Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks, as always, to my wonderful betas Aecarlso and Tiffanyanne3. Also, a special thanks to those who've been recommending this story – especially Belindella, who I understand has been quite the cheerleader for this little tale.

"We have what we seek, it is there all the time, and if we give it time, it will make itself known to us."

- Thomas Merton

Chapter 5 – Of Hanging Up and Hunting Down

True to her word, Katherine Chambers had an envelope waiting for me at the reception desk when I left work Wednesday morning, containing a check for a whopping six bucks. So Wednesday afternoon, with Tom as my guide, I set out for the Chicago National Bank. I only had three hours until I had to report to the hospital, but I figured it was enough time to cash my check and get some new clothes, as well as the other things I needed. I wasn't really a marathon shopper anyway.

More like a sprint kind of girl.

"You really don't have to go with me," I told Tom for the hundredth time.

But he would not be dissuaded.

"Bella, I don't want you to get lost." He rolled his eyes. I knew he thought I was going to freak out and end up lying in the street again.

"I'll just take you to the bank then over to Marshall Field's so you know the way," he assured me. "Then I have to get back to the newspaper anyway. It's not like I want to watch you try on dresses or anything."

I smirked at him and said saucily, "Like I would let you anyway."

Once we moved past the whole possibility of a romantic relationship, Tom and I found we liked each other quite a lot. He was sweet and thoughtful… and he actually found me hilarious. It was strange to think we'd actually only known each other a few days. Sometimes it felt like we'd grown up together.

So we walked the few blocks to the streetcar stop and rode to the front steps of the bank. Jumping off as the streetcar slowed, Tom held out a hand and helped me down, grinning when I stumbled into his chest.

"Easy now," he chuckled.

"Shut up," I countered.

It was easier than I thought it would be to convert the hospital check to cash. Tom knew one of the tellers - a tall, thin brunette who blushed when he smiled at her. To my surprise, she didn't even ask for I.D. - which was lucky since I didn't have any.

It was a short walk from the bank to Marshall Field's, and once I took in the twelve story building I began to rethink my sprint shopping plan. The place was huge. Tom took in my awed expression with a smirk, holding the door open with a gesture for me to enter. I closed my gaping mouth with a snap and walked inside.

Closing my mouth was a waste of energy, because once I saw the interior of the department store, it just drifted open again. Tom stood by my side watching my reaction.

"It's… amazing," I breathed, feeling a little ridiculous for responding this way to a store but unable to help myself.

Tom took in the view, following my gaze up the four floors of open white balconies to the glittering dome over our heads.

"It's the Tiffany Dome," he explained. "Six-thousand square feet of mosaic glass – the largest of its kind with more than one and half million pieces of glass." He looked down at me. "You like it?"

I shot him an amused glance. "What's not to like?" I took a few steps forward, then once again looked up to examine the twisting patterns of blues and greens, the loops and swirls of browns and golds. At the base of the dome, curved archways scalloped along the top of the uppermost balcony. Shoppers passed by, my eyes only slightly catching them as they moved through the archways.

I was no architectural expert – but this was impressive.

"May I help you?" A young woman dressed in white lace stood gazing at me expectantly, her eyes flicking from me to Tom and back again.

Tom shot her one of his charming grins. "Actually, I have to get back to work, but my friend here has some shopping to do." Turning to me, his expression morphed to one of concern.

"Are you sure you can find your way back?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course. I'll be fine." On impulse, I stretched up on my toes and kissed his cheek lightly.

"Thanks, Tom. Really."

Tom touched his cheek, then smiled and wished me good luck before turning and walking out the door.

The salesgirl turned to me, her eyes still lingering on Tom's retreating form. "So, what can I help you find?"

I told the young woman what I was looking for, and for the next hour she led me on a whirlwind tour through the department store. I couldn't help thinking about how much Alice would have loved the place. It was twelve floors of just about anything you could imagine. In addition to the usual clothing departments, it had a millinery shop, shoe department, housewares – even a department devoted solely to wicker furniture.

Say what you want about turn-of-the-century America, but they sure knew how to shop.

By the time I was done I had two skirts, two blouses, a casual dress, extra stockings and undergarments, a rather frightening-looking razor, shampoo, a hairbrush, toothbrush and something called 'dental cream'. I hesitated at that, but it was made by Colgate and said it contained fluoride so I thought I'd give it a shot. All that and I still had 25 cents left over. I had wanted to buy a coat but would have to wait until my next paycheck.

