I heard crackling. The sound of Bella's rales seemed to reverberate through my mind as I fought to open my eyes. Her breathing was much worse. I needed to help her. I couldn't lose her… With a gasp, I sat up, blinking against the blackness surrounding me. My heart was pounding as I struggled for a few moments to wake fully.

It was very dark inside the tent. When I had gone to sleep, there had been a soft glow from the fire, just enough light seeping through the mesh window to provide slight illumination. Now I could see nothing, and I realized that the fire must have burned out. The night air was chilly, and a small shudder shook me. I felt more alert now, the remnants of my dream dissipating as I focused my senses.

Although I could still see nothing, I could hear Bella's breathing. It was a little raspy but not the labored respiration that my dreaming mind had imagined. I moved my hand so that I could touch her. She still lay upon her side, facing away from me. My fingers brushed over her shoulder then up to her face. I rested my palm gently against her cheek. Her skin felt warm and the hair at her temple was damp. She was definitely running a fever.

I checked my watch to find that it was just after 3:00 in the morning. Dawn was still several hours away. If Carlisle had reached the ranger station before nightfall, a rescue party would depart at first light. If not, surely he would find the station today, and help would arrive in the afternoon. I tried not to dwell upon other possibilities.

I could see Bella's face in the small glow from my watch. She was sleeping, but her expression appeared tight and pained. I saw her shiver slightly; her fever was causing chills. I needed to get the fire going again. I could warm myself by the flames and curl us beside her to provide some comfort.

I crawled out of the tent, keeping my watch lit. The fire had burned out almost completely. A few glowing embers remained, but I would have to add more wood. I hobbled to the pile Carlisle had left, surprised to find only a few small twigs. I looked up at the sky. The new moon was a tiny sliver that provided no real light. Squinting in the dimness, I could just make out a couple of pieces of wood scattered some distance away. An animal must have come through our campsite. A chill crept up my spine as I remembered the bear I had seen the previous morning. I stood very still for several long seconds, listening intently for any snuffling or shuffling, but I heard nothing.

Even so, starting the fire again took on a new urgency. I limped toward the nearest pieces of wood, picking up two and taking them back to the embers. I needed more kindling, however, to ignite the thick, bare branches. Gingerly I made my way toward the nearest clump of bushes, searching for some dry leaves. I broke off several large twigs then returned to the fire. I pushed the twigs into the embers, waiting until they caught fire. Flames licked at the branches but died quickly once the leaves had burned. Additional kindling would be required.

I stood and made my way back to the stand of bushes. I searched for more dry leaves but found none. The fire snapped behind me, and I glanced back, hoping to see a resurgence of flame. But there was only the meager glow from the embers. Suppressing a sigh, I grabbed the walking stick Carlisle had found for me and moved toward several small trees that I recalled growing near the wall of the ravine, perhaps twenty yards away. I had noticed that at least one was dead and felt certain I would find some usable tinder there.

I made my way to the trees, frustrated that my movements were so slow. Using the light from my watch, I selected several very dry branches and began breaking them off. The cracks were sharp in the still night, and I winced unconsciously at the noise. It reverberated against the rocky walls, and I had to remind myself that the snaps and rustles were just the echoes resulting from my actions. Even so, the sooner I had the fire blazing again, the better.

I was breaking off the last branch when I heard a small cry. I froze, listening intently in an attempt to identify the sound. There was a susurration, likes leaves in the wind, but the cool night was calm. My spine prickling, I turned around.

The muffled cry came again. My eyes were drawn to the campsite, to the weak glow emitted by the embers. I could just discern the outline of the tent, and beside it another shape… Bella was hunched next to the tent. She must have awakened, frightened to find that I was gone. But she shouldn't be outside in the cold.

"Bella!" I called. "I'm over here."

"Edward!" she seemed to gasp, and then I heard a sharp slap.

I began hobbling back toward the tent as I watched her stand up. For a moment I was confused; she was a petite woman, five feet four inches at best, yet she appeared as tall as I was, her head higher than the top of the tent.

"Edward!" she called again, her voice hoarse.

I heard a growl and a hard snapping sound, and suddenly I understood. Bella's body was not the one I could see outlined in the dull glow. Abruptly the light flared as a flame licked up one of the logs. The illumination was brief, but it was sufficient for me to see a man moving away from the tent, dragging Bella by the arm. She was fighting, writhing and pummeling him with her free hand, but she was ill, injured, and weak, and her blows appeared ineffectual.

"Bella!" I shouted. "Get away from her! Leave her the hell alone!"

"James, please, no—" Bella's plea was cut off by the bastard's hand slamming into her face.

I heard his cruel laugh clearly and began running without thinking of anything but getting Bella away from James. My knee gave out after a few seconds; abruptly I found myself sprawled on the ground. Fortunately I had managed to keep the walking stick gripped in my hand, and I heaved myself up, using the stick to steady my body.

