Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Many thanks to Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1, my amazing beta team for this story. You ladies rock!

I updated the blog with Bella's outfit for this chapter. You can find the url on my profile.

12.

The breakthrough.

"Okay then. I can do this." Edward took a deep breath, his hands clenching around the steering wheel as the sound of the car engine slowly faded, leaving nothing but the sounds of the forest and the slow hum of jazz music pouring from the stereo.

Duke Ellington. Just what a man needed to give him courage on his first solo visit to one of the most trying patients he'd ever encountered in his career. Not that it had been a very lengthy career, though. He'd only been flying solo for a year before he got caught red-handed stealing prescription drugs from the hospital pharmacy.

This was a huge moment and to say that he was afraid he'd mess it up would be the understatement of the year. He sat back and sighed, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his nerves in check. There was a lot riding on this and it wasn't just the well-being of his patient. He was well aware that Carlisle had given him a huge vote of confidence by letting him go out there alone, this time on 'official' business as opposed to last Sunday's social call.

He couldn't screw all of his brother-in-law's hard work up just because he was too inexperienced or messed up to keep his head in the game. No, even if it was born out of the necessity of Carlisle having to tend to his sick son, it was Edward's chance to prove himself worthy of his position and he would be damned if he was going to let it slide.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing as slowly but surely his game face slid into place, his shoulders squaring as he visualized the task ahead of him. He was going to go in there on his own and win the hearts and minds of the two inhabitants or perish fighting. Or something like that.

"Are you ever going to get out of that damned car or will you just let me stand here all day catching pneumonia?" Her eyes were alive with sarcasm as she peered into his car, her body daintily swaying out of the way as he opened the car door and got out.

Just like every other time he'd seen her, she was looking like she'd wandered out of a fifties magazine or Good Housekeeping; her striped skirt ending just under her knees and the black blouse she wore on top of it following her figure but never in a way that made her look wanton or slutty. Still, as he stealthily let his eyes wander over her picture perfect outfit, perfectly styled hair and red lips to match, he had to conclude that she looked sensual in a way that kind of got to him.

Not that he was willing to admit it, though. No, if anyone would have asked him what he thought about Isabella, he would have joked and said that for a bitter harpy, she might not have been too unfortunate looking. Or something like that.

He would be lying, though, if he denied his obvious attraction to the girl, even if he knew there would never be anything more between them than the bond a doctor shared with a patients' relative. There could never be more than that between them.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the clearing of a throat next to him, Isabella still waiting rather impatiently for his reply.

"You'll be fine," he chuckled, realizing the girl was probably waiting for some kind of reply. "It takes a whole lot more to contract pneumonia than just a little draft. Oh, and good afternoon to you, too."

"Well, I still say it's hellishly impolite to keep a lady waiting," she quipped, looking as eager to cross conversational swords again as he was, the lights sparking in his eyes making his pants feel awfully tight in the front. "If visiting unannounced didn't already count as such, but then again, you already learned what happens if you do that."

His grin widened as he tried to decide what he liked better: an Isabella who spoke freely and in a vernacular ill befitting the clothes she wore, or one who crafted her sentences, and her insults, in a way reminiscent of the older and better times of the music he loves so well. "Then, indeed, I must apologize," he finally spoke, bowing deeply in that same mocking fashion she usually adopted. "Though I swear I meant no offense. I'm just happy you appear to be willing to let me into the house this time."

She changed color for the merest hint of a moment, her eyes betraying her surprise at getting as good as she gave, but all too soon she was in command of herself again. "Let's just get inside before the tea gets cold," she grumbled, untouched by his apology and apparently ill at ease under the blatant flattery that went with their little game.

He followed her into the house through the high-ceilinged and impossibly white and pristine foyer and into the living room that had been the scene of most of his meetings with the patient. His eyes more than once drifting from her back to a place slightly more south on her anatomy; a place – he had to admit it – that looked like it had been carved by a master sculptor, even when obscured by a flowy skirt.

"Dr. Masen!" James' eyes lit up the minute Edward became visible. "How nice of you to stop by and chase away the boredom that has been threatening to take hold of me. You're just in time for tea."