Thanking the salesgirl for her help, I clutched my purchases in both hands and pushed my way back out onto the street. I only had half an hour until I had to be back at the hospital, so I didn't have time to drop my bags at the boarding house. Fortunately I had brought my uniform with me, tucked in a canvas satchel on loan from Maggie.

As I stood waiting for the streetcar, my gaze wandered over the city streets, looking at nothing in particular.

Then I saw it.

At first I thought I imagined the tall slender frame topped by the tousled shock of bronze hair. It dipped into my vision, then was quickly obscured by the passing crowd. Without realizing it, I took several steps toward the departing figure, my eyes scanning the crowd frantically. I held my breath, hoping for another glimpse.

There.

My steps faltered then quickened as I pursued him through the crowd. I didn't see his face, but somehow I knew it was him. Dodging between bodies, I was nearly running while trying to keep that mass of hair in my vision.

"Excuse me," I muttered distractedly, bumping elbows and shoulders. It seemed like everyone around me was going the opposite direction. I pushed my way through the teeming throng and finally emerged onto an empty street corner in time to see him turn the corner one block down.

I raced down the street, ignoring questioning glances and narrowly sidestepping a young man pushing a cart full of vegetables. My chest heaved with panicked breaths as I neared the corner.

What would I say to him? I had absolutely no idea.

I rounded the corner and stopped short.

He was gone.

My searching eyes darted up and down the street, aching for him to re-enter my sight. I ran down to the next corner, quickly looking down that street as well, but he was nowhere to be found.

I nearly collapsed in tears right there on the sidewalk.

Instead, I steadied myself and walked back to the streetcar stop. I was so close, and my heart fell at the knowledge that he had been almost within my reach.

Still, part of me was glad that I didn't catch up to him… the part of me that held onto his address, but delayed seeking it out.

Because I knew he was here, and I knew where to find him.

I just wasn't sure what to do when I did.

x-x

Despite my crazy detour down Chicago's streets, I managed to make it to the hospital with five minutes to spare. Stowing my purchases in the basement storage room, I quickly changed into my uniform and presented myself to Patty at the reception desk.

"Good evening, Bella," she said with a distracted smile, reading a file in front of her. "Could you get started on the sheets? I'll be with you in a moment."

I nodded my consent and once again began the pull-tuck-roll of changing the bed linens. I'd gotten quicker at the task, able to maintain a steady rhythm, and found that it took me half the time as the night before.

As I tied the last bundle, tossing it on the pile by the back door, Patty approached me.

"Bella, Mrs. Chambers asked me to inform you that you've been reassigned," she said.

"Reassigned?"

"Yes, we've hired another woman who'll be taking on the cleaning tasks in the ward."

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, biting my lip in concern.

Patty smiled. "No. Nothing like that," she reassured me. "But I understand Dr. Cullen is in need of assistance with his research. He told Mrs. Chambers that you are familiar with his filing system so he asked that you help him."

"But I don't know anything about medical research," I argued, confused.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Patty admonished. "This means no more bed pans for you – and you get to work with a handsome doctor every night." If she wasn't happily engaged, I would swear she sounded just a little jealous.

"Well, all right," I consented. "What should I do first?"

"Dr. Cullen is in surgery at the moment," she explained. "But he said to go ahead and get started on the filing on his desk and he'd check in when he's finished."

The filing job was more of the same, and again I found that I was able to work faster now that I knew the system. Carlisle joined me after about an hour and I looked up with a questioning glance.

"Dr. Cullen, I understand I'm going to be working with you from now on?"

Carlisle smiled. "Bella, I think we're beyond the formalities now. Please call me Carlisle, at least when we're alone."

"Carlisle then," I agreed. "Why am I here? We both know there's not that much filing to do."

Carlisle rounded the desk and sat down in the leather chair. Leaning forward with his elbows on the desk and his lips pressed to his tented hands, he regarded me carefully.

"I'm afraid I've acted a bit selfishly," he admitted. "But when I heard what you said this morning, I thought you might be able to help me."

"What I said? About what?" I played dumb, knowing exactly what.

"About the influenza virus."

Me and my big mouth. Carlisle was going to become a crack whore for sure… and it would be all my fault.

"I really don't know how I can help you with that," I said, looking away from those piercing topaz eyes. "I don't have any medical training. And I really don't know anything about viruses."

Carlisle considered that. "You said I was on the right track."

I sighed. "Yes, I did say that."

"How do you know?"

I rolled my eyes and he held up a hand. "I know. I know… you can't tell me. Still, I would like your help."

He stood and walked over to his laboratory equipment.

"I always work alone." He flashed me a glance then returned his gaze to a row of beakers. "There isn't usually anyone else I can trust. When I work, I often become quite absorbed and not as… careful as I should be. My… methods… are sometimes unorthodox and make people… uncomfortable."

