A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews last chapter! I must say, this is the quickest I've ever updated a fic. I'm usually the update once every two weeks kind of girl, but I'm enjoying this story so much and it's flowing so well! Thank you all for the title votes and suggestions. Of Curses and Cures received the most votes, so after this chapter, I will be changing the title, so remember the email alerts will no longer say Best Medicine! I'm sorry to those who voted for something other than Curses and Cures, know that I prized your votes very much!
Chapter Four
December 2nd, 2008
She sleeps through the entire day and most of the night. He listens to her talk in her sleep, hearing as usual several mentions of his name. His chest tightens when she begins to cry out for help in her sleep. His hand brushes her forehead, soothing the worried crease, and she calms, pulling herself closer to him. Her hands feel hot, even through his shirt, and he wonders if she has a fever.
A few minutes pass before her arms tighten, her hands fisting in his shirt, as she once again begins begging for help.
He places his hands on her cheeks, certain now that she has a fever. She leans into the touch, his cold skin soothing the heat plaguing her. He hears the familiar way her breathing grows shallower as she begins to waken, but his time he doesn't leave. Besides her hands on his back, there are many things keeping him here, more than he cares to admit.
"Edward." Her voice is raspy, and she winces after she speaks.
Knowing that her throat is probably sore, he says, "I'm right here. Would you like some water."
She nods, "Please."
He has the water in seconds, but he forces himself to wait outside a reasonable amount of time. It's possible that his secret has already been ruined, but there is hope that her trips in and out of consciousness kept her from realizing the things occurring around her.
He takes the water in and discovers she has already fallen back asleep.
"Bella." He wakes her gently. "Isabella, drink this, and take these, too." He hands her a few pills for her fever and the pain, "And then you can go back to sleep."
He has to help her, holding the cup as she leans forward. She swallows the pills, wincing again, and then takes several more gulps before settling back against the pillows.
He sets the glass on a table beside her bed, watching her slip back into sleep. He resists the urge to crawl back beside her, seating himself on the edge of the bed instead.
He stays for several more hours. Her fever eventually breaks, and she throws the covers off, sweating. He glances at the clock, knowing he has work soon, and probably needs to hunt first. Being this close to her has drained away much of his energy and strength.
He leaves a short note, saying where he has gone and promising to check-in on her soon. He watches her for one final moment, brushes a cold hand across the length of her cheek, and then escapes out the window.
Early Morning, December 3rd, 2008
Work seems long and frustrating. His eighty-years without aging have given him much patience, but it seems to have disappeared today.
He tries to concentrate on his work, tries to find some distraction—but remains miserable. A part of him toys with the idea of going home sick or with a supposed emergency, but something holds him back. He knows he must be prepared for the reality that his actions over the last few days could have seriously affected his future here in Seattle. Perhaps she'll remember the rescue itself, the inhuman speed with which he travelled to her home, or none of it at all. Either way, he'll have a decision to make—a decision that should be easy to make. It should be like every other time that someone has gotten too close to their secret. He should pack up and leave—move back to Forks or start at another hospital somewhere else. The thought pains him more than it should. He wonders if perhaps there might be some way to stay, but his ever-steady points of reason quickly douse that hope.
He starts brainstorming possible excuses to the hospital, deciding quickly that the family excuse will be best. Perhaps he can get on at the hospital in Port Angeles, but no, that's too close to Forks, someone might recognize him, and wonder why a recent high school graduate is already a medical intern. Or maybe he'll make that trip to Denali, after all.
It's nearly two a.m. when someone peeks their head into the on-call room, saying he has a visitor.
Her cheeks are still pale, and she looks tired and ragged, but with a small smile on her face.
"Isabella." He is surprised, "You should be at home resting."
She is surprised that it doesn't bother her that he uses her full name. But she doesn't speak, only regards him curiously, and he fears the thoughts running through her mind.
"I guess while you're here, we should probably get you checked out."