He could almost feel Isabella rolling her eyes behind him as he conjured a smile onto his face, playing along with the 'happy coincidence' when all parties involved knew his visit had been announced and carefully planned in advance. If it got him in his good books, he was willing to bend the truth a little every now and then even if it meant that he was apparently visiting his patients out of a desperate need for tea and light refreshments instead of a stealthy medical check-up.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, my young friend," the old man went on, gesticulating wildly at the seat closest to him. "Sit! Sit! Tell me of the news around town. What is this I hear about a skirmish at Kings Timber Yard?"

Edward smiled wryly, wondering how James would react if he told him about Jasper Cullens' involvement. Probably not that good. "A bunch of kids decided that enough of our trees had been harvested in the name of forestry and tried to put a stop to it." James' eyes shone with glee, his body arching forwards as he listened completely spellbound by Edward's words. "Unfortunately they soon found out that trees are rather unforgiving examples of Mother Nature's force when set loose upon a gang of seventeen-year-olds."

His patient laughed, his breath labored as his chest constricted with each breath. "Ah, yes, my Isabella told me many of them ended up in hospital, which is just what they deserved for causing trouble. This is why my dear friend Doctor Cullen couldn't join us today, is it not?"

Edward nodded, again unsure of what to reveal. It was now clear that James couldn't muster much sympathy for the tree huggers and their cause and, though Edward was by no means ashamed of what Jasper had done, he didn't want to risk his standing with the patient by defending, or even implicating, his step-nephew.

"Your loyalty to your brother-in-law commends you," his patient spoke, his hands meeting in a triangle in front of his chin as he stared the young doctor down. "Though it is completely unnecessary in this case. As remote as we are up here, we are still well-abreast of all the goings on in Forks, my dear Isabella makes sure of it."

So this has been a test. Edward kept his smile in place as his mind was working a mile a minute to connect the dots. But of what?

Isabella smiled sweetly from the spot across the room where she had been sitting as still as a living statue until then. "Shall I pour our tea, uncle?" she asked, apparently relieved to finally get a chance to speak.

James nodded his head brusquely, not wasting any words on something as insignificant as tea when there was intelligent conversation to be had. "You, however, my dear Dr. Masen, still pose quite the enigma to us."

"Me?" Edward smiled as he sat back, trying to mask his uncertainty by keeping in motion. What did the old man want to know?

"Yes, you," James confirmed, his eyes narrowing as he picked up on his visitor's every gesture. "You have come to my house three times now and yet, all I've learned about you is that you have some knowledge about classical music – though I still have no idea of whether or not you actually enjoy it – and that you hail from a somewhat questionable family." He paused, his eyes dancing with humor as Edward laughed freely at his last remark. "As to everything else, however, my Isabella and I remain completely in the dark."

"Then what would you and Miss Harrison like to know?" Edward leaned forward again, not put out in the slightest by James' blatant dig at his family. In fact, as far as his dad and oldest sister were concerned, he'd rather agreed with him.

"Let's start easy, shall we?" James grinned smugly, sitting back again as he folded his hands in front of his stomach. "Do you actually like the classical music you seem so knowledgeable of?"

Edward smiled, drawing out his thinking time by carefully setting his plate back on the table and chewing his sandwich until there was none left. "I like it well enough, I suppose, but I'd have to admit that my true heart lies with jazz music."

"Jazz?" James almost choked on his sip of tea, his hand trembling dangerously as he tried to catch his breath again. Nonetheless he seemed to be quite chagrinned when Isabella jumped in to help, his hands waving her off before she could even cross the distance between her seat and his. "That nonsensical fiddling? You must be out of your mind, my dear boy!"

"Tastes differ, I suppose." Though Edward remained outwardly calm, his eyes were trained to his patients' reaction, hoping the excitement wouldn't worsen his condition. From out of the corners of his eyes he could see Isabella was doing the same, that was, whenever she wasn't glaring daggers in Edward's direction.

"Well, I'll have you know that I will have you driven out of this house the minute you try to poison my Isabella's mind with that nonsense," James warned, the lack of humor in his eyes making Edward wonder if he was serious. "I will have none of it. Nor will she."

"Do not worry, uncle," Isabella smiled, topping off their teacups. "I have no desire to listen to anything but that which pleases you."

James' answering smile resembled that of a Cheshire Cat as he patted her hand benevolently as if she were, indeed, a very well-behaved little kitten. "As it should be, my dear, as it should be."

