Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. I only own the story in front of you.
Could it be that some things are just meant to be?
Without Edward to save her, Bella is hit by Tyler's van and is taken to the hospital, barely alive. She is lucky enough to cross paths with Carlisle Cullen, a vampire doctor who saves her life.
Bella is in danger once again during a simple trip to Port Angeles and once again, there is no Edward in sight, but Jacob Black is all too happy to step in his place.
Carlisle is dangerously outnumbered when facing the three nomads, until a certain pair of golden-eyed vampires show up to help.
So where is Carlisle's family? Who is haunting his house? Is Jacob Black really gay? Is Sam a drug-dealer? And who is responsible for turning everything upside down – The Volturi? The Quileute Elders? Or maybe the source is much closer to home than everyone thinks.
Some things even Alice can't predict.
Chapter 1 – Accident
"Page Dr. Cullen and prepare Operating Room three." A familiar voice calling my name drew my attention from the book I was reading. The voice belonged to one of the nurses working in the hospital. So much for lunch break, I thought with a smile. As it was a custom of mine, I spent my break reading in my office. It was an easier way, and a more pleasant one, to spend the duration of my break. I had already placed the book back on the shelf when my pager went off. I was out of my office before the end of the beep. Vampire speed is very useful at times.
"What happened?" I heard the nurse ask as I slowed down to a much slower, human, pace, and headed down the hall.
"Car accident in Forks High," a male voice replied. "Intubation was performed on scene. Injuries sustained to the left side of the body; two fractured ribs, severe lung contusion, closed fracture of the left arm and suspected head trauma." The information was delivered in the usual curt way the paramedics spoke-maximum information in a minimum amount of time.
I heard paper rustling and a gurney being wheeled away under the instructions of the nurse. I turned the corner just in time to hear the nurse, Denise, gasp. "Oh, my god, it's the Chief's daughter. Has he been notified?"
"Yes, he arrived at the scene just as we were leaving. He will be coming in with the driver of the car that hit her."
"Denise," I made my presence be known, "you paged me?" It was the normal thing to ask. Although it would have been more efficient to just walk straight through to OP three, I had to keep my human façade and pretend I didn't hear their conversation.
Denise gave me the same briefing I had heard from the paramedic earlier. "I'll go prep," I said as the doors opened once again and another young human was led inside on a gurney.
"She's in OP three," Denise added before turning to the paramedic to receive the next patient.
Five hours later, the chief's daughter was transferred to a recovery room. The girl had a mild cerebral concussion, which did not require anything more than time to heal, but no major head trauma. I smiled to myself when I remembered seeing the results of her CAT scan. The girl had so many head contusions that I couldn't help but wonder how many times the poor thing had hit her head in the past. I went out to the hall to speak with her father, Chief Charlie Swan, the head of the local police force.
"Hello, Chief Swan," I said in a quiet voice.
"How is she?" Charlie asked. His eyes filled with both fear and pain.
"She will be fine. Her left arm is broken and she has a mild concussion. Right now, she is still sedated and connected to artificial respiration. She's a fighter, Charlie," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. "She will be up in no time." I smiled at him. "Once the nurse finishes inside, you can come in and see your daughter."
"Thank you, Dr. Cullen"
"Just doing my job." I smiled again and continued to my next patient.
I heard the nurse exit the room a moment later and Charlie's heavy footsteps as he walked in. Even through the walls separating between the girl's room and the room I was in now, I heard him speak to his daughter. The words were not important, but his tone expressed so much love for his only child that I felt my own still heart squeeze in my chest.
He almost lost her today. Even without knowing that she arrived with a very low body temperature of 89.6 degrees due to blood loss, he knew that it was a very close call. She received four units of blood and two liters of fluid before we were able to stabilize her. She is lucky to be alive.
I continued my rounds, walking further away from the recovery room. One of the patients I checked up on was the driver of the van that hit the girl. He had mostly cuts from the windshield and bruises from the seatbelt. There were no major injuries, so I instructed the nurse to discharge him.