Carlisle wouldn't look me in the eye, and it took me a moment to read between the lines.

Carlisle was lonely. He isolated himself because… well, for obvious reasons. He couldn't get too close to people or they'd begin to suspect he was something more than human. He did a good job of faking humanity, but he had to always be on guard. With me however, he felt he could be himself - at least to a certain degree.

He trusted me.

We'd never said the words out loud - as Edward had forced me to that day in the woods. I didn't… and wouldn't… come out and tell him I knew he was a vampire. For some reason, I felt I shouldn't. Whether it was my fear of destroying the timeline or just an invisible line I felt I shouldn't cross, I wasn't sure.

But he understood that I knew he was different. And he understood that I was okay with that.

And somehow, that was enough.

"All right," I accepted. "Where do we start?"

Carlisle turned to me, a wide grin splitting his face.

"Tell me what you know about the virus," he said.

"Carlisle," I groaned, "you know I can't do that."

"Why not?" he asked. "I swear it will be kept between us."

I looked at him steadily. "You're not the one who is supposed to solve this."

He deliberated on that for a moment, eyeing me carefully as he prepared his argument.

"I'm not the first one to consider the possibility of an influenza virus," he stated. "In fact, there are quite a few researchers who are putting forth the theory, several of whom I consult with regularly. How do you know that I'm not supposed to encourage one of them… and that that person is supposed to solve it?"

I didn't. Not really. I had no freaking clue.

I hesitated and saw the hint of a smile tug at Carlisle's lips.

"Bella, listen to me," he said. "As I'm sure you're aware, I have no desire to attract any… unwanted attention to myself. I'm not trying to find a cure for influenza so I can publish an article in a medical journal and become famous. But I believe you and I met for a reason, and how do you know that helping me with my research isn't that reason?"

Crap. He had me there.

"Okay," I finally relented. "I'll tell you what I know - but I've got to warn you it isn't much."

We spent the rest of the night with Carlisle picking my brain and me trying to recall bits and pieces of facts from high school biology and health reports on TV. By six a.m. I had a headache and a growling stomach since I didn't bring lunch due to my shopping trip.

Carlisle's eyebrows shot up at the sounds emerging from my mid-section, and he grinned at me sheepishly.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized. "I've been interrogating you all night and you haven't had a break. You must be starving." He reached for his coat with one hand, the door with the other.

"Let me walk you home," he said quickly. "We can stop on the way for something to eat."

I arched an eyebrow at him and he added, "Something for you to eat. I'm not hungry."

I snickered.

He followed me downstairs to retrieve my Marshall Field's bags, taking all three in one hand. I would have argued that I could carry them myself, but I knew the weight was nothing to him.

"You don't have to walk me home, you know," I told him as we walked back up the stairs. "I'll be fine. It'll be light soon," I said - both in assurance and in warning.

He slid a sideways glance my way. "Not for another hour. We have plenty of time."

We stopped at a bakery a block away and Carlisle insisted on buying me a sweet roll and milk. I would have rather had coffee, but knew I would never be able to get to sleep if I gave in to my caffeine cravings. I munched my roll as we made our way to the boarding house and Carlisle and I shared a comfortable quiet.

As we neared the front steps, I noticed the sky lightening with the dawn and turned to Carlisle. He seemed lost in thought.

"Thanks for walking me home."

He blinked, then turned to me and nodded. "Of course. Thank you for all your help."

I smiled and walked up the steps. When I turned around with my hand on the doorknob, he was gone.

x-x

I was able to sleep longer on Thursday, noticing as I stretched that the clock on the bed table read four o'clock. I rose refreshed after a dreamless, uninterrupted sleep. I had showered before going to bed so I just splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth, and dressed quickly, twisting my hair up into a knot.

I found Maggie in the kitchen, popping a tray of biscuits into the oven.

"Good morning… I mean, evening." I smiled at her and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Good evening to you," Maggie replied, stirring a pot of delicious-smelling stew on the stovetop. "Supper will be ready in about an hour. Can you wait?"

"Sure." I inhaled deeply. "It smells wonderful."

.

"My grandmother's recipe," she remarked, setting down her wooden spoon and joining me at the table.

"So, are you enjoying your new job?" she asked.

"Yes, actually. Everyone at the hospital is very nice and the work is… rewarding."

"And that handsome young doctor?"

Young? If she only knew.

"Dr. Cullen is fine," I said pointedly. "He's been a very good friend to me." I emphasized the word 'friend.'

