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My Decision - Chicago 1918 by TwiliteAddict






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Table of Contents
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Author's Chapter Notes:

One-shot look at what occurred the hours before Edward is changed as told from Carlisle's POV.

Stephenie Meyer owns all Twilight.


Chicago 1918

 So much death.  Such a waste…

I arrived early for my shift in the over-crowded quarantine ward.  The instant I entered, my senses were assaulted by the repugnant sights, sounds and smells of impending death. 

The ward looked the same as yesterday:  rows and rows of identical beds occupied by lethargic patients whose incessant coughing filled the air with disease and fear.  But tonight many of the faces were different – new victims to replace those who had succumbed to the ‘blue death’.

That’s what it had come to be called by some.  Most knew it as Spanish Influenza.

It struck Chicago with a vengeance turning this thriving city into a ghost town.  The only inhabitants that roamed the streets were either recently orphaned children or the infected who were exiled from their homes by family members hoping to save themselves.

Not since the Great Plague struck London in 1665 had I seen such human devastation.  In that one year, the Black Death killed 100,000 people -- almost a quarter of the city’s population.  Those were dark days.

These days looked to be worse.

This infection was unpredictable.  Sometimes, it took the course of a typical flu: sore throat, headaches and fever.

However, in many patients, the disease quickly progressed to something much worse than the sniffles. For these unlucky souls, extreme chills and fatigue were accompanied by fluid in the lungs. Deprived of oxygen, victims would take on a bluish cast and their bodies would shake with unbearable coughing.  Once cyanosis appeared, death was imminent.

As one of only a handful of physicians who dared to step foot in this death zone, I reluctantly found my most valued service was signing an unending flow of death certificates.  All I could do for my doomed patients was hold their hands, wipe their brow, and promise they hadn’t much longer to suffer.  I detested my powerlessness in the face of such suffering.

Making matters worse was the fact that I had to return home for ‘rest’ every twelve hours.  It felt more like cowardice.  I was only protecting myself.  I had to perfectly maintain my charade as a human in this very human environment. 

So every day I bore witness to the fragility of human life.  I saw mortality.  It was a painful reminder of what had been forcibly taken from me so long ago…

I refocused my attention to the hospital workers.  At first glance, viewing them walking slowly between the rows of beds, it would appear to be an uneventful night.  But the vacant look on their faces belied the horrors they had seen.  They lived a nightmare.

It was difficult to maintain hope in this God-forsaken part of the hospital. 

My morbid thoughts had me slipping into despair.  I knew I could not continue to feel powerless and hopeless, so I challenged myself to accept a new mission:  no loss of life would be insignificant on my shift.  I could not save patients, but I could honor and recognized them as individuals.  See them as people who loved and were loved.  I would do this especially for those who had no one left to mourn their death.

The first bed I approached held a woman I had admitted to the ward only two days ago.  I removed the chart that hung crookedly on the rusted rail of her bed.  “Elizabeth Masen,” I spoke her name aloud as a gesture of respect for her identity.  To my surprise, her brilliant green eyes sprang open.

I noticed a subtle shade of blue coloring her lips.  Damn, that had not been there yesterday…

Despite her pallor, her gaze was strong, locking with mine.  Her jaw jutted forward and I could tell she wanted no pity or false assurances from me.  She knew her fate and she was going to face it with dignity and courage.  I marveled at her noble spirit. 

Then I recognized something else in her eyes – conviction.  Something was pushing this woman forward when others had surrendered to this disease. 

“Mrs. Masen, do you remember me?”  I asked.

“Dr. Cullen,” she rasped before lapsing into a violent coughing attack.  I reached out and took her hand as she continued to stare into my eyes.   Her hot flesh burned mine and her facial features told of her struggle.  Elizabeth’s cheeks were sunken and her eyes were lined with dark shadows.  She parted her dry, cracked lips and pulled me toward her.  Though she was very ill, I was amazed by her strength. 

I crouched down close to her as she breathed, “Help him.”

“Who Elizabeth?  Who keeps you fighting?”

“Edward, my son.  Help him.”

She dragged her focus from me to the bed on her left side where her son lay.   Again she convulsed into a fit of coughing.

I quickly evaluated Edward.  Perspiration beaded on his forehead.  His fever was out of control dehydrating his body and damaging his internal organs.  Edward’s heart rate was erratic and his respirations labored.  His body had already given up on maintaining consciousness.

I looked back at Elizabeth trying to not to show the reality of the situation in my eyes:  her son might precede her in death.

In that moment I couldn’t help but wonder, as I had so many times before, when do I offer the truth crushing any hope for a miracle and when do I provide comfort in the form of a little white lie? 

I compromised:  “I promise to care for him.”

Again her piercing green eyes bore into mine.  They seemed to look past my presence and into my soul.  It was unnerving yet riveting.  When she spoke again, her words carried the weight of her remaining existence.

“You must do everything in your power.  What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.”

Instinctively, I drew back from her.  Disbelief and shock coursed through me.  Did this woman know my secret?

She had not released her grip on my hand, in fact, she held it tighter.  “Please,” she pleaded, “promise me, Dr. Cullen.  Save him!” 

“I will.”   I was so entranced by her intensity that the vow escaped my lips before I had a chance to consider its meaning.    How could I deny her dying wish?

I had been contemplating creating a companion.  My choice of a ‘vegetarian’ lifestyle made me unique, one-of-a-kind -- alone.   At times I thought I may go insane from the centuries of solitude that weighed on me.  And now someone was giving me permission to create that companion.

As the night wore on, her fever escalated.  I continued to sit at her bedside as her body and mind lost the fight.  I wondered if securing my promise to save her son allowed her to let go. 

My mind began to race.  Forming a plan…

I understood how my own creation into this immortal life had occurred.  I could duplicate the injuries – just bite and stop.  But could I do that?  More importantly, should I do it?  Certainly not to anyone who had another choice. 

But Edward had no other choice.

I could save him. 

I could end my isolation. 

I could have what had been stripped from me – hope, future, belonging, love.

I could create someone like me.  Or…

Or I could create a monster.  A crimson-eyed killer.

No.  I could not live knowing that I created someone who took human life.  Not after all I have done to turn my curse into a gift that saved. 

If that happened, I would need to destroy that being.  It would be my duty.

Duty. 

It was tied to my oath as a physician.  I swore to never cause harm to anyone.  And this defined who I was professionally and personally.  I chose who I would be.  But would I have that ability to choose for someone else – someone I created?

I did not have the luxury of time to work out my uncertainty.  It was the moment of truth – Edward would not survive much longer. 

As if on cue, Elizabeth’s eyes flashed through my mind.  They choose my course of action.

Quickly I wheeled him to the morgue – next to his mother.   There was so much death all around; no one would miss one more victim. 

My thoughts continued to nag at me:  Would my God approve?  Would Edward approve? 

My actions would bind his soul to this world.   Whose forgiveness I would want more – God’s or Edward’s once he realized what he was to become?  

Elizabeth’s plea echoed urgently in my head.

And I acted.

Tonight I would save Edward from death…and also condemn him to an eternity of it. 

He would become like me – a vampire.

 

Chapter End Notes:

 Thanks for reading!  Enjoy other Through Their Eyes oneshots or read the parent story, Carlilse and Esme: How the Love Story Began.

Suggestions for future stories welcome.  Comments are very much desired!

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