She only nods, following him into an empty room. She doesn't acknowledge the cold of his skin as he checks her pulse. He knows without touching her that her pulse is fine, but he does it anyway. He checks her temperature—a decent 98.8 degrees Fahrenheit—and her blood pressure—normal. Neither speaks as he listens to her lungs or through the rest of the check-up.
"Well… looks like you just about healthy again, a little worn down is all."
She nods her head, and it isn't until he turns his back that she whispers, "I shouldn't be."
He pauses, his step nearly faltering, but he continues moving about the room, busying his hands, graceful as ever. He answers without looking at her, "You're right. You are quite lucky. What were you thinking sitting on the railing like that?"
She is surprised by the edge of anger in his tone, but she ignores his question and asks her own, "How did you get to me? You were nearly on the complete other side of the deck."
"I ran, Bella." He says simply. "And I got lucky after I jumped in and found you rather easily. So we're both lucky, I guess."
She regards him coolly, "Yes, quite lucky that we were still so close to shore. Otherwise, how would you have managed to get us out of the water, right?"
There is a smug smile on her face, and he panics.
"Right, right. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to get going. You really should go home and get some more rest." He makes his way towards the door.
"Will you still come check on me?" She calls.
He turns, reluctant, but the hopeful smile on her face has him nodding without another thought.
"My shift ends around noon, I'll be over as soon as I can after that."
She grins, checking her watch, "See you in about ten hours, then."
He watches as she walks away, noticing that her movements seem strained, exhausted. He knows it's a mistake, but somehow he can't bring himself to care. In his seventeen years of live and ninety other years of existing, he has never felt so alive as he feels in this instant. He's never longed for someone's company—human or vampire—as he longs for hers. So, as long as she wants him, he'll go to her, consequences be damned.
Same Day, 1:00 P.M.
There's a sensation in his stomach that he almost doesn't recognize until he's standing outside her door—a bizarre blend of excitement and panic.
She presses a hand to her chest, the same chest he'd done compression on, and gasps for air.
He apologizes for scaring her, relieved that for once she's had a reasonable response to him, even if it had only been for a moment and for the wrong reasons. Maybe her instincts aren't completely lost. Maybe she can do the thing that he can't seem to do, and end this before it goes any further.
"Come in." She smiles. "I was just about to have lunch, will you join me? There's plenty for both of us."
He politely declines, claiming to have grabbed lunch on the way. She looks slightly disappointed, so much so that he is tempted to eat the stuff just to make her happy, but she quickly makes herself a plate while he takes a seat at the table.
He's unsure of what to do or say now. Had she intended for him to just check in on her and leave or perhaps stay longer?
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Mmm… better." She replies, "I took another nap when I got home, just like the doctor ordered." She grins, "But how are you feeling?"
"Fine." He replies flippantly.
"Are you sure? I mean, you were in that water same as me, not to mention have to drag me to shore, revive me, and get me home. And then to have to go to work for so long, you must be exhausted!"
She leans close to him, too close, and studies the dark circles under his eyes. He leans away, not breathing, and responds, "I'm used to it."
"Used to saving clumsy idiots from near death experiences?" She laughs.
"Used to working without sleep." He corrects.
She nods, but doesn't reply, and he's nearly shaking with the need to know her thoughts. Has he been discovered? She's more perceptive than he believed. She turns to her food, the cacophonous scrape of her fork against the plate setting him even more on edge.
He notices that she seems tense too, but she still remains silent. When her plate is nearly clear, she suddenly throws down the fork in frustration.
"Are you ever planning on explaining any of this to me?" Her voice is desperate with more than a hint of anger.
"Explain what?"
Her face shows annoyance, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe how you got to me in the water? How you managed to hall me to shore? And don't say we weren't that far away because we'd been on that ferry for at least ten minutes. Or you could tell me what you were doing on the ferry in the first place. Hell, I'll even take an explanation as to why you skin still feels as icy as that water?" She's breathing heavily and her face is red, for once not from blushing.