"No…" Bella moaned. She continued to struggle, slowing her assailant's movements but not deterring him. He spat a curse and kicked her, the blow landing on her right flank.

The firelight flared again, and I saw his face clearly. His expression was one of both fierce possession and unbridled rage. I struggled forward, watching in horror as Bella went limp. He bent to lift her, seemingly intent on carrying her from the campsite. He must have figured out that I was injured and would not be able to pursue him effectively on foot. But damn it, I would try.

I was about ten yards away from him and Bella. He lifted her into his arms as he turned toward the stream. Pausing for a few precious seconds, I bent, fumbling on the ground for the nearest stone. I gripped the cool rock in my hand then stood, flinging it at James' back.

It struck him solidly between the shoulder blades. He stopped moving and spun to glare at me.

"She's mine," he snarled.

I took a few halting steps, waiting for his callous laugh as he watched my pained movements. Then, with a burst of speed, I stumbled ahead. He began to turn again, but Bella's knee shot up, hitting him in the chin.

He faltered. She raked her nails over his face, catching his left eye. With another expletive, he dropped her. She landed heavily on the hard ground.

"Bitch!" he grunted, kicking her in the flank again.

I willed my knee to hold my weight as I lunged forward, only a few yards from him now. My eyes swept over Bella; she lay unmoving. James was still cursing, drawing back his foot again. My only thought was to protect her. I felt nothing but raw fury at the monster as I took the last few steps toward him. I lifted my sturdy stick and swung it at his head. It struck him solidly on the temple, and he grunted, crumpling to the ground.

I slid to my knees, my hand reaching for Bella's wrist to feel for a pulse. It was thready, but she was alive. My own pulse was rushing through my ears, and it took me several seconds to realize that her breaths were coming in hard rasps. Her eyes were open, staring at me as her lips moved soundlessly.

Her fingers clutched at my sleeve for an instant before I felt the blow to my back. Suddenly James' arm was pressed over my neck, and I was gasping for air. I shoved my elbow back, hitting his ribcage. His hold slackened slightly; I twisted away. I saw him reach toward Bella, and I blocked him with my body. His fist shot out, catching my cheek and brow. Blood flowed, and I hastily wiped at my eye.

James' hand wrapped around Bella's arm as he kicked at me. I rolled to the side, my instinct to protect her surging. I grabbed his collar, pulling him back. His fists struck at me; I felt his knuckles collide with my shoulder, my ribs, and my neck. I kept my grip, however, and managed to give him a hard shove. He fell back, toward the fire. I heard a dull thud, and he gave a short grunt. I blinked, swiping at my eye again. When my vision cleared, I saw that he lay without moving. He appeared unconscious, and I realized that he must have hit his head on one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit. Yet I still needed to restrain him—to tie his hands and feet at the very least—

Bella's rapid, harsh gasps quickly drew my attention back to her. Her respiration was labored, and her expression was deeply pained.

"Bella," I uttered, crawling toward her.

"Hurts," she whispered hoarsely.

"Where?" What damage had James' brutal treatment caused?

"Hurts… to breathe," she clarified, coughing weakly.

Suppressing my sense of panic, I glanced back at James. He remained unmoving. I needed to listen to Bella's lungs, but my instinct to secure James felt more pressing. I worried that he would regain consciousness and pose a further threat to Bella.

"I need to keep you safe," I told her, my tone heavy with apology.

Carlisle had left one of the climbing ropes near the tent. I retrieved it, then as quickly as possible I bound James' hands behind his back and secured his ankles, connecting the two portions of rope. Less anxious about him now, I devoted my full attention to Bella.

I checked her pulse again. It was rapid, and her breathing remained ragged. She had blood on her face from a laceration on her lip, but I saw no signs of additional bleeding elsewhere. Quickly, yet as gently as possible, I ran my hands over her ribcage. She cried out weakly and flinched when I touched her upper right quadrant.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. I hated to leave her, even for a moment, but checking her breath sounds was exigent. "I'll be right back," I assured her, ducking into the tent. I grabbed the stethoscope and a lantern then returned to her.

I had just turned on the lantern when her eyes widened, looking past me.

"James," she choked out softly yet urgently.

As I turned to look at him, the light flared. He must have regained consciousness and begun struggling, pulling at the rope and writhing about in an attempt to free his hands. He had moved, and his arm had come into contact with the embers, which quickly ignited the fabric of his jacket. Flames covered his torso and licked down his legs. He gave a strangled cry, then sobbed out for help.

"Oh God," I muttered. I abhorred this vile creature who had hurt Bella, but it went against everything I had learned and everything in my moral composition to leave him to perish. Images of burn victims flashed through my mind. James would face an exceedingly painful future.