"Hmmph," Maggie grunted. "I don't think friendship's what's on that man's mind."

"Maggie, we work together. He's my boss. We're friends… colleagues… and that is all."

"If you say so," she relented skeptically.

We chatted amiably for the next few minutes, the subject of Carlisle dropped - at least for the moment. After a bowl of stew and a couple of biscuits, I filled my thermos with coffee, grabbed an apple and some cheese from the icebox for lunch, and set out for the hospital.

The night proceeded much like the previous one, with Carlisle peppering me with questions, many of which I had no answer for. A few times I caught him staring at me, and Maggie's comments about his intentions snuck into my mind. I decided I had to be careful and not give him the wrong impression about our relationship.

Around midnight we took a break and I munched on my apple and cheese while we talked about books and music, and I subtly questioned Carlisle about the world of 1918.

"So what do people do for fun around here?" I asked, nibbling on my cheese.

"Well, the usual." Carlisle shrugged. "Moving pictures, dancing, vaudeville shows are still popular with some… the skating rink."

"Do you skate?" I asked, smirking a little at the thought of suave, sophisticated Carlisle on wheels.

"I'll have you know I'm an excellent skater." Carlisle grinned. "Maybe we'll go one day."

I glanced at him and noticed he seemed… anxious.

Crap. Was he asking me out?

I opted for humor to dispel the awkwardness.

"Believe me, you don't want to see me on skates," I joked. "It's not a pretty sight."

"I doubt that," Carlisle said quietly.

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation and I surreptitiously breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes?" Carlisle called.

"Dr. Cullen?" Patty popped her head through the door. "There's a telephone call for you. A Dr. Kelley from New York?"

"Oh, yes." Carlisle nodded. "I'll use the telephone in here. Could you please tell him I'll ring him back in a few minutes?"

Patty nodded and left the room.

"Dr. Kelley is one of the colleagues I told you about," Carlisle explained. "He and I have been corresponding and sharing our research findings."

I glanced at the phone on his desk. It was one of those you'd see in old Hollywood movies, with a narrow handset resting on a delicate cradle. The earpiece was flat and round, but the mouthpiece wrapped around like a curved cone. I pictured a glamorous woman lounging on her bed, speaking to her lover on it.

"Yes, Dahling…"

It looked way too feminine for a man like Carlisle to use. I noticed it didn't have a dial and wondered how you made a call. Before I could ask, Carlisle picked up the handset and after a moment spoke into it slowly and clearly.

"New York City, please. Dr. Jonathan Kelley, New York Hospital. 1-5-6-2."

I watched as Carlisle waited for his call to connect, wondering if I should excuse myself and give him some privacy. I stood and motioned to the door but he waved me off, pointing to the chair. I sat down and flipped through some of the papers on his desk, separating them into piles for filing.

"Jon! How are you?" Carlisle paused, listening. "Fine, just fine. Can't complain… I've been exploring some new resources and may be on to something, I think." He glanced at me with a grin, then his attention was drawn back to the phone and he frowned in concentration.

"When was this…? Where in Kansas…? Fort Riley, isn't that a military base…? Mm hmm… Queens…? Do you think it is the same strain?" He jotted some notes down on his notepad. "If the symptoms are the same, we could be looking at a pandemic… No, I don't think I'm overreacting, I think I'm being cautious…. Yes… yes… Who was the treating physician?"

The conversation continued for several minutes, but I was lost in my own thoughts. Fort Riley rang a bell in my mind, and it took a moment for me to figure out why.

After Edward left and took every token of our relationship with him, I found myself spending hours on the Internet researching events of his history. I knew it was pathetic, but I guess it was my way of proving that he was real… and in turn, that what we had was real. I read about World War I, knowing that he had wanted to enlist and fight. I Googled pictures of turn-of-the-century Chicago, imagining him walking the city streets. And I researched Spanish Influenza, the disease that would have claimed his life if Carlisle hadn't intervened.

Fort Riley, Kansas was a name that I came across in my research.

I glanced at the wall calendar, and remembered the timeline I had all but memorized.

In early March of 1918, a soldier in Fort Riley, Kansas came down with a particularly virulent strain of influenza. About a week later, another case in New York was reported.

They would one day be marked as the first cases of the 1918 Spanish Influenza pandemic in the United States.

It had started.

I noticed Carlisle watching me intently as he wrapped up his phone call and hung up.

"What is it?" he asked. "You're pale as a ghost."

"You're one to talk," I joked half-heartedly.

Carlisle's lips quirked, but he pressed on. "What is it?"

I exhaled heavily. "Fort Riley… and Queens… it's influenza, isn't it?"