At five thirty, even though my shift was already over, I went by Miss Swan's room. There was something about the human girl that triggered my instinct to protect. Maybe it was her father's emotions or maybe it was just her young age. Either way, I felt compelled to check up on her before leaving the hospital for the evening.
The girl was still sedated. She would remain in that condition for the next two days at the minimum until she could be taken off the artificial respiration. The blow to the left side of her body caused a severe lung contusion that had to be given time to heal before she could be awakened. There was no real need for me to check up on her, the night shift will be making their rounds within the hour, but I had to see her.
Chief Swan was sitting next to her bed when I walked through the door, and for a moment, I could not help but feel envious. I have been alone for more than three and a half centuries now. I knew that as a vampire, I could never hope for children of my own, but I craved for a family nonetheless. In my darkest hours, I would think about changing a human to keep me company, but I dared not damn a human to this existence.
I drove to my home on the outskirts of the city. It was dark outside, despite the relatively early hour. It was only six, but the sun was long gone. The days were growing shorter. Another year of loneliness was coming to an end.
I parked my Mercedes in the garage and entered my home through the adjoining door. Just like any other night, the house was empty, but unlike other nights, I felt something was different about today. I couldn't explain the feeling I had, that something was completely and utterly wrong.
I walked through the living room and went up the stairs to the second floor, headed to my bedroom. There was something missing, I thought, but it was not the longing for a family I felt earlier. Instead, I had a feeling as though someone was supposed to be here in the house, with me.
I decided to pass my bedroom and enter my study. It was my favorite room in the house. I could-and often did-sit in this room for hours. I can't explain why I bought such a big house. It was much too big for me to live in it alone, and yet, from the first moment I entered the city it felt as though something was drawing me to it. Tonight, as I sat in the leather chair behind my desk, I did not pull a book from the library to read, as I would normally do. I was deep in thought.
Something wasn't right.
Pain. There was nothing but pain. Everything hurt so much. I couldn't move my toes, I couldn't feel my fingers, I couldn't see... Oh, my god, I can't see!
I heard a beeping sound, accelerating with each passing second. It was beeping faster, too fast. Panic filled my body, crushing my lungs. I can't breathe! I wanted to scream, but I couldn't find my voice. I wanted to move, but I didn't feel my own body.
Suddenly, I felt something cold touching my wrist. If I could have moved, I would have jumped. The beeping sound was so fast now that it sounded almost like a single continuous tune. I felt something cool brush against my forehead and then I heard the most beautiful sound in my life.
"Isabella, my name is Dr. Cullen. You have been in a car accident, but you are safe now." The voice was soft and flowing like honey.
I heard the beeping sound slow down, and I felt the panic leave my body. I felt the pain again. It was everywhere. I wanted to cry, to scream, to tear something...
"I know that you are in pain," the soft voice continued to caress my thoughts, "but I need you to try and open your eyes."
How could I refuse that voice?
I searched my aching body and tried to gather the strength to open my eyes. What a silly notion. Opening my eyes should be as easy as breathing, but as breathing now was a painfully difficult task, opening my eyes was just as hard.
At first, everything was a blur. The blinding white light was hurting my eyes and I couldn't see anything. "Light...hurt," I tried to mumble.
I couldn't hear my own voice, but apparently, someone else could because the next thing I knew, the light was off.
I sighed in relief and the pain shot right up my body. My lungs, my chest, my ribs...everything hurt. I opened my eyes a little wider. Now that the painful light was off, I could fully open my eyes. I saw the plain walls and heard the beeping machinery. I had been in places like this one for far too many times not to know where I was-a hospital room. Great.
A figure was leaning over me. I tried to focus my eyes to see who it was. He was thin and dressed in a white coat. A doctor, I thought, probably Dr. Cullen.
"Good," he said in his honey-like voice. "Welcome back, Isabella." I frowned, only to find that this was painful as well. I didn't like to be called Isabella.
"She prefers Bella," I heard my dad say, and by the tone of his voice, I was sure he was smiling.
