. BH was nowhere in sight. I didn't think she would have a positive influence on Bella with her talk of brain bleed.
The MRI machine was a lot similar to the CAT scanner.
The radiographer, Mr. Mumbles, was murmuring about metals inside my body and I was thinking if I had one, would he melt it?
Bella stiffened at the sight of the huge cylinder machine but Nurse Dorothy, bless her heart, led her to a small sofa in the corner and noisily chatted about hospital gossip.
The procedure took longer than the CAT scan.
Thank god I wasn't claustrophobic.
Mr. Mumbles, who I assumed was explaining the padding he was putting around my head because I could barely hear what he was saying, fitted the plastic coil on me for my brain scan.
I heard Bella nervously giggle at my comical appearance and I smiled at her.
After almost an hour, Mr. Mumbles was done. Bella hopped on my lap again and we rolled out.
When we returned to the room, there were two covered trays. I wasn't really hungry. Bella wasn't hungry too but I insisted she eat.
After a little food, we sat on the bed and she rested her head on my chest.
We didn't talk about the accident. In fact we didn't talk at all, both content with the silence and the comfort of being together.
"Hey," I gently nudged her after awhile. I leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Her only response was to link her fingers with mine, clutching, and her thumb caressed my skin.
"What are you thinking?" I whispered.
"I … that I always end up in hospitals," she whispered back.
I thought about that, and then I said - "Well, I practically grew up in one, in fact, several of these places." It was a lame attempt to lighten up her mood.
There was a long paused before Bella answered. "Have you ever been in one that you couldn't get out of? Screamed all day, and night, until you've lost your voice?"
I turned to her. She looked … calm.
Details. Perhaps the details of her confinement would ease her pain, emotional and psychological.
"Tell me," I said, squeezing her hand.
She stared at the door, as if waiting for someone. Then she turned to me, and smiled apologetically.
"I can't."