Carlisle's eyes narrowed. "Yes, how did you know?"

I rolled my eyes at him and he held up a hand. "Never mind."

He eyed me closely, standing to walk around the desk. He perched on the edge in front of me.

"This is just the beginning, isn't it?" he asked.

I looked away, afraid to confirm it but knowing that I already had.

"What can I do?"

My eyes returned to his, my sigh one of both frustration and surrender.

"Not a thing," I said quietly.

x-x

The rest of the night was spent in relative silence and melancholy. I knew the statistics about the Spanish Flu. I knew that thousands would die before the year was out.

Edward would die, for all intents and purposes.

The virus would sweep through Chicago – I knew in just one day in October more than 350 people would succumb to it. It was aggressive, uncompromising… indiscriminate in choosing its victims. The old and the young, weak and the strong… all would fall victim and no one would be able to figure out how to stop it.

The military bases would be first, bringing the virus back from Europe… then the ports… then on to the big cities, like New York and Chicago. No place was really safe.

Except…

Except some places were safer.

I remembered a map I found in my Internet research that showed the advance of the disease. It was shaded in hash marks and stripes, showing how the influenza spread across the country. Of course, the heaviest shaded areas were also the most populated.

The virus hit hardest in the cities. Rural areas saw cases, of course, but they were much fewer and farther between.

At the time, doctors didn't really understand how the virus spread – especially since many thought it was a bacteria. But it made sense that in areas with less person-to-person contact, there were fewer cases of influenza.

As I pondered this, an idea began churning in my mind - one that lit a spark of hope that I wondered if I dared fan into a flame.

What if Edward never got the Spanish Influenza?

My thoughts proceeded… slowly at first… then gathering speed as the idea gained power.

What if he wasn't in Chicago when the virus hit? What if he never got sick? Carlisle would never turn him.

I shot a glance at Carlisle, who was concentrating on an article in a medical journal and didn't notice my curious look.

If Edward never became a vampire… I could have him.

I could really have him.

We could have a life together… here… now. We could get married… have children… grandchildren.

We could grow old together.

We could be happy.

And suddenly, I knew that was what I came here to do.

I could find Edward and get him out of Chicago in time. It wouldn't be easy, but I could do it. His life… our lives… depended on it.

I glanced at the calendar again.

I knew Edward was seventeen when he got the disease. His birthday wasn't until June… and I knew the virus hit with a vengeance in the fall.

I'd have to get him out of here before the end of the summer.

September first… less than six months. Not a lot of time, but it would have to be enough.

"Bella? Are you ready to go?" Carlisle's quiet voice interrupted my musings.

I glanced at the clock. My shift was over.

"Yes. Yes… sorry."

I gathered my things and Carlisle walked me home. I could feel him watching me closely as we neared the boarding house.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I smiled. "Actually, yes. I'm fine."

I turned and ran up the steps to the front door, waving to Carlisle before going inside. I shut the door and leaned up against it, my excitement mingling with apprehension.

I had a plan.

I was going to save Edward.

x-x

You might think I'd have second thoughts about my plan… that I'd be worried about messing up the timeline, ruining the future.

You might think I'd be worried about how I'd go about convincing a teenage boy who had never met me to leave his home and family… to run away with me.

You might think these concerns would keep me up all night… or day, in my case.

But you'd be wrong.

I slept like a baby.

Maybe it was because I'd finally made a decision. I saw a purpose to my strange journey through time and space and I was taking destiny by the balls and moving forward. A strange, unexpected peace filled me, now that I had a goal in mind.

So I arose Friday afternoon with a smile on my face. I showered, shaving my legs with that scary razor, and dressed in my new yellow blouse and dark gray skirt. Tracking down Maggie in the kitchen again, I snagged a piece of bread still warm from the oven, slathering it with butter and jam before sitting at the kitchen table.

Maggie set a mug of tea in front of me along with a small plate, which she placed under my bread with a pointed look.

"Sorry!" I said with a grin. Nothing could get me down.

"You're in a fine mood," she acknowledged.

"I am," I agreed. "I was paid this morning, so I'll have rent for you once I get to the bank."

She looked at the clock, "Well, it closes at 5:00, so you better get moving."

I saw that it was 4:30, so I muttered a quick, "I'll be back," before putting my cup and plate in the sink and rushing out the door. Hopping the streetcar to the bank, I found the same teller, who remembered me from my previous visit and cashed my check easily.