I turned my head, looking for my father. I groaned. Was there any movement I could make without it being painful?
"Welcome back, Bella," the doctor repeated, and I focused my eyes on him. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His hair was blond and cut short. His eyes were bright, but in the relative darkness in the room, I could not be sure of their color. He had high cheekbones and a soft smile on his lips. I noticed that he was very pale and that there were bruise-like shadows under his eyes, telling of what must have been a very long shift. He looked more like he a male model, than a doctor, I decided.
"You're pretty," I heard myself whisper and then the chuckles of both my father and my doctor. Ok, so obviously my brain-to-mouth filter isn't working at the moment. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, and I knew I was blushing. The good thing about the blush was that at least it didn't hurt.
"I need to check your bodily functions," said Dr. Cullen and I felt something cold press against my right foot. Do all doctors have cold hands?
"Can you please move the toes on your right foot?"
I did as he asked and immediately felt better-it was yet another thing I could do without pain.
"Ok, now the left. Excellent! Now, can you feel my hand in your right hand?"
I felt his cool touch hovering on the fingers of my right hand, and nodded. Not a good idea, I thought as the pain swirled around my head, making me dizzy.
"Squeeze my hand. Good. Now, can you feel me touching your left hand?"
I felt the soft and cold caress on my left hand. This time I whispered, "Yes," instead of nodding. I waited for him to ask me to squeeze his hand, but he didn't.
"Your left arm is broken," Dr. Cullen said. "You have a cast on it, which will need to stay on for the next three weeks at the minimum."
Well, that explains why he didn't want me to squeeze his hand.
"You also have two fractured ribs, which is the reason you are bandaged up fairly tightly," he continued to explain. "You might also have quite a headache...?" his tone turned to a question.
"Feels like a bunch of evil Pinocchios are having a slumber party inside my head." Yeah, I officially had absolutely no brain-to-mouth filter.
They both laughed. The model-like doctor had a wonderful laugh, I noted. It was quiet with a husky quality to it, and the smile that spread on his face was worth the embarrassment.
"That is because you suffered a mild concussion. Other than that, it's mostly cuts and bruises."
"Just another Monday." I smiled. I was a klutz and there was no denying it. Cuts and bruises were nothing new to me.
"It's Thursday, actually," Charlie corrected.
"Thursday?" I gasped, realizing that I have lost three days, but I was immediately sorry. It hurt like hell. Damned broken ribs!
"You were sedated," Dr. Cullen explained. "Can I turn on the lights?"
"I think so," I said, still whispering.
He disappeared from view and after a few moments, I saw the lights come to life. It wasn't as painful as earlier, but still took several seconds for me to get used to it.
"How are you feeling?" The doctor returned to hover next to my bed. Wow, he was even more beautiful with the lights on. Thankfully, my filter seemed to have been awakened along with the lights, and I didn't say anything out loud. I could see now that his eyes were golden, and they reminded me of the color of dark and rich honey.
"I'm fine," I replied, more out of habit than anything else, really.
"Well, it will take you a while to be really fine," he smiled again and it lit his face up so much so that I was smiling back at him before my mind even registered the desire to do so, "but you will be just fine. I need to go now, but I'll check up on you later today. If there is anything you need, just press this button," he showed me a remote control of some sort next to my right hand, with a single green button on it, "and a nurse will come see you"
"Okay," I said. I was going to nod, but I remembered the feeling of dizziness that I had the last time I did that and used a verbal reply instead.
"Have a good evening," Charlie said to the doctor before he left. "Hey, kiddo," he turned to me. "you scared me there..." he confessed.
"I'm sorry," I said, honestly sorry for making worry so much.
"I know. It's not your fault"
"It's nobody's fault," I said firmly. "It was an accident. If you want to blame it on someone, blame it on the ice."
"That Tyler kid can kiss his license goodbye," he continued as if I hadn't spoken.
"No, Dad, please don't. Tyler didn't mean to hurt me. Like I said, it was an accident," I raised my voice. It wasn't at all impressive, considering I couldn't speak much louder than a hoarse whisper.