I looked back to Bella, my expression conveying my conflicted feelings. She gave me a miniscule nod; she could not willingly watch him die, either. In that moment, I saw the depth of her character, and my emotions swelled. I gave her hand a brief squeeze then pushed myself up.

I had taken only a few steps toward the fire when my knee gave out. I stumbled, catching my fall with my hands. My knee throbbed, and my entire leg felt useless. I could not stand, let alone walk. I dragged myself toward the fire, watching the flames engulf James entirely. The distance was only a few yards, but my movements were painstaking. By the time I reached him, I knew there was nothing I could do. He had stopped crying out, and his body lay motionless.

I blinked at the smoke, my eyes stinging with tears, then I turned back to Bella. I shook my head, letting her know that I had not reached him in time. I couldn't see her clearly, but she seemed very still.

"Bella?" I called.

She didn't respond. I hauled myself up, willing my body to stand, and hobbled back to her. The lantern light showed a blue tinge around her mouth. She was becoming cyanotic. Her eyes were partially closed as she labored to draw sufficient oxygen into her body.

As soon as I pressed the stethoscope over her lungs, I realized that my worst fears were confirmed. I heard no breath sounds on the right side. Her heart rate was significantly elevated, too. She had a closed tension pneumothorax.

"Ed…ward?" she questioned, her voice weak and fearful. "What… is it?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing desperately that when I opened them I would find that I was still dreaming. The sight of her pale, frightened face grounded me in reality. I took her small, cool hand in mine.

"Your lung has collapsed," I told her, struggling to keep the panic from my voice. "That's why it's so difficult to breathe."

"Help… me?" she whispered. Her fear was almost palpable.

"Yes," I promised. My mind was racing, reviewing procedures and desperately trying to recall every detail I had read and observed when studying treatment of a pneumothorax.

The immediate priority was to aspirate the air from the pleural space. She would require a needle thoracostomy. I had never done this procedure before. I had watched ER physicians, including Carlisle, perform it several times, but that was a poor substitute for actual experience.

Bella's skin was ashen, and the blue tinge around her lips had deepened. I needed to act immediately. Hoping desperately that our meager medical supplies contained what I needed, I crawled back into the tent. There was a second lantern inside, and I switched it on then began searching through the emergency pack. There was one remaining syringe; I recalled that Carlisle had used the other two to irrigate Bella's leg laceration. The syringe was an 18 gauge; I was fairly certain that anything over 14 would be sufficient. I grabbed a small container of povidone solution, gauze pads, and surgical tape.

My knee throbbed as I maneuvered my way back outside, but I pushed aside the pain. I realized that I could not stand, but it didn't matter. Right now I only needed to be at Bella's side.

I pressed my fingertips over her carotid artery. She was tachycardic, and I could see that her trachea had shifted. I needed to work quickly. I positioned the second lantern to provide as much light as possible. I began to remove the wrapper from the syringe, my hands shaking so much that I fumbled. I had only one needle, only one chance to do the procedure. While speed was critical, I could not be hasty. Trying to steady my fingers, I removed the flash chamber from the syringe.

Bella's eyes were half closed. I touched her cheek briefly, telling her, "I'm going to pull aside your shirt, and you'll feel something cold on your skin. Try to stay still…" I took a slow breath to strengthen my tremulous tone. "You're going to be okay, Bella."

I hoped it was not an empty promise. I wished desperately that Carlisle were here. His competent, confident hands would perform the procedure perfectly, without hesitation or anxiety. My hands still shook. I willed them to stop, focusing on one thing at a time.

I unbuttoned Bella's shirt, moving aside the fabric to expose the right side of her chest. Deep bruises were forming across her flank, and I was certain that at least one rib was fractured. I ran my fingers very gently over her ribcage to find the second intercostal space. After visually determining the mid-clavicular line, I cleaned the site with the povidone solution. I picked up the syringe, positioning it at a 90 degree angle to her chest, just over the third rib. I had to keep my grip perfectly steady. If the angle of insertion was off, I could hit a major blood vessel or even her heart.

I focused my thoughts, imagining Carlisle's voice as he talked me through each step of the procedure. Had I done everything correctly? Had I forgotten anything? My vision blurred in the smoky haze that drifted from the fire. I blinked, tears stinging my eyes. I waited until I could see clearly again. I checked the angle of the syringe once more then glanced up at Bella's face. Her mouth was open as she gasped for breath through blue lips.

"God help me," I murmured, depressing the plunger.

I leaned in, desperate to hear a rush of air exiting from the needle. This was the sign that the procedure had been successful. The fire was crackling loudly, snapping fiercely. Carlisle's voice, imagined so vividly, continued to echo through my mind. I tried to narrow my senses, to force the real and conjured sounds away.

There was no whoosh. I knew there was a possibility that the treatment wouldn't work. Even when performed correctly, some patients required a second thoracostomy. But I had only one needle, only one chance. I had failed Bella.

To be continued…