Emerging from the bank, I walked into a small boutique next door to look for a purse or wallet. Browsing through the store, I opted for a small beige silk bag with a silver clasp and a gold and beige tassel dangling from the bottom. I spotted a simple cotton nightgown and purchased that as well, planning to return Maggie's. I stood at the counter waiting to pay for my items when a dress in the window caught my attention.

I don't know how I missed it when I walked into the store. It was simple, yet beautiful. A square neckline bordered by delicate lace edging topped a line of silk pleats running down the length of the dress, broken only by a thin silk sash. The three-quarter length fitted sleeves were topped by a square-shaped over sleeve of a sheer material. I fingered the soft fabric and turned to find a salesgirl. I spotted her at the rear of the store and approached her quickly.

"I'd like to try on that dress in the window," I said, pointing.

"Oh, the tea dress? It's lovely, isn't it?" The girl moved to the window and untied the sash, lifting the garment carefully off the dress form. Smoothing it over her arm, she led me back to a small changing room, pulling the door closed behind me.

I changed quickly, pulling the dress over my head and tying the sash before turning to look in the mirror.

It fit perfectly.

Granted, a tea dress wasn't my usual attire, but these were not usual circumstances.

And I knew that Edward would love it.

I changed back into my skirt and blouse and carried the dress to the counter. The girl wrapped it in tissue and put it and the nightgown in a bag, while I used the purse to carry my cash and coins. Hopping the streetcar – I was getting to be a pro at it – I arrived home quickly, presenting Maggie with two weeks' rent.

"No need to pay two weeks," she argued. "You were my guest this week past."

I shook my head. "Please, you've been so kind. Just let me do this," I pleaded.

After much cajoling, she finally relented, tucking the bills into her bodice.

Finally, I took a deep breath. There was no more putting it off.

"Maggie, do you know where I can find a telephone?"

She smiled with pride. "I have one here. My Henry, God rest his soul, had it put in before he left."

"May I use it?"

"Of course." She waved her hand, showing me into a small room off the kitchen. The phone wasn't like Carlisle's. Instead, it had a tall, candlestick base with the mouthpiece at the top and an earpiece hanging off a hook on the side.

"Do you need any help?" Maggie asked.

"No, I can do it," I replied distractedly, my eyes on the phone. I reached into my skirt pocket and pulled out the paper with Edward's address on it. The click of the door alerted me to Maggie's withdrawal. I took measured steps to the table, picking up the telephone and holding it close to my mouth, then lifting the earpiece slowly.

"Operator. How may I help you?" a tinny voice questioned.

"Umm… I'm sorry, I don't have the number."

"Name of the party you wish to call?"

"Masen… Edward Masen…" I glanced at the paper clutched in my hand. "In Chicago… 141 Lakeview…"

My heart pounded in my chest.

"One moment please."

I heard a series of clicks, then a low ringing sound.

It was ringing. What the hell was I going to say?

"Hello?"

I gasped at the sound of his voice. Even over the crackling connection, I recognized it.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

What was I thinking? Calling him on the phone? Seriously?

Oh hi, Edward, it's me, Bella. You don't remember me? Well, I'm your girlfriend in about a hundred years and I just came back in time to save your life.

Cue the guys in the white coats.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he asked, irritation coloring his voice.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I hung up.

Setting the phone back on the table, I hurried out of the room and back into the kitchen.

"Did your call go through?" Maggie asked.

"He… wasn't home," I lied.

The phone rang and I jumped.

Eyeing me curiously, Maggie went back in the little room and picked up the telephone.

"Hello?" She paused, listening. "This is Maggie's Boarding House, who is this?"

She was silent for a moment then her eyes shot to me.

"Just a moment ago, you say?" I shook my head, pleading silently for help.

Her eyes narrowed, and she said finally, "No, I'm sorry. No one called from here. Must have been a wrong number."

She hung up and turned to me, her hands on her hips.

"Well? What was that all about?" she asked, her brogue thickening with her confusion.

"It was just a… mistake."

She arched an eyebrow at me.

"Okay, not the number." I shook my head, looking at the floor. "I just… I couldn't talk to him on the phone. I need to go see him in person."

"Who is this man?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He's someone I used to know… someone important."

Maggie was quiet for a moment and eventually I lifted my gaze to meet her sympathetic one.

"He's the one, isn't he? The one who left you," she asked quietly.

To my dismay, tears brimmed in my eyes, my throat closed up, and all I could do was nod.

"Are you sure you want to see him?"

I gulped. "I have to see him. It's why I'm here."

I heard Maggie sigh then felt her strong arm circle my shoulders.