"Okay, I won't argue." Charlie soothed me. "You need to rest and I have got to go back to the station. I'll drop by later this evening." He gave me a pat on my head-which was probably about the only place that wasn't covered up in bandages-and leaned back.
"See you," I murmured and my gaze followed him as he exited the room. He looks tired, I thought. I guess he wasn't getting much sleep lately. It made me sad again, but I soon felt sleepy, and my eyes drooped. There was one last coherent thought in my mind before I drifted off to sleep. I was convinced that somehow the day of the accident should have gone completely different. There was something missing. I didn't know what that was, but I was sure of it.
Something wasn't right.
Over the following days, I was drifting in and out of consciousness. Everything seemed to blur together and I couldn't remember the days passing. Dr. Cullen placed me on some very strong pain medications that made me very sleepy most of the time. I remembered him visiting, and I remembered my dad sitting with me. I was pretty sure I remembered Tyler Crowley, and even Jessica Stanley, come by to visit me, but every time I woke up, I wouldn't know if a whole day had past or just a few hours since the last time I was awake.
I lost track of time and I had to be reminded which day it was each time I opened my eyes. The feeling of wrongness I had the first time I woke up never returned. I didn't know what had triggered it. I was probably delusional, or maybe I just hit my head one too many times.
A week had passed before the pain medication was reduced and I was finally able to keep track of the time, but the following days were hard ones. I felt itchy absolutely everywhere. I felt pain and helplessness. I was crying almost all the time. I was making my father miserable, but I couldn't stop myself, which only made me feel even worse and I bring on the tears again. I hated everything and everyone. Some part of me was aware that I was acting like a two-year-old on a tantrum, but that part was buried deep under the frustration, the pain, and the misery.
I hated the nurses who walked in and out of my room. I hated the fact that I needed help getting out of bed to get to the bathroom. I hated the food-it was dreadful. I hated the pain-there was too much of it. I hated absolutely everyone. And I hated myself for hating.
I was crying myself to sleep almost every night, but I was hardly able to sleep. My head ached, my lungs hurt, and my ribs throbbed with pain every time I took breath that was too deep. I was a wreck by the end of the week.
It was Friday afternoon and I had been crying for two hours now. Not sobbing like other times, just leaning on the too-hard pillow-another thing I hated-and letting my tears fall. I felt terrible. I wanted to go home, I wanted my bed and my pillow, and most of all, I wanted to be held and soothed. For the first time in more years then I cared remember, I wanted my mom.
The thoughts about my mother brought a whole new wave of tears. She died six months ago. She and Phil, her new husband, went skydiving-a stupid present from Phil to my mother on her birthday. Her parachute failed and she plunged to her death. Phil was too depressed after her death. A week after her funeral, I found his body in the living room. The death was determined accidental-a mixture of alcohol and painkiller overdose that had caused his heart to stop-but I always wondered.
I moved in with Charlie soon afterwards. He was on duty this afternoon and I felt lonely. Once again, I felt that there was something wrong, just like the feeling I had when I first woke up after the accident. It was as though there was someone missing from my life-and it wasn't a parent. It was a friend, but I didn't know who.
"Bella?" a soft rich voice called my name from the entrance to my room. I didn't turn my head. My eyes were fixed on the window. All I could see was a piece of gray sky. It was the same as every other day.
I didn't say anything.
I felt a feather-light caress on my head, and turned in surprise. I didn't hear him move. I watched his beautifully pale face through my tears. His eyes were darker today, no longer the honey-like gold color I saw them at the beginning of the week. They were dark brown, like rich chocolate, and I wondered if he had gotten contacts. I couldn't imagine why he would do that. His eyes were just as beautiful as the rest of him.
"Are you in pain?" he asked me in his quiet musical voice.
"Not the physical kind," I replied truthfully, looking at him as he sat on a chair next to me and held my healthy hand in his cold one. He began tracing slow soothing circles on the palm of my hand.