The whole thing made Edward feel slightly nauseous and uncomfortable, as he wondered, not for the first time, what the true nature of Isabella's relationship with her uncle was. It seemed so strange and borderline, though sometimes well across it, unhealthy at times. From what he had seen and heard, James was master and commander in his own little world, allowing no opposition or disobedience. The strangest part, however, was how a girl as sharp and feisty as Isabella would just put up with it. Why would she do that?

"I suppose the subject of music wasn't as light and easy as we thought it was," Edward finally joked, eager to get the conversation going again so that he could stealthily assess his patients' mental status.

"No, indeed!" James chuckled, "though I guess I might have known. After all, have lesser men not been slain for this?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Edward replied. "So, next question?"

"Yes, next question." James was back to his composed, inquisitive self, his hands shaking slightly as he put his cup back on its saucer. "Tell me, why did you become a neurosurgeon?"

At least it was a question Edward had no difficulty answering. "Because it's one of the most difficult specialties and I…I felt I had something to prove."

"Something to prove?" James nodded his head, his mouth slightly pursing as he looked at the young man next to him, mulling his words over. "I suppose your father did not approve of your chosen profession, no?"

"He didn't," Edward confessed, "though his disapproval didn't deter me in the slightest. In fact, it only made me more determined to succeed and show him that I didn't need the Masen name and background to succeed in life."

"And yet you putter away in a small country hospital," James mused. "No offense, of course."

"None taken." Edward smiled wryly, the muttered words of the old man hitting home extra hard because they were true. "It's only temporary, though. Last year my wife and I decided to go our own ways and though our divorce was amicable, it still took a lot out of me. I needed some time away to get some perspective again, so when my sister offered her home as a place of refuge, I was very eager to take her up on her offer." It was the story he and Carlisle had decided to settle on; the one that would explain why he had moved all the way to the middle of nowhere to live with his sister, without laying bare any of the darker reasons that had really spurred his move.

Judging from the way James' head tilted slightly to the side and his eyes narrowed as he stared Edward down, the old man's curiosity had been piqued. "So you are returning to Chicago?" he inquired.

Edward nodded, relieved the man had not gone for a more difficult line of questioning. "In just under six months me and my unseemly musical tastes will be out of your hair," he joked.

Again, his words managed to make his patient laugh, though in spite of his good humor, Edward was beginning to see how their meeting was starting to weigh on the old man's body; the spasms in his hands becoming more frequent and those keen eyes became clouded and less alert. James didn't acknowledge his own body's warnings, though, his mind stubbornly sticking to the opportunity the younger man offered him. "Such an interesting story," he mused. "It makes me wish I had another book in me. I am sure you would have been a most fascinating subject."

"A pitiful one, I'm sure," Edward chuckled nervously. If only the man knew. "I'm not all that interesting to be honest." He then quickly changed the subject to a less dangerous topic, or so he thought. "But what about the two of you? Has Isabella always lived under your roof or did you snatch her away from somewhere?"

From out of the corners of his eyes he could see Isabella pale, her eyes resembling those of a deer caught in headlights as the sandwich she'd been eating hovered in mid-air while she waited for her uncle to reply. Strange.

"Isabella has been with me only for the past five years," James answered, not as composed as he used to be. "I have had to train her, of course, since she was so dreadfully uncivilized when she first came to me…but she has proven to be quite useful."

The tone of his voice taught Edward better than to ask another question, though his mind was bursting with them. Instead he settled on the more to-the-point questions about James' health that he had been intending to ask ever since he'd set foot inside the house, the tension that had the room in its grasp slowly slipping away as the seconds stretched.

But it wasn't forgotten. Edward knew that, unwittingly, he had set the man's alarm bells ringing. James was wary of him now, which meant it would be a long time before he would be able to delve into his personal life again.

It wasn't until Edward was helping Isabella to clear away the leftovers and dirty dishes that he dared to broach the subject again, though this time far away from James' listening ears. "How do you bear it?" He knew he was probably going to get shut down and not too kindly too, but he had to try. For his own peace of mind.

She looked up, seemingly puzzled by his question. "Bear what?"

Edward shrugged. "Being here? If I know you at all, you're not the kind of woman who is meek and obedient by nature and yet you play the part to perfection whenever he is near. How can you stand by and smile while he talks about you the way he did just now? As if you're a thing instead of a living human being?"

She too shrugged, her smile bitter as she stalled for a few moments before speaking. "It's odd how necessity can change a human being, is it not?" She sighed wistfully, her eyes far away as she went on. "If you'd have been though some of the stuff I had to live through, you'd have known that sacrificing things like your principles or your pride is a small thing if it means being safe and well-fed."