"All right, then," she said briskly. "I guess I'll have to help you."

x-x

Between Maggie and Tom, I had finally memorized the route to take to get to Edward's house.I planned to make the trip Saturday afternoon, and by unspoken agreement, Maggie and I didn't tell Tom who I was really going to see, but created a story about a distant cousin who lived in the Lincoln Park area of Chicago. Tom offered to go with me, but I told him I was looking forward to going shopping with my cousin and he backed off.

My sleep schedule was skewed because of my job, so I was wired and anxious Friday night. I decided to work off some energy helping Maggie clean around the boarding house. She fought me at first, but when I confessed I needed the work to keep from obsessing about my upcoming journey, she relented. After a few hours of scrubbing floors and washing windows, I was exhausted. I climbed into bed around midnight, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Just before dawn I drifted into consciousness, hearing a familiar voice calling my name.

"Bella? Bella!"

I blinked, my vision blurry, and turned my head from side to side on the pillow trying to find the source of the sound.

"Alice? Is that you?"

"Bella? You have to come back," Alice pleaded. It sounded like she was speaking right into my ear.

"Alice, where are you?" I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Bella!"

I heard her cry out one more time before her voice faded away. Scanning the room from one corner to the other, I saw nothing out of place. I listened carefully, but the only noises came from the street outside the window. I flopped back on the bed, wondering if I'd been dreaming again and tried to close my eyes and recapture my sleep.

No such luck.

I was going to see Edward today. There was no way I'd get back to sleep.

Instead, I took a long shower, scrubbing myself and my hair, shaving my legs carefully and letting the hot water relax my tense muscles. I wrapped my hair in a towel, brushed my teeth, and put on my skirt and blouse. I'd wear my new dress for the trip, but didn't want to risk spilling breakfast on it. I returned to my room and sat by the radiator, combing my fingers through my hair to dry it. I pinned the front back, but opted to leave the rest hanging in waves down my back, remembering how Edward liked it.

I glanced at the clock. It was only eight in the morning. Tom estimated the trip to Edward's house would take close to an hour. It was still too early to leave, so I bit my lip, searching for something to occupy my time.

I heard a noise downstairs, so I made my way down and found the whole house had risen without my knowledge. Maggie was shuttling dishes from the kitchen to the dining room table. Alistair and Tom were already seated, and Jared and Liza had just come in the front door and were removing their coats.

"Ah, Bella, you're just in time," Maggie greeted me, setting a platter of scrambled eggs on the table. I sat down and dished up a plate, unsure if I'd actually be able to eat anything. My fears were unfounded, though. Conversation around the table kept me blessedly distracted, and before I knew it I had cleaned my plate. We sat around for a while longer, sipping coffee and chatting comfortably.

I was growing closer to my roommates. Of course, my friendships with Tom and Maggie had become important to me, but I was also quite fond of Jared and Liza. Physically, they complemented each other perfectly, like different shades on the same palette. Jared's dark good looks only emphasized Liza's lighter hair and paler skin. Their personalities harmonized as well, both of them cheerful and friendly. It was obvious why they became teachers. Kids must have loved them.

By the time we were finished and the breakfast plates cleared, it was almost eleven o'clock and I knew it was time for me to go. My stomach flipped, and I pressed my flattened hand to it, breathing deeply. I went up to my room and changed into the tea dress, then pinned on my hat and tucked Edward's address into my new purse. With a deep breath, I descended the stairs.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Maggie's concerned gaze took in my pale face and clenched fingertips. "I can go with you," she offered.

"No, I need to do this alone," I said firmly, as much to myself as to Maggie. "Wish me luck."

Maggie laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Good luck," she whispered with a slight squeeze before returning to the kitchen.

I made it to the streetcar with no problems and kept a watchful eye for my stop as it rattled down the busy road. Hopping off with uncharacteristic grace, I made my way to the "L" station on Fifth Avenue.

I stood in line at the ticket booth, nervously clutching a nickel in my fingers. After buying my ticket, I paced on the platform, unable to stand still and avoiding the questioning glances of the people around me. Despite assurances from Tom and Maggie, I had a nagging fear that I would end up on the wrong train, either traveling the downtown loop for hours on end, or lost somewhere in south Chicago. So as the train finally pulled near, I turned to a woman standing next to me.

"Excuse me, is this the Northwestern?" I asked her tentatively.

The woman nodded, so I took a deep breath and boarded. I took a seat near the window, then immediately regretted my decision as I glanced out… and down to the street below.

I didn't remember ever reading about a catastrophic "L" derailment in the early 1900s… but that didn't mean it never happened. I mentally chided myself for my panic… they still used the "L" a hundred years later… it must have been relatively safe, right?