"What is wrong, then?" he asked in a pleading tone that I could not refuse. "You know that you can tell me."
I nodded and took a deep breath, trying to clear my throat so I could speak. "I don't really know what's wrong," I whispered and my voice broke. "I'm just miserable."
He seemed to think my words over carefully before he said, "It is okay to feel miserable from time to time." He smiled very gently, just a light tug on one side of his mouth. "It is okay to have a good cry," His other hand wiped away the tears from my eyes, his touch cool and light, "and it is okay to talk about it. It will make you feel better," he coaxed.
"I think I'm just lonely. I miss my mother. I miss the life I had with her..." I trailed off, thinking about happy memories I had of Rene, but that was not all. I can't say what exactly made me say that, but I heard myself whisper the words before I could even think of stopping myself "...and I feel like there is something wrong, like I'm missing something, like something is not right...That doesn't make much sense, I know." I looked down, avoiding him, and felt the blush color my cheeks scarlet.
I froze. It was the same thought I had on the day of her accident, word for word. I didn't know why I approached her, or why I was sitting next to this young woman and holding her hand. I didn't know why her pain touched me so, why the sight of her tears made my stone cold heart ache, but it did. I felt her misery throughout the week. I saw the traces of tears on her cheeks when she slept. I heard the muffled sobs when she thought no one could hear, and something inside me, something on the instinctive level, made we approach to her today. Something made me try to comfort this intriguing human girl. It was as if her pain was my pain. I have come to feel very protective of her, almost like she was my daughter.
"It will get better with time," I told her. I knew she had lost her mother very recently, followed by finding her stepfather's body, and then moving half way across the country from Phoenix to Forks to live with her father. So many changes were bound to leave their mark. "Don't chastise yourself for feeling the way you feel. It will only make you sink lower," I advised, knowing all too well what dwelling in misery and then being overcome by self-loathing felt like. "I actually came to tell you that you could go home on Monday." I gently brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and saw the beginning of a smile on her lips.
"Really? I could go home?" Her voice was just above whisper, but I had no trouble hearing her.
"Yes, you are recovering amazingly well. There is no reason why you can't go home." I gently pulled away from her, and the loss of her warm hand was strangely unpleasant. "You will need to rest for a few more days at home, but I believe that by next Monday you will be able to go back to school."
I watched her face as that hint of a smile turned into the real thing. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and it suddenly occurred to me how beautiful she was when she smiled.
"I'd like that," she said, her voice stronger now. "Thank you, Dr. Cullen"
"I think you can call me Carlisle." I smiled at her and stood up.
"Carlisle," she amended.
"I will see you tomorrow noon for another checkup. Try and get some sleep."
"I will," she promised.
I signed the chart at the foot of her bed and walked out of the room. My shift had ended ten minutes ago, but I was not anxious to leave the hospital. There was nothing waiting for me at home.
A flicker of an image crossed my mind as I walked through the corridors of Forks General Hospital. It was an image of several blurred figures sitting in the living room of my home, sounds of laughter filling the room. Wishful thinking again, Carlisle. Stop tormenting yourself.
Bella Swan was discharged on the following Monday. This event should not have been significant to me, after all, I have patients discharged daily, but I felt a real sense of loss when she left the hospital. It was irrational, odd, and wrong on so many levels that I felt like banging my head against a wall, but since in that scenario the only thing that would be harmed was the wall, and since my self-control was much too strong for me to allow myself such a childish action, all the walls around me remained intact.
The following days were hard. The loneliness was becoming too much to handle, and time lost all meaning to me once again. I felt as though I was genuinely suffocating, and as a creature that did not need oxygen to survive, that feeling was mystifying. If In the past there were times when I doubted my ability to remain sane, these days I became convinced that I have finally lost the battle.
I am not a doctor and I don't have any medical training, so the details may not be one hundred percent accurate from a medical point of view. I would have loved Carlisle to be my privet tutor, but unfortunately, I have to settle for Wikipedia...
Thank you for reading,