Her answer made him almost feel nauseous for the things it implied.

What kind of life had she lived?

How could a woman, a girl, as young as her have had to learn such bitter lessons about life?

What made her think that there was nothing out there but this life of imprisonment she was living?

"But surely you could have your own life?"

She turned towards him, her smile sending shivers of shock down his spine as she grinned at him. "Don't be silly."

Before he could collect himself or even think about how to reply she was gone, her hips pushing the swinging doors between the kitchen and living room apart as she went in to join her uncle again.

Uncle. Somehow Edward didn't think he really was her uncle. But then what was he to her?

He was unsure of what to do with himself as he stepped back into the living room, something about Isabella's offhand comments completely throwing him. She seemed to remain completely unaffected, her tingling laughter ringing out like a chorus of bells as she and James spoke in hushed voices.

"I…erm…" he stammered, feeling completely out of his element.

"Yes?" James looked up, the corners of his lips pulling into a small smile as if his visitors' unease somehow amused him.

"I wonder if I might examine Isabella," he blurted out, wondering quietly how he could have forgotten all about her accident a few days before. Maybe because she's just as quick witted and sharp tongues as she always has been.

"Isabella? You want to examine Isabella?" James seemed completely astonished as the woman in question merely glared at him from her end of the room. "My dear boy…you do realize that out of the two of us, I am the one who is suffering from a mortal illness, no?"

Isabella seemed as shocked by her uncle's sudden admission of his disease as Edward was, the look on her face telling him it was a very rare occurrence. "I am well aware of that, Aro," he chuckled, logging the moment away for further inspection when he had the time, "but seeing as Isabella is still recovering from a mild concussion, I am anxious to find out how she's faring."

"I'm doing fine," Isabella shrugged as she now, in turn, looked like a fish out of water. "I have stuck to the advice you gave me and now I am well again. There is no need to worry." Her final words meant more as a plea to her uncle than as an explanation to Edward.

"Still," Edward persevered, "for my own peace of mind, as well as your uncle's, I imagine, I would like to do a quick check-up."

"Of course." It was James' voice that decided the argument, his hand pushing a very reluctant and pissed off Isabella in Edward's general direction as the young doctor rifled around in his briefcase for his trusty little flashlight. "I would not want for my Isabella to suffer needlessly."

Again he spoke about 'his' Isabella; as if he owned her. A sharp, almost murderous flash of hot rage pulsed through Edward's system, accompanied by the clear and very dangerous thought that Isabella should be no other's but his.

He was quick to repress it, though, forcing his mind not to register the sweet floral scent of her as Isabella stepped within his reach or the smooth, soft feeling of her skin under his hands as he went through the motions of a quick examination.

"You're good with him," she whispered, as brief flash of her eyes assuring her that her uncle was dozing off into his own little sleepless world. "I don't think he's ever admitted to being ill before. Not to anyone."

"Not even to you?" Edward asked, his eyes and mind still fixed on her pupillary response as he flashed his light into her eyes.

"Especially not to me," she chuckled, as if the thought alone was ludicrous. "I knew you were going to be a danger to me the first time we met."

Before Edward had a chance to ask what the hell that meant, her uncle had woken up again, his eyes once again keenly following the two young people in the other corner of the room.

"And?" he asked, his voice slightly worried and tense. "How is she?"

"She's as well as can be expected," Edward answered, reluctantly stepping away from Isabella before she could accuse him of hovering, his voice softening as he directed it at her. "You should still take it easy for a couple of days, though."

She smirked, seemingly skeptical of his advice. "I'll see."

He studied her, stealthily of course and never in a way that could tip James off for the short remainder of his stay but, even though she was much more pleasing to the eye than her uncle was, he learned about as much as he had done studying James. Nothing. Well, nothing he didn't already know.

Outwardly she was everything a pampered, well brought-up girl should be, down to the clothes, the way she talked whenever her uncle was near and her every gesture and expression. Still, there had been moments when he thought he could see the true Isabella; the woman underneath the mask she's so craftily molded into place. And what he saw in those few, fleeting moments completely confounded him.

Don't be silly. There was more meaning to those three simple words than they implied. He knew it.

Much later, as he sat in his car on his way back, her words still haunted him; the effect of them not even assuaged by the smooth tones of Miles Davis' trumpet or the lushness of the greenery surrounding him.

