Author's note: Wow, what can I say, other than I'm blown away by the response to the prologue. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and adding this story on alert.
Thanks to my beta, Fran, and prereader Jill, both deserve a medal for putting up with me. I'd be lost without them.
Now, who wants to meet Masen?
Chapter 1
~MPOV~
"Masen! we need you."
"What do we have?" I ask as I make my way towards the nurse's station.
"Incoming trauma; two-car collision on the freeway. We're looking at multiple casualties." Jessica, the head nurse, announces.
"What's their status?" I ask to assess what and who we need on hand for the level of casualties we may have coming in.
"Three got off lucky- the SUV they were in offered them some protection. We're looking at only minor injuries. It's not looking good for the other car, though. The EMT says one crashed on the way here. They've stabilized him for now, but we'll be lucky if he makes it. The other passenger sustained a right-side head injury, possible trauma, and a concussion."
"Jess, can you put in a call to the trauma team, let them know we've got an urgent patient coming, and we need to get the OR team on standby."
"Yes, on it, Dr. Cullen."
Jessica doesn't need telling twice; she's a damn good nurse, and straight away, she's on the phone paging the OR like I instructed while I brief the team on the incoming emergency. I guess when you've been here for twenty-plus years, that's what happens.
It's mayhem and chaos, but what else can you expect; this is the life of a doctor in the ER.
"Tyler, you take the minor injuries; Sam, you go with him. And Jess, you're with me."
"Remember, we can change the world if we care enough, people."
…
It's just turned midday, I'm only six hours into a twelve-hour shift, and the day has already been filled with death and destruction. I'm exhausted … worn out. The four coffees I've consumed do little to energize me. I'm running on pure adrenalin and desperation to help save lives.
However, all the tiredness - all the irritation - all the fucking anger I feel at the drunk driver who plowed through the center divider, or the overdose that took the life of a young kid not old enough to graduate high school—all these tragedies are far from my mind the moment I take my break.
Leaving the ER, I head to the daycare center, conveniently located only a few minutes walk from the hospital so I can spend a few precious moments with my angel.
The smile on my face grows as I watch her through the window playing energetically - running around with the other kids looking so carefree ... so happy. It wasn't too long ago she was scared, withdrawn, shy, and unsure of everyone and everything.
It took some time ... patience ... and a lot of perseverance, but she's a different kid now. It warms my heart to see her so full of energy, smiling and laughing like all the other kids around her.
I'm content just watching her play with the other children, but when she spots me, a massive smile practically splits her face before her delighted screams are heard through the glass.
Entering the daycare center, I've barely made my way through the doorway when she bounds towards me. I scoop her up into my arms before she can tackle me to the ground. Because, for a little thing, she sure has some strength.
I blame her uncle, Emmett; he's forever wrestling with her and teaching her how to high kick and use her hands to spar. He's got her hooked on that WWE or Kung Fu or whatever the hell it's called now, and since then, she's been channeling their moves. I think it's great; I mean, my girl has to know how to defend herself, right?
I often find the two of them watching it on the TV when we have Sunday lunch with the family. I'm usually helping Mom in the kitchen while he keeps her entertained. But Mom hates it, which makes Em and I laugh.
She wants her to be girlie, and I know she will, but this is okay, too.
I don't mind – And Lark adores her uncle, or Emmy as she now calls him.
"Daddy!"
"Hi, Birdie! Are you having fun with your friends?"
"Yes, Daddy, we's having a lot of fun pwaying wif the crayons. Miss Ellie says I'm doin good."
"I see, Birdie, it's so good. What is it you drew?"
"Silly Daddy … it's a dawg. See him's wegs and tail?"
"Oh, yeah, great job!" I say, turning the paper sideways so I can try to make out what she's drawn. But I am proud, nonetheless.
After spending some precious moments together, now comes the hardest part; having to say goodbye and go back to work on the front lines while I leave my kid with strangers on the days my mom can't have her.
I'm lucky to have one of the best daycares in the city right next door to the hospital, which all staff can make the most of. I'm even more lucky to have a family who is on hand at a moment's notice and who help me tremendously, despite my reluctance to have much involvement in their business.
Regardless, I still feel guilty every time I have to tell her goodbye.
It breaks my fucking heart, even though we both will see each other later.
"Nana Esme is picking you up today, but I'll be back to read you a bedtime story."
"You pwomise, Daddy?" she says in her cute little voice.
Hearing her call me daddy never fails to get me right in my chest. Who knew one word could have such a huge effect? This little girl owns me, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Yes, Birdie, I promise I'll be back tonight. You be good for Grandma, okay?"
"Yes, Daddy," she says, shaking her adorable head up and down.
"Good girl." I lean down, kiss her cheek, then the other before planting a final kiss on her forehead. She kicks and wriggles as I tickle and squeeze her, turning her frown into the smile I love.
One more sloppy kiss and one bone-crunching hug later, I finally let my little girl go.
