Twilight character names belong to Stephanie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 Marie0912 (Marie .L.A.). All rights reserved worldwide.

Warning: Though this does root in actual events (such as: the war did actually happen...), I am not a historian and there will be significant mistakes made. I simply needed a time, a place and a good reason.

Prologue:

There were several immediate stated causes for the U.S. declaration of war: first, a series of trade restrictions introduced by Britain to impede American trade with France, a country with which Britain was at war (the U.S. contested these restrictions as illegal under international law); second, the impressments (forced recruitment) of U.S. citizens into the Royal Navy; third, the British military support for American Indians who were offering armed resistance to the expansion of the American frontier to the Northwest. An unstated but powerful motivation for the Americans was the desire to uphold national honor in the face of what they considered to be British insults.

To fight back, the American army demanded that each household volunteer a man over the legal age of eighteen to enlist and join the American forces in their battle to re- claim their land.
It was considered treacherous to refuse, a crime against the nation, and punishable by hanging.

Forks, Washington, June.
Two days before United States stunned the world by declaring war on Great Britain, there lived a seventeen year old girl named Isabella Swan.

"Miss Swan!" A melodic voice sounded from across street of Port Angels` only dress shop.
I turned to see who was calling out for me and laid eyes on the lovely Mary Alice Brandon, seamstress and childhood friend.

She was a talented tailor and had a groundbreaking sense of fashion which she put to good use when she was employed by Mrs. Cope, the owner of said shop.

"Hello, Miss Brandon!" I called back and crossed the street as dignified as possible, trying to avoid stepping into the deep puddles that covered the muddy ground.

She bounced forward to give me an embrace and a kiss on the cheek before leading me by the hand into her shop.

"I have just the thing for you!" She exclaimed happily and led me to the back of the room.

I groaned.
Alice was well off; her family had plenty of money to spare, so she didn't have to work.
In fact it was very unconventional for a woman of her social status to be working at all, but her job was one of few things that brought her actual pleasure.

And since she was that well off, Mary Alice also took great pleasure in treating me like a walking, talking rag doll she could make endless wardrobes for and dress up as she pleased.
I always thought it too much, and had tried to object at first, but she would have none of it. The generous girl forced on me a brand new wardrobe for every turn of the season.

Even though we were, by rank and social status, on very different levels, Mary Alice never saw it as a hinder and scowled at anyone who thought otherwise.
She had gotten into endless arguments with her mother and father but stayed steady as a rock by my side.

"Here you go..." She beamed at me and held out a dress in rich blue jacquard coutil, short sleeved chemise, and changeable silk ruffled petticoat. It was beautiful by any standard.
"Oh, Mary Alice..." I could feel my eyes begin to tear up and quickly wiped my eyes.

She smiled brightly at me, looking very smug. "I knew you would like it!" She exclaimed.
"If this gown doesn't get you suitors, I don't know what will!"
I rolled my eyes at her.

"Well, come, come! Try it on!" She began to loosen the strings on the back of my current gown, helping me strip.
Soon I was down to my undergarments and Miss Brandon was forcing the new dress over my head.

She allowed me to have a look in the mirror when she was finally done, and was, in spite of feeling slightly embarrassed, quite happy with the way I looked.

Half an hour later, I was on my way home clad in the brand new dress, feeling a little self-conscious looking down at my chest, the breasts wound so tightly by the corset, they looked like they might pop out any minute.

"Miss Swan," a horribly familiar voice exclaimed happily. I shuddered involuntarily and turned to say a polite hello to Michael Newton, a former suitor, recently turned down due to... wandering hands.

"Hello, Mr. Newton," I nodded politely. "I would love to stay and chat, but I am afraid I must hurry along. Father awaits his dinner." I lied and swept away, stumbling a little in my haste.
I had only managed to unlock the door when my mother's voice sounded from upstairs.

"Isabella?"

"Yes, it is I, Mother," I assured her.

"I need you to go get the doctor; your father is feeling unwell!" she told me. "He is running a fever!"

"I will, mother!" I told her and slipped my shoes back on before running out the door and down the road.

Doctor Cullen lived in a secluded area of town and it was quite the walk, and not exactly meant for my small slippers and new gown.

Mud covered my shoes before long, as well as the hem of my dress, but I could not find it in myself to care.

A fever was potentially lethal and I knew I had to make haste.
I finally arrived, soaked and dirty, cold at the good doctor's doorstep and knocked hard.
The door cracked open and the beautiful, friendly face of Mrs. Cullen appeared.

"Miss Swan, what is the matter?" she demanded, her voice strained with worry. Always so warm and caring, that woman was. Even to perfect strangers and people she barely knew the name of.