Why was she doing this? Why was she staying with a dying man who apparently seemed to dictate her life, even to the music she listened to? What would make anyone think that kind of life was good enough for them? Was it just a sense of duty to an ailing relative? But then again, didn't the man have closer kin to look after him?

He sighed, pulling into the hospital's parking lot. Once again his mind was running in circles around this girl – this Isabella - with no hope of ever figuring her out. Dammit! Why couldn't he just switch off his feelings and treat her just like every other damn relative? Why did it have to be her, this beautiful, but barely legal and wholly-forbidden girl that occupied his mind every damn minute of every damn day?

"Edward?" He'd been so lost in his own mind that he hadn't even registered entering the hospital until he ran into Carlisle. "Do you have a moment?" Judging by the older man's determined look and swift, controlled hand gesture, his question wasn't up for debate or delay. It was more of a 'get in my office right the fuck now' kind of thing.

Edward frowned, mentally going back over his past few shifts to find anything that might warrant him being called into the chief's office. He couldn't find anything, which was only more disconcerting. Had Isabella or James called to complain about his behavior? He mentally took stock of everything he'd said and done over the past couple of hours but, though his thoughts had been everything but, couldn't find anything untoward. But then why…?

"Is something wrong?" he asked the minute Carlisle shut the door behind him, his hands twitching nervously by his sides. He hadn't even been able to change into his doctors' whites first. Carlisle hadn't given him the opportunity to change. Was that saying something? If it did, it had to be bad. Very bad.

"Don't worry," Carlisle laughed a little uncomfortably though his demeanor was back to its usual calm as he pointed at one of the chairs across the desk from him, "you're not being called into the principal's office for a telling off."

"Okay," Edward hedged, scratching the back of his head. Sure feels like it though. "Then why am I here?"

"I wanted to know how things were going," Carlisle started. "You're just back from visiting the Harrisons, right?"

Edward got the distinct impression that this wasn't why he'd been called into Carlisle's office. After all, he could have asked him how things went with James Harrison on the floor. There was no reason to drag Edward all the way upstairs just for that. Still, in spite of the lingering unease, he decided to just play along. Everything to keep yourself in your boss' good books, eh? "I did."

It was only then that Carlisle got the keenness that usually accompanied his professional conversations; the one which separated the doctors who truly cared from those who were only in it for the money. "How did it go? Did he accept you?"

Edward nodded. "It seemed like it, though there were a few close calls." He shrugged apologetically. "I'm still trying to find out what he will and won't say, I guess. It never got dangerous, though."

"Good," Carlisle, mused, "you did good. Did he present any worse than he was last week?"

"His motor functions are deteriorating," Edward explained, "and he seemed to slip into semi-consciousness halfway through the visit but I'm not sure if it's an indication of the diseases' progression or if he was merely having a bad day." Edward shrugged. "It's not him I was most worried about, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked, quickly putting two and two together in his head. "Is there something the matter with Isabella?"

"She suffered a mild concussion from what she claimed to be a kitchen incident," Edward explained, doing his best to keep his voice level.

Carlisle's eyes narrowed with though as he held Edward's gaze. "But you think differently?"

Edward leaned forward, phrasing his question carefully before he allowed himself to vocalize it.

"Have you ever known James to have violent outbursts?" He knew it happened with FFI patients. In fact, as the disease progressed and the patients' troubled minds drifted farther from reality, their paranoia and frustration over their failing bodies meant that more often than not they were. Still, the thought of Isabella trapped in the house with a delirious and possibly dangerous man was almost more than he could handle even if there was nothing that could be done about it.

"I've never seen him become violent," Carlisle was quick to answer, "but that's not saying anything since my time with him has always been very limited and I believe he's on his best behavior whenever there are other people around. Do you really think he was to blame for what happened to his niece?"

"I don't know," Edward sighed, "and the chances are I never will. I'm worried about Isabella's health and safety, though. Already her recovery is suffering because she has to take care of her uncle and the house when she should be getting as much rest as she can."

"She will be fine, I'm sure." Carlisle reassured him with a confidence Edward wasn't quite sure was based on actual fact. "She may not look like it but she's a tough one. She can take care of herself." He sat back, his steel blue eyes peering straight through Edward as they studied him. "You seem to be very sympathetic towards her, though."

"I feel for her, that's all," Edward shrugged, though he was afraid his indifference lacked the conviction to make it credible.