He brushes her off, his manner nonchalant. "Bella, you're making a big deal out of nothing, really. And as for my skin, I've always been rather cold-natured. I apologize if that bothers you." He hopes that his sarcasm will distract her, but it doesn't.
She stands up sharply, and her chair tumbles backward.
"Big deal out of nothing, huh? Well if you won't explain those other things, perhaps you'll care to explain this?"
Her hands reach to the top of her button-up shirt, and she flicks open the first button. He tries to stop her, but she continues, revealing a somewhat low-cut spaghetti strap shirt. Peaking out from beneath her shirt is a pale expanse of chest, and his breath catches. There is a large bruise over her sternum with two more finger-like ones protruding out from it. If he had to wager a guess, he'd say there would be three more similar bruises all forming the identical imprint of his hand.
His face crumples in pain, and he's by her side in a moment.
"Oh God, Bella." His tone is tortured, "I'm so sorry. I thought… I thought I was being gentle. I tried, really." He reaches out and traces the very top bruise up towards her collar bone.
He hears her heart skip a beat, and then take off double time. She leans toward him, and his hands still on her skin. He makes the mistake of breathing, and her scent catches him, pulling him under. He knows she's seen his blacked eyes, when she lets out a gasp.
He's away from her in a second, eyes screwed shut, and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sorry, Bella. This is wrong. I should go."
He's heading for the door, already planning an immediate getaway to Denali, when her voice breaks through.
"Please don't leave me."
He turns around, and his chest aches at the sight of her, so fragile, exactly why he shouldn't be here.
"You don't have to explain anything to me. Have your secrets. I don't care." She pleads.
"Bella, it's for the best. Me, being here, it's not good. It's rather dangerous, in fact." His voice is hard and serious.
Appalled, she cries, "Don't be stupid! You saved my life, Edward. I'd say it was worth a few bruises."
"This time it's bruises, next time it may be worse." He knows he's saying too much, but he can help himself around her.
She takes a step forward, unperturbed, and he tenses.
"Besides," She smiles softly, "You've seen my medical record. Having a doctor around certainly can't hurt."
"An intern." He qualifies.
"An intern who's good at everything, from running to swimming in freezing water, to saving my life."
His glare is a warning, and she holds her hands up in surrender.
"All I'm saying is that you are abnormally good at a great deal of things. That's it."
He sighs, lowering his head, and mumbles, "I'm not good at everything."
She's in front of him now, and he marvels at the fact that she had managed to sneak up on him. He must've been more distracted than he thought.
"What are you not good at?" She questions.
The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.
"Staying away from you."
Her heartbeat stutters wildly. "So then stop trying." She whispers.
He covers his face with his hand and chuckles darkly, "I pretty much have."
There is a moment of silence before she replies, "Good." She moves back to the table and sits. "Now that that's settled, come sit with me."
He follows cautiously, impressed by her relaxed tone, but still not daring to breathe.
"I was thinking… since you saved my life, perhaps you would let me thank you… with dinner?"
She catches the momentary look of revulsion he shoots her food, but doesn't comment.
"Or we could do something else; we don't have to do dinner. Maybe a movie, or something along those lines?"
He waits a moment before agreeing, "A movie, it is."
She grins coyly, "Is tonight too short of notice?"
He laughs, "Tonight is perfect."
A/N: Well, there's chapter four! I hope you enjoyed it. Good news, chapter five is almost done. If I get a good response, say twenty reviews at least, I promise to have it finished and posted before I leave to travel on Sunday… sound good? Yay! So, go review!
Also, I thought you guys might enjoy some humorous titles that my friend and I jokingly came up with, vote for your favorite, most awesomely ridiculously bad title!
A Shot of Love
The Cullen Cure
Diagnosis: LOVE
The Love Injection
(Thought of Something Funnier? Let us know!)
Love Love Love you all! Life-size Edwards for all of you!