Still, I released a relieved breath when the train rocked easily on its way, the reassuring clacking evidence that it continued to grip the tracks. I watched the scenery morph from storefronts and crowded sidewalks to neighborhoods and front porches. At every stop I'd glance up to read the street signs, even though I knew I wouldn't get off until Fullerton Station.

When we finally pulled into the station, I filed off the train with the jostling crowd, clutching my purse tightly and keeping one hand on my hat. Making my way down to street level, I looked around, wondering where I could catch a streetcar.

"Miss, do you need some help?" a young police officer smiled at me, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Yes," I breathed, relief coloring my voice. "I'm looking for a streetcar to Lincoln Park." I knew Edward's street bordered the popular park on the west side.

The officer pointed a half a block down.

"You can catch one there," he said. "Just stay on Fullerton going that direction… east… and it will take you straight there. If you have any questions, just ask the operator."

I thanked the officer, quickening my steps as I neared the streetcars. Climbing on the Fullerton Avenue car, I opted to stand near the doorway, gripping tightly to the pole as we made our way toward the park.

Anticipation bubbled in my stomach as we slowed at every corner and passengers hopped on and off… Larrabee Street… Sedgwick Street… each block bringing me closer to Edward. I could see the green grounds of Lincoln Park in the distance, and beyond that the crystal blue of Lake Michigan, both drawing nearer with each of my shallow breaths.

We passed Clark Street and I knew my stop was next. I stood poised on my toes, waiting for the train to slow, then quickly jumped down, steadying myself with a deep breath.

The train continued on and I looked down the street. Perspiration gathered between my breasts and on my forehead, and I reached in my purse for the handkerchief Maggie had insisted I take. I was grateful now, as I really didn't want Edward's first impression of me to be a sweaty, nervous wreck.

Blotting my face, I walked across Fullerton and examined the houses dotting both sides of Lakeview Avenue. It was obvious this was an affluent part of town. The homes were beautiful – each one large, but distinctive; some had full porches and balconies, others featured brick patios or simple covered entries. All boasted manicured lawns and well-pruned shrubs… and there was not an inch of chipped paint or smudged glass to be seen.

I walked slowly, both out of a desire to remain sweat-free and in deference to my shaky nerves. I glanced once at the slip of paper with Edward's address, even though I knew it by heart. Examining the house numbers on my right, I counted silently as I continued down the street, stopping when I reached 140.

I turned slowly and faced the house across the street.

His house.

It was a beautiful Victorian, cream-colored with three stories. On the left, I noticed a stack of angled bay windows on the first two floors, with smaller windows topped with arches of glass on the floor above. A wide front porch wrapped around the right side of the house, a row of white columns interspersed with iron railings supporting the porch roof. The intricate moldings and gingerbread trim spoke loudly of wealth and class.

The house was flanked by two large trees, and pruned shrubs separated the freshly mown grass from the brick walkway leading to the front door. A few bulbs poked through the mulch, heralding the arrival of spring.

I was so absorbed in my observations I didn't even notice I had walked into the middle of the street. Looking around in embarrassment, I continued to cross to the sidewalk, then stood once again admiring the home in front of me.

A loud scraping sound grabbed my attention and I jumped, turning toward it.

He was digging in the ground and hadn't heard my approach, so I took a moment to admire the sight of him – so long denied me. The shovel scraped against a stubborn stump and he wrestled to get it out of the ground. A glistening drop of sweat trickled down his neck and a shiver passed through my body.

I may have made a sound – or maybe not – because he turned to me then, examining me with curious eyes, his lips quirking in an uncertain smile.

And with a trembling hand I opened the gate, taking the first tentative steps toward my destiny.

A/N: So there you have it… wondering what happens next? Click back to the Prologue!

BTW the Tiffany Dome is real – check out the pic of that, as well as other places and things mentioned in Beyond Time (like Edward's house), on my profile. Bella's tea dress is featured on the story banner if you'd like to take a look.

If you're reading this story, you're obviously okay with a premise that's a little 'out there'… so, (if you're not already) I'd like to encourage you to check out Set in Stone, by Psyche001 – this is a fic like nothing you've read before. Give it a try and I'm sure you'll love it. (And let me tell you, if you're looking for lemons, this story has some of the hottest ones I've read! Whew!)

Speaking of hot lemons – another great story is Through His Eyes by its-rpattz-baby. Bad boy Edward moves to Forks, leery of getting close to anyone… but a certain brown-eyed beauty could change it all for him.

Links to both stories are on my faves!

Love and Robdolls to all my Twitter gals – who have dubbed my Edward "Shovelward" by the way - Mwah!