"Is it?" Carlisle remained skeptical. "Because I would hate to have to pull you off this case for fraternizing with your patients' family." He gave his words about twenty seconds to sink in before he continued. "Look, as much as I'm willing to turn a blind eye to fraternization among my staff, since it seems to be happening all over this damn hospital…" He shot Edward a very knowing look, "…I have to draw a line here and this…I cannot let you endanger this patients' health and, if your assumptions about him are right, maybe even Isabella's as well. I need you on this case, Edward."

"I know." Edward sighed, knowing Carlisle was speaking the truth. Besides, as much as Carlisle needed him on the case, he needed to be on the case just as much, if only to rebuild his tarnished reputation. "Believe me when I say nothing has happened that would have me in trouble with a review board…even if you would happen to be on it."

Carlisle laughed at his joke but his eyes remained sharp. "Then make sure it stays that way."

"I promise," Edward vowed, feeling a strange sort of tension settle into his spinal column as he spoke the words.

"Good," Carlisle nodded. The look in his eyes told Edward that Carlisle was by no means convinced on the matter, but at least Edward had managed to reassure him enough to get him to back off. "Now that we have that out of the way, there's another matter I wanted to discuss with you."

"I thought you might." As happy as he was to have Carlisle change the subject, he was really curious where this new direction would lead.

Carlisle shifted in his seat, looking both contemplative and uncomfortable as he spoke. "A few days ago Esme and I had a conversation that has been long overdue." Carlisle's eyes drifted away as he went on. "I know my passion for medicine has always been my fatal flaw but I never thought I'd fail my wife and family in the way I have these past years. I just…I had no idea of how bad things were." He shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile as he continued. "No, I was far too happy sticking my head in the sand and hiding behind my patients to see that my own life was crumbling around me."

"It happens to the best of us," Edward interjected, hating himself for glossing over what had been his own sister's personal hell. He knew all too well what it had been like for Carlisle, though, how good it felt to get lost in your job and forget the troubles waiting for you outside the hospital walls. He knew it. Hell, he'd lived it.

"It shouldn't have happened to me," Carlisle spat, angry not with Edward but with himself. "It's all going to change, though. Starting right now, things are going to be different around the house. I promised Esme to be home more and take on a more active role in the life of my kids." His lips pressed together, bitterness still rolling off him in waves. "We hope that my presence will keep those two from doing more damage to property and endangering their own lives and those of others. Or turn into the most spoiled, vain little creatures to ever badger their parents."

"That's…good?" Edward spoke hesitantly, wondering why all of those words needed to be said at the hospital as opposed to their home.

"It does leave me with a bit of a problem, though," Carlisle went on, his eyes once again alert and fixed on Edward. "As this hospital's Chief of Medicine I could probably juggle both my private and professional life but, seeing as I've always desired to keep playing a very active part in the treatment of patients as well, something's gotta give…"

He sighed and Edward felt a keen sense of compassion as Carlisle's shoulders slumped forward, his face aging almost by the minute as he took a few breaths before speaking. "I'm off the surgical rotation for now." Edward could see how difficult it was for Carlisle to actually speak the words. "From now on I'll only be occupying myself with the administrative side of the hospital. I'll only be stepping on the floor in case of an emergency."

"That's-" Edward started, only to be cut off almost immediately. He couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for a guy like Carlisle – a man who lived and breathed medicine and surgery – to make a decision like that.

"Of course that leaves the matter of my shifts having to be taken over," Carlisle went on, "which is where you come in."

Edward licked his suddenly dry lips, barely resisting the urge to speak as he waited for Carlisle to explain himself. Part of him was bursting with excitement at the prospect of more shifts and more time to prove himself and hone his skills, while the other was dreading the strain those extra hours would put on his recovery…and the dangers.

"We were all very impressed with how you handled yourself the other day, when the emergency protocol was deployed," Carlisle finally spoke. "You showed a level of calm assertiveness and skill that none of us expected to see in someone so young, let alone someone who's been through the kind of things you went through recently. Even Maggie had to admit that maybe bringing you here might not have been such a dumb and dangerous decision after all." Carlisle smiled, leaning forward again, adding power to the air that hung between them. "My shifts are yours if you want them."

Edward could only nod, his voice completely blocked with both panic and sheer excitement as he accepted the offer.

Let the chips fall as they may.

Thoughts?