I don't own these kiddos...you know that. Stephenie Meyer is the brain behind this shin dig.

My Beta, Octoberland, is making this story. Thank you for your guidance, my dear. Couldn't do it without, ya!

December 2nd, 2008

I couldn’t stop my fingers from twitching on the steering wheel. With the information James had given me, my mind, already working on a much higher plane than most, was looping through probable causes and enzyme repair. Hormones don’t just appear or re-create themselves. Whatever Isabella Swan was suffering from, it wasn’t any sort of communicable or hereditary disease.

She was given this hormone. A manufactured killer.

James didn’t know. He was too sincere in his Nobel Prize efforts, as deluded as they were, to take notice that what this girl was going though could be our governments’ next biological warfare.

Of course, I was getting way ahead of myself.

Having left Cornell’s medical school at the height of rush hour, I shouldn’t have been surprised to be stuck in traffic on Franklin Delano Roosevelt Drive. Normally, traffic in New York City wasn’t something that bothered me. Sure, if given the choice I’d rather be on the Autobahn. But for the next few years, I was a citizen of Manhattan. And traffic was a necessary evil.

Horns blasted uselessly. Pointless turn signals blinked as drivers waved crude hand gestures to cars around them. New Jersey, though located right across the Hudson, a mere stones throw from my hospital, seemed legions away as I dealt with rush hour traffic.

I glanced at my iPhone as it rang incessantly in the dock on my dash, my sister’s name flashing across the screen.

I knew she saw my snap decision to work with Phazer. I also wondered what she saw of Isabella, the pretty girl who had to suffer through this awful disease.

“Alice.” I greeted, after hitting the hands free button on my steering wheel.

“I want to meet her.” Her high pitched voice was always breathy and completely feminine. It suited her quite well.

I maneuvered my Volvo into the merging lane, taking the George Washington Bridge across the Hudson towards New Jersey.

“By ‘her’, who do you mean exactly?” I could hear her huff through the phone.

“Isabella Swan. Of course, she’ll want you to call her Bella. She’s very pretty, and funny, too!”

I rolled my eyes, “It sounds like you’ve already met her.” Alice laughed.

“Not yet, I haven’t. But I will. Yes!” I merely shook my head. It was useless fighting with a precognizant vampire. “Come home, let’s hunt. Carlisle will want a chance to look over Bella’s file.”

“I do not need to hunt. I’m fine, for now.” My family’s estate bordered the Morristown National Park in Morristown, New Jersey, an hour drive from Cornell in traffic.

“You’ll hunt with me, tonight. See you!” She sang her out valediction before disconnecting the ca ll.

Of course I wanted Carlisle to read Isabella’s file, but more importantly, I was very interested in talking with Alice.

Though her visions were based on decisions, any information garnered was sure to help.

I made quick time of my drive, after crossing the toll bridge and merging onto I-80 east. Speeding up to 120 mph, I was pulling onto the gravel road that led to my home in less than 30 minutes.

Making it to the gate, I was about to punch the security code in, but the wrought iron began sliding back before I even put my foot on the break.

Alice was waiting for me.

My driveway was a quarter mile long, curving through towering pine trees that edged the National Park. Pulling up to our circular drive, I parked the car in front of our steps and quickly ran up to the stone mansion that my father, Carlisle, had procured through a historical auction 40 years ago.

I opened one of the double doors, stepping through to the foyer and looked up the double staircase to see Alice perched on the railing.

“Right on time!” She swung her feet and landed lithely in front of me. “Come on, let’s go.” She held out her hand, but I held up Phazer’s envelope in front of me.

“Let me get this to Carlisle, first.” I side stepped her and she pouted. Running up the left stair case, I made my way to Carlisle’s library. I politely knocked, though I could hear him typing away on his laptop and knew he was alone.

“Come in, Edward.”

Carlisle was sitting behind his mahogany Partner’s desk and I quickly walked in and sat in the chair in front of him. I slid the file over to him.

“I’ve been commissioned to work with Phazer Pharmaceuticals on a case study.” Though unnecessary, I leaned back in the chair and took on a more comfortable pose. Carlisle closed his laptop and reached out for Isabella’s file.

“What of your classes?” He asked, flipping open the folder.

“I’ll have to take it up with my Provost, of course. However, barring any issues, I’ll give my T.A. the majority of the lectures.” Carlisle nodded and began reading the information regarding Isabella Swan: our Patient X.

It only took 4 minutes for him to complete the file. A look of shock creased in his forehead when he finally looked up at me.

“Edward. This is-”

“--I know.” I said simply. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in working on the team with me. This seems to be a very rare case. And your expertise, of course, would be greatly appreciated.”

Carlisle nodded, scooping the papers up and placing them back in the folder.

“I can only imagine the pain this child is going through.” He picked up the Polaroid and his thoughts softened at her pretty features.

I was surprised when my fingers tightened on the armrests of the chair.

“Yes. She’s very pretty.” I agreed with his unspoken thoughts. Carlisle looked at me evenly then finally smirked.

“Let me go over this more.” He held up the folder and waved it a bit. “I happen to know one of the board members at Presbyterian. Let me see if her current doctors can fax over any more information, since you’ll be taking over the study, I see no issue with a breach of HIPA.” I stood up, Carlisle followed, “Son.” I looked up at him, his expression very serious.

“You realize if this turns out to be ….” He searched his mind for the proper term before finally settling on simplicity, “…big. It may garner a lot of press. You’ve already had to step out of the limelight with accepting your position at Cornell.” He stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll be as covert as possible, Carlisle.”

After leaving the library, I met Alice outside and followed her bouncy gait into the woods. I waited a couple hours, after having my fill of mountain lion to finally broach the subject of the case study with Alice. I ran back the way we came, finding her sitting on a low branch of a tree, swinging a scarf below her.

“She’s going to change you, you know.” I jumped up to the branch next to her.

“Pardon?”

“Bella. She’ll be good for you.” She flashed an image of Isabella and me laughing. She was propped up in her hospital bed, IV’s in both her arms. Just as quickly as the scene played out, it was gone, replaced, instead, with the opening scene of Wicked. A musical my brother Jasper has taken Alice to last week.

“What are you hiding from me, little bit?” I followed her as she jumped down and started racing back towards the house.

“Can’t spoil the surprise!” She laughed back at me. I knew better than to ever question Alice, but there was something about this girl that had my stone body feeling anxiousness. Something I hadn’t felt in 80 years.

As we came up on the house, I heard Carlisle on the phone with his friend at the hospital. I knew I needed to contact my Provost and Dean back at Cornell, though. I knew this could be very good for the school if I was on the staff of a government backed disease study.

Also, I needed to contact James and see who my researchers and staff at the hospital would be.

But, first, I wanted to get as much information on 19-year-old Isabella Swan as I could.

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