I hate watching her go - I'm not too fond of the fact I won't be picking her up this afternoon either. Even if she's with my mom, who adores and loves looking after Lark, I still felt guilty about handing my daughter over for someone else to take care of.
I wish I had more time, but as the head of ER at Seattle's Harborview Medical Center, my life is hectic. The balance between doctor and single father to an energetic, almost three-year-old is tough.
There is no let-up, but I wouldn't change it for the world. Lark is my world. She has been since she came into my life. She was a surprise - a gift, but whatever the circumstances of how we came to be a family, she is undoubtedly the best thing that's ever happened to me.
…
There are never any easy shifts in the ER.
Tonight was particularly horrific. We had multiple casualties after another collision on the freeway … a fatal shooting ... a stabbing … a disturbing case of domestic abuse that very nearly proved fatal. The list goes on.
Yeah, I see the worst of society at its finest daily—the best of it, too - with other doctors and nurses fighting to save every life. Regardless of whatever brought them here, the abusers, murderers, and drug dealers all get the treatment they need and deserve. It's just the way it is - we don't play God. Whether they are the victim or the perpetrators, we fix them up and send them home or to jail, whichever pertains.
I want to say today was just an exceptionally bad day, but it's all in a day's work in the ER. Every shift is challenging - not to mention exhausting, and when I transfer my last patient into recovery, I am more than ready to clock off for the night.
Heading into the locker room, I'm changing out of my scrubs when my phone starts buzzing in my locker. At least it's not my pager, which means there's still a chance I might get out of here without a callback to an emergency. I wish I could stay and help out where I can, but I promised my little girl a promise I intend to keep.
My phone is still buzzing. Whoever is calling is persistent. I hurry to answer and seeing it's my dad, right away, I'm assuming the worst; that Lark is running a fever … that maybe she's had an accident.
Yeah, I'm one of those fathers.
In the last few months, she's had her share of colds and such, which comes from going to daycare, but otherwise, she's been healthy.
It's still every parent's worry, and I suspect it will cause me to have early gray hair.
"Lark is okay, son. She's with your mother making a mess in the kitchen," Dad tells me because he knows me so well. There is total silence, an uncomfortable pause before he speaks again.
"You know I wouldn't call unless it were urgent. But I need your help."
His voice is tense; there's an edge to it, I don't like. I know that tone, and it fills me with dread.
"I'm listening …" I say cautiously.
"There's been an incident. A patient is coming in that I need you to personally take care of. She can't die, Masen."
"She?"
"Isabella Swan - she's the daughter of-"
"Charles Swan," I finish for him. I don't need an explanation; I know exactly who Charles Swan is. He's one of, if not the most notorious, bosses in Seattle. Think old-school Italian Mafia from the twenties and multiply it by ten. Charles is vicious - downright brutal if the rumors are true, and I suspect they are. He's renowned for his thirst for blood and demand for respect and loyalty.
Charles is the leader of the Italian branch of the Swantoro family, or Swan, as he is more commonly known. In my family, my dad is the head of the Cullen family originating from Ireland. Understandably, we have a tense … uneasy relationship with his family; however, once upon a time, Charlie and my dad used to be close - despite being from rival families.
They grew up together ... their wives were once close before they had some fallout, and the families drifted apart. I don't know what it was about because Dad doesn't talk about it. There are some things off-limits, and the demise of his friendship with Charlie is one of them. All I know is that you don't want to be making an enemy of Charlie Swan or get on his bad side.
"What does this have to do with me?" I ask, already suspecting I know exactly where this conversation is going.
"Masen, please, I need your help. You're the best, and Charlie asked for you specifically. I trust you with … I need you to help me out."
"This is out of line, Dad. Our agreement … my services stretch to the Family - our family. What you're asking goes outside of what I do," I argue, all the while thinking about being a father and having a daughter …
"What would you want me to do, Mase? Tell Charlie no? What if she dies?"
He has a point. He doesn't ask this of me often, so it must be important.
"How bad is it? What happened? Tell me what we're dealing with." I fire off questions, trying to assess the damage as I start putting my scrubs back on.
"It's bad, Masen. She's been shot - several times. I can't tell you anymore because Charlie was so frantic; he wasn't making any sense. He knows you're a doctor; he knows you're back from duty; that's why he called me. For him to reach out to me … after all this time means it's serious."
"Fuck."
"We need to fix this, Mase; we need to do the right thing. I don't have all the answers, but just know our family was not involved."
"I'll do what I can," I promise. I'm determined to do whatever is necessary to save this girl because while I've stayed out of family business, for the most part, I know there are some occasions when you can't say no…
This is one of them.
I need to save her.
Whatever it takes, I need to keep Isabella Swan alive.
Author's note; Hope you liked it :)
See you next week!
In the meantime, if you would like to see teasers for this story and much, much more, you can find them on Frans It All Started with Twilight group. I've also, finally set up my own Facebook group too, where you'll find news and teasers. Just search Jemster23 Fanfictions if you'd like to join me there.