"Mrs. Cullen, I need the assistance of Doctor Cullen immediately. My father seems to be running a fever and is not feeling well at all," I explained.
"Of course!" She said and led me in to wait in her hallway, telling me to wait there for her to go and get him.

A few minutes later, the beautiful face of Doctor Carlisle Cullen appeared at the top of the staircase.
He made his way down swiftly, two steps at a time and came to greet me, taking my hand in his.
"Miss Swan, how can I help you this evening?" he inquired, his beautiful, compassionate face creased with worry. He was a warm and caring man.

"Doctor Cullen, my father seems to have fallen ill, he is fighting a fever and mother is very concerned. Would you please come and check on him?" I pleaded.

He smiled at me then. "Of course I will come see your father. Let me just get my kit and I will send for my coach," he told me.

"Miss Swan, it is very unfortunate for a young lady, well, for any person to be walking such a distance at night in the rain, clad in only so little.
You are putting yourself at risk of falling ill as well," Doctor Cullen explained this in a gentle, but authoritative voice when we had boarded his coach.

"I am quite aware of that, but if a lady has no other means of getting somewhere, she will just have to resort to the use of her feet," I answered.

Doctor Cullen smiled at me then and nodded in agreement.
"I do regret that I live so far out of town, but I thrive in the house of my parents, and would not have it any other way," he confided after a while.

We arrived at my house not ten minutes later, and I lead the way up stairs to my father's chambers.
Mother and I left the good doctor to do his job and waited outside the door.
Half an hour later, Doctor Cullen opened the door.
"This might be the influenza or pneumonia at worst, and at best, the common cold, but either way, he is not to leave this bed, under any circumstances," he said and looked at my mother who looked horrified and chest fallen.

"Yes, of course," she nodded.
"I will, however, need to bleed him, the fever is high and I fear it might weaken his heart and lessen the chance of recovery if I don't take the necessary precautions," he continued.

Mother nodded in agreement once more and told me to go wait downstairs, knowing full well that blood made me feel sick.

Two days later, Father had began to recover and was finally able to move about on his own, but was still on bed-rest and going outside, or straining himself, was not an
option.

Mother stayed with him most of the time and I did the shopping when necessary.
Today was one of those days.

I walked down the street to the local grocery store when I saw a man standing on a podium in the middle of the street, yelling a declaration at the top of his lounges.

"And furthermore, the government has declared that every household must contribute, therefore a notification will be dealt out to each family.
The men will assemble at dusk tomorrow; the instructions and all needed information are in the letter you receive. You bring the letter upon meeting with the rest of the group, this will function as identification and you carry it with you at all times.
There are no exceptions, no excuses and if you do not meet, delegates from U.S. Army will be at your doorstep and towing you to the gallows. "

I felt faint now, panicked. Father could not go into war, not now.

He was not in any condition to move further than down to the kitchen.

No excuses? Not even illness? I doubt it, since they don't mind sending the men to their death; I could hardly imagine them concerned with a soldier's health.

A government official stood at the base of the podium and handed out the letter one was supposed to bring and present your commander with.

My stomach turned at the thought of my mother, she would be helpless, and she would just die if she lost my father.

All that grief on her shoulders was sure to finish her off. I just knew it.
My father had my mother, my mother had my father, and they shared their love.

I, however, had nobody. Nobody to lose, nobody to really grieve my loss. Of course my parents would, but not the way a lover grieves. They would be able to live with that, and so would I.

And so the plan began to form in my head.
I walked up to the man handing out the declaration with feet that dragged like they were about to walk me up to the gallows.

"Swan," I said to him.

He flipped through some envelopes and found the one meant for my father, handing it to me.
"Tell your father he is to report to Lieutenant Masen."
I nodded and put the envelope in my purse before heading in the opposite direction.
I needed Mary Alice, and I needed her now!
Running down the street, I hitched a ride with the nearest coach headed to Port Angeles and ran into her shop, almost tripping Mrs. Cope in my haste.

"Mary Alice!" I panted and opened the door to the backroom.
She looked up at me in alarmed surprise and rose off her chair, coming over to embrace me.
"Isabella, what is the matter?" She inquired.

"I need- I need your help!" I sobbed.
"Anything!" She promised rashly.

"Mary Alice... I need you to do two things for me," I said in a severe tone of voice.
She waited for me to explain.
"I need you to keep a secret, and not tell a soul," I told her.
"Not a living soul will know. You have my word, Bella."
She used my childhood nickname to emphasize how serious she was.
"And I need you to turn me into a man," I finished.
She dropped her jaw.

Please leave me a review and let me know what